Here to Stay by Catherine Anderson Page B

hang of stairs yet, which was undoubtedly his fault. He was screwing up somehow in his teaching methods. Over and over, he’d watched a video of a trainer teaching a mini how to handle risers, but so far, Rosebud, who caught on to everything fast, wasn’t getting it. She’d start out fine, and then she developed four left feet.
    As Zach began working with her to climb the steps, he asked himself for at least the hundredth time why he didn’t build a ramp. The answer was always the same. With a ramp, Rosebud wouldn’t master stairs as quickly, and it was an important skill for her to learn. Rosebud drove that point home by planting a hind foot squarely on his toe.
     
    Luke proved to be difficult about dinner. He didn’t want hamburgers. He preferred fish. Mandy put the beef back in the fridge and fixed Luke’s favorite, an apple jelly and horseradish salmon recipe, which was surprisingly delicious. When she served the meal, Luke sniffed the air. “Is that salmon?” he asked, making a face. “We had salmon last week. How about some variety?”
    Mandy slammed her fork down on the table with such force that Luke jumped. “Luke, you’re being impossible! What do you want from me?”
    She regretted the question immediately. Luke’s mouth pulled into the thin line she knew from experience meant trouble for her. Her brother hung his head, as many blind people often did. “I want my eyes,” he said flatly. “Give me back my eyes.”
    Mandy’s stomach contracted into a football-size knot of pain. As she removed the plate of food from in front of him, her hands shook so that she nearly dumped the contents in his lap. It was her fault her brother was blind, but must he remind her of it constantly for the rest of her life?
    “If not the salmon, what do you want to eat?” she asked tautly.
    He sighed and gestured limply with one hand. “I’ll just eat the stinking fish.”
    For a moment, Mandy had the unholy urge to throw the food at him. But when she glanced at his scarred face, her temper flagged. Luke did make her life difficult on a daily basis, but when she looked at it objectively, how much more difficult had she made his?
    She set the plate in front of him again. “I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted. Normally you love it.”
    Her brother groped for his fork. “Yeah, well, same old, same old. I’d just like something different every once in a while.”
    Here was something different: She was about ready to clobber him. Instead she sat across from him and tried to eat her meal. She couldn’t look at Luke, so she stared at the beautiful china plate. Her mother had had that pattern, which was still horrendously expensive if purchased brand-new, and had used it when she set a gorgeous table each evening for her perfectionist husband. Mandy had always loved the dishes and regretted that she’d been forced to leave them behind when she and her brother became wards of the court. She’d bought a few pieces of the china over time, at thrift stores and garage sales. Some of it was chipped, but it gave her a sense of family and tradition. She guessed everyone needed that, even if the family in question had been dysfunctional and her memories of childhood were mostly awful.
    Though the salmon was moist, it caught in her throat. Luke cleaned his plate. Mandy felt so miserable she ate only a few bites and put the rest under plastic wrap.
    “I want to go to bed,” Luke informed her as she started to clean up the kitchen.
    “Right this instant?”
    “Yes, right this instant. I’m tired.”
    Mandy looked at the skillet and dishes, which would be difficult to scrub if left to sit. No matter. If Luke was tired, she had to settle him in for the night. She could deal with the kitchen later. Besides, she’d be able to call in a sitter and leave the house earlier.
    It took nearly a half hour to get Luke into bed. He dawdled, dropped things, wasn’t satisfied with the first set of pajamas, and then wanted a drink, his