Through the Fire by Diane Noble

Author:Diane Noble
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780824907488
Publisher: Guideposts
Published: 2007-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The parsonage kitchen was so small, Kate and Paul did more than one quick dance step to avoid collision during dinner preparation. They were used to working together, but back in San Antonio, they hadn’t needed traffic signals to open the refrigerator without bumping someone back into the entry hall.

Kate giggled the first three times Paul rounded the corner at the same time she bent over to grab a dish from the cupboard. The fourth time wasn’t so funny. He was carrying a platter with a freshly grilled whole chicken from the outside grill when she backed into him, her arms full of salad ingredients. Paul gasped. She screeched. The chicken flew into the air. The head of iceberg lettuce bounced across the linoleum. Tomatoes and radishes rolled.

At the same time, Paul skated across the room, platter still in the palm of his hand, and somehow managed to rescue the flying bird before it hit the floor.

A twinkle in her eye, Kate quipped, “I guess we might say you caught a fowl.”

Grinning, he set the platter on the counter and stooped to help her retrieve the vegetables. “And I guess you could say we already tossed the salad.” They both laughed.

Their eyes met over the head of lettuce as he handed it to her. “You know, Katie, I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

She tilted her head, enjoying the romantic look in his eyes. And trying not to think about the pain in her arthritic knee. “Even here in the middle of our tiny little kitchen?”

He helped her stand. “Especially here in our tiny little kitchen.” He took in the worn linoleum, the oddly crooked painted cupboards, the old refrigerator with inner workings that sounded like a 747 racing down the runway. Then he met her gaze again. “You’ve given up so much. But I’ve never heard a word of complaint.”

He didn’t know she woke in the night, aching for home. Not for the material things. Truly, she was finding they didn’t matter as much as she first thought they did. No, she ached for friends and family and, simply, the familiar surroundings of San Antonio where she had been born and raised. She ached for lost time, time alone when she could pursue her passion for her stained-glass artistry. But since they arrived, she hadn’t found a spare minute to work on it—even if she had been able to find her boxes of supplies.

“I know this hasn’t been easy,” Paul said. “But I just wanted you to know how much it means to me—and how much I love you for it.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “As long as you keep catching those fowls and I keep tossing salads, we’ll make a good team.”

“Just as we always have,” he said and kissed her.

It seemed they had been married forever, yet this man hadn’t lost the ability to make her heart dance. She was still smiling as she placed the lettuce in a colander and turned on the water to rinse the leaves.

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