The Happiest Season Read Online Free PDF

might call back?”  She gave a grateful smile.  “Thank you so much for making
that call for me, by the way,” she added.
    He smiled in return, seeming almost self-conscious when he
spoke.  “You’re welcome.”
    She checked her watch, which prompted him to rise.   “Oh,
I’ll get out of your hair,” he said.
    “Oh, no, I wasn’t…”  She smiled awkwardly.  “I was going to
say that it’s lunchtime.  Have you … eaten?”
    He shook his head.  “I haven’t, but…”
    “Have lunch with us!” Rickey cried, as he dashed into the
room.  “Mama, can we have cookies after lunch?  Gloria brought us all kinds of
good stuff.”
    “I brought fudge,” Gloria stage-whispered for Rickey’s
benefit.
    “She brought fudge!” he cried.
    Maggie turned to John.  “She brought fudge.”
    “Well, in that case, I’d be happy to join you all for
lunch,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor.
    “Well, have a seat everybody, and I’ll get busy making sandwiches.”
    “Do you need any help?” Gloria and John asked in unison.
    “Oh, no, I’ve got it covered,” she assured them.
    Gloria ushered Rickey into the family room, where he
promptly began showing her a puzzle he was working on.  John surprised Maggie
by pulling up a stool at the kitchen island.  Having him within close
proximity, his eyes on her as she began assembling sandwiches, made her feel
self-conscious of her movements. 
    It was odd having a man in her kitchen again.  She’d
prepared meals for Shane hundreds of times over the years, and often bemoaned
the drudgery of trying to figure out what to cook each lunchtime or dinnertime. 
Now, she would give anything to have another mealtime together with her
husband. 
    Apparently John saw something in her facial expression,
since he asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
    She glanced at him, her eyes widened.  “Oh, I’m fine,” she
assured him, forcing a smile.  She couldn’t very well tell him that having him
in her home made her think about her dead husband and that it was taking every
ounce of self-control not to break down crying. 
    Lord, give me strength , she
prayed silently.
    When was she going to be able to move on?  When was she
going to be able to go about her day, without everything she laid eyes on
reminding her of what she’d lost?
    She shook her head to clear it.  “Did you get much sleep
last night?” she asked John, desperate for neutral territory.
    He nodded.  “Working swing shift, I usually get home shortly
after three.  I try to get to bed soon after, and try to get six or seven hours
sleep.”
    “I’d try for eight,” she said, smiling.
    “Well, I try, but I seem to do okay with six or seven.”
    She furrowed her brow.  “So you work a longer shift then?” She
remembered that a customary swing shift was eight hours—typically three or four
in the afternoon until midnight .
    He nodded.  “I work four days on, three days off, twelve
hours each shift.”
    “Long days,” she mused.
    “But the three days off make it nice,” he told her.  “And although
I work Friday night and into the early morning, I get the remainder of the
weekend off.”
    She nodded and then passed him a sandwich.  “Gloria, Rickey,
lunch is ready.”
    To Maggie’s surprise, Gloria picked up her and Rickey’s
plates and returned to the family room.  Fortunately, John missed the cheeky
grin she tossed Maggie’s way.
    “We have a puzzle to work on,” Gloria explained, as she
rejoined Rickey on the couch.  The two ate their sandwiches bent over the
puzzle, with Rickey delighting at each successful placement of a puzzle piece.
    Maggie reached for a stool and pulled it around to the other
side of the island.  It was a bit awkward, since the island top didn’t extend
out on this side, but she just didn’t feel comfortable sitting on a stool
beside John.  It was too close for comfort.  She hadn’t been this close to a
man since Shane passed.
    Suddenly, John’s cell