obviously thought of him. He could deal with not being liked; that wasn’t important to him. But being disrespected, shut out, taunted—
Sela Gordon—he still burned over what she’d done, in front of everyone. She’d embarrassed him, but even worse, the rude gesture had belittled him.
“It’s ready,” Meredith called, making him realize he’d spent more than a few minutes on the porch. And though Tennessee’s winters were nothing like Ohio’s, he was cold, because he’d come out without a coat.
She made a soft, exasperated, wifely sound when she saw him shivering, and handed him a cup of steaming hot tea, which both of them liked okay. They had some coffee left, but she alternated what she prepared, so they wouldn’t get bored. Some days she heated apple cider; that wasn’t his favorite, but he never said that to her. Today she’d made some flatbread and toasted it, and there was peanut butter and jelly to spread on it.
He patted her hand as he sat down at the table. “Looks good,” he said, as he always did. Meredith was a darn good cook, but even if she hadn’t been he’d still have complimented what she worked to prepare for him. She smiled at him, and the first thing he thought was how pretty she looked, then he suddenly noticed that she had on some makeup, and she’d put her hair up. She looked as if she was going to work.
After her heart attack years ago she’d necessarily cut back on the hours she worked as a physical therapy assistant, then over Ted’s objections gradually increased them again. A couple of years ago, though, she’d begun lightening the load again. They were getting older, closer to retirement age, and they liked to travel, liked their vacation time spent here. He’d been looking forward to spending some leisurely time with her, then that damn CME happened and here they were. He said, “You look pretty,” and wiggled his finger at his head and eyes to indicate both the hairdo and makeup. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s been a few days now since Carol Allen broke her leg, so it’s time she started some gentle therapy. You know where she lives, don’t you?”
He did, because of the community patrols, but that didn’t mean he wanted Meredith associating with those ill-tempered, ungrateful bitches. “She has plenty of people to take care of her,” he said, not answering Meredith’s question and trying to deflect her.
“Are any of them a trained PTA?”
Frustration began rising in him, because he could see in Meredith’s clear gaze that she’d made up her mind and likely nothing he could say would change it. He hadn’t told her about Sela Gordon giving him the finger in front of the whole community, because he didn’t want Meredith to know how embarrassed he’d been, how the community at large seemed to think so little of him.
“I don’t know,” he finally muttered.
“Well, we know that I am,” Meredith said, patting his hand and leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Would you like another cup of tea? The water’s still hot.”
The change of subject told him that he might as well save his breath. Meredith wanted to contribute, not just to their neighbors but to their own welfare. She knew that her expertise could be traded for food and goods, that she’d return from Carol Allen’s house with something for them to eat, whether it was a few fresh eggs or some milk, maybe a can of soup. Who knew? But barter was the way things in the valley were working now.
Like it or not, he was taking Meredith with him and dropping her off at the Allen house when he went down to see Mike Kilgore.
From a seated position in the bed she was so damn tired of living in, Carol glared at her leg, the damn traitorous lump under the covers. She needed to stop cussing so much, Olivia was getting way too much enjoyment from it, but . . . damn!
She was bored out of her skull. The pain had faded quite a bit in the last three days, thank goodness, but she was still stuck in the bed. Part of it was her own fault—okay, most of it was her own fault—because she was the one who’d come up with that idea of acting worse than she was so Sela would stay in charge of the community. Sela not only had settled in, she seemed to have forgotten how hard she’d fought not to be