casserole doesn’t want to go down. I decide I’ve had enough. I lay my fork on top of my plate, readying myself to stand, when I feel pressure on my wrist.
Damn, why is it now I remember his fingers used to touch me all over my body, anywhere, everywhere. They’re stronger now than what I remember in my memory, but I still just the same at the feeling of Jennings’s hand on my skin. It sends chills skirting up my spine, and I can’t have that.
Fortunately, Kevin misses the byplay in his attempt to see how much food he can consume. Jennings doesn’t move even as he addresses Maris’s veiled question. “Yes, Maris. I do. Most of the nights I’d talk with Jed would be when I was in the office chowing down with my pilots or my operations manager and her partner.”
“Oh.” Maris doesn’t say anything else. But it’s like a pall has been cast over what was a lovely evening.
Right now, I want to strangle her. Clearing my throat, I gently remind her, “You said you were working tonight?”
Lifting her wrist, she groans. “I was supposed to leave like ten minutes ago. I wish I could stay and help clean up, but…”
I lift a hand and wave her off. “Go. I’ve got this.” Maybe with her gone, some of the tension will dissipate.
There’s a quick flurry of activity where I sit stoically at the table until Maris is running out, calling, “Bye, everyone!” as she makes her way out the door. Finally, a little calm. Or maybe, the little voice in my head says, it’s just going to get worse.
“Hush,” I mutter.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jennings pipes up, amused.
I groan and drop my head to the table. Unfortunately, since I didn’t move the plate out of the way, the edges of my hair catch in the chicken casserole. “Great, just what I needed to cap off tonight,” I gripe as I use my napkin to pluck the soup, sour cream, and chicken mixture out of my hair
Both Kevin and Jennings are laughing. “That was better than the time I got you with birthday cake, Mom.”
Jennings is impressed. “Hers or yours?”
“Hers. How old were you that year?”
This time when I attempt to stand, Jennings doesn’t protest. I scrape off the scraps in the disposal before quickly running it. “It was three years ago, so thirty-five. And thank you for reminding me how old I am.”
“You’re not old, Mom.” Kevin’s face takes on a frightened look. I have to figure out some way of easing that.
I grab the plate holding the brownies I baked earlier and the tiny donuts Jennings brought and carry both over to the table. “True.” Then, like it just hit me, I snap my fingers. “Just think. Next year, when you get your license, you’ll be able to run to the store for me.”
“Yep. We agreed that was part of you paying for gas money,” Kevin responds quickly, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“You realize that means getting everything on the list? Right?” I prod.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Everything?”
“Of course,” he replies indignantly, as he shoves a donut in his mouth.
“Including feminine products,” I say calmly. Jennings barks out a laugh as Kevin coughs. I continue. “Of course, one of the benefits of a woman getting older is…”
“Jennings, I think I’m going to see what’s on TV for a while. I’m sure you and Mom have a lot to catch up on.” Kevin grabs a brownie, plus another donut, and dashes from the table.
Once he’s out of earshot, I start giggling. “Well, that worked nicely. I’ll have to tell his therapist about that.” I reach over and grab a brownie.
“You’re a terrific mom.” Jennings’s voice jolts me away from my personal celebration.
“Um, thank you?” I lift the brownie to my lips and take a small nibble before putting it on the napkin in front of me.
His voice lowers. “He’s in therapy?”
Because Jennings has a right to know, I nod. “He took Dean and Jed’s deaths hard. I wanted him to have someone to talk with.”
“Is it covered through your insurance?”
I snort. “Physical therapy, yes. Emotional therapy? They covered four sessions—as if you can build the trust with your therapist in just four sessions.”
“So, you’re paying for this out of pocket?” he asks incredulously.
I shrug. “I’d do anything for him, Jennings. Making sure his mental and emotional health are okay…”
“Is something you can ask for help with, Kara.” His eyes are steady on mine. He reaches over and places his