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Nathan.
    “I thought so.” He turned toward Catherine. “Peanut butter?”
    “In the cabinet on your right. Jelly’s in the fridge. Bread’s on the counter, by the toaster.” She motioned tiredly to her left, the spare response all she could manage.
    She watched as he went about his task with an admirable efficiency of motion. It was the same approach he took with his work. She’d noticed it when she’d stopped in a few times this morning to make sure Zach wasn’t getting in his way.
    But as she took a closer look at him for the first time, she noticed some other things, as well. Flecks of silver in his neatly trimmed brown hair. Fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Small scars on his temple and chin. Brown eyes that looked as if they’d seen way too much bad stuff, confirming the impression she’d had at the wedding.
    Guessing his age to be midthirties, Catherine couldn’t help wondering what struggles this quiet man had endured to earn those premature signs of age. Were they as traumatic, as life-changing, as her own? Were they the reason he was trying to make a new start on this island, as she was?
    “How about some milk to go with that?” Nathan set the finished sandwich in front of Zach and raised an eyebrow at Catherine.
    Refocusing on the present, she nodded.
    Without waiting for Zach to respond, Nathan pulled a gallon jug out of the refrigerator, poured a glass and placed it beside the youngster’s plate.
    “What’re you eating?” Zach inspected his sandwich as he queried Nathan.
    “I brought a turkey sandwich from home.”
    “Why don’t you go get it? That way, we can eat together.”
    Nathan cast a quick glance at Catherine and rested hishands on the back of one of the two empty chairs. “I think I’ll have lunch later. After you’re finished.”
    Plunking an elbow on the table, Zach propped his chin in his hand again and pressed a finger into his sandwich, creating dimples in the soft white bread. “It’s no fun to eat by yourself.”
    There was a cue here for her, Catherine realized. She could take it—invite this stranger to dine with her son—or remain silent and let him walk out. To eat alone.
    Two weeks ago, if someone had told her she’d even consider inviting a man she’d known for only three days to eat in her kitchen, she would have dismissed the comment as absurd. She didn’t trust easily. Not anymore. But Nathan had come to her via a respected E.R. doctor. And he’d done some work at a church, offered to give her the name of his pastor. As far as she was concerned, those were good character references.
    In her heart, however, she knew that wasn’t the only reason her attitude toward this man was softening. Even though she knew nothing about Nathan’s background, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, in some way, they might be kindred spirits. And her instincts also told her that this man, who had charmed her son with his patience and kindness, possessed a gentle, caring spirit incapable of inflicting pain.
    When the silence lengthened, Nathan started to turn away. But not before she caught a flash of sorrow in his eyes that tugged at her soul. Again. And pricked her conscience. Again.
    This was her chance to try and make amends for the hurt her unfriendliness had inflicted at the wedding reception, she realized.
    “Wait!”
    He cast a glance over his shoulder.
    “If you’re hungry now, why don’t you eat with Zach? Unless you’d rather spend some time alone on your lunch break.”
    He gave a slight shake of his head, and gratitude softened those velvet-brown irises. “I’ve had plenty of time alone. I’d welcome some company over lunch.”
    His response intrigued her, but when he offered nothing else, she gestured to the refrigerator. “Help yourself to some soda. And there are a few homemade brownies left on that foil-covered plate on the counter. You and Zach can divide them up. Then it’s naptime for you, young man.”
    Zach scrunched up his face.