Snow Melts in Spring - By Deborah Vogts Page 0,16

Gil said a quick prayer, then reached for one of the tender, golden tops.

“It’s good to see you pray before a meal.” Mildred handed him a dish of fried sausage links. “Your mama always said grace, but that seems a long time ago.”

Gil studied the blue patterned bowl and recognized the piece from his mother’s collection. She always insisted using the china dishes she’d called Blue Willow, even though they might get chipped or broken with daily use. Odd how certain things stood out in his memory.

“It’s been a while since I served you breakfast.” Mildred grabbed a jar of jelly from the refrigerator and joined them at the table.

“Too long.” Gil looked toward the hallway and wondered when his father would appear. “Shouldn’t Dad be up by now? I never knew him to lie in bed past sunup.”

“Things are different since his attack.”

That was an understatement. Gil had never known his father to take an afternoon nap, nor could he imagine him relying on a cane to walk. A moment of sadness swept over him at the toll the years had taken on his father and how much Gil had missed. He set his jaw and forced himself not to dwell on events he couldn’t change. “How’s the ranch, Jake? If you don’t mind my saying, things look a bit rough around here.”

Jake sliced into a biscuit, and Gil watched the steam rise above the knife. “The place is a little worn down, but not so much that it can’t be repaired.”

“Who’s going to do the work? Dad’s not up to it, and you’re too old to manage by yourself.”

The grizzled cowboy shook his head. “Your dad’s seen harder times than this. He’ll have things in order soon enough. Nobody wants that more than him.” Jake took a bite that left a smudge of gravy at the side of his mouth. “What about you? If you have a mind to stay awhile, maybe you could help get the ranch on its feet?”

Gil ducked his head, plagued by all the reasons to stay, yet spurred by his inner desire to flee. “I need to head back to the city later this week to take care of some business.”

“Business, huh?” Jake’s disappointment was evident. “Well, until then, it’s gonna be nice having you around. Ain’t it, Mildred?” He went back to his breakfast, smiling like a little kid. “Whoo-wee, just like old times.”

“What’s all the commotion about?” John McCray lumbered into the room with his cane, his eyes fastened on Gil. “I figured you’d be gone by now.”

“I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.” Gil noticed the deepening crease in his father’s brow and wondered how he would manage his dad’s company for that amount of time.

“I’m surprised you’re staying so long — surprised those football folks of yours ain’t called you back already.”

Gil tried not to let the spiteful words anger him, and he tried not to think about football. How would he handle retirement? No morning meetings with the guys, no afternoon practice, no game plans to study. From now on, everything would be different.

He smeared cherry jam on one of the biscuits and smiled at Mildred’s cooking, sure it could take his mind off his problems. She was the one woman who might come close to his mama in the kitchen. “Did you make this jam yourself, Mildred?” He bit into the warm bread and savored the tart flavor.

“That’s some of the preserves Mattie gave us this fall. She’s a good cook, that girl.”

Gil’s brow puckered as he took another bite from the biscuit. He thought of the red-haired doctor and then of his horse. Baffled by how good the jam tasted, he shoved the last morsel into his mouth. “I planned to drop in and see how Dusty’s doing this morning. Mind if I take Dr. Evans a few of your tasty biscuits?”

Mildred smiled at the compliment and nodded. “She probably didn’t bother to eat before work this morning. All skin-and-bones, she is.”

From what Gil had seen of the Diamond Fall’s veterinarian, he was inclined to agree. He wrapped two biscuits in a paper napkin, then rubbed the stubble on his chin. Maybe he should freshen up a bit first.

“I don’t know what to think about your busy schedule,” his father said. “Never any time to sit and talk.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later.” Gil hoped he and his dad could be civil long enough to have that visit, but not now.

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