Page 22 of Forbidden to Fall

I wasn’t sure how much of my thoughts and observations to share, and yet two things came to mind:

1. James had been honest with me about the cream puffs. Obviously, his mom’s health wasn’t equivalent to that, but didn’t I owe him some honesty in exchange for his?

2. I’d been judging him for leaving his mom to manage the farm on her own, assuming he knew how difficult it had been and the toll it had taken. What if he didn’t?

“She moves more slowly than she used to,” I said. “She rubs her hands a lot—her joints, I think. I helped her with fixing some of the tubing the other day because she just…couldn’t do it. I think one of her knees bothers her too.”

It went quiet again as we approached the glowing lights of the house.

Had I said too much?

James let out a big breath as we reached the stairs. “Thanks.”

The porch lights illuminated his face, casting a pronounced shadow where his brow was pulled together.

I gave a sympathetic grimace as he opened the door for me, the smell of cornbread and chicken and gravy welcoming us inside.

“There you two are!” May came over with a face wreathed in smiles to contrast perfectly with her son’s worry. “I’m glad to see you knew what was best for you, Miss Sadie.”

“How could anyone turn down dinner from May Carver?” I replied.

She put her arm around me and squeezed, then turned to her son. “There’s my handsome young man! I’ve hardly seen you today. You know what they call that, right? Cruel and unusual punishment.”

James wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Mama.”

The sweetness of the gesture tugged at my heart.

James had hurt my brother. A lot. But it was hard to see a man as the enemy when he was hugging his mom.

“It’s partially my fault,” I admitted. “I asked for his help. And now I need yours.” I held up the plate of cream puffs. “I need you to tell me which one you like best.”

May’s eyes widened. “Well, don’t those look delightful!” She took the plate. “I’ll do it right after dinner, darlin’. Now, go wash up in the bathroom.”

I hesitated. It had been a very long time since I’d used the Carvers’ bathroom. Chances were good that I’d choose the right door in the hallway, but they weren’t 100%.

“This way,” James said.

He led the way past the living room, then stopped in front of the bathroom door.

I went in and took a spot at the sink on the left, leaving the one on the right for James.

He didn’t take it.

I glanced over my shoulder, but he was gone. Maybe he was washing up in a different bathroom. Or maybe I smelled bad.

I did a quick smell check, but the only whiffs I caught were deodorant and hours of baking. After drying my hands, I fixed my bangs, then made my way to the kitchen.

I slowed at the sight of James in the living room, staring at the wall of photos.

His gaze flicked to me, and he stepped away from the wall.

Our shoulders brushed as he headed for the bathroom, and a faucet turned on.

I helped May get a few last things on the table, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. The entire table felt so cozy and homey. Nothing matched, but every glass, every bowl, every plate seemed like it held a story. It was like swimming in Carver history.

I set down the pitcher of sweet tea just as James walked in, running a hand through his hair as his gaze landed on me.

May was at the counter, her back to us, and she made a sound of annoyance.