Blue Wide Sky by Inglath Cooper

Author:Inglath Cooper [Cooper, Inglath]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fence Free Entertainment
Published: 2015-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

~ Emily Dickinson

Gabby

Kat likes him. A lot. On some level, maybe it should bother me, but, for some reason, it doesn’t. It’s easy to see why she does, after all. He listens when she talks, not like some adults who listen at half attention, but with real interest in her opinion.

She’s telling him about a book she just read, Fever 1793, set in Philadelphia during the yellow-fever epidemic that wiped out 10 percent of the city’s population. “You’re a doctor. Can you imagine living through such a thing?” she asks, directing the question to both of us.

“No,” Sam says. “People literally died overnight, didn’t they?”

Kat nods. “The girl who’s the main character in the story lost her mother. It was so sad,” she says and looks at me with such love that I am instantly reminded how lucky I am to have her as my daughter.

Sam sees it too, and I wonder about that flash of longing on his face, whether he’s missing his children. “It would be horrible, wouldn’t it?” he says.

Kat nods. “Do you have children?”

I flinch at the question. It’s innocent of anything other than curiosity, and she has no way of knowing the awkwardness of it.

“Yes,” Sam says. “Two.”

“What are their names?”

“Evan and Analise.”

“Are they my age?”

“They’re older than you,” Sam says, and I find myself waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.

“Do they like to read?” Kat asks.

“My son does. He started reading when he was three. There was just something about words that he loved.”

“Me too,” Kat says. “I even like to read cookbooks.”

Sam smiles. “Lucky for us.”

“You like it?” she asks, nodding at the food on his plate.

“I love it. What is it?”

Kat laughs. “Pansotti alla genovese.”

“Ah. That’s what I was thinking.”

He looks at me, and I smile without editing myself.

“It’s Mama’s favorite,” Kat says.

“That it is,” I agree.

“How did you start cooking?” Sam asks, glancing at Kat.

“To help Mama. She hates to cook.”

“Which has worked out great for me,” I say.

“And me,” she agrees.

“What is it you like about cooking?” Sam asks.

She thinks about the question for a moment, and then says, “Foods are like an artist’s paints. The colors are beautiful, but they taste good too. You can make something pretty and appealing, and it makes people happy.”

“Hard to beat that,” he says.

“I like to make people feel good. That’s why I want to be a doctor.”

“That’s an awfully good reason to choose a career.”

“Do you like being a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“What kind are you?”

“A heart doctor.”

“A cardiologist.”

Sam smiles. “Yes. That one.”

“I’m sure it makes people happy when you fix them.”

“You’re right. It does.”

Kat spears a ravioli with her fork, as if thinking about whether to say what she’s about to say. “Can a heart really break, Sam? I mean like for real.”

Sam’s gaze widens, and then he looks at me. Something near my own heart lurches, and I tear my gaze from his.

“Sort of, yes,” he says.

“I know the veins get stopped up and stuff sometimes.

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