sudden hunger to find out what had happened to make this intense woman hurt. She stared at the offered hand.
I challenge her and she concedes? Just like that?
There had to be something else going on here, and she vowed to discover what it was. In the meantime, she shook hands with Loomis, quickly transferring from the traditional handshake of her ’rents to the handclasp accepted on the streets. Loomis fumbled the unfamiliar action. Gwen grinned. “That’s the end of it.”
The tension dissolved in the summer kitchen, and life resumed its normal pace with Cara asking, “Lucky, would you help me with the vegetables? Heather can take Oscar; give you a bit of a break.”
Lucky nodded, and transferred her baby to Heather, who was sitting in the chair beside Cara. Megan and Delia drifted off to the picnic table and their toys. Rick left to put the shears away.
Loomis and Gwen had held each other’s hand far longer than was appropriate, and Gwen felt a measure of interest.
Is Loomis gay? Do I really have a shot here?
Blushing, Loomis released Gwen’s hand. She glanced at the boys who still watched from the curtain. “Son, you’d better finish cleaning up, or dry off and get dressed before you catch a cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kevin ducked back behind the sheet while Terry remained where he was.
“Gwen,” Cara said, “I could use your help, too.”
She heeded Cara’s request, pleased that her defiance hadn’t immediately put her back on the road. Sitting at the table, she mused over Loomis’s reaction as she learned how to slice celery.
Chapter Six
Gwen sat on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, her back against the couch. Once the sun had gone down, the coolness of spring had reasserted itself, reminding her she was at a higher altitude compared to the low-lying valley of the city. The fire blazing on the hearth kept back the chill of evening. Her body ached gently from the day’s activities, but she was clean and warm. As a result she could barely keep awake. Around her sat the Loomis clan and their new members. Cara sat in a rocking chair on the other side of the fireplace, knitting. Loomis lounged in a ratty loveseat near Gwen, sandwiched between the two little girls. Two oil lamps hung from an overhead beam, illuminating the book she read from as well as the rest of the seating area. At Loomis’s feet, Kevin and Terry sprawled on the floor, the coffee table pushed back to allow them room. Kevin had rolled onto his side and looked like he was asleep.
Lucky sat on the couch behind Gwen, nursing Oscar from a bottle of sheep’s milk. That had surprised Gwen; whoever heard of milking sheep? Cows, yes, and she thought she remembered seeing goat cheese in the grocery stores as a child, but sheep? It had been so long since she’d had any milk, she hadn’t been able to tell if it tasted any different from that of a cow. In any case, she was glad for Oscar’s added nourishment. She had been with the Gatos long enough to feel some level of responsibility for them. At least Oscar had a better chance of surviving to see his first birthday now, something few babies in the city achieved.
Also on the couch was Heather. She said she was doing needlepoint. It looked like sewing to Gwen, but what did she know? Whatever Heather was doing, it involved lots of colored threads, a needle and a wooden hoop. Rick sat on a stool at the breakfast bar behind Cara, smoking a pipe. Whatever it was didn’t smell like pipe smoke. Gwen idly wondered where he had gotten the tobacco. Her eyes drifted shut as Loomis’s voice droned. In her mind’s eye, she saw the action unfold as the child-hero took on a dragon, succeeding where his opponents had failed. The huge black lizard thrashed as it tried to capture him, but missed as the crowd roared in approval. Teasing her from high overhead, whizzing around on his broom, he abruptly swooped low, and retrieved the golden egg.
“And that’s it. Time for bed.”
The
I challenge her and she concedes? Just like that?
There had to be something else going on here, and she vowed to discover what it was. In the meantime, she shook hands with Loomis, quickly transferring from the traditional handshake of her ’rents to the handclasp accepted on the streets. Loomis fumbled the unfamiliar action. Gwen grinned. “That’s the end of it.”
The tension dissolved in the summer kitchen, and life resumed its normal pace with Cara asking, “Lucky, would you help me with the vegetables? Heather can take Oscar; give you a bit of a break.”
Lucky nodded, and transferred her baby to Heather, who was sitting in the chair beside Cara. Megan and Delia drifted off to the picnic table and their toys. Rick left to put the shears away.
Loomis and Gwen had held each other’s hand far longer than was appropriate, and Gwen felt a measure of interest.
Is Loomis gay? Do I really have a shot here?
Blushing, Loomis released Gwen’s hand. She glanced at the boys who still watched from the curtain. “Son, you’d better finish cleaning up, or dry off and get dressed before you catch a cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kevin ducked back behind the sheet while Terry remained where he was.
“Gwen,” Cara said, “I could use your help, too.”
She heeded Cara’s request, pleased that her defiance hadn’t immediately put her back on the road. Sitting at the table, she mused over Loomis’s reaction as she learned how to slice celery.
Chapter Six
Gwen sat on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, her back against the couch. Once the sun had gone down, the coolness of spring had reasserted itself, reminding her she was at a higher altitude compared to the low-lying valley of the city. The fire blazing on the hearth kept back the chill of evening. Her body ached gently from the day’s activities, but she was clean and warm. As a result she could barely keep awake. Around her sat the Loomis clan and their new members. Cara sat in a rocking chair on the other side of the fireplace, knitting. Loomis lounged in a ratty loveseat near Gwen, sandwiched between the two little girls. Two oil lamps hung from an overhead beam, illuminating the book she read from as well as the rest of the seating area. At Loomis’s feet, Kevin and Terry sprawled on the floor, the coffee table pushed back to allow them room. Kevin had rolled onto his side and looked like he was asleep.
Lucky sat on the couch behind Gwen, nursing Oscar from a bottle of sheep’s milk. That had surprised Gwen; whoever heard of milking sheep? Cows, yes, and she thought she remembered seeing goat cheese in the grocery stores as a child, but sheep? It had been so long since she’d had any milk, she hadn’t been able to tell if it tasted any different from that of a cow. In any case, she was glad for Oscar’s added nourishment. She had been with the Gatos long enough to feel some level of responsibility for them. At least Oscar had a better chance of surviving to see his first birthday now, something few babies in the city achieved.
Also on the couch was Heather. She said she was doing needlepoint. It looked like sewing to Gwen, but what did she know? Whatever Heather was doing, it involved lots of colored threads, a needle and a wooden hoop. Rick sat on a stool at the breakfast bar behind Cara, smoking a pipe. Whatever it was didn’t smell like pipe smoke. Gwen idly wondered where he had gotten the tobacco. Her eyes drifted shut as Loomis’s voice droned. In her mind’s eye, she saw the action unfold as the child-hero took on a dragon, succeeding where his opponents had failed. The huge black lizard thrashed as it tried to capture him, but missed as the crowd roared in approval. Teasing her from high overhead, whizzing around on his broom, he abruptly swooped low, and retrieved the golden egg.
“And that’s it. Time for bed.”
The
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