her mind off the fact that his knee was two inches from hers.
“When I left the house, the two boys were playing with the dog out in the backyard. Have you seen the dent in the front of Peter’s car? I’m surprised the thing even runs.”
“That was his third car accident.”
“You know every little detail about these people, don’t you? How many times Peter Muraya has wrecked his car. The names of Miss Ethel’s children.”
She chuckled. “Why do you think my students call me the Grill Sergeant? I ask a lot of questions. So, tell me about you. Why did you really come here today?”
“About me. Forty-three, divorced, two sons, architect. Christian.” He fell silent for a moment. “Not in that order…and I really came to see you.”
She nearly choked on a carrot. “You didn’t have to do that. We’re having dinner tonight, aren’t we? Or maybe you’ve changed your mind.”
“I keep my promises.” His blue eyes grazed her face. “I wanted to see you doing this…being yourself.”
“I’m never anything but me. And listen, Jeremiah, you’re a nice man. Nicer than I thought, actually. I don’t want you to think I’m being standoffish, but I can’t…I just really am not able to find a lot of time for people.”
“Your whole life is about people.”
“People like you.” She covered her face with her hands and let out a groan of frustration. “You cannot have come here for me, okay? I’m not your type, and besides, I’m so far beyond all that. I’m thirty-five, and I have a doctorate and a good job. I was engaged for six years to the wrong man. I decided I really enjoyed working in Africa and helping international students and rehabbing houses more than anything. More than dating or whatever you want to call it. I’m single, okay? I go out with men sometimes, but I don’t want to do the whole game. The serious stuff and the emotional roller coaster and all that. So don’t be here for me, okay? Be here for Miss Ethel.”
“Okay,” he said.
Jeremiah munched on a carrot while Lara died of mortification, wishing she had kept her mouth shut and wondering why God hadn’t given her a magic eraser to delete all the things she said and did that she wanted to take back.
“The front half of Miss Ethel’s house is caving in,” Jeremiah commented after a few minutes of awkward silence. “The leaking roof has rotted the frame. Patching the chimney isn’t going to help. It needs major work—new trusses, drywall and insulation. Might as well redo the wiring and plumbing while we’re at it. She’s got a nice archway between the living and dining areas, but if she ever needs a wheelchair, she won’t be able to get back to the bedroom or the bathroom. Those doorways need to be widened, and we’ll want to put a ramp onto the porch.”
Lara stared at him. “Jeremiah, R & R doesn’t have the money or skill to do all that. We know how to paint and shingle and hammer a few nails. We can’t rebuild the entire front of Miss Ethel’s house. Most of us are weekend-handyman types. Amateurs.”
“Well, you just got yourself a pro.” He took a sip of water, crushed his paper cup and tossed it into the large commercial trash bin on the porch. “The boys and I will come over in the afternoons and on weekends. Let the others know in case anyone else wants to pitch in. Meanwhile, I’d better get back to Miss Ethel and her job at the telephone company.” He stood and dusted sandwich crumbs from his paint-splattered jeans.
“Thanks, Jeremiah,” Lara said.
He hunkered down and pointed a finger at her. “I’ll help Miss Ethel,” he said. “But I came for you. ”
Chapter Four
“A re you going to invite me in?” Jeremiah stood beside Lara on the front porch of her small bungalow. After working most of the day at Miss Ethel’s house, they had gone out for curry at an Indian restaurant Lara liked. His stomach was full, his mouth pleasantly on fire and his arms aching to hold the woman who
“When I left the house, the two boys were playing with the dog out in the backyard. Have you seen the dent in the front of Peter’s car? I’m surprised the thing even runs.”
“That was his third car accident.”
“You know every little detail about these people, don’t you? How many times Peter Muraya has wrecked his car. The names of Miss Ethel’s children.”
She chuckled. “Why do you think my students call me the Grill Sergeant? I ask a lot of questions. So, tell me about you. Why did you really come here today?”
“About me. Forty-three, divorced, two sons, architect. Christian.” He fell silent for a moment. “Not in that order…and I really came to see you.”
She nearly choked on a carrot. “You didn’t have to do that. We’re having dinner tonight, aren’t we? Or maybe you’ve changed your mind.”
“I keep my promises.” His blue eyes grazed her face. “I wanted to see you doing this…being yourself.”
“I’m never anything but me. And listen, Jeremiah, you’re a nice man. Nicer than I thought, actually. I don’t want you to think I’m being standoffish, but I can’t…I just really am not able to find a lot of time for people.”
“Your whole life is about people.”
“People like you.” She covered her face with her hands and let out a groan of frustration. “You cannot have come here for me, okay? I’m not your type, and besides, I’m so far beyond all that. I’m thirty-five, and I have a doctorate and a good job. I was engaged for six years to the wrong man. I decided I really enjoyed working in Africa and helping international students and rehabbing houses more than anything. More than dating or whatever you want to call it. I’m single, okay? I go out with men sometimes, but I don’t want to do the whole game. The serious stuff and the emotional roller coaster and all that. So don’t be here for me, okay? Be here for Miss Ethel.”
“Okay,” he said.
Jeremiah munched on a carrot while Lara died of mortification, wishing she had kept her mouth shut and wondering why God hadn’t given her a magic eraser to delete all the things she said and did that she wanted to take back.
“The front half of Miss Ethel’s house is caving in,” Jeremiah commented after a few minutes of awkward silence. “The leaking roof has rotted the frame. Patching the chimney isn’t going to help. It needs major work—new trusses, drywall and insulation. Might as well redo the wiring and plumbing while we’re at it. She’s got a nice archway between the living and dining areas, but if she ever needs a wheelchair, she won’t be able to get back to the bedroom or the bathroom. Those doorways need to be widened, and we’ll want to put a ramp onto the porch.”
Lara stared at him. “Jeremiah, R & R doesn’t have the money or skill to do all that. We know how to paint and shingle and hammer a few nails. We can’t rebuild the entire front of Miss Ethel’s house. Most of us are weekend-handyman types. Amateurs.”
“Well, you just got yourself a pro.” He took a sip of water, crushed his paper cup and tossed it into the large commercial trash bin on the porch. “The boys and I will come over in the afternoons and on weekends. Let the others know in case anyone else wants to pitch in. Meanwhile, I’d better get back to Miss Ethel and her job at the telephone company.” He stood and dusted sandwich crumbs from his paint-splattered jeans.
“Thanks, Jeremiah,” Lara said.
He hunkered down and pointed a finger at her. “I’ll help Miss Ethel,” he said. “But I came for you. ”
Chapter Four
“A re you going to invite me in?” Jeremiah stood beside Lara on the front porch of her small bungalow. After working most of the day at Miss Ethel’s house, they had gone out for curry at an Indian restaurant Lara liked. His stomach was full, his mouth pleasantly on fire and his arms aching to hold the woman who
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