cheeks as he reached for the food, Tori’s words bringing a momentary smile to his face. “I try t-to. She be-believes in me. Even when—when . . . nobody else d-does.” And like that, his smile was gone, his sweetly shy demeanor replaced by something resembling controlled rage. “Mizz Barker said I r-robbered her m-money. She c-called the police and . . . and t-told them I was b-bad. Very, very b-bad.”
“Any food left? Or did you eat it already?” Doug strode around the corner of Rose’s house, Curtis in tow. Flashing a smile that rivaled the light from the sun, Doug wagged a finger in Tori’s direction. “You can’t get a guy all excited about fried chicken and then eat it before he gets back.”
“I couldn’t eat all of that chicken if I tried,” Tori said, her laugh temporarily stilling the tension that had descended over the patio like a smog-ridden cloud. Scooping up Doug’s plate with her left hand and Curtis’s plate with her right, she handed the food to the men.
Doug’s gaze slid slowly down her body before returning to meet hers. She felt her cheeks flush as his lips spread outward in yet another face-lighting smile. “I suspect you’re right. There’s not a lot of room in that little body of yours to fit that kind of food. Us, on the other hand”—he smacked his empty hand against Curtis’s chest—“could eat that entire bucket if we tried, couldn’t we?”
Curtis simply nodded, his mouth already busy on a chicken leg.
“There’s a place to sit right over there if you’d like.” Rose lifted a shaky hand in the direction of a wood-stained bench positioned halfway between her home and Martha Jane’s, its proximity to the patio an indication she wanted a little breathing room. “Feel free to come back for seconds if you want.”
Nodding, Curtis turned in the direction of the bench, his long legs making short work of the divide as he feasted on yet another piece of chicken. Doug followed the drifter with his eyes before setting off in the same direction, dimples carving holes in his cheeks as he looked over his shoulder at Tori and Rose. “Thanks for the chicken, ladies. It was right kind of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Rose waited until Doug reached the bench before lowering herself to the patio’s lone rocking chair. Hunching forward ever so slightly, the elderly woman resurrected their earlier conversation at the exact place it had been abandoned. “I don’t want you worrying about what Martha Jane said. It’s over now, Kenny. You hear me? It’s over.”
Tori’s gaze swept across Rose’s former student, an angry set to the man’s jaw taking her by surprise.
“She told them I was b-bad,” Kenny repeated, his words echoing across the lawn. “All I did was try to help. But she still told them I was b-bad . . . very, very b-bad.”
“Kenny, it’s over,” Rose said, her voice patient yet firm. “Over.”
“All I d-did was try to help.” Dropping his head in line with his shoulders, Kenny stared down at his plate, his hands fisting into tight balls. “And her m-money was r-right there, r-right in her sock drawer like it was s’posed to be.”
“Martha Jane made a mistake, Kenny. I know that. Rose knows that. And now, even Martha Jane knows that.” Eager to soothe the worry from Rose’s brow, Tori searched her arsenal of words for something, anything, that would soothe Kenny’s agitation. “She probably feels just awful about her mistake. In fact, I’m betting she’s probably sitting inside right now trying to figure out the best way to say she’s sorry.”
“Sorry?” Rose snorted. “That woman wouldn’t say sorry if her life depended—”
Kenny’s fist flew upward only to come crashing back to the table. “Mizz Barker won’t s-say s-sorry to s-someone like m-me. I’m t-too d-dumb.”
“I will not listen to that kind of talk, young man. I didn’t listen to it when you were five and I won’t listen to it now.” Rose struggled to her
“Any food left? Or did you eat it already?” Doug strode around the corner of Rose’s house, Curtis in tow. Flashing a smile that rivaled the light from the sun, Doug wagged a finger in Tori’s direction. “You can’t get a guy all excited about fried chicken and then eat it before he gets back.”
“I couldn’t eat all of that chicken if I tried,” Tori said, her laugh temporarily stilling the tension that had descended over the patio like a smog-ridden cloud. Scooping up Doug’s plate with her left hand and Curtis’s plate with her right, she handed the food to the men.
Doug’s gaze slid slowly down her body before returning to meet hers. She felt her cheeks flush as his lips spread outward in yet another face-lighting smile. “I suspect you’re right. There’s not a lot of room in that little body of yours to fit that kind of food. Us, on the other hand”—he smacked his empty hand against Curtis’s chest—“could eat that entire bucket if we tried, couldn’t we?”
Curtis simply nodded, his mouth already busy on a chicken leg.
“There’s a place to sit right over there if you’d like.” Rose lifted a shaky hand in the direction of a wood-stained bench positioned halfway between her home and Martha Jane’s, its proximity to the patio an indication she wanted a little breathing room. “Feel free to come back for seconds if you want.”
Nodding, Curtis turned in the direction of the bench, his long legs making short work of the divide as he feasted on yet another piece of chicken. Doug followed the drifter with his eyes before setting off in the same direction, dimples carving holes in his cheeks as he looked over his shoulder at Tori and Rose. “Thanks for the chicken, ladies. It was right kind of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Rose waited until Doug reached the bench before lowering herself to the patio’s lone rocking chair. Hunching forward ever so slightly, the elderly woman resurrected their earlier conversation at the exact place it had been abandoned. “I don’t want you worrying about what Martha Jane said. It’s over now, Kenny. You hear me? It’s over.”
Tori’s gaze swept across Rose’s former student, an angry set to the man’s jaw taking her by surprise.
“She told them I was b-bad,” Kenny repeated, his words echoing across the lawn. “All I did was try to help. But she still told them I was b-bad . . . very, very b-bad.”
“Kenny, it’s over,” Rose said, her voice patient yet firm. “Over.”
“All I d-did was try to help.” Dropping his head in line with his shoulders, Kenny stared down at his plate, his hands fisting into tight balls. “And her m-money was r-right there, r-right in her sock drawer like it was s’posed to be.”
“Martha Jane made a mistake, Kenny. I know that. Rose knows that. And now, even Martha Jane knows that.” Eager to soothe the worry from Rose’s brow, Tori searched her arsenal of words for something, anything, that would soothe Kenny’s agitation. “She probably feels just awful about her mistake. In fact, I’m betting she’s probably sitting inside right now trying to figure out the best way to say she’s sorry.”
“Sorry?” Rose snorted. “That woman wouldn’t say sorry if her life depended—”
Kenny’s fist flew upward only to come crashing back to the table. “Mizz Barker won’t s-say s-sorry to s-someone like m-me. I’m t-too d-dumb.”
“I will not listen to that kind of talk, young man. I didn’t listen to it when you were five and I won’t listen to it now.” Rose struggled to her
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