by Mae Nunn
“Eventually, but I have the girls to concentrate on so that’s not even on my radar. I enjoyed marriage and partnership, so I do hope that blessing comes around again.”
“You have a nice outlook after the loss your family has experienced.”
“Having my daughters makes all the difference, to me and my parents. They started hinting for babies at my wedding reception.”
“I get that, too. Hunt’s engaged now so that takes the pressure off the rest of us to give Alma and Felix grandchildren before they’re too old to enjoy them, as if people in their fifties are old these days.”
“Mom keeps telling me fifty is the new thirty.”
“Yeah, well, Miss Nancy says seventy is the same drag it’s always been.”
“What’s it like to have gone to college for so many years that you know everybody on campus?”
“It’s the same as any other job after a dozen years or so, it’s just that I pay them instead of them paying me. When I wouldn’t go away after my first Ph.D., they started asking me to be a guest lecturer, and then to stand in when the history department needed short-term coverage. Doing those two things built my dubious reputation as a subject matter expert and allowed me to build a résumé. Now I can shop myself out to other universities when they have to fill some empty space in the curriculum and I want a free trip to visit a new city. I’ve got everybody fooled into thinking I know what I’m doing.”
“Cullen, why do you sell yourself short by making light of your talent?”
“It’s just easier to make a joke than to be one. I think it’s the birth-order curse of being born number three of four.”
“Well, kindly leave the doubts at home when you come to class, because the students believe you’re number one.”
“Including you?”
“Including me.” Sarah touched his sleeve lightly, to ensure he took her seriously.
* * *
CULLEN’S GAZE FELL to her hand patting his arm, just as he’d seen her do with her girls.
What made you ask her that, dummy? Now Sarah will think you’re as needy as one of her kids.
“If you’re campaigning for teacher’s pet, you’ve got my vote,” he said, trying to cover his misstep.
“I can see there’s no harnessing your self-deprecation, so I’ll just enjoy your bad jokes instead of trying to get you to go easy on yourself.”
“I’m not so hard on myself.”
“Oh, sure you are, and probably more than you realize. Anybody with a hunger for knowledge that never lets up is bound to have a perfectionist streak a mile wide. You want to get everything right, and you beat on yourself when you don’t, true?”
Cullen squinted up into the umbrella and then down under the picnic table as if searching for something.
“What are you doing?” Sarah laughed at his silly efforts.
“There must be a hidden camera and microphone around here somewhere. You’ve analyzed me so well that you’re bound to be spying on me.”
“As if I have the time,” she teased. “Actually, I see some of Meg’s behaviors in yours. She’s my little perfectionist and that causes her to dwell over negative things most people wouldn’t even notice.”
“I’ve noticed. She’s a walking, talking warning label.”
Sarah leaned closer, concern shadowing her eyes as she kept her voice low.
“Meg was already headed in that direction, and her daddy’s illness exacerbated her fears. We had to be so vigilant about his care, not exposing him to things that would stir up a respiratory infection or fever. Watching for hidden dangers became her self-imposed role in the family. Joe was stage four when he was diagnosed. He and I always knew he wouldn’t be with us for long, but the girls were too little to understand that fact. And when the end came, Meg felt she’d failed him.”
“Has she actually said that to you?” Cullen’s stomach knotted at the idea of the sweet girl going down the same path he’d taken after losing his parents.
“Not in so many words, mostly because she wasn’t old enough to articulate her feelings. But after Joe died, Meg continued to check the thermostat and close doors so there wouldn’t be drafts, just as she did to keep the house comfortable for him. I’d hoped that behavior would stop when we moved to the apartment, but she does it there, too.”
“Well, consider it this way—she’s helping you keep your utility bills under control.”
Sarah smiled, the tension in her face eased.
“There is that to be thankful for,” she agreed.
It was his turn to lay a friendly hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to make light of what you just told me, Sarah. You’re smart to pay attention to her signals. A kid can develop all kinds of coping mechanisms when they’re internalizing a loss, and some of them are unhealthy. Have you considered therapy?”
“Not lately. We went to family grief counseling at our church for a while but I think it was too soon for any of us to get much out of it. Maybe I should look into that again.”
“The psychology department at the university has an excellent staff, and as a student you might qualify for free services. I can ask around for you if you’d be interested.”
“Thanks, Cullen. That would be helpful. God was good to send me a thoughtful friend just when I needed one.”
“Don’t give me credit just yet. I may have ulterior motives.”
“Such as?”
“Help with grading papers, doing research, cleaning blackboards. The usual teacher’s pet chores.”
He stopped short of admitting to Sarah that having her family around was a perfect study in childhood behavior, one of the topics in his upcoming psych class. That sounded a little too clinical, even for his taste.
“So the job is a go?” Her voice was hopeful.
“It’s all yours if you want it.”
“Then consider the position filled, Dr. Temple. I’ll start right after class on Monday.”
It was a tongue-in-cheek discussion but the idea of spending more time with Sarah Eason was appealing, even if he broke out into a cold sweat if he gave too much thought to the consequences.
“When are we eating?” Carrie complained.
“I’m hungry, too,” Meg added. “And remember, you have to wait at least an hour before getting back into the pool or you’ll get a cramp.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WITH THE EXCEPTION of Carrie’s headphone squawking, the yard was blissfully quiet while everyone enjoyed the picnic Alma had laid out in the shade of the covered deck. The peaceful setting and the meal prepared by someone other than herself was a treat for Sarah.
“This is the best chicken salad that ever passed my lips,” Joiner complimented Alma. “What’s your secret, mi dulce mami?”
“It’s Hunt’s recipe, but I punch it up with cilantro and red onion.”
“He probably charges ten bucks a plate for this in his restaurant at Temple Territory,” Cullen mused.
“Eighteen,” Alma corrected. “And he justifies that price with a teaspoon of Russian caviar in the cracker basket. I know, because I suggested it.” Her Cheshire cat smile was proud.
“What’s caviar?” Hope gazed up at Joiner.
“It’s fish eggs.”
“Eeeeew.” She contorted her face into a Mr. Yuck grimace.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Joiner assured her. “You’ll probably love it when you’re all grown up and some guy is buying expensive dinners to impress you.”
“I would never eat fish eggs,” Hope insisted.
“But you’ll suck the head off a boiled crawfish, so go figure that one out,” Carrie said, apparently still able to hear their conversation over the music in her ears.
“That’s different.” Hope dismissed her sist
er.
“I have to agree with my little mermaid here when it comes to mud bugs.”
Joiner and Hope exchanged new-friend grins and Sarah felt as if a vise squeezed her heart tightly. Her baby girl had found yet another hero.
“Crawfish are local critters and God intended them to be enjoyed right here in Texas, juicy heads and all,” Joiner instructed. “But I’d be suspicious of anything stuffed in a can and shipped five thousand miles.”
“If it was so yummy you’d think they’d keep it all over there,” Hope reasoned over a mouth full of chicken salad.
“Exactly,” Joiner agreed. “But they send most of it to other countries and people pay prices higher than a cat’s back just to get a teeny little bite.”
“How did you get so smart?” Hope was all eyes and ears for Joiner.
“He got his smarts from sharing a room with me when we were about your age.” Cullen jumped into the conversation. Like Carrie, he never missed a chance to poke fun at one of his siblings. “But you’re right, my big brother does have pretty good sense, even if it’s all horse sense.”
“Don’t forget about the nonsense,” Joiner added.
“Yes, there’s plenty of that to go around.”
“You guys sound a lot like my girls. Don’t you ever give each other any rest?” Sarah asked.
“Why would we want to do that?” Joiner gave Hope a look of confusion, as if her mama was missing the obvious. “Rest is for bedtime when everybody goes to his own corner.”
“I agree.” Cullen nodded. “It’s not as though we’re arguing, just conversing.”
“With gusto,” Joiner insisted.
Sarah turned pleading eyes to Alma for support.
“Don’t drag me into this.” Alma chuckled. “I gave up trying to get my boys to make nice many years ago. It’s how they communicate, and as long as they show up at the table with clean hands, that’s the most any anciana can ask.”
“You are not an old woman,” Joiner and Cullen insisted.
“Not yet. But one of you had better get married and give me some grand niños before my hands are too gnarled from cooking and cleaning to change diapers.”
“You and Felix have two daughters of your own to give you babies. You remember that, right?”
“And they are about as cooperative as my Temple boys. A woman of my age and experience should be bouncing little ones on her knee.”
Hope got down from her chair, moved to Alma’s side and slipped her slender arm around the older woman’s shoulders.
“I may be too big to sit on your knee, but I can be your grandbaby if you want one.”
Alma scooped Hope into her arms and then deposited the skinny seven-year-old on her lap.
“You’re not too big at all, see? In fact, you’re just perfect.”
“That’s what my Grandma Maggie says.”
“Is that your mama?” Alma asked Sarah.
“Yes, and the girls also have Grandma Eason, but she lives out in Lubbock so we don’t visit her very often.”
“Well, in that case, I’d be honored to be your gran madre. I haven’t had a niña in my house for many years, so you’ll have to come and visit.”
“Can I, really?”
“You can all come,” Alma assured the three girls. “And I’ll teach you how to wrap and steam tamales the way the ancient Mayans did thousands of years ago.”
“Steam can be very dangerous, you know,” Meg warned Alma.
“That’s why you have to be trained correctly. And for dessert, I’ll show you how to bake pan dulce stuffed with guava and vanilla cream.”
“Better watch out, Alma, this bunch may take you up on that offer—and I might join them.” Cullen winked.
“Tomorrow, then, after church. Bring the girls and leave them with me for a few hours. We’ll have a cooking lesson and you two can study, or whatever it is you do at that university of yours.”
Sarah surveyed the pleading faces of the group. Even Carrie seemed interested.
“Alma, are you sure you don’t mind? Sunday should be a day of rest.”
“Cooking rests my mind, it’s only my hands that stay busy. Besides, Sunday afternoon is when I do the specialty baking for Temple Territory, so I’ll be elbow-deep in a batch of dough, anyway.”
“That’s a bona fide offer, Sarah. Just say yes and give the girls a new experience. And you can get started in your new position,” Cullen encouraged.
“Which new position is that?” Joiner asked.
“Teacher’s pet,” Cullen answered his nosy big brother with a grin.
* * *
CULLEN ORIGINALLY HAD no intention of putting Sarah to work. But if helping with his class preparation drew her into the subject matter, it would be well worth the effort. He remembered his early years of assisting Blair and how his mentor’s assignments had transformed the boredom of a textbook into an adventure into the past.
More importantly, assigning Sarah tasks gave him an excuse to spend a few hours with the woman he found as appealing as her family was interesting. Though he’d decided to bring her to the classroom to keep his mind on strictly professional subjects.
“These maps are fascinating,” Sarah muttered to herself for the tenth time that Sunday afternoon.
Cullen peered over his reading glasses and smiled at the picture she made sitting behind a scarred library table at the front of the lecture hall projecting images and facts about Mesopotamia onto the jumbo screen.
“There’s an incredible amount of information here and most of it is new to me,” she continued.
“It’s called the Cradle of Civilization,” he replied from his seat in the middle of the darkened auditorium that could accommodate a hundred students. “Historians began documenting the details of their culture about three thousand years before Christ, so you could study it endlessly and never cover everything. I know, I’ve tried. How do you think I got all this gray hair?”
She raised her face from the laptop computer that was feeding the overhead monitor. Her eyes gleamed with the interest every teacher aspires to instill in a pupil.
“I get your point, though I doubt you have the gray hairs to support it, Dr. Temple.”
“Oh, I do!” He tipped his face forward, pulled off his Rangers cap and gestured toward the top of his head. “Come see for yourself.”
He waited with his eyes down and his crown exposed as he heard the stool she’d been perched on scrape the surface of the lecture platform and her sandals slap the old wooden floor. Then Sarah’s pretty red toenails entered his line of sight. She leaned in to study the top of his head and Cullen caught the light floral scent of her perfume.
The aroma was very appealing and oh-so-womanly, like Sarah herself.
The stirring thought caused him to lift his gaze, sweeping up her curvy legs, past modest denim shorts and a faded Dallas Cowboy’s T-shirt, and coming to rest on intense blue eyes framed by auburn bangs. She squinted for a closer look at his so-called gray hair.
“Oh, baloney!” Sarah complained, and raised her hand to playfully swat at his head. “I have more than you do.”
Cullen caught her hand, tugged her into the seat beside him and leaned close with her fingers clasped in his. Her eyes widened with surprise, but she didn’t draw back.
“And here I figured it would be wiser to work at the university than alone at my house.”
“Why is that?”
“I figured a public place would minimize my daydreams about kissing the teacher’s pet. Seems I figured wrong.”
Her response was to lean her forehead against his and close her eyes. Was it a sign of encouragement or surrender?
He gave her fingers a squeeze, then shifted away.
“Maybe we’d better return to the hilarity of history.”
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
“Don’t joke?”
“Don’t move away from me. I’ve almost forgotten how nice a tender moment and a personal touch from a man could feel.”
Cullen slid his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and pulled her close, pressing her head to his chest. A sigh escaped her as she relaxed against him. Her hand sought his and she pulled his fingers to her lips where she placed a soft kiss. Of what? Gratitude? Longing?
Of course, she misses her husband.
Sarah raised her face and sucked in a breath, no doubt preparing to explain that very thing. There was no need for her to feel embarrassed, so he covered for her by saying, “Maybe we should get back to work.”
“Maybe you should kiss me.”
“Maybe you’re confused.”
“Maybe I’m thinking clearly.”
“Maybe you’re just lonely for the past.”
“Maybe I’m very much in the present.”
“Maybe you’re cozying up to me for a good grade.”
“I’m only auditing, remember?” She released his hand, slid hers behind his neck and pulled his mouth down to cover her lips.
The instant warmth of their kiss sizzled through him like a bolt of electricity. This was no sympathy kiss on his part, and if she was conjuring up the past it sure didn’t seem that way to Cullen.
After long moments Sarah released her hold on him and put a few inches between them as she straightened in her chair.
“Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” Cullen asked as he tugged his cap into place again.
“I’m not sure I know myself, yet.”
“Well, if you should decide you want to run through that exercise again to help you figure it out, you say the word and I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
“You are a gentleman and a scholar.”
“He wasn’t lookin’ like either one of those things to me a second ago,” Miss Nancy observed, her voice craggy as always.
The overhead lights blazed to life.
“Sittin’ here in the dark doesn’t help, either,” she added as she advanced down the aisle.
