After they finished cleaning up their mess, Charity checked the dough. "It still needs another twenty minutes or so. Would you like to learn how to crochet?"
"Sure. It's not like I have anything else to do since Paige kicked me out of the house."
After much frustration and a lot of unraveling, Grace finally crocheted a long chain that was mostly straight and even. A sense of accomplishment filled her until Charity said, "That should be long enough for a small lap afghan. Now it's time for the next step."
Doubling back and adding another row was much trickier than making a simple chain, and Grace wanted to scream in frustration. Her fingers cramped from the effort of holding the yarn. She kept missing stitches and was unraveling part of the second row for the third time when Charity announced that the dough was ready to finish the cinnamon rolls.
Hallelujah!
Grace almost cheered out loud.
Rolling out and working the dough was therapeutic, and Grace understood why Charity enjoyed baking so much. Her rolls didn't look as nice as Charity’s, but Grace felt a sense of pride as she surveyed hers. They stuck with normal sized rolls for Grace's first lesson, rather than Charity's signature six-inch ones.
"Okay, now we need to let them rise again. You should be able to finish the next row of your afghan before they're ready to go into the oven."
Grace had to feign enthusiasm. She enjoyed cooking, so she was certain she would come to love baking. Crocheting, she wasn't so sure about. After a while, however, she got better at holding the yarn with her fingers and missed fewer stitches.
She was halfway through her third row when Charity put the cinnamon rolls into the oven. It was nice to actually see something taking shape.
Instead of picking up her yarn and crochet hook again, Charity propped her hands on her hips. "I'm thinking about redecorating Damon's room. Would you like to help me?"
Grace's head popped up in surprise. They had talked about all kinds of things as they'd made the cinnamon rolls and crocheted, but her pulse picked up at the mention of Damon's name.
"Sure, what do you have in mind?"
"Nothing in particular, but like the rest of the house, it could use a fresh coat of paint. I've avoided doing much with it, because I've always wanted him to know he had a place to come home to." Charity winked and gave her a sly grin. "But I have a feeling the next time he comes home, it won't be long before you guys are married, and he's moving in with you."
Heat warmed Grace's face. She liked the idea of marrying Damon, but they still had a long way to go before their relationship was at that stage. And considering he was ten thousand miles away, she couldn't see it progressing very fast.
"Come look at his room and tell me what you think I should do with it."
Grace was all too happy to set the crocheting aside and give her hands a break. "I'm not particularly skilled at interior design, but I'd be happy to help you paint the room and pick out some accessories."
"I'm toying with the idea of turning it into my sewing and craft room. It has the best lighting in the afternoon."
As the smell of cinnamon and dough filled the house, Grace stood in Damon's bedroom, listening to Charity talk about his fascination with cars and basketball. She pointed out a handful of pictures of Damon in high school and his basketball and track trophies.
Grace felt privileged to have this glimpse into Damon's life, but she agreed it was time to give the room a makeover. And she was up for the challenge.
Grace jumpedwhen her phone buzzed on her desk in the Radiology Lab.
Damon!
Heart racing, she reached for it then jerked her hand back. Would she get in trouble for talking to him at work?
It had been four days since she last talked to him. If they waited until she was off work, he'd be asleep.
She snatched up her phone and answered the video call.
"Hello."
Damon's face filled her screen. His lips moved for a few seconds before sound came from her phone. "Oh wow, I forgot how beautiful you are."
Grace laughed. "You're rather handsome yourself."
"Nah, I'm just a desert rat." He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. She was about to argue with him when his mouth started moving again. "Sorry, I know you're at work. I don't want to get you in trouble, but I couldn't wait another day to talk to you."
"Fortunately, I'm not busy at the moment." Grace glanced over her shoulder at the open door to the hallway that led to the Emergency Department. "I've been so worried about you. I expected you to call two days ago."
