Free Peaches in Winter by Alice M. Roelke Page A

just sad. Not that that was much better.
    She prayed for him every night, and she’d thought he was improving.
    Now he flopped in the first chair he found and slouched there, head hidden in his hands as though he was fighting a bad headache.
    “I’ll just put these around.” Anxiety for him drove the thought of Jimmy from her mind, but it also made her clumsy and awkward.
    With her third step forward, she tripped over the carpet, sending herself sprawling to the ground.
    “Betty!” He jumped up with an exclamation, catching her just before she hit the floor.
    Unfortunately, her plants were not so lucky. Most of them hit the carpet; bouquets of daisies, small potted cactuses and ferns spilled their dirt as they went.
    “Oh no!” Betty stared down at the damage, wide-eyed. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. This on top of everything else! It was her fault for not being more careful. What must Jake think of her?
    His hand closed on her elbow. “Betty, what’s wrong?” Real concern warmed his voice. “Did you hurt yourself?”
    Betty shook her head. She could hardly speak. How could she explain how rotten she felt —with this on top of everything?
    But he looked into her eyes. His brown gaze was intense with concern, and somehow surprisingly soft, yet with an intensity that didn’t let her look away.
    His voice was gentle. “Betty, what’s wrong? If you’re not hurt, then you’re upset about something, I’m sure of it.”
    “D-don’t worry about it. I’ll clean these up.” Feeling the need to get away from his too-knowing eyes, she moved quickly to a side-table, put down the plants that hadn’t fallen, then knelt and began cleaning up the spilled plants, pots, and dirt.
    He knelt beside her, helping, reaching out to pick up broken shards of pottery. She managed to avoid his gaze.
    “Betty, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but if something’s wrong—if…if you need help—I want you to know you can tell me. All right?” For a second, his hand lightly rested on her elbow.
    She dared to look at him, then, and nodded, tears still in her eyes. But somehow his words made her feel better.
    She got up and ran to the kitchen to fetch a dustpan and brush and then turned on the lights and opened the curtains, so they could see better; all without tripping once. They worked in silence for several minutes. After they finished, he rose, drew some money out of his wallet, and held it out to her.
    She stared at it and then him. “What? I can’t take this.”
    “Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “You agreed to let me pay for any plants you bought. They’ll cheer up the atmosphere in my house, so there’s no reason you should pay for them out of your own pocket. I earn a lot more than you, you know.”
    “But that’s good,” said Betty. “You do a lot more than I do. I only cook.”
    “Here.” He tucked the money carefully into her hand. His hand was warm and slightly soft, much gentler to the touch than it appeared. It looked like an ex-soldier’s hand, rough and strong and manly. “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
    He hesitated, seemed to be on the point of leaving, but then stopped himself. “Betty?” His voice held less confidence now.
    “Yes?” She looked at him with wide eyes, wondering what he could possibly ask her that he’d feel self-conscious about.
    He hesitated before he spoke. “How old are you?”
    Betty smiled. “Twenty-two.” She answered easily; she’d never minded people knowing her age.
    He blinked and then gave a small, distracted nod. “I’m…I’m sorry to be nosy,” he added.
    He didn’t usually sound so hesitant. I hope he’s feeling all right .
    Not wanting to let on she was worried, she brightened her smile at him. “I thought I’d make chicken and dumplings today. How does that sound?”
    Depressed he might be, but she didn’t mistake the spark of interest in his eyes. He was still hungry; he couldn’t be too badly off!
    “That