Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(198)

Her skin broke out in goose bumps. At the same time, she found herself wishing he felt something more lasting toward her than sexual attraction. “Are you buying?”

He looked amused. “I’m buying.”

She turned her head and glanced over her shoulder. “Come on, Edward. We’re going to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You love watermelon. I’ll get you a piece.”

As they walked toward the food tents, Gabe heard the boy dragging his sneakers in the dirt. When he considered how much of Rachel’s meager paycheck had gone toward buying those sneakers, he wanted to tell the child to pick up his feet, but he knew he was being unreasonable, and he kept silent.

They headed toward the center of the field, where several whole pigs roasted on spits above a large pit of glowing coals. Rachel wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll have corn on the cob instead.”

“I thought you country girls were immune to being sentimental about animals.”

“Not me. Besides, we raised soybeans.”

He’d never been much of a fan of pig roasts himself, so he didn’t give her a hard time. Before long, they were sitting at one end of a long picnic table with plates of buttered corn. He’d added a hot dog and coleslaw to his own meal in an attempt to get her to eat more, but she’d refused, and now he was stuck with food he didn’t want.

“You sure you wouldn’t like another hot dog, Edward? I haven’t touched this one.”

The boy shook his head and picked at the wedge of watermelon on his plate. Ever since they’d sat down, Gabe had watched him stealing glances at the next table where a man ate with his son, who looked to be around Edward’s age. Edward gazed over at them again, and Rachel noticed.

“Is that boy in day care with you, Edward? You seem to know him.”

“Uh-huh. His name is Kyle.” Edward looked down at his watermelon. “And my name’s Chip.”

Over the top of Edward’s head, Rachel gave Gabe an exasperated look. At the next table, the boy named Kyle and his father picked up their empty paper plates and disposed of them in one of the trash cans. Edward watched them carefully.

After the last paper cup had disappeared, the boy turned toward his father and raised his arms. His father smiled, swung him up, and set him over his shoulders.

An expression of such naked longing crossed Edward’s face that Gabe winced. It was a simple thing . . . A father carrying his son on his shoulders. But Edward was too heavy for Rachel to carry that way. Too heavy for a mother to carry on her shoulders, but not a father.

Pick me up, Daddy! Pick me up so I can see!

Gabe looked away.

Rachel had witnessed the entire episode, and he saw her painful reaction as she took in one more thing in her life that she couldn’t control. She opened her purse to distract herself. “Edward, I think you’re wearing more food than you’ve eaten. Let me clean you—”

Her hands grew still, then dipped inside and began to riffle through the contents. “Gabe, my wallet’s gone!”

“Let me see.” He took her purse and, looking inside, saw the orderly clutter of a pen, a grocery-store receipt, a folded wad of toilet paper, a small plastic action toy, and a tampon that was coming out of its wrapper. He could just guess how much she begrudged spending her precious money on tampons.

“Maybe you left it at home.”

“No! It was in my purse when I gave you that tissue to wipe your shoe.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” She looked stricken. “Do you remember when I fell against you? Someone bumped me hard. It must have happened then.”

“How much money did you have in your wallet?”

“Forty-three dollars. Everything I had.”

She looked so forsaken and bewildered that his heart turned over in his chest. He knew how strong she was, and he told himself she’d recover from this latest setback, but he also wondered how many times one human being could get knocked to her knees and keep climbing back up.

“Let me go check around over where it happened. Maybe it fell out of your purse when you were bumped and someone turned it in at one of the tables.”


He could see she didn’t believe that would happen. He didn’t believe it himself. Her luck wasn’t that good.

As they cleared their trash, Rachel tried to conceal how upset she was from Gabe. She desperately needed that forty-three dollars to make it through next week.

Edward lagged behind as they left the picnic tables. They had to pass the bake sale on their way, where Carol was still working, along with an older woman cheerfully dressed in red slacks and a short-sleeved blouse printed with red and yellow hibiscus. Rachel recognized her as the grandmother of Emily, the little girl with leukemia. Her heart sank as the woman spotted her.

“Mrs. Snopes!”

“What are you doing, Fran?” Carol frowned as the older woman shot out from behind the table and made her way to Rachel.

The woman’s wooden parrot earrings bobbed as she smiled at Rachel, then turned her head toward Carol. “I’ve asked Mrs. Snopes to go to my daughter’s house and pray over Emily.”

“How could you do that?” Carol cried. “She’s a charlatan.”

“That’s not true,” Fran chided gently. “You know how desperately we need prayers. Only a miracle can save Emily.”