Second Time's the Charm

She looked incredible in her tight jeans and a white, formfitting long-sleeved T-shirt.

He didn’t ask why she’d come. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He’d bought the condoms. And there she was.

Not that he really believed he was going to have sex with her that night.

“I brought this for you,” she said, holding out a plastic bag.

A gift. He didn’t receive many. Wasn’t particularly good at accepting them.

Embarrassed, he pulled open the bag and glanced awkwardly inside. And then he recognized the softly padded cushion, the big zippers and buttons.

The gift wasn’t for him. He grinned.

“You ordered one for us?” he asked, glancing over at her. He’d checked with the day care owner about the educational tool, planning to order one, until he’d found out the cost.

He and Abraham would have had to give up fast food for three months. At least.

At the moment, he didn’t care. He’d sacrifice a year’s worth, a lifetime’s worth, of greasy burgers, if it brought Lillie Henderson to his door.

“Abe loves it and doesn’t get enough chances to play with it,” she said. “He’s good about sharing, and that’s important, too, but I thought?”

“It’s great!” Jon jumped in. “Really, this means a lot. Thank you.”

He was staring at her now, not at the toy in his hand.

“You’re welcome.” Her smile grew. And she wavered.

“Uh...how much do I owe you?” He knew the ballpark amount. Not exact. And hoped she’d take a check because he didn’t keep much cash on him—other than what he’d stashed in the emergency bag that he never touched.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Still standing in his doorway, her hair coming out of the ponytail he now knew she wore to work every day, Lillie shrugged.

“No way. I’m already so far in your debt I’m going to end up remodeling your entire house to get myself back in the black. Tell me how much I owe you.”

“It’s a gift, Jon. From me to Abraham. You don’t pay someone back for a gift.”

“A rubber ball—that would be a gift. This...”

He didn’t have to make it an issue. But it kept her standing there. He’d write a check later, for more than Bonnie had quoted.

And learn how to make hamburgers and French fries at home as well as the fast-food restaurant did.

“Bonnie gets things donated from wholesalers,” Lillie said. “And she also gets things at a huge discount. She shares with me.”

“Does she know you’re giving this to me? For Abraham?”

“Yes.”

He tried to come up with another argument, but failed. “Cute pants.” She was staring at his cartoon characters.

“I told you about them.” About the sticky fingers that had taught him to always keep a safe distance between strollers, shopping carts and goods that he didn’t want to buy.

“Yeah, they look a lot better on you than I imagined.”

Hoping she couldn’t make out particulars in the dim light, he stepped farther back and said, “You want to stay for a bit? Have some tea or something? I’d offer you wine, but I don’t have any.”

He’d done his share of drinking as a teen. Hadn’t had more than a beer or two at a time since he’d been let out of the prison for juveniles.