“Hiya,” Rachel called as he passed the den. She appeared to be doing lesson plans or grading papers.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“I wish I’d earned my first degree in education. This is so time-consuming,” she said.
“I’m not sure it changes much, sis,” he said. “I never hear teachers talking about how much extra time they have.”
“True, I guess,” she said. “But I like it, so maybe I won’t notice the time.”
He nodded. “I’m gonna get whatever is available in the kitchen.”
“Wait,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “I talked to Stacey at church yesterday,” she said.
“Great,” he said and moved toward the kitchen.
“I also talked to her today. Amazing what I can learn about my brother from his girlfriend,” she said, following him.
He shot her a quelling glance.
“What I mean is I didn’t realize how bad Dad’s back is. Stacey said you’ve offered to take him to Vicker’s Corners to see a doctor, but he won’t do it,” she said.
“That’s right,” he said, opening the fridge and hoping to find something wonderful. He spotted a small bowl of leftover beef stew and snatched it up.
“She also said that you thought Dad would be more likely to go with me to Vicker’s Corners to see a doctor.”
“Right again,” he said. He put the stew in the microwave, then pulled some sliced ham, cheese and bread out of the fridge and went to the counter. “The trouble is you’d have to trick him.”
Rachel frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You would need to make an appointment with him and find some other reason for him to go. You’d take him to lunch, then take him to a doctor’s appointment and beg for forgiveness afterward. He would forgive you within twenty-four hours, less if he got some relief from his back pain.”
Rachel’s frown deepened. “That sounds like a lot of trickery,” she said.
“As if you haven’t done the same ten times over for less honorable reasons,” he returned as he slapped the meat and cheese on the bread and slathered it with Dijon mustard.
“I wish Dad would be more reasonable about medical treatment,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You and me both,” he said, when the microwave beeped. He grabbed his bowl of stew and sandwich. He would worry about water later.
Rachel poured a glass of ice water and sat down at the kitchen table. She put the glass at the place opposite from her. “Well, sit down,” she said, waving her hand. “We have to figure out exactly when and how I’ll do this trickery.”
“Dad is a sucker for his little girl. Just invite him to go to lunch with you, then take him to a doctor afterward,” Colton said.
“Stacey and I didn’t just talk about Dad,” Rachel said.
A bite of sandwich lodged in Colton’s throat. He coughed repeatedly and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Oh, really,” he said in a deliberately noncommittal tone.
“Yes,” Rachel said. “Stacey said the two of you could use some privacy. What do you say about that?”
“Privacy begins at home,” Colton said.
Rachel made a face at him. “I’m trying to help.”
“Then stay out of it,” he said. “There’s a baby involved. I don’t want to be responsible for messing up that child’s life. I’m taking it slow or not at all.”
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