"No fractions? Wahoo!" Kirstie pitched aside her workbook and sprang to her feet.
Sprinting ahead, she turned a clean cartwheel.
Her first in a year. Melancholy tinged happiness a pale blue over all the lost cartwheels and smiles.
Kirstie raced across the field and threw her arms around her uncle's waist until her tiny arms shook from the strain. Was it so much to ask that her daughter feel secure?
Paige met her brother at the nose of the plane. "Where have you been?"
"Whoa." Vic yanked a lock of her hair. "What crawled in your gut and died?"
"You're both late." She glanced over at Bo on the other side of the plane, trying to keep her voice low enough that he wouldn't hear. "A call would have been nice."
"Sorry. I didn't think I needed to check in with my baby sister." He tugged her hair again before swinging Kirstie up on his back and lumbering off toward the kennels.
Paige chewed her bottom lip and wondered why she didn't follow him. She sneaked a reassuring glance at Bo. "I was worried."
He looped a rope through the wing strut. "We had a busted fuel gauge. While your brother worked on Anderson's colicky cow, I borrowed a truck to run into town for a replacement part."
Frazzled nerves frayed even more, thanks to hellish scenarios that all involved something happening to this man. "You're sure it's safe now?"
"Absolutely. Simple problem solved." Bo cinched the knot tight.
"I'm sorry for being a witch."
"You were worried about your brother. That's understandable."
"I was worried about you, too."
He paused midknot. "Run that by me again?"
His stunned expression almost made her laugh. "Hey, I just said I was worried. I didn't declare undying love for you, for Pete's sake."
He strode past, presenting an oh-my nice view. "I'm not used to accounting to people for my whereabouts."
"What about Sister Nic?" She trailed him around the plane.
"She's listed as my next of kin, but she's only to be notified if I die. I don't want her worried with any of the other crap."
Her frazzled nerves gave up the fight altogether. Where were her Tums? "What if you were taken hostage overseas?"
"I wouldn't be a hostage. I would be a POW."
She shivered. "Either way, it's a horrible thing. Someone back here should know."
"Why?"
Could he really be serious? Had no one worried about him on the ground before? And what about when he'd hurt his hands? Surely there'd been someone waiting to console him after surgery. What was with all these men who refused to share burdens? Made it darned hard to lean on someone in return. "So they could worry, pray, wait for you."
"I didn't want to see anyone when I got back."
Got back from where? She watched his hands flex open and closed. A really sick feeling started swelling in her stomach that no amount of Tums would settle.
"Your papers are blowing away."
Huh? She jerked her gaze up from his hands and thoughts they stirred of how he may have been injured. "What are you talking about?"
He pointed past her shoulder. "Over there on the blanket."