how ridiculous he’d sounded the other day, after the game.
“How did Jonah do today?” he asked, keeping those thoughts at bay.
“He had a great day. Tomorrow I’m going to give him a couple of workbooks that really seem to be helping. I’ll mark the pages for you.”
“Okay,” he said simply. When she smiled at him, he shifted from one foot to the other, thinking how lovely she looked.
And what she must think of him.
He forced his hands into his pockets.
“I had a good time at the game,” Sarah said.
“I’m glad.”
“Jonah asked if I’d come watch him again. Would you mind?”
“No, not at all,” Miles said. “I don’t know what time he plays, though. The schedule is on the refrigerator at home.”
She looked at him carefully, wondering why he seemed so distant all of a sudden. “If you’d rather I not go, just say the word.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said. “If Jonah asked you to go and watch, then by all means, you should. If you want to, of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know tomorrow what time the game is.” Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “Besides, I’d like you to go, too.”
He hadn’t expected to say it. No doubt he’d wanted to say it. But here he was again, blathering away uncontrollably....
“You would?” she asked.
Miles swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, doing his best not to blow it now. “I would.”
Sarah smiled. Somewhere inside, she felt a twitch of anticipation.
“Then I’ll be there for sure. There’s one thing, though ... ”
Oh, no . . .
“What’s that?”
Sarah met his eyes. “Do you remember when you asked me about the fan?”
With the word fan, all the feelings he’d had over the weekend rushed back, almost as though he’d been punched in the stomach.
“Yeah?” he said cautiously.
“I’m also free on Friday night, if you’re still interested.”
It took only a moment for the words to register.
“I’m interested,” he said, breaking into a grin.
Chapter 9
On Thursday night—one night until D-Day, as Miles had begun mentally referring to it—Miles lay in bed with Jonah, trading a book back and forth so each could read a page. They were propped against the pillows, the blankets pulled back. Jonah’s hair was still wet from his bath, and Miles could smell the shampoo he’d used. The odor was sweet and untainted, as if more than dirt had been washed away.
In the middle of a page that Miles was reading, Jonah suddenly looked up at him. “Do you miss Mommy?”
Miles set the book down, then slipped an arm around Jonah. It had been a few months since he’d last mentioned Missy without being asked first.
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
Jonah tugged on the material of his pajamas, making two fire trucks crash into one another. “Do you think about her?”
“All the time,” he said.
“I think about her, too,” Jonah said softly. “Sometimes when I’m in bed.. .” He frowned up at Miles. “I get these pictures in my head... .” He trailed off.
“Kind of like a movie?”
“Kinda. But not really. It’s more like a picture, you know? But I can’t really see it all the time.”
Miles pulled his son closer. “Does that make you sad?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes.”
“It’s okay to be sad. Everyone gets sad now and then. Even me.”
“But you’re a grown-up.”
“Grown-ups get sad, too.”
Jonah seemed to ponder this as he made the fire trucks crash again. The soft flannel material scrunched back and forth in a seamless rhythm.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to marry Miss Andrews?”
Miles’s eyebrows went up. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said honestly.
“But you’re going on a date, right? Doesn’t that mean you’re getting married?”
Miles couldn’t help but smile. “Who told you that?”
“Some of the older kids at school. They say that you date first and then get married.”
“Well,” Miles said, “they’re kind of right, but they’re kind of wrong, too. Just because I’m having dinner with Miss Andrews doesn’t mean we’re getting married. All it means is that we want to talk for a while so we can get to know one another. Sometimes grown-ups like to do that.”
“Why?”
Believe me, son, it’ll make sense in a couple of years.
“They just do. It’s kind of like...well, do you know how you play with your friends? When you joke around and laugh and have a good time? That’s all a date is.”
“Oh,” Jonah said. He looked more serious than any seven-yearold should. “Will you talk about me?”
“Probably a little. But don’t worry. It’ll all be good stuff.”