by LuAnn McLane
Grady felt a nervous tingle of anticipation. In truth, he’d never given much thought to marriage, since he’d never gotten that far in a relationship after Arabella left him. But recently, after he’d found Arabella with the pregnancy test in her hand, at odd times he’d wonder, what would it would feel like to be a father? To hold his own child in his arms? He’d even had a couple of dreams about it that felt real, but when he’d awoken he hadn’t mentioned it to Arabella, not wanting to upset her with the tender subject. But he didn’t let his thoughts drift to the past. He’d closed that door firmly. All he cared about was the future, and he hoped his future with Arabella included starting a family.
Grady knew one thing for sure. He had a good father as an example to follow. He couldn’t imagine a better father than Jack Heart. In the innocence of childhood, he hadn’t begun to imagine that his parents could die. His father’s booming laughter, his deep voice, echoed in his head. Jack and Susan Heart had been nurturing, encouraging, and demonstrative in their constant show of love. A lump formed in his throat, and he wished that his parents had stayed around long enough to see grandchildren. But knowing how quickly life can be snuffed out, he suddenly knew that he didn’t want to wait one more day to ask Arabella York to marry him. She might have only been back in his life for a few months, but she’d never really left his thoughts. He didn’t want her to just live with him. He wanted her to be his wife. Just the solid thought of calling her his wife made him smile into the darkness.
And what better place to propose that at her granny York’s house? He knew in his gut that was where she’d gone, but he had to make sure. If not, he’d search until he found her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE HOUSE THAT BUILT ME
The drive to Cincinnati took Arabella the better part of two days, partly because her mind drifted, causing her to miss exits, but mostly because she kept second-guessing herself as to whether she should just fly to New York and join Grady and Heartbeat. But in the end, she knew she was making the right decision heading back to her roots. She hadn’t informed her parents of her arrival, mostly because she wanted a couple of days at her little brick house to simply sit back and reflect on the past few months with Grady Heart.
Having stayed up late the night before, she slept in at the hotel on the second day, since her drive to Cincinnati would only last another four or five hours—well, unless she got lost . . . again. She found out the hard way that Siri only helps if you pay attention. To make matters worse, Arabella possessed a horrible sense of direction, so she knew rerouting was a given. But she didn’t stress over the extra hours added to the trip. Driving, listening to music, and simply having some downtime was something she sorely needed.
“Oh no, hope I didn’t miss it!” Arabella reached for the remote when she caught sight of the nightstand clock after rolling over in bed. She searched for Good Morning America on the TV. Grady had sent a text message that Heartbeat would be on the popular morning show. She shoved her tangled hair from her face. After a night of restless sleep, her hair had taken on a life of its own. “I am such an idiot. Why didn’t I set my alarm?”
“Oh good.” She breathed a sigh of relief when Heartbeat was announced to appear after the commercial break. She hurried to the bathroom and then returned to the bed, sitting down with a bounce. Smiling, she leaned against the pillows and beamed with pride at how handsome, professional, and articulate all four of them were. Although dressed casually in purple Susan Heart Lupus Foundation T-shirts and blue jeans, they exuded a sincerity and emotion during the interview that came through the screen and tugged at her heart. Grady was smart to do the interviews while the publicity remained hot. Arabella knew that their appearances would translate into funds and increased awareness for the foundation.
While they still radiated the playful boy-band charm, they possessed knowledge and poise that lent credibility to the questions asked of them. They shared the spotlight, each brother answering several questions, and she smiled when their personalities shone through. Grady wore his patented bad-boy non-smile. Jesse cracked jokes, adding a touch of humor to the rather serious interview. Jimmy answered with emotion, reciting memories of a childhood filled with music and joy. Oliver oozed charm, lighting up the screen with his lady-killer smile. As individuals, they were something else, but as Heartbeat, they were unstoppable.
“Ah, guys, you’re killin’ it,” Arabella said with a grin.
After the interview, a flawless performance of “You Will Be with Me Always” made tears stream down Arabella’s face. Dabbing at her eyes, she knew she could hear the song a million times and still cry. Jimmy was such a gifted songwriter, and she knew that most people didn’t realize that he’d written not only several of Heartbeat’s hits, but a slew of number ones for various artists in different genres as well, and she was happy that some of that information came out during the interview. Arabella hoped that besides shedding light on lupus awareness, the interview showed the audience watching that the Heart brothers had more talent and depth than they’d once given them credit for.
A knock at the door startled her out of her musing.
“Housekeeping!”
Arabella hurried over to the door and opened it a crack. “I’ll be out in just a little bit.”
After a long, hot shower, Arabella loaded the car and continued her journey to Cincinnati. Freezing while gassing up, she went into the truck stop and came out with a hooded sweatshirt that said HORSIN’ AROUND IN KENTUCKY. The horse had a big smile, showing off buck teeth and a Mohawk. But, hey, it was ten dollars and it did the job. A matching pair of sweatpants replaced her shorts. She traded in her flip-flops for cheap green gym shoes decorated with yellow sunflowers. After grabbing bags of random snacks, a bottle of water, and a giant Mountain Dew, she returned to the Mini Cooper and hit the road.
Arabella cranked up the radio, bobbed her head to the music, and tried not to get lost. The Mountain Dew helped to offset the lack of sleep, and she crunched through a bag of peanut butter Combos. The familiar sights that popped up the closer she got to Ohio let her know she was heading in the right direction, and Siri agreed. She patted the dash of the cute little car. “We’re almost there.”
When Arabella pulled up in front of the little redbrick house on Shade Tree Lane, she immediately burst into tears. “God, if I cry any more my eyeballs will fall out. Just stop it.” Sniffing hard, she grabbed her purse and scrambled out of the car. For a few moments, she stood there on the concrete sidewalk where she’d played hopscotch and jumped rope with the neighborhood kids. Her grandmother always encouraged playing outside rather than sitting in front of the TV or playing video games. The house had been a short bike ride from her parents’ home and she’d spent most of her summer vacation days here when she wasn’t with her parents on their trips to the beach.
Memories flooded her brain like a giant waterfall, splashing over into her heart.
The houses, all similar in style, were only a few feet apart, typical for an old Midwestern small town. A little square patch of grass represented the front lawn and the backyard wasn’t much bigger, butting up to the neighbors’ backyards on all sides. Old-fashioned as she was, her granny loved to hang clothes on the line, and Arabella remembered how fresh the crisp, sun-dried sheets had smelled.
She smiled and released a shaky sigh, remembering how during the summer the crabgrass was dotted with fluffy round dandelions and buzzing bees. Now, pesticides killed the so-called weeds that Arabella had taken to be delightful yellow flowers she could present in limp bouquets to her grandmother. Bumblebees were now on the endangered list. She recalled picking white clover and having her grandmother weave the stems into necklaces and crowns for her hair, making her feel like a princess. When she found a ladybug it meant good luck. And her finding a four-leaf clover meant she could press the lucky treasure into a book. And Granny York had possessed bookshelves stuffed with classics that brought the joy of r
eading to Arabella The library, one of their favorite places, was a short walk into town.
The sweet scent of honeysuckle used to cling to her clothes, and her grandmother had taught her how to pull the drop of nectar from the flower and let it drop onto her tongue. Bushes of hydrangea, still one of her favorite flowers, lined the side of the brick house. Fireflies would fill the evenings with dots of flickering light and she would awake in the morning to the sound of chirping birds and the aroma of breakfast in the air.
Now, dormant brown grass remained void of colorful weeds and bare tree branches reached toward the gray sky, but Arabella thought the stark Midwest winter still maintained a certain beauty. Hopefully, while she visited, she would see snow. She shivered in her inadequate hoodie and hurried to the trunk to retrieve her suitcase, eager to get inside and turn up the heat.
Hefting her suitcase up the worn front steps, she stopped on the wide front porch to dig around in her purse and locate her big old-fashioned door key that looked like it should unlock a castle. The late-afternoon breeze whipped around her and she swore she could smell snow in the air. After finding the ancient key, she unlocked the heavy wooden door and pushed it open.
As soon as her suitcase clunked over the threshold onto the hardwood floor, she took a deep breath and the heavy scent of baking sugar cookies wafted over her. It was so strong that she could practically taste them on her tongue. And was she just that cold, or was the house surprisingly warm?
Feeling that things were slightly odd, Arabella took a couple of steps into the foyer and leaned her suitcase against the wall. The floor gleamed and she could detect the smell of lemon furniture polish. She put a hand over the buck teeth on the horse and felt the rapid beat of her heart, half expecting her grandmother to appear, hurrying in her curious half run to greet her at the front door.
As Arabella stood there, she could almost hear noises coming from the back of the house and . . . humming? She cocked her head, wondering if her grandmother haunted the house or if she was going a bit mad after the long two-day drive from Sea Breeze. She heard the distinctive creak of the pantry door opening and the pitter-patter of feet on the green speckled linoleum kitchen floor.
Feeling like she was in a scary movie, she crept down the narrow hallway to the kitchen door that was halfway open. Her chest heaved while she debated between pushing open the door and announcing her arrival, or running away. Ghosts, even a grandmother ghost, were still frightening as hell.
Arabella swallowed hard and put her shaking hand on the dark wood door. She heard the scrape of metal on metal. Cookies lifted off a pan? Dear God . . . could ghosts bake cookies? Well, if any ghost could manage it, she’d bank on her grandmother.
With her heart wedged somewhere in her throat, she had just decided to push open the door and confront her fear when the door swung open.
Arabella screamed and stared into the face of . . .
Her mother?
Yes, her mother, but with deep red hair. Her mother screamed too and held a spatula over her head like a weapon.
“Mom!”
“Arabella! What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Baking cookies.”
“Baking cookies?”
Mindy lowered the spatula. “My oven is on the fritz. Joe thinks he can fix anything, but he’s wrong. He tinkers and tinkers until finally he breaks it or he breaks down and calls for help. So I came here to make cookies for a cookie-exchange party. The house was a mess, so I ended up cleaning all day yesterday and now I’m baking like a madwoman. Want to help?” she asked cheerily, seemingly fully recovered from their scare a moment ago, as if it were a normal occurrence for Arabella to be standing there.
Arabella seriously thought she might faint.
“Darling, you look white as a ghost.”
“Funny choice of words . . .” Arabella sort of stumbled into the kitchen and sat down in a metal-backed chair.
“Bella, are you okay?” the red-haired Mindy asked in her mom voice. “Do you want a bottle of water?”
“Got anything stronger?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been drinking a wee bit of wine.”
Arabella noticed the rosy color in her mother’s cheeks and knew it wasn’t just from the cozy heat of the kitchen. Her little indulgence was likely another reason she’d failed to hear Arabella’s arrival. She smiled. “A wee bit?”
“A glass or two.” Mindy fussed around in the white cabinets and came up with a delicate wineglass. “Here you go, sweet pea.” A moment later Arabella had a generous pour of chardonnay in front of her.
“Thanks, Mom.” Arabella took a deep sip and felt her heart rate slow down. She grinned at her mother’s lopsided red bun on top of her head and the flour-dusted Christmas-themed shirt.
“Well, I think I could use a breather.” Her mother topped off her own glass and sat down at the small table. “What on earth are you wearing? Is that a horse?”
“It’s a long story.” She took another sip. “Speaking of clothing, isn’t it a bit early for Christmas cookies and festive attire? Are you becoming one of those people who start celebrating Christmas before Thanksgiving?”
Mindy waved a dismissive hand. “Thanksgiving is only a couple of weeks away. The holidays have gotten so busy for us that my book club started doing the exchange early. The Santa shirt is for Christmas cheer. You know, to get me in the mood.”
“I think the wine is for that.”
“I must say it’s doing the trick.” Her mother tipped her head back and laughed. “The cookies actually freeze really well. I just have to keep Joe from eating them all before I can get them in the freezer. Did you know he got me a deep freezer for my birthday?” she asked with a bright smile. “I always wanted one,” she said, and it struck Arabella how her mother never asked for much and was happy with simple things.
“No, I didn’t know,” Arabella said, feeling a flash of guilt. She didn’t know much about her mother’s day-to-day life. “But that’s really nice.”
“He’s thoughtful that way.”
“How did you get in here, by the way?”
“When Grady bought the house, your father gave the keys to me. He acted like he was doing something sweet, but I know he really wanted me to clean up the mess he and Cynthia left behind. I did put my foot down and told them not to take any of the furniture because I knew you’d want the house to look the same as it always did.” She lifted one shoulder. “I know I didn’t have the right to make demands, but these days I tend to speak my mind. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.”
“What?”
“Just kidding about that one,” she said with a laugh, but Arabella wasn’t so sure.
Arabella raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, and tapped her glass to her mother’s. “The speaking your mind part, not the tattoo.” She unzipped her hoodie and reached for a warm cookie cooling on a rack. “Mmmm, Granny York’s recipe!”
“She gave it to me a long time ago.” Mindy smiled softly. “After the divorce, your grandmother and I remained on friendly terms. Close terms, actually, but you know that.”
“Well, Mom, you were the one who patched things up between Granny and Dad. I have a lot of respect for you. Not everyone would have been so forgiving, and it couldn’t have been easy.”
“Thank you, Arabella. Sometimes the right thing to do isn’t the easiest. Life turned out okay. I got you. And I found Joe.” Her smile wobbled at the corners.
Arabella took a bite of the buttery cookie. “Oh, so good! Mom, you’ve nailed it!”
“Thank you.”
Arabella polished the cookie off and played with the stem of her glass as her mom pinned her with her eyes.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here? And why you didn’t tell me you were coming?” she finally asked with a hint of hurt in
her tone. She pushed a lock of red hair from her forehead and waited.
“Since when are you a redhead?”
“Since I decided I wanted to be sassy.” She did a shoulder shimmy.
Arabella laughed and raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that too.”
“So. What brings you here? Not troubles, I hope.”
Arabella licked her bottom lip and felt her throat tighten with hot emotion.
“Oh, Bella. Are you running away?”
Arabella looked at her mother in surprise.
“This house has always been your place to escape, and I don’t blame you. I would have run here too.”
“I mostly rode my bike,” Arabella said, trying to hide her emotion with humor.
Mindy took a sip of wine and then lowered her gaze to the table as if trying to find the right words. “I know you left home as soon as you could find the means to do so. I don’t blame you for that either.”
“Mom, I was ready to start a career,” Arabella said, but her words sounded hollow.
“You don’t have to protect me from the truth. Your father and I should have split sooner for all our sakes.”
“Mom . . .”
Her mother reached across the table and put her hand over Arabella’s. “I can’t change the past, but I want to have you in my life,” she said tearfully. “Your father and I were caught up in our own war. . . . I deeply regret that.” She sighed. “But I’m glad you could escape that constant tension here in this house with Granny York.” She swallowed hard and stared down at her glass.
“Mom, you don’t have to do this. We’ve been down this road.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. She took a sip of wine and stayed silent long enough for Arabella to feel a flash of apprehension.