eating supper.” The traveling nurse, a speech therapist and physical therapist had all visited. A change in Clint’s meds had him less drowsy, more cantankerous and speaking a smidge more clearly. “He’s always working.”
Clint grunted.
“Don’t believe me?” She outlined all that Cooper had recently done. And how now that her kitchen had been sanitized and spit-shined, she found herself missing the chickens and calf.
Clint wrote
Don’t trust him!
She sighed. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but knock it off. He’s done more around here in a few days than I could’ve in a month. You should be grateful to him. I know I am.” Despite the tension between them that was as plain as summer heat on shimmering blacktop, not for a second would she discount Cooper’s value to the ranch.
That kiss meant nothing. It’d been a split-second mistake to add to her ever-growing mountain.
Clint was back to tapping on his whiteboard.
He’s the devil!
“Oh, stop. You hating your son isn’t going to bring your wife back. Do you think she’d approve of this feud? If anything, she’d be ashamed of you for not insisting Cooper come home years ago. Did you know Jim even secretly tried mending fences?” Whereas she’d initially been mad at Jim for lying to her, after letting the fact sink in, she now saw it as brave. When Clint was at full strength, he’d been a force to contend with. No one dared cross him.
Her father-in-law growled.
She gave him a dirty look. “Like it or not, Clint Hansen, things are changing around here for the better.”
After giving him his meds, she made sure his lightweight plastic pitcher was filled with fresh water, and that his TV remote was on the nightstand in case he woke in the middle of the night. The physical therapist had mentioned that in the coming weeks, he wanted Clint upright for a portion of his days. He also had simple exercises to do for regaining his strength.
“That should do it,” she said after tidying his quilts.
“Thwank oooh.”
She kissed his leathery cheek. “You’re welcome. I love you. Now go to sleep and wake up less cantankerous.”
In the kitchen, Millie expected to find Cooper at the table, but there was no sign of him.
“Where’s your uncle?” she asked her daughter, trying to strike a casual, conversational tone as if his whereabouts didn’t really matter. Which they didn’t. She just wanted to know if he liked her pork chops. Because no way had she actually missed him the past couple of days.
LeeAnn shrugged. “Beats me. Do you think this is tall enough?”
After peeking in the oven to see if Cooper had even taken his plate—he had—she told her daughter, “Looks good to me. Maybe even it out on the back side?”
She sighed. “That’s gonna take forever. God, this is so boring!”
“Sorry. Maybe you should’ve picked another project.” Millie wanted to find Cooper, but instead joined her daughter in slapping more of the goopy papier-mâché strips onto her volcano.
What was it about him that had her craving his company? And why had she made that ridiculous speech about his staying away? If she hadn’t, he might be in the kitchen, helping with this admitted snooze fest of a project. Was she a bad mom for hating the annual science fair? “How much do you have left to do after you paint your mountain?”
“Not much. The pop bottle eruption part seems super easy. Then I have to write the paper. And make the backboard. Oh—and find pictures for the backboard. Think Uncle Cooper would let me use a couple of his from Pompeii?”
“Probably. Does that mean you two are now friends?”
LeeAnn made a preteen look of disgust. “Eew, no. But his pictures were pretty cool.”
“True...” Millie couldn’t wrap her mind around how far away Pompeii actually was. She’d barely been out of the state. Would Cooper mind talking about his travels? What other pictures did he have? Was he one of those Navy guys with a woman in every
Clint grunted.
“Don’t believe me?” She outlined all that Cooper had recently done. And how now that her kitchen had been sanitized and spit-shined, she found herself missing the chickens and calf.
Clint wrote
Don’t trust him!
She sighed. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but knock it off. He’s done more around here in a few days than I could’ve in a month. You should be grateful to him. I know I am.” Despite the tension between them that was as plain as summer heat on shimmering blacktop, not for a second would she discount Cooper’s value to the ranch.
That kiss meant nothing. It’d been a split-second mistake to add to her ever-growing mountain.
Clint was back to tapping on his whiteboard.
He’s the devil!
“Oh, stop. You hating your son isn’t going to bring your wife back. Do you think she’d approve of this feud? If anything, she’d be ashamed of you for not insisting Cooper come home years ago. Did you know Jim even secretly tried mending fences?” Whereas she’d initially been mad at Jim for lying to her, after letting the fact sink in, she now saw it as brave. When Clint was at full strength, he’d been a force to contend with. No one dared cross him.
Her father-in-law growled.
She gave him a dirty look. “Like it or not, Clint Hansen, things are changing around here for the better.”
After giving him his meds, she made sure his lightweight plastic pitcher was filled with fresh water, and that his TV remote was on the nightstand in case he woke in the middle of the night. The physical therapist had mentioned that in the coming weeks, he wanted Clint upright for a portion of his days. He also had simple exercises to do for regaining his strength.
“That should do it,” she said after tidying his quilts.
“Thwank oooh.”
She kissed his leathery cheek. “You’re welcome. I love you. Now go to sleep and wake up less cantankerous.”
In the kitchen, Millie expected to find Cooper at the table, but there was no sign of him.
“Where’s your uncle?” she asked her daughter, trying to strike a casual, conversational tone as if his whereabouts didn’t really matter. Which they didn’t. She just wanted to know if he liked her pork chops. Because no way had she actually missed him the past couple of days.
LeeAnn shrugged. “Beats me. Do you think this is tall enough?”
After peeking in the oven to see if Cooper had even taken his plate—he had—she told her daughter, “Looks good to me. Maybe even it out on the back side?”
She sighed. “That’s gonna take forever. God, this is so boring!”
“Sorry. Maybe you should’ve picked another project.” Millie wanted to find Cooper, but instead joined her daughter in slapping more of the goopy papier-mâché strips onto her volcano.
What was it about him that had her craving his company? And why had she made that ridiculous speech about his staying away? If she hadn’t, he might be in the kitchen, helping with this admitted snooze fest of a project. Was she a bad mom for hating the annual science fair? “How much do you have left to do after you paint your mountain?”
“Not much. The pop bottle eruption part seems super easy. Then I have to write the paper. And make the backboard. Oh—and find pictures for the backboard. Think Uncle Cooper would let me use a couple of his from Pompeii?”
“Probably. Does that mean you two are now friends?”
LeeAnn made a preteen look of disgust. “Eew, no. But his pictures were pretty cool.”
“True...” Millie couldn’t wrap her mind around how far away Pompeii actually was. She’d barely been out of the state. Would Cooper mind talking about his travels? What other pictures did he have? Was he one of those Navy guys with a woman in every
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