She’d left him planted on the sofa, and once settled there he was usually good for the evening. As she drew up behind him where he stood at the counter, she peered around his elbow to see what he was doing. He was trying to make a sandwich, a PB and J, only it wasn’t jelly he was about to spoon onto the smear of peanut butter.“Whoa!” she said. “What are you doing?”“Making a sandwich. Zach fed me, but I’m still a little hungry, maybe from the walk.”“Well, that isn’t jelly. It’s salsa, and it’s the spicy kind.”Luke let go of the spoon handle. “Uh-oh.”Mandy screwed the lid back on the jar and returned it to the fridge, grabbing the strawberry preserves before she closed the clunky old door. “Here, let me.”“No.” Luke said the word softly, but there was an underlying note of steely resolve in his voice. “I want to do it myself.” He held out his hand. “Give.”Stunned, Mandy gave him the jar and watched in amazement as he groped in the drawer for a fresh spoon, finished making the sandwich, put it on a plate, and made his way to the table.
