“So far.” She laughed. And handed him a plate with two tortillas. “I visited Leland today.”
Is this her news? “How is he?” He didn’t sense her earlier tension. He gestured for her to make her plate first and watched her pile brisket, corn, and cheese on her tortilla.
“He’s fine. Too fine. He doesn’t want to go to any more check-ups. Says he’s all healed up. And that it’s pointless to drive to the doctor’s office to hear the doctor say what he already knows.”
Jason laughed. “Okay, so he’s back to normal.”
“Mostly. He needs to take care of himself, though. It’s only been a month.”
He finished piling up his tortillas, scooped a hefty serving of guacamole on his plate, and took a seat across from her at the dining table.
He hadn’t missed the concern in her voice. “I know. And I know he’s itching to get back to work. I really don’t know if I have much influence with him, but if I can talk him into taking it easy, I will.”
She smiled. “You can’t. But I appreciate the thought.” She reached across the table and cupped her hand over his. “Will you pray for us?”
“Sure.” He squeezed her fingers and bowed his head. He thanked God for their meal, Leland’s health, and for Tayla.
She echoed his ‘amen,’ but when he lifted his gaze to hers, the tension was back.
“What’s wrong?” His worries about her tone slammed back into focus. His gut was right. Her news is bad.
Red flushed her face. “I’m sorry. Nothing. I was just thinking. Nothing. It’s fine.”
She’s a terrible liar.
He turned his hand over and laced his fingers through hers. “What’s the news you mentioned on the phone?”
Her eyebrows shot up. Oh. Yes, that worried look was absolutely about her news.
His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. “Hey. Whatever it is, please tell me. You’re killing me here. What’s going on?”
She squeezed his hand. And let go.
He wasn’t sure that was a good sign. Was this about their relationship? A sick feeling fisted in his stomach.
She drew in a deep breath, apparently preparing herself for . . . whatever this was. “Okay. Yeah. Jason, it’s not bad. It’s good. At least I think it’s good. I’m just . . . I realized today that I’m really worried you won’t be as excited as I want you to be.”
“Excited? Okaaaay. Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
Another breath. “My boss wanted to know all about Isadora Island when I got back—about the entire country of Morghana, actually. The Grayhouses are both concerned about the orphans I told them about, and—”
“You didn’t—”
“No. I didn’t share any details I shouldn’t have. They don’t know anything at all about Dylan or Eric. And no, I didn’t mention Enzo. They just wanted to know about the people of Morghana, and if there was anything they could do to help.” The corners of her mouth tipped up, and she shook her head with a laugh. “They get really worked up sometimes. If there’s an earthquake, a hurricane, or volcano eruption, they can’t sleep until they’ve organized some relief efforts. They can get intense, but I love working for them.”
And now he knew where this was headed. “Wait, do they want you to go back to Isadora?”
She pursed her lips. “You’re getting ahead of me. But, yes. They want to help the orphans. They’re intrigued by Morghana, especially Isadora Island. Their friends have raved about the beauty of Morghana’s islands for years. They always intended to vacation there at some point. They want to visit soon. Experience the islands for themselves. And see if there’s anything they can do to help the people of Morghana.”
Huh. He wasn’t sure what to say. The Grayhouses meant well. But Isadora wasn’t exactly the—
“I know you think it isn’t safe.”
Okay. So, she can read his mind. “No, I don’t.” He rubbed his hands on his jeans, and stared at his brisket tacos, hoping his appetite would return. “Look, I think it’s great that the Grayhouses want to help. Really. Those kids deserve a better life. And the Grayhouses’ generosity could make an incredible impact. But I don’t see why you have to go. How long would they want you there? Don’t you mostly work for them virtually?”
She scrunched her face like she couldn’t decide what to say next. “Don’t get weirded out.”
“What?”
