hurried across the lawn, knowing without a doubt that the twins had intruded on their uncle’s work.
Had something like this happened when she’d first arrived, she’d have been panic-stricken about how Pierce might react to being interrupted, how he might respond to her falling down on the job and losing sight of his nephews. However, she’d learned a thing or two about the doctor.
He was a bona fide workaholic, yes. But although he often lost himself in his research, he genuinely loved Benjamin and Jeremiah. Whenever he saw them, his face lit up with pleasure. That thought made her smile even now. She’d arrived in this house expecting to face a daunting intellectual who would make her feel totally self-conscious. But Pierce’s tendency toward absentmindedness somehow made him…safe. It took away all reason for her to feel ill at ease. In fact, she’d started experiencing the peculiar sensation of wanting to take care of the man.
Take dinnertime, for instance. That first night they had talked in his study, he had told her that he’d like to join her and the boys for their evening meal. But Pierce apparently had become so wrapped up in his research that he’d worked straight through dinner the following two consecutive nights. So Amy had taken to making him a plate, wrapping it up so it wouldn’t dry out and slipping it into a warm oven so he’d have something to eat whenever he surfaced from his study or his lab or the greenhouse.
She stepped inside the building, cognizant that the air was warmer and more humid than outside. The greenhouse was long and fairly narrow, something you might find in a botanical garden rather than on someone’s personal property.
“Benjamin? Jeremiah?”
The foliage on the plants was thick and glossy and green, and the atmosphere took on a heavy feeling, rich with oxygen, as she made her way down one aisle.
“Over here,” she heard one of the boys call out.
“We’re helping Uncle Pierce,” the other said.
“Come join us, Amy.”
From the tone of Pierce’s voice he didn’t sound at all annoyed that the boys had invaded his space. When she reached them, she saw that the twins were standing on stools at a planting table. Both of them had dirt smeared up to their elbows. Jeremiah was tamping down soil in what looked to be a plastic seedling tray and Benjamin was accepting a palmful of tiny seeds from his uncle.
“These seeds are special, Amy,” Benjamin told her. “Uncle Pierce made ’em with cross-pollimation.”
“Cross-pollination,” Pierce corrected.
“And Uncle Pierce told us that seeds were first made like this,” Benjamin continued, “by a man who lost his mind.”
“Lost his mind? When did I say that?” Bewilderment bit into Pierce’s forehead.
Benjamin said, “You said he was mental.”
“Not mental.” Pierce chuckled as he shook his head. “Mendel. His name was Mendel. Gregor Mendel.”
“Oh.” The child looked momentarily confused. “I thought you were telling us that the guy was crazy to try to, you know…cross-pollimate plants.”
The sigh that issued from Pierce was brimming with good-humored surrender.
Jeremiah reached up and scratched his nose, smudging the bridge of it with soil. “Amy, I betcha didn’t know that there are mommy plants and daddy plants. Just like people. Uncle Pierce was telling us that when they rub on each other, they make seeds ‘steada babies.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin added without lifting his eyes from his work. “Plant sex.”
This completely unexpected detour in the conversation stunned Amy into silence. She lifted her gaze and saw that all the color had drained from Pierce’s handsome face. His lips parted in disbelief. Evidently he was having trouble finding his tongue, too.
What was so mind-blowing was not only what the twins had said, but also how they’d said it. They’d spoken as if the topic was no big deal, honestly detailing in their own words what Pierce had evidently explained to them.
The children didn’t even look up from the task at hand. Benjamin had passed his brother some of the seeds and their fingers were busy carefully sprinkling them over the soil in the seedling tray.
Her eyes locked on Pierce’s mortified green gaze. Heat flushed his face. He forced his jaw closed. He swallowed. Then he moistened his lips.
Finally he whispered, “That wasn’t quite how I put things. I never once mentioned the word sex.”
The situation struck a humorous chord in her all of a sudden, but the menacing look he gave her made it clear that he would not appreciate it if she surrendered to the laughter that bubbled in the back of her throat. So she did all she could to squelch it.
Evidently Benjamin noticed how quiet the adults had become. He lifted his chin, looked from Amy to his uncle.
“Oh, it’s okay, Uncle Pierce,” he said easily. “Me and Jeremiah know all about sex.”
His brother nodded, adding, “Daddy doesn’t know it, but our mommy watches soap operas.”
The candidness expressed by the children tickled Amy’s funny bone all the more. But Pierce didn’t seem to find any humor in the moment. He looked downright horrified.
“All done,” Benjamin announced. “Do we need to water the seeds, Uncle Pierce?”
“Yes. Go over there to the sink—” Pierce pointed the way “—and fill up the watering can.”
The boys scrambled down from the stools and raced off.
“No running,” Amy called out. “You’ll fall and hurt yourselves.”
She was in a quandary. She was trying hard not to smile, but she also felt awkwardness pressing in on them.
Then he murmured, “I’m going to have to speak to my sister about her television viewing habits.”
Amy could stand it no more. Laughter gurgled forth. Her hand flew to cover her lips. But air rushed between her fingers, her cheeks stretched in a wide grin, her shoulders shuddered up and down.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, but it was hopeless. “It’s just…funny.”
A corner of Pierce’s mouth quirked once, twice, and soon he was chuckling right along with her.
“It is pretty funny,” he agreed.
“What’s funny?” Jeremiah lugged the pail over, and it was so full that water sloshed over the rim.
Ignoring his nephew’s question, Pierce asked one of his own. “So you’ve decided to sprout those seeds hydroponically, huh?”
Benjamin’s whole face screwed up. “Hydro what?”
“In water,” he explained.
“But we’ve already planted ’em in dirt,” Jeremiah pointed out, confusion knitting his forehead.
“It
