Mom Over Miami - By Annie Jones Page 0,12
She added an impromptu head swagger. “Baby.”
“Wow! That’s the first time I ever remember you accepting that compliment.”
“What compliment?” She batted her eyes and went to him, placing both her palms flat on his chest. “I’m saying that without me, you’d never be standing in a poorly lit, dreary-walled, carpeted-with-stuff-I-wouldn’t-put-in-a-dog’s-house, makeshift church nursery. You can thank me later.”
“I can thank you now.” He kissed her, briefly but hard. “And I can thank you later.”
She returned his kiss with one of her own, lighter and tinged with an unexpected giggle. “Why don’t you start by thanking me with lunch?”
“I don’t know what to make.”
“Then stop and pick up some chicken or burgers.”
“Chicken or burgers? Too much pressure. Why don’t I wait until you’re done and we’ll all go out together?”
Payt spoke no lie when he said he’d never have become a doctor without her. She loved the man, but that didn’t blind her to the fact that he lacked direction. And motivation. And sometimes needed a swift kick in the seat of the pants.
“Payton. You are my inspiration. The light of my life. You are the only man I could ever imagine trusting my heart, my home, my children to. I am so privileged to have you to spend the rest of my life with….” She smiled and knew that no way could that smile contain all the love and admiration she felt for her sweet hubby. “But if you’re not out of here in ten seconds, I am going to put you to work hauling paint cans and carpet samples.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m gone.”
He kissed her again, just a glancing peck, and headed out the door.
“Lunch!” she called after him.
He muttered a reply, but before she could chase him down to see if that mutter mattered, Sam waddled through the door connecting the old baby nursery and the new toddler room.
The boy had his tongue stuck between his teeth and his hands wrapped around the wire handle of a bucket filled with murky water.
“Oh, Sam! Don’t bring that in here!” Hannah rushed to the child’s aid. Or, as it turned out, to his downfall.
No, to the bucket’s downfall.
Literally.
Down.
Down.
Down.
And splat!
Sam squeaked.
The empty blue plastic bucket bounced once, sloshing out the last bits of gray-brown liquid. Then it rolled quietly into the open doorway and stopped.
Sam didn’t make another sound. No scream. No angry outcry. Just a timid little squeak. Then he stood there. Frozen. His shoulders hunched. His eyes huge.
He’s terrified, Hannah thought. Terrified of what will happen to him because he made a mistake.
Without hesitation Hannah stepped across the ever-widening puddle of wash water soaking into the dingy orange carpet.
“My fault. I startled you.” She gave him a quick hug, nothing too sloppy or sentimental, then flung into full-fledged distraction mode. “Did you get all the pudding out of the horsey’s ears?”
There was a sentence that, before she became a mom, she had never dreamed she’d have any use for.
“I got some of it cleaned off.” Sam sniffled. His lip trembled, but as soon as he saw her lunge for a roll of bargain-brand paper towels, he held out his hands to take some and dropped to his knees beside her to start sopping up the spot. “The saddle part was easy. And the rocker. But I can’t get it all out of the nose or the ears.”
“Hmm. I really had hoped we could use that thing.” Their small church had gone through some upheaval in the past few years. They didn’t really need much space or many toys for the young children. But with a new minister and a renewed commitment from the congregation, they had begun to grow. Hannah had hoped to stay one step ahead of that growth by planning ahead for the time when they could fill both rooms with kids and the things kids need. “But if we can’t get every last bit of it cleaned up…”
He stood up and used the toe of his shoe to mash an enormous wad of paper towels into the sodden—and not particularly fresh-smelling—carpet. “Maybe if we took it to the car wash?”
“You going to ride it through, little buddy?” She dabbed at the edges of wet stain.
“No, but maybe we could strap it to the top of the minivan. You know, on the luggage rack?”
“I am so onto you, pal.” She sat back on her heels and laughed.
“Huh?”
“It wasn’t enough that I humiliated myself in front of Stilton’s mom with the nachos and the