Unfortunately. “Fine. If she’s home, I’ll bring her.”
“Good. Oh, and—” Donna lowered her voice “—you might want to hurry before the boys realize they could set the house on fire and there wouldn’t be a darn thing I could do about it.”
Plugged into her MP3 player, Jewel flinched when she opened her door to find Silas punching his arms into his corduroy jacket sleeves and looking extremely annoyed. But then—as he indicated she needed to ditch the earbuds—when was he ever not?
“My mother messed up her ankle. She asked if you wouldn’t mind coming over.”
Yep, caught that emphasis, all righty. Then his words sank in. “Ohmigosh—” she shoved her bare feet back into her shoes, yanked her sweatercoat off the hook by the door and pushed past him and down the stairs “—does she think it’s broken?”
“No idea.” She heard the door shut, Silas catch up with her. “But she said it was real swollen. And purple.”
“Might only be a sprain,” Jewel said, tucking her chin into her chest against the suddenly frigid breeze—September in northern New Mexico tended to be fickle—as she hotfooted it down the flagstone walk. At the end she made a sharp left, only to practically get whiplash when Silas grabbed her elbow and lugged her toward his Explorer, parked in front of the house.
“Quicker this way,” he said, hauling open her door, then zipping around the hood, the wind wreaking havoc on his normally neat, dark brown hair and probably irritating the very life out of him. Oh, yeah, Jewel had him pegged, all right—a man who prefers his universe precise and orderly, thank you very much, and woe betide anything or anybody who disturbs it. Or him.
Silas climbed in, rammed his key into the ignition. Glanced over, all Heathcliffian glower. “Seat belt.”
“For heaven’s sake, it’s two blocks—”
“Seat. Belt. Now.”
Sighing, Jewel secured the lap belt, only to release it less than thirty seconds later. Without, it should be noted, passing a single other vehicle. But considering the don’t-mess slant to Silas’s mouth, she opted to let it go.
The moment they were out of the car, the Garretts’ white front door swung open to expel a pair of wide-eyed, agitated little boys. The younger one, a curly blond cherub of maybe four or so, made a beeline for his father and grabbed his hand.
“Gramma fell and hurt her foot!” he said, tugging him inside. “It’s huge! I gave her the phone so she could call you!”
“Did not!” the older boy said, his straight, wheat-colored bangs blowing every which way in the breeze as he smacked his younger brother’s shoulder.
“Did too—”
“Boys. Not now,” Silas said with the sort of quiet authority that makes a person go, Whoa. The little one now clinging to him like a koala, he shut the door and crossed to his mother, seated on the old blue sofa with her foot propped up, her graying red hair a distressed tangle around her very pale face. Jewel took one look and shook her head.
“Silas, go put a whole bunch of ice in a plastic bag and wrap it in a towel, bring it here. But no sense in me even examining it. The ice might take down the swelling some, but if that’s not a candidate for the x-ray machine, I don’t know what is.”
Donna simultaneously winced and sighed. “I don’t suppose it helps that I heard a cracking sound when I went down.”
“Not a good sign, no. Still …” Jewel carefully sat by the offending foot, nodding her thanks to Silas when he returned with the ice pack. “It might not be that bad,” she said, carefully cushioning Donna’s ankle in the ice pack before looking up at Silas, “but you should probably get her to the ER.”
“Yes, of course, absolutely. Okay, boys, go get in the car—”
“For goodness’ sake, Si,” Donna said. “They can’t go with us! Who knows how long it’ll take? Besides, an ER waiting room’s no place for children.”
“Like they’re both not on first-name basis with the staff already,” Silas said. Donna gave him a look. “Fine. But who’s gonna watch ‘em? Noah’s clear across town at the Mannings, Eli and Dad are in Santa Fe. We could drop them off at Jess’s, but that’s a good half hour out of our way—”
“Um, hello?” Jewel raised her hand. “I’d be happy to keep an eye on them.” She aimed a smile in the boys’ direction, only to be met with a pair of dubious frowns.
“See?” Donna said, her face contorting as she shifted her ample form to put her good foot on the floor. “The Good Lord provides.”
Silas’s gaze shot to Jewel’s. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea—”
“Nonsense. Oliver?” This in a strained voice to the straight-haired one. “Get my poncho from the closet, honey. And Tad, grab my purse off the table by the door. That’s right, sugars—bring ‘em to me—”
“I don’t want to stay with her!” The little one inched closer to Silas, his worried eyes nearly the same muddy green as his father’s. “What if she’s mean?”
Jewel gasped. “I’m not—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Donna said as Oliver dumped the well-worn, Peruvian-patterned poncho on the couch beside her, “Jewel helps deliver babies! She obviously loves children! Don’t you, honey?”
“You bet! And really, Silas, it’s no problem. I don’t have any appointments today or anything.” Although despite the generous amount of cheer she’d injected into the words—what with her lack of pressing obligation being momentarily convenient—overall this was not a good thing. As in, she had far too much free time on her hands and not nearly enough cash in them—
“So it’s settled,” Donna said. “You all can stay right here. Si, give me a hand—”
“But we can’t stay here!” Oliver put in, his dark brown eyes all watery. “It’s almost time to feed Doughboy!”
Oh, for pity’s sake …
Crouching in front of the child, Jewel smiled. “Tell you what—if it’s okay with your daddy, we can go to your house, and you can feed Doughboy—” who or whatever that was “—and if it gets late you can go right to sleep in your own beds. But before that,” she then said to Tad, tapping him on his nose, “we’re gonna have so much fun your daddy’s gonna be sorry he wasn’t with us!”
The boys shared a glance … then a shrug. Jewel couldn’t decide if that was good or not. Then her mouth fell open as Silas scooped his mother—who was by no means a frail little thing—into his arms, before, with no outward evidence of strain, carting her across the room and out the still open front door.
“My daddy’s strong, huh?” little curly-head said, grinning at Jewel with one of those sweet, baby-toothed grins designed to make a woman want to rush right out and fill her womb.
Especially when said womb had just been nicely primed by the sight of a good-looking man acting all manly and such. Silently cursing biological
