volunteered.” A quizzical look played on her face. “Any special reason other than you’re thoughtful?”
A knot tightened his throat. Did he really want to get into all of that? He glanced at her and noted her apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
As always, he tensed when he talked about Laine. “It’s fine.” Getting it out in the open. “This is the hard part.”
Lexie touched his arm. “No. Please. You don’t have to tell me. I prefer my privacy, too. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not prying. When my wife died, I realized how lonely life had become.”
Her face washed with sadness. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”
He kept going, wanting to tell the story, then move to something less depressing. “We had no children, although we’d wanted them, and when my wife died, I was alone. No longer a family. Nothing. It took a while to find my identity as anything more than a contractor for Pelham Homes.” He slowed at the traffic light and stopped.
Lexie nodded as if she understood.
“When I learned about this organization that did great things for sick kids, I hoped it would be a way to show compassion, and on a personal level, it helped me connect with children. Sometimes I still wish we’d had a child, though I know it would have made my life even more difficult to raise one without her.”
She shifted to face him, her eyes filled with tenderness. “How long has it been since your wife died?”
“Four years. I’ve been functioning for about two.” He managed to smile, not wanting her to think he was still the mess that he had been. Watching the woman he loved suffer and die from ovarian cancer had been a nightmare, but he’d pulled himself together. Only his faith had gotten him through.
“I think it’s admirable, Ethan. You volunteered and turned a negative into a positive. Everyone should do that.”
The light in her eyes told him so much. “You’ve done the same, haven’t you?”
“I try. It’s not easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile is.”
She looked thoughtful and seemed to ponder his words. “You’re right. I’ll keep that thought for times when things look dark.”
When things look dark. Ethan had a difficult time picturing her letting things knock her down. She exuded strength. The light turned green, and he moved ahead, then past the intersection, he pulled up to the tire shop.
Lexie had become quiet, but when he turned off the ignition, she opened the door and stepped out before he did. He met her by the trunk, and she followed him inside with her tire.
Once the mechanic had written up their order, Ethan motioned toward the chairs. “We might as well sit.”
She sank into one, but before joining her, he spotted a vending machine. “Want a pop?”
“Do they have water?”
He ambled to the machine and nodded. He dropped in the coins and pulled out a bottle of water for her and a cola for himself. Before he gave her the bottle, he unscrewed the cap.
She grinned. “Thanks. Always the gentleman.”
Ethan gave her a playful shrug and settled beside her. Back in the meeting room, he’d longed to get to know her better, and now he couldn’t help but grin, recalling he hadn’t even learned her name until the tire incident. Thank you, Lord, for that flat.
Lexie’s intense look warned him he’d been quiet too long.
“I was just thinking. Earlier I’d said I would like to know more about…the group.” Good cover. “And here we are.”
“The group?” She gave a shrug. “Everyone has a sick child, as you know, but I don’t know them all. I’m good friends with Kelsey. She was the moderator. Her daughter has a brain tumor, but Lucy’s doing well.” She quieted a moment. “And Ava…you remember her. Her son Brandon has Hodgkins lymphoma.”
“Ava?”
Lexie grinned. “She’s the one with all the questions about the foundation donor. She’s curious to a fault.”
He chuckled at her description. “Curiosity is okay.” His own had reached fever pitch.
“Tell me about your son.”
Her face brightened. “Cooper.” She ran her finger around the rim of the water bottle. “He’s my joy. Cooper’s seven. A second-grader. He’ll be eight soon. He was diagnosed with leukemia a year ago.”
Leukemia. The word hit him hard. Cancer. He managed to maintain his composure. “That’s very hard on you.”
“It’s harder on him.” She lowered her head. “He’s a great kid. You should meet him.”
A jolt of panic shot through him. He’d like to meet her son. He’d like to get to know her, but cancer? Again? “You sound like a proud mom.”
“I am. He’s a brave boy. Never complains about the treatment, and he’s very optimistic.”
The urge to flee came over him, soon usurped by shame. A little boy without a dad. Or maybe he had a dad who spent time with him. “I’m sure his dad’s proud of him, too.”
Her face darkened, and Ethan realized he’d made a grave error.
“Cooper doesn’t see his father.” Her jaw tightened, and she looked away.
“Mrs. Carlson.”
Lexie’s arm jerked as Ethan looked up at the mechanic.
“I found a nail embedded in the tire. The repair will take about twenty minutes.”
She glanced at him. “Ethan, is this okay with you?”
He nodded, his mind scrambling to find a new topic to discuss. His job—anything to keep him from thinking about the little boy with cancer and no dad.
“I should call the sitter. She might worry.” Lexie dug into her bag and pulled out her cell. “I’ll just step outside.”
She rose and strode to the door while Ethan watched her through the window, disappointed at his sense of relief. Somewhere in his crazy mind, he’d been attracted to this woman with the amazing eyes and captivating manner, but his dream had been shot down by one word. Cancer. Laine’s face filled Ethan’s mind. They’d had such hopes and dreams. She’d looked radiant when her CA 125 test came back with good results, and she’d been so brave each time the report was bad news. He’d lived with heartbreak for over two years. He couldn’t watch it happen again. Not to a little boy.
Chapter Two
“Can I go to school today, Mom?” Dressed in his jungle-print pajamas, Cooper leaned
