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conversations with “I’ll be praying for you, dear.”
    Nate figured his mother’s prayers had helped him through his worst times. Hanging up the phone, he bowed his head and prayed for her. She was the best woman Nate knew, and she deserved to have her heart’s desire.
    He was heading out the door when the phone rang again. Thinking his mother had forgotten to tell him something, which she usually did when she called him, he snatched up the headset. “Did you forget something?” he teased.
    â€œYou could say that.”
    Pollyanna’s chuckle through the line was an unexpected surprise. “You’re not my mother.” Real sharp, Talbert.
    â€œNo. Sorry.”
    â€œI just hung up,” he explained, and moved on quickly. “Did you need something?”
    â€œYes, actually. I need you.”

Chapter Five
    T hat evening, with dread knotting in his stomach, Nate strode up the five steps flanked by two large pots of what looked like tulips that hadn’t bloomed yet. He quickly knocked on the screen door before he lost his nerve and fled. After letting Gil tag along for the past couple of days, Pollyanna had called and insisted that he let her cook him supper. Nate had finally agreed to the invitation, however reluctantly. When Gil had come by after school, the boy had been over-the-top excited, and that had done away with any thoughts Nate had toyed with about reneging.
    Pinching the bridge of his nose, he willed his insides to settle down. The very idea of sitting at another woman’s table had him feeling as nauseated as he’d been the first time he’d been kicked in the gut by a disgruntled heifer. He told himself it had nothing to do with the silky way Pollyanna’s voice had pleaded with him over the phone. Or the way he kept remembering how her eyes practically talked out loud, they were so expressive.
    Nate knocked again. No one came but he knew by the soft laughter drifting from somewhere inside the house that they were home and just hadn’t heard him.
    Swiping his hat from his head, he tried another route. “Hello,” he called, pulling open the screen. Unanswered, he stepped just inside. An impressive staircase wound upward in front of him. His gaze followed it up. One side of the railing detoured at the second floor, but the other railing never broke as it wound in a wide smooth arch up to the third story…man, would that be one good ride. Curious about the rest of the house, he moved into the large living room. Second thoughts about intruding converged on him. He started to turn around and go back to the porch when Pollyanna’s laughter rang out. The sheer delight of her laughter hooked him.
    Eyes on the doorway at the end of the living room, he took a few more steps and almost tripped on a puppy leg.
    The lazy dog was sleeping beneath an end table, sprawled on his back, his relaxed face a scrunched-up mass of wrinkles inside the “lamp shade” collar.
    â€œâ€”they’re gonna like it here, Mama. Bo’s smiling. See? And look at Sylvie go,” Gil called out excitedly.
    â€œPepper, too. Pepper, too!”
    â€œYes, Pepper, you can watch, too.” Pollyanna laughed. “I think Bo’s letting Sylvie win because he loves her desperately.”
    Pollyanna’s voice was husky with laughter as Nate stuck his head into the room. Mother and son were sitting on the floor of the kitchen side by side turned slightly away from him. They were watching two turtles striding—well, at least they were striding as fast as two turtles could stride—across the floor toward what looked like a red string of candy licorice. A Twizzler. The bright green cockatiel was perched on Gil’s shoulder, doing a wild dance as he watched the race. It had to be one of the oddest things Nate’d ever seen. Before Nate could speak up, the bird cocked its orange-spotted head and pinned its beady little eyes on him.