“So, you made the boys some bunny pancakes. Good for you, Shama. I’m proud of you.”
Mrs. Penn was smiling and looking better than the day before, but something was still off. Perhaps there were more dark shadows under her eyes. Her cheeks looked flushed, too. I wasn’t at all sure that the doctor knew what he was talking about. Mrs. Penn still looked sickly to me.
“Pancakes?” Dr. Stevens said. “I don’t suppose there are any more?” He looked so wistfully in my direction that I couldn’t do anything but bolt up and go mix up more.
“Does he get bunny pancakes, too?” Frances asked.
“Frank did,” Carlo said.
“With eggs and ham?” I asked the man and then turned after seeing his eager nod.
Frank followed me into the kitchen and said, “How can I help?”
I let him fetch the eggs, ham, and milk from the icebox.
Then I started up the process all over again. Meanwhile, I could hear Frey neighing. I was much later than usual, and he was worried.
“I know nothing about making bunny pancakes. Do you want me to go feed your horse?” Frank asked.
Wow. The man was being very brave. I bit my lip, wondering if I should let him. What would Frey do when Frank went out there without me?
But Frey was a friendly horse. He’d never hurt anyone. I nodded. “He gets one flake of hay,” I said . . . and a kiss.”
Frank stopped, turned around and twirled me around to face him. “The only one I plan to kiss is you, sweetheart,” he said, and he did, right there in the kitchen.
When he let go of me, I didn’t know what to say. I guess I’d teased him when I’d said that about kissing my horse, but I hadn’t meant . . .
“Stop worrying, darling. I was itching to do that anyway.”
The door swung closed behind him a moment later, and I wheeled about to set two thick ham slices on the frying pan and continued mixing the pancakes. But inside my body, my blood was speeding up and down my veins and doing somersaults, I was pretty sure.