Kissing in Kansas Read online

  Thirty minutes later, the girls had been tucked into bed for their naps, and she was settled back in her reading chair, engrossed in the lives of the girls living at the Brody Hotel.

  She finished two more books, before going downstairs to finish supper. She felt a little guilty that she'd spent so much time reading, and left Henry with the girls, but she'd needed the alone time.

  The girls were outside with Henry, and she smiled. She could read while she cooked. That's what she liked to do anyway.

  She preheated the oven for the biscuits she was planning to make to go with the thick stew she had simmering in the crock pot. She popped open a can of biscuits and placed them on a pan after quickly spraying it with Pam. She sat down at the table, waiting for the oven to beep at her and let her know it was preheated.

  When the beep came, she slipped the biscuits into the oven with one hand while still holding her Kindle with the other, never taking her eyes off the page. She pushed the buttons for the right amount of time. She returned to her spot at the kitchen table and waited for the timer to go off.

  When the timer did go off, she walked back to the stove, grabbed the oven mitt, and put it on, still never taking her eyes from her Kindle. As she grabbed the hot biscuits from the oven, her arm brushed against the top rack, and she dropped her Kindle as she gasped in pain.

  Carefully taking the biscuits out, she calmly shut off the oven, before hurrying to the sink to stick her arm under cold water. She sighed. Why couldn't she stop burning herself? She felt like such a klutz.

  When Henry and the girls came into the house a few minutes later, he found her still standing there. "What did you do?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

  "I burned my arm on the stupid oven."

  "How?"

  She shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

  Henry saw the Kindle on the floor and walked over, picked it up and set it on the counter. "I don't want you to read while you're cooking again. Now I understand what your brother was talking about. I'd rather you burned every meal you ever cooked than you burned yourself."

  "It doesn't happen often," she told him. "I haven't cut myself badly in over a year!"

  Henry shuddered at the thought. "Please promise me you'll stop reading while you cook. It's just not safe!"

  Samara shrugged. "I've been doing it my whole life. I don't get hurt more than once a year or so."

  "That's once a year too often. I don't want to hear about you hurting yourself, simply because you couldn't put a book down."

  "Fine. I won't read and cook. I only did it tonight because the girls weren't helping me." She looked over at the girls who were watching with wide eyes. "I never read while I cook when you're helping me, do I?"

  Both girls shook their heads, but they kept looking at Samara like they were afraid of something. Finally, Avy asked, "You're not going to die now, are you?"

  Samara pulled her arm out from under the water, and immediately crouched in front of the girls, showing them her arm. "No, it's just a little burned. See? I'll be all right."

  She wrapped her arms around both of them, holding them tightly. "I'm not going to run off and die anytime soon. I promise."

  "We love you, Aunt Sami!"

  "I love you too." Holding them both, her eyes met Henry's. "I promise."

  He nodded, indicating he understood she was promising for the girls and not herself.

  Chapter Seven

  Fortunately, Samara didn't see the women who had been rude to her at the grocery store at church the following day. It made her wonder how they knew Henry, and why they'd been at the wedding. She hadn't mentioned it to him, though, so she didn't feel like she could ask.

  Several people asked about the enormous bandage on her arm, and she rolled her eyes. "I got a little burn cooking, and Henry panicked, so I get to wear this huge bandage until he determines that it's healed enough."

  Henry had taken an entire roll of gauze, some burn ointment, and a gauze pad, and all but created a homemade cast on her arm. He had wanted her to go to the emergency room at first, but she'd flat out refused, so he'd made do with his first aid kit.

  The girls stood on either side of Samara, one of them holding each of her hands. "We thought she was going to die," Avy said in a dramatic voice.

  Abby shook her head. "We're not going to let Aunt Sami die, though, so it's our job to watch over her and make sure she doesn't read while she's cooking ever again!"

  The woman Samara was talking to was in her thirties with short blond hair and green eyes. She put her hand over her mouth to hide a laugh. "No more reading while you're cooking."

  Samara rolled her eyes. "I've been reading while cooking for years."

  "And you've never hurt yourself before? Because that really doesn't sound safe to me." The woman frowned at Samara.

  "I haven't had an injury bad enough to go to the hospital in over a year!" Samara knew most people wouldn't be impressed by those statistics, but they were really good for her.

  "Wow? That long!" The woman's voice was filled with sarcasm. "I'm Gisela Fletcher."

  "Nice to meet you. Samara Royal—I mean Crider. How long before I get used to the new name?" She shook her head, embarrassed.

  Abby spoke up. "Now you're a Crider just like we are. That means we're family."

  Samara smiled down at Abby, thinking it was time to redo their nail polish. Most of what she'd done the week before had worn off. "We are family, and I'm so glad. Now I get to keep you forever and ever."

  Both girls wrapped their arms around her, and Samara smiled at them. "I'm so glad you love me as much as I love you!"

  Gisela nodded a bit. "You've won them both over very quickly. I'm surprised."

  "Why's that?"

  "Oh, I'm the nursery coordinator here, and the girls didn't even speak for their first two months here. They've barely started warming up to my staff now after four months."

  Samara shrugged, smiling down at the girls who were both watching her with wide eyes, as if they were worried what Samara would think about what she'd just heard. "Maybe no one approached them right. We haven't had a problem from the first moment I've met them."

  "You're lucky then." Gisela smiled at Samara. "I'm so glad you're here though. We usually give newly married women a few months before asking them to help out in the nursery."

  Samara blinked. "Oh, is that what this was about? I'd love to help in the nursery. I did at my church in Manhattan. I love kids of all ages." She smiled at the other woman. "Where do I check them into Sunday School?"

  Avy grabbed her hand, clinging to it. "We don't want to go to Sunday school. Can we stay with you? Please, Aunt Sami?"

  Samara looked down at Avy. "You don't like Sunday school? Do you want me to go with you?"

  Abby shook her head adamantly. "Let us stay with you and Uncle Henry. We'll be quiet. We promise!"

  Samara knelt down and hugged the twins to her. "Of course you can stay with us. If there are any problems with misbehavior, you'll have to go to Sunday school next week."

  "We'll be good," they chorused.

  Samara stood up, looking at Gisela. "I guess they're staying with us this week. It might need to be a gradual transition with them going to Sunday school."

  Gisela shook her head. "You're spoiling them."

  "I'm not spoiling them. They seem genuinely fearful about going to class with the others. Has something happened there?"

  "Of course not! All of the teachers are hand-chosen by me. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to them."

  Samara shrugged. "I'll talk to them more when we get home. They may go to Sunday school next week, and they may not. For now, they're frightened, and I won't have them go until I find out why."

  Gisela turned her back and walked away without another word. Samara sighed. She was making enemies quickly in Teaville. It wouldn't be long before she'd have to ask Henry to move away from his home, simply to keep him from being lynched by the husbands of women she'd offended.

  She ha
d the girls by their hands when she walked to the pew, moving to sit beside Henry. He frowned when he saw the girls. "Why aren't they in Sunday school?" he asked.

  She frowned, relating how upset they'd been at the idea of going. "I don't know why, but I'll find out. I'll talk to them about it this week. For today, they promised to be on their best behavior, so I'm going to let them stay with us."

  "Do you think something could have happened in the nursery?"

  Samara shrugged. "I really have no idea, but that was real fear on their faces. If they're afraid to go to Sunday school, something is wrong."

  "We'll talk to them when we get home."

  "Thanks for trusting me."

  The girls were as well-behaved as they'd promised. When it was time to stand and sing, they did. When it was time to quietly bow their heads for the prayer, they did. They were as well-behaved as the teenagers throughout the church, and Samara was more than a little proud of them.

  Once the service was over, Samara whispered to Henry. "I can cook lunch, but I think we should go out somewhere. I think it would be good for us to talk to the girls somewhere other than home."

  He nodded, looking down at them. "You two were the best behaved kids in the whole church! How did you do that?"

  The girls had identical grins of pleasure on their faces as they walked toward the back of the sanctuary. Pastor Jon stopped them on their way out. He squatted down and looked at the twins. "What did you think of my sermon?"

  Abby smiled. "It was good. I liked how you talked about people not judging each other."

  "You did? I liked that part too."

  "I liked how you talked about how it's okay not to do exactly what everyone else does. Does that mean it's okay if we don't go back to Sunday school?" Avy asked.

  Pastor Jon frowned. "You don't like Sunday school?"

  Both girls shook their heads emphatically. "We hate it. We want to sit with Uncle Henry and Aunt Sami every week."

  "Well, I think that would be up to them, but I don't mind at all. If one of you started running up and down the aisle singing loudly or jumping up and down in your seats, you wouldn't be able to stay in the sanctuary for worship, but you were great!" He got to his feet, shaking hands with both Samara and Henry. "Any idea why they don't want to go to Sunday school?" he asked, trying to keep his voice down.

  "No idea," Samara responded. "They were almost hysterical at the very idea. I'm going to talk to them and see what we can figure out."

  "Where did your brother attend church, Henry?"

  "They went to Bobbi's church, the little Baptist church across town. I don't have any idea how they did there."

  The pastor frowned. "I know they have Sunday school for the little ones just like we do here. I might find out if something happened there to scare them. Would you mind if I put out feelers about that? The pastor's a good friend of mine."

  "I wouldn't mind a bit. I'd like to know what's wrong with them," Samara said.

  They left the church and walked out to the van, Samara automatically getting into the passenger side. "I like to drive sometimes," she told Henry.

  He looked at her. "Are you saying you want to drive now?"

  She shook her head. "Nope. I just like to have a turn sometimes."

  "Am I ever going to understand the way your mind works?"

  "Probably not. Few people do. Except maybe Lachele."

  As they drove, Samara thought about how she wanted to talk to the twins about what was making them not want to go to Sunday school. It worried her that they were so adamant about staying with her. It could be that they were afraid of losing her like they had their mother, but she didn't feel like that was the right answer.

  Henry drove them to a family diner near the church. It was doing a bustling business. "We come here after church most Sundays," he told Samara. "The girls and I like it, and I used to meet up here with my brother and sister-in-law and the girls after church every week."

  "I'm sure I'll love it then." She turned in her seat to look back at the girls who were happily jabbering to one another. She had no idea what they were saying.

  Henry grinned at her. "Like a lot of twins, they've had their own language since they were tiny. No idea what they're saying."

  She had each girl by the hand as they walked into the restaurant. The waitress smiled at Henry. "Who's this?"

  "I got married last weekend. This is my wife, Samara."

  The girl's eyes widened as she led them to a booth. "I didn't know you were getting married! No wonder you weren't here last week." She smiled at the twins who were sitting together on one side of the booth. "So how do you like your new aunt?"

  "Aunt Sami is the best aunt in the whole wide world," Avy responded. "We're going to keep her."

  Abby nodded her agreement. "We're going to live with her forever and ever."

  Samara laughed. "I sure hope you will! What if you fall in love and marry someone? Will you still live with me then?"

  "Of course," Avy told her. "Who else would cook for us?"

  Henry grinned. "Well, I'd make you Pop Tarts."

  Abby shook her head at Henry. "I mean real food like Aunt Sami makes."

  They all laughed, and then the waitress, who introduced herself as Mary, took their drink orders.

  Samara looked at the girls. "Do you both know what you want to eat?"

  They nodded. "We share chicken and dumplings," Abby said.

  "They don't have it on the kids' menu, so the girls share an adult portion." Henry looked down at his menu. "I'm getting the meat loaf today."

  Samara made a mental note of what everyone ordered so she could make it for supper sometime. It was hard to cook for a houseful of people when she had no idea what their tastes were in food. She quickly scanned the menu. "I'm going to get the baked potato soup." Setting her menu aside, she looked at the girls. "Now, why don't you two want to go to Sunday school? Are the kids mean? Do the teachers duct tape you to the walls upside down?"

  The girls giggled, looking at one another as if they were trying to decide what they should say. "No one tapes us, but—" Avy started.

  "And no one is mean to us—" Abby continued.

  "But the teacher told Adam he's stupid when he answered a question wrong—" Avy added.

  "He thought the teacher said that Bob was the creator of the heavens and the earth—" Abby said.

  "But she said it was God, and he just misunderstood—" Avy said with a frown.

  "Adam's not stupid! He's our friend! No one gets to call him stupid!" Abby shook her head, obviously upset.

  "No one!" Avy agreed.

  Samara frowned. "What's your teacher's name? Did you tell anyone?"

  The girls shook their heads as one. "No. We didn't know who to tell. Adam is nice to us, even though we're orphans," Abby said.

  "Why wouldn't they be nice to orphans?" Samara asked.

  "Mrs. Johnson, our teacher, said nobody loves orphans. They have to be happy with whatever they get." Avy frowned. "Do we really have to be happy with whatever we get?"

  "Why did she say that?" Samara asked, growing angrier by the second. She was ready to hunt down Mrs. Johnson and give the woman a piece of her mind.

  Abby looked down at her hands. "She gave me a coloring sheet that was torn, so I asked for a new one, and she got mad. I should have been happier with what I got."

  Samara closed her eyes and counted to ten. "I'll be talking to Pastor Jon on Sunday."

  Henry shook his head. "No, I'll be talking to Pastor Jon this afternoon. No one gets to treat children that way and get away with it."

  "No they don't. Especially not our children."

  The waitress came by then and took their orders. When she left, Henry looked at Samara. "I appreciate how you accepted the girls as yours from the moment you met them. It means a lot."

  Samara looked at the girls and made a silly face. When they made faces back at her, she laughed. "How could I not? They're awfully special little girls!"

  "They
are!" Henry agreed, mentally going over how he was going to talk to Pastor Jon that afternoon. He'd been a member of the same church since he was a small child, but Pastor Jon was young and had only been there for a few years. He had no idea how the pastor would react to what he had to tell him.

  Samara grew serious. "If we could have you put in the five year old class, would you go back to Sunday school? Or if you had a different teacher?" She didn't know how the pastor would handle things. If he replaced the girls' teacher, she hoped they'd reconsider, although they'd been extremely well-behaved, so if they needed to stay in the sanctuary for service, they could. She just knew they'd be happier with the other children.

  The girls looked at one another and nodded. "Yes," they said together.

  "Good."

  Their food came then, and Samara bowed her head as Henry prayed. She hadn't been raised in a house where they prayed before every meal, and when she was alone, she often forgot. She was glad he was so good at remembering and training the girls right.

  As soon as they arrived home, Henry excused himself to call the pastor and tell him what he'd discovered while Samara did the girls' reading lesson with them. They had already progressed to reading short words. Their mother had obviously worked with them a lot.

  Henry came back down just as Samara finished reading Hop on Pop. "Girls, why don't you go outside and play for a bit." He had a sheepish look on his face, and Samara was almost afraid to ask what he'd done. As soon as they were gone, he said, "I volunteered you to teach the girls' class until a permanent teacher can be found."

  Samara nodded. "Oh, of course." She had way too much on her plate already, but there was no way she could let the girls skip Sunday school every week. She wanted them to get used to spending time with their peers, not just each other.

  Henry breathed a sigh of relief. "As soon as I offered, I was sure you'd shoot me. You're already doing so much."

  Samara laughed. "It's only a couple of hours per week. I can handle it for a while." She shrugged. "How did Pastor Jon react?"