Groom in Training. Gail Martin Gaymer

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He rose and bent to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for listening. I love you, Mom.”

      Sounds slipped from her lips, and he knew she’d said she loved him, too.

      Nick hurried from the building, eager to breathe fresh air and wash away the scent of medicine and antiseptic. His chest weighed with emotions he didn’t want to feel. Life wasn’t fair. His mother had been a good woman, a faithful wife and a thoughtful mother. Why did God give her a devastating stroke?

      He slid into his car, letting the thoughts settle into reason. God didn’t promise a life without pain or sorrow. A Scripture slipped into his mind, something about how in our weaknesses we become more powerful, because we turn to the Lord for strength. His mother’s power was her faith. One day she would be whole again in heaven.

      His throat knotted. Nick grasped his own faith and sent up a prayer for the Lord to touch his weakness with greater strength. He needed to be a faithful son just as his mother had been faithful to her family—her boys—and to the Lord.

      Nick flipped open his cell phone and hit his brother’s stored number. He’d nearly hung up before Martin finally answered.

      “I’m leaving the nursing home now. Mom’s good. I talked about a few things—when we were kids. She even laughed. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

      “I know it’s difficult, but you did the right thing. I’m glad you went.” Martin’s voice sounded different—less critical and more accepting.

      “I am, too.” Martin’s reaction punctuated Nick’s decision to be a better son.

      He said goodbye and flipped the lid on his cell phone. Why couldn’t he and Martin talk like that about everything? He needed to pray for Martin and for their relationship. One of these days, his brother would be the only family he had left.

      A lump formed in his throat, and he tossed the cell on the passenger seat. Emotions. He hated them.

      Fred’s bark zapped Steph to action. She dashed to the patio door, hoping she’d find Nick at the fence, but when her foot hit the flagstone, her stomach spiraled. Martin. Though he appeared to be an older version of Nick, his expression showed no relationship. Nick had warned her.

      She drew up her shoulders and marched to the fence. “What’s the problem?”

      “Keep your mongrel away from my dog.”

      Steph winced and drew back from his index finger aiming at her nose. “The dog has every right to be in his own yard.”

      “You think so?” His accusing finger swung toward the fence.

      She eyed the pile of dirt where Fred had begun to dig. Her nerves tingled, and she feared she couldn’t get out the words. “I guarantee it won’t happen ag—”

      “Why not? You think that mutt’s going to forget how to dig?”

      This wasn’t the way she wanted to meet Martin. And it wasn’t like Fred. She shifted her gaze from Martin’s mottled face to Suzette bounding around the yard as if showing off for poor Fred. He was smitten.

      She sent Martin a piercing look, hoping to convince him she wasn’t going to put up with his insults. “Calm down, please. Fred didn’t get into your yard. He only dug a little hole.”

      “Because I stopped him. Next time, I might not be that—”

      “Next time? I told you it won’t happen again.” Today she understood Nick’s concern.

      As her words charged across the fence, she spotted Nick racing toward them with the expression of a fireman heading for a five alarm fire.

      Martin raised his fist. “He better not or—”

      “Whoa, bro.” Nick skidded to his side and grabbed Martin’s knotted fingers. “What’s going on?” He shifted his gaze from his brother to Steph and gave her one of those I-told-you-so looks.

      Martin snatched away his hand.

      “What happened?” Nick asked, shaking his head.

      She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Fred dug a minute hole beside the fence and—”

      “No need to explain.” Nick eyed Suzette, prancing at his side, and brushed his hand over her fur. “Suzette, are you getting in trouble?”

      Martin’s look pierced Nick. “What do you mean Suzette? She didn’t dig the hole.”

      “Martin, the dogs are getting along fine. You’re the one with the problem. Learn something from your dog.”

      Martin’s nostrils flared. “This isn’t your business.” He spun on his heel and marched away from the fence with Suzette pattering alongside him.

      Steph remained quiet. She had to live next door to the man.

      Nick rested his elbow on the fence post. “Sorry about that. Like I told you, my brother has a short fuse sometimes. He needs to learn a little diplomacy.”

      “That’s not all he needs to learn.” Steph arched a brow. “He called Fred a mongrel.” She gazed into the large yard, noticing Suzette had gone inside. Not by choice, she was sure.

      He leaned over the fence and eyed the hole, grasped the fence post and flung himself over the top rail, then wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I can’t believe my brother made a fuss over this.”

      Steph’s chest hummed.

      His arm slipped away, and she stood dumbfounded, admiring his muscular arms while he eyed the hole. Her body ached to be back in his embrace. When her pulse stopped racing, she could finally concentrate. “This isn’t like Fred at all.”

      “Remember, men do crazy things around women.” He grinned at her before turning his attention to the fence.

      Didn’t he think jumping over a fence was crazy? Her mouth curved to a grin.

      “Do you think we should do something to stop him from digging?” He looked at her flower beds, the fresh blooms peeking up from the ground. “Some kind of safeguard.”

      Safeguard? She needed to safeguard herself from her emotions. “Thanks, but it’s not your problem.” She plucked lint from her sweater. “How can two men from the same family be so different? Was your brother adopted?”

      Nick tossed his head back, chuckling. “I’ve wondered that myself.”

      A giddy feeling came over her, and she sensed the expression had bonded to her face.

      “Every time I meet you I like you more and more.” His eyes glinted as he gave her another one-armed squeeze.

      “Thanks.” The touch swept to her toes. She lowered her gaze, needing to turn the subject away from her. “I don’t know what got into Fred.”

      “Males can be impetuous when it comes to the fairer sex.” He lowered his arm as if he had just noticed the hug. “I’d better get inside and deal with the ‘wrath of Martin.’ I’ll do what I can to talk sense

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