From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone by Lorhainne Eckhart Page A

-size pieces. Emily put a spoon in Trevor’s hand, helping him to grip the handle. He still didn’t know how to use a spoon or fork. He preferred to eat with his hands. But Emily was relentless, working with him at each meal. In the short time she’d been here, they’d come from Trevor launching his spoon, screaming, to where he now took three or four bites from his spoon before dropping it. Emily would reward him after each successful small step with praise and a gummy bear.
    Today, it was as if he’d overcome some obstacle. He took the spoon without fuss or whining. Emily glanced over at Brad. “Did you see that?”
    “Great job, Em.”
    Except when Emily glanced down at Trevor, he now used his other hand to play the table like a piano. That was progress for you : one-step forward and another back. Brad curled his fingers around the back of the empty chair beside him, and pulled it out.
    “Sit down, Em.”
    Every time he spoke. His deep, husky drawl was like music, turning her insides all soft and fluttery. Emily sat, very aware of his closeness, becoming a silly schoolgirl every time she passed him a bowl or plate of food and their fingers touched. And each time she looked up, he watched her in a way that was personal.
    Trevor tossed his spoon across the table, breaking the magic spell where it clanked and landed beside Cliff’s plate. At least it didn’t hit him. Last week his spoon hit Mac on the side of the head. Trevor, with his tiny fingers, mushed his potatoes and broccoli between his fingers, cramming a fistful in his mouth.
    “No.” Emily jumped up and leaned across the table, grabbing the spoon.
    “It’s all right Emily; he didn’t mean nothing by it.” Said Cliff in his raspy smoker ’s voice, followed by his nervous laugh.
    “Actually it’s not all right , Cliff. Trevor can’t learn unless you stay vigilant.” Emily wiped the food from Trevor’s hand with a dishcloth and put the spoon back in his hand. “Try again.” Emily said as she scooped a piece of potato on his spoon, and then let go of his hand. This was a fine line with Trevor. There was only so much hand over hand you could do with him before he’d freak out from being touched.
    Trevor scooped up another piece of meat himself and shoved it in his mouth. “Good job Trevor. Eat.”
    When Emily glanced over at Brad, he was already finishing up his plate, guzzling down the last of his coffee and pushing away from the table—distracted again. The man was such a mystery; the way he changed from hot to cold, a difficult and complex man.
    “Great lunch , Emily. Cliff, Mac, I’m going to need your help as soon as you’re done, to move the horses. Don’t dawdle.”
    She’d be a fool to miss the annoyance that dripped from his sharp words. What the hell happened? Her heart sank a little as Brad went out the back door without a simple glance in her direction. Mac scraped up his plate and Cliff downed his coffee; both pushed away from the table , nodding their thanks as they hurried after their boss. Brad, teasing and thoughtful one moment, turned quicker than she could snap her fingers; turning her world upside down, leaving her mystified as to what she’d done. Emily pushed her plate away. Well whatever it was, Emily was sure time scooping up manure would most likely take the edge off whatever bothered him. Or so she hoped.

Chapter Fifteen
    “You need a spare room that’s quiet for therapy. A room to put all the teaching supplies and toys you use only for therapy,” Pam, a tall thin lady and mother to a fourteen-year-old autistic boy, said. She’d driven down from Olympia.
    “We have lots of room here.” Brad had been polite, and maybe a little taken back by this woman who headed the local parents’ group. She’d already arranged for her consultant to visit Trevor, to assess and set up programming. She was a doer who could set your head spinning for what she’d accomplish in five minutes.
    “Brad, what about the bedroom