closed now,” Isaac explained, tugging her over to the Galaga machine. “I guess the X-Box generation doesn’t need them, but this place prides itself on refurbished boxes from the ’80s and ’90s.”
A giggle escaped. “I haven’t done this in years.”
“Which means I actually have a shot at beating you.” His teasing smile was genuine, and she laughed again.
“I seriously doubt it.” If anything, she’d mastered the fine art of patience and he’d never topped her in Pac-Man or the Ms. spin-off, though Galaga left them pretty evenly matched. Setting the paper bag down, Isaac opened it and tossed her a roll of quarters.
“For the lady.” He winked, then held up his own roll. “For me.”
“I thought you brought food.” She leaned over to peek into the bag, and Isaac tipped it so she could see the candy and soda inside.
“I did. A very unhealthy, high-calorie, loaded-with-sugar lunch to keep us fueled for hours.” He popped open a can of her favorite and passed it over. “So, you want to go first?”
Lips pursed, she took it, thinking of a hundred reasons why taking the can was a bad idea. She didn’t drink soda, avoided sweets except for the occasional piece of cake with her mother, and had to add extra miles to her walk whenever she indulged, to keep the pounds off her hips. Plenty of reasons to say no….
“Come on, you know you want to.” He waved a Snickers bar at her, and she snatched it from him.
“You’re bad.”
He grinned and kissed her cheek. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
She let him go first because her system went into overload from the brief touch and stuffing the candy bar in her mouth kept her from having to respond. It took her most of their first game to come out of that daze. When he got to enter his initials for top score, her competitive spirit jerked her out of her stupor.
“Pac-Man next.”
He groaned, and followed her over. When he crowded too close as she took the controls, she bumped him with her hip. “No cheating this time.”
Laughing, he moved to settle right next to the machine and angled his head to watch her play—and put himself in her direct line of sight.
Yeah, she lost that game, too.
Chapter Seven
Sundown on the second day of Hanukkah brought the children and several family members out in force. Isaac hadn’t been surprised to find Nona among them. She rested against his side while Zehava sang the Hebrew prayer and translated it to English. Nona lit her candles with him and helped entertain the youngest with stories. Fortunately, many of the families brought food with them, some from their Thanksgiving meals. Others shared baked goods. The center’s kitchen was full by the time the last family left.
In the quiet, and finally alone together, he and Zehava lit the second candle for their son. While they stared at the menorah in silence, Zehava offered him a gift. “I have a picture of him.”
Everything in him stilled, and he braced for the hurt. He and Zehava kept picking at his wound, and the only reason it had a scab and hadn’t healed over completely was because they’d never fully drained it of the infection he’d let fester. “I don’t know.” The most honest response he could give her.
She tipped her head and the weight of her studious gaze rested on him. “Okay.”
He tried to assess why the easy acceptance. “I’m trying to keep my word.” He really didn’t know how he would feel if he saw a picture of their son. The boy was an abstract source of pain and disappointment—and why Isaac had pulled away from her for too long.
“I know, which is why I said okay.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth, and the action drew his attention. Bit by bit, he’d woken up to the need for her he’d thought long since lost.
No. Not lost. Buried .
The clarity of that nearly took him out at the knees. He’d never stopped loving her, only forced love into some narrow box he could leave buried in
A giggle escaped. “I haven’t done this in years.”
“Which means I actually have a shot at beating you.” His teasing smile was genuine, and she laughed again.
“I seriously doubt it.” If anything, she’d mastered the fine art of patience and he’d never topped her in Pac-Man or the Ms. spin-off, though Galaga left them pretty evenly matched. Setting the paper bag down, Isaac opened it and tossed her a roll of quarters.
“For the lady.” He winked, then held up his own roll. “For me.”
“I thought you brought food.” She leaned over to peek into the bag, and Isaac tipped it so she could see the candy and soda inside.
“I did. A very unhealthy, high-calorie, loaded-with-sugar lunch to keep us fueled for hours.” He popped open a can of her favorite and passed it over. “So, you want to go first?”
Lips pursed, she took it, thinking of a hundred reasons why taking the can was a bad idea. She didn’t drink soda, avoided sweets except for the occasional piece of cake with her mother, and had to add extra miles to her walk whenever she indulged, to keep the pounds off her hips. Plenty of reasons to say no….
“Come on, you know you want to.” He waved a Snickers bar at her, and she snatched it from him.
“You’re bad.”
He grinned and kissed her cheek. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
She let him go first because her system went into overload from the brief touch and stuffing the candy bar in her mouth kept her from having to respond. It took her most of their first game to come out of that daze. When he got to enter his initials for top score, her competitive spirit jerked her out of her stupor.
“Pac-Man next.”
He groaned, and followed her over. When he crowded too close as she took the controls, she bumped him with her hip. “No cheating this time.”
Laughing, he moved to settle right next to the machine and angled his head to watch her play—and put himself in her direct line of sight.
Yeah, she lost that game, too.
Chapter Seven
Sundown on the second day of Hanukkah brought the children and several family members out in force. Isaac hadn’t been surprised to find Nona among them. She rested against his side while Zehava sang the Hebrew prayer and translated it to English. Nona lit her candles with him and helped entertain the youngest with stories. Fortunately, many of the families brought food with them, some from their Thanksgiving meals. Others shared baked goods. The center’s kitchen was full by the time the last family left.
In the quiet, and finally alone together, he and Zehava lit the second candle for their son. While they stared at the menorah in silence, Zehava offered him a gift. “I have a picture of him.”
Everything in him stilled, and he braced for the hurt. He and Zehava kept picking at his wound, and the only reason it had a scab and hadn’t healed over completely was because they’d never fully drained it of the infection he’d let fester. “I don’t know.” The most honest response he could give her.
She tipped her head and the weight of her studious gaze rested on him. “Okay.”
He tried to assess why the easy acceptance. “I’m trying to keep my word.” He really didn’t know how he would feel if he saw a picture of their son. The boy was an abstract source of pain and disappointment—and why Isaac had pulled away from her for too long.
“I know, which is why I said okay.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth, and the action drew his attention. Bit by bit, he’d woken up to the need for her he’d thought long since lost.
No. Not lost. Buried .
The clarity of that nearly took him out at the knees. He’d never stopped loving her, only forced love into some narrow box he could leave buried in
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