Page 57 of Mack

“I don’t think I should try to go in today.”

“Don’t even attempt it. Your father tried to get to the road this morning and turned right back around. He doesn’t want either of us to go anywhere.”

“T.J. and I will stay in. We’ll watch movies.”

“Finding Nemo!” T.J. hollered from somewhere down the hall and Mallory groaned.

Georgia laughed. “I take it you watched that yesterday.”

“I can recite it word for word at this point.”

“I’ll bet. Get another cup of coffee and stay warm. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Love you, Mom.”

“We love you too. Tell T.J. I’ll see him tomorrow, weather permitting.”

Mallory smiled. “I’m sure Mr. Barton will have the roads sorted out by then.”

She could already picture him, out on his tractor at first light, clearing driveways and side streets the county plows never got to, and asking nothing in return but a hot cup of coffee. He’d been doing it as long as she could remember. Some things about small towns you didn’t appreciate until you needed them.

After she dressed, she pulled on thick socks and headed to the kitchen for coffee. T.J. wanted scrambled eggs, so she scrambled one egg, set the plate in front of him, and watched him dig in with the focused energy of someone who hadn’t eaten in days despite having had Cocoa Puffs not that long ago. He seemed to have a bottomless stomach some days.

He shoveled a forkful in, chewed, swallowed, and looked up at her.

“You make really good, scrambled eggs, Mama.”

“I know. You tell me every time.”

“You should make some for Mack.” He pointed his fork thoughtfully. “I bet he’d like them.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Yeah. So, when he stays with you again, he can have them for breakfast.” He nodded like that was settled. “I’ll have them too.” He looked at her. “Do you like Mack, Mama? I do. I like him a lot. He promised he’d build a snowman with me.”

“Yes, he did. And he keeps his promises.”

“I know. He told me.” He scooped up more egg. “So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like Mack.”

“Yes. I like Mack.”

“‘Kay.” He went back to his eggs. “That’s good.”

Mallory wrapped her hands around her coffee cup.

She hoped it was good. She was going to fall for him if she wasn’t careful.

“You already have,” she murmured.

“What, Mama?”

“Nothing, baby. Talking to myself.” She reached over and pushed his bangs back from his forehead. He smiled up at her and she smiled back.

He was the sweetest boy. Whatever else had gone wrong in her life, she’d gotten him exactly right.