“Emmaline, you don’t know that they’re not.”
“And then Celeste just had to insist that Bear be the one to do the repairs, even though I told her I would see to them myself, even pay for them.” She growled low in her throat. “That woman is just evil. She could have still gone to Paris and let her son actually go on a vacation or something while he was on leave, but no. She wanted him to do them. She said that he owed her that much.” She snorted. “No one owes Celeste Midwinter a damned thing, least of all her poor son. The only person that woman has ever cared for is herself.”
“I didn’t know that you’d told Celeste you’d hire a contractor and pay for the repairs yourself,” her husband remarked in a too-casual tone.
Whoops. “Trust me, Redmond, it would have been worth it to save our daughter from seeing him again. This was supposed to be a new start for her. But now she’s starting it off with him…” Emmaline tested the oil and shook her head. “It’s a recipe for heartache. You know it as well as I do.” She squeezed her eyes shut and swore under her breath. “If only we could have got her interested in someone else before he got here.”
“We tried, Em,” Redmond told her. “And I’m not convinced that was going to work anyway. Veda has always had a mind of her own.”
Maybe so, but Emmaline knew her daughter had given her heart away at twelve, possibly sooner, and had never quite gotten it back. She ought to know—she’d done the same thing herself. She’d recognized her daughter’s unusual heartbreak for what it was when it had happened because she’d been through it first. She had firsthand experience of the depth of feeling, the agony. She cast a glance at Redmond and felt her heart give an involuntarily little jump, still felt that indescribable thrill bubble through her when she looked at him.
Redmond Hayes had been six years older than her. He’d lived next door and she’d known the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him that she was going to marry him someday. She’d followed him around like a little lost puppy dog, looked for or made up reasons to “drop by” his house and equally hated and envied the girls he’d dated.
She’d spent more time in the tree in their backyard that looked into his bedroom window than she had in their house the summer she’d turned thirteen. It had been his last summer at home before leaving for college at Ole Miss and she’d watched him pack up with a lump in her throat the size of Texas and an empty ache in her heart that plagued her until he graduated and moved back to Hydrangea.
Only he hadn’t come alone. He’d brought a fiancée with him.
Luckily for Emmaline, the fiancée was two years younger and hadn’t finished her degree yet. Her parents were adamant that the two not marry until she’d finished school.
Because giving up had never occurred to her, Emmaline applied for a job as a part-time secretary at Redmond’s newly opened accounting firm and badgered him into hiring her. She’d been seventeen, fully developed and still hopelessly in love with him. She’d never put a toe over an inappropriate line, but rather took advantage of those hours to truly get to know him and let him get to know her. Despite the age difference—and admittedly, there was still quite a gap between a seventeen and twenty-three year old—they’d become fast friends. The bond she’d always known was there strengthened and, though it took longer for him to see past the age difference and really see her, he finally did midway through her senior year. It was just glance, a lingering puzzled look, but she’d recognized it all the same.
Pressing her advantage, she only put through half the calls from his fiancée and made her dates pick her up at his office. Ruthless? Yes. But so worth it. By the time her prom had rolled around, he’d broken off the engagement and had started casually finding fault with every guy she went out with. If he knew she had a date, he’d invent reasons for her to work late to prevent her from going. She inwardly smiled, remembering. Oftentimes she’d lie and tell him she had a date simply to spend more time with him.
The night she’d graduated from high school, he’d asked her to stay on at the firm. He’d offered her a raise and the flexible hours she’d need to complete her nursing degree—though she’d ultimately gone into business management instead—and then he’d asked her out. He’d been endearingly nervous, more so than she’d ever seen him, and worried about what her parents would think.
“Listen, Emmaline, are you sure? Your dad is going to want my head on a platter.”
“My dad will get over it.”
He had, much more easily than anyone had anticipated. A month later they’d married.
Though she wished she could see the same kind of outcome for Veda, Emmaline knew there were huge obstacles in place and her biggest enemy was time.
Redmond had returned to Hydrangea because his family had been here, had ties to the community.
Bear, she knew, didn’t. The military had become his home and, even if he ultimately cared enough about Veda to want spend the rest of his life with her, Emmaline feared it would be Veda who’d be the one to relocate, not the other way around. She’d lose her little girl all over again.
But if that’s what it took to make her daughter happy, then so be it. Emmaline would do all she could to help. Unfortunately, Veda only had a week to bring Bear around. She hoped that was enough.
7
BEAR WAS WAITING when Harris Brown arrived to open the hardware store. Dressed in a navy blue T-shirt and a pair of work jeans, the proprietor was exactly as Bear had remembered, only a little more lined and gray. He smiled in welcome and offered the traditional nod. “Mornin’, Bear. Ready to get started, I see.”
“Morning,” Bear returned. The smell of paint, lawnmower oil and lemon cleaner hung in the air and the old wooden floorboards creaked beneath his shoes as he followed the older man inside. “And yes, sir, I am.”
Harris flipped on lights as he moved through the building, then rounded the counter and turned on the computer and coffeepot. “I’ll need to get my drawer out of the back,” he said, jerking a finger toward his office. “I’ve got Veda’s paint all ready to mix.”
Bear pulled a list from his front pocket and handed it to the older man. “I’m going to need this stuff, as well.”
Harris’s wirelike brows drew together and his lips moved as he silently reviewed the items. “I’ve got all of this in stock,” he told him. He looked up. “You’re thorough and you mean to do a proper job of it. I like that,” Harris remarked with a nod of approval.
For whatever reason, the older man’s regard settled warmly around Bear’s middle.
“Too many people don’t value doing a job right anymore. They want the quickest, easiest, cheapest fix. Only by the time they’ve repaired something a couple of times—same amount of time, same amount of labor, same amount of money—they might as well have done it the right way to start with. I tell ’em that, but they ignore me.” He sighed, looked over the list again. “Right. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to get this all pulled together. You’re welcome to stay here and wait, but Ms. Ella’s just opened the dry goods store and I know she’s anxious to see you. She’s usually got some muffins and whatnot there in the morning.”
Bear nodded. He’d been looking forward to seeing Ms. Ella, as well. She’d always been unbelievably kind to him. She’d made a point to come to his football games in high school and had never failed to get him a little something for his birthday. She was sort of like the grandmother he’d never had. Truth be told, he’d kept in touch more with her over the years than he had his mother, probably because Ella actually liked to hear from him. “Then I’ll head on over there now.”
Harris grinned. “Brace yourself for a scolding. She expected you yesterday.”
Laughing softly under his breath, Bear shook his head and moved toward the door. The bright glow of early-morning light filtered through the live oaks, sugar maples and magnolia trees that stood sentinel around the square, casting dappled shadows on the sidewalk under his feet. The sweet scent of hydrangeas perfumed the air and the little tow
n was just coming to life, preparing for another day. A few people strolled along the sidewalks, mostly seniors getting their exercise, and an occasional car rounded the square. The barber shop door was already propped open and a few workers had resumed preparations for the Fried Festival. More tables and banners—Get Your Grease On!—had gone up since yesterday when he’d arrived.
An odd pang of nostalgia struck him as he surveyed the scene, one that he didn’t understand and couldn’t explain, but couldn’t deny all the same. What would his life have been like had he stayed here? Bear wondered. What would he have done? What career path would he have chosen? He’d never considered those questions before, but he couldn’t shake the sensation that he might have missed out on something important. It made him wonder what he’d do now, if he suddenly decided that the military was no longer for him. It was madness and yet…
“Bear Midwinter, as I live and breathe!”
Ella Johnston, her face wreathed in a smile of delight, set her broom aside and opened her arms wide.
Bear grinned, then strolled forward and hugged the older woman. She smelled like lotion, fabric softener and sugar cookies. Familiar. “Ms. Ella,” he said.
She drew back so that she could properly see him better. “Goodness, let me get a look at you,” she said, her faded blue gaze as sharp as ever, roaming over him. “A sight for sore eyes, I tell you,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Looks like you’re eating well. Still enjoying the military?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know because I haven’t heard from you in more than a year,” she scolded, shooting him a pointed look over her shoulder as she made her way into the store. “Not even a Christmas card.”
His conscience twinged. “I’m sorry. I was in Afghanistan until a couple of months ago.”
She hummed under her breath and nodded knowingly. “No doubt doing top secret things that you aren’t permitted to tell me about.”
He merely grinned. As if he would tell her anyway. War was hell and the little village he’d been in was so far removed from Hydrangea, he wouldn’t have been able to describe it adequately anyhow. Truth be told, he was sick of war, the death and destruction, the constant moving, the lack of a proper home with a proper bed. But he didn’t know anything else and, ultimately…he had nowhere else to go.
Home, at least in the sense of being around family, had never been an option.
Ella handed him a cup of coffee and a muffin. “So I hear your mother is moving to Charleston,” she said.
Bear nodded, his gaze scanning the familiar store. The technology, to his odd relief, seemed to be the only thing that had been updated. The same glass countertops and display shelves were in place, as was the old pinball machine against the back wall. He inwardly grinned. He’d dropped many a quarter into that machine. “It would seem so.”
“And she’s not coming back here at all? After her vacation is over, she’s going directly to her new home?”
“As far as I know,” Bear told her.
Ella’s mouth tightened. She’d never been a fan of his mother. “Well, I’m sure glad that you’re here. Gives me a chance to see you,” she said, smiling up at him, a halo of snowy curls around her face. She might have grown older, but she was just as spry as he remembered. Ella had always had a secret spark of some sort, one that had never failed to draw him in.
“How have you been?” he asked. He darted a meaningful look outside. “Are you ready for the Fried Festival?”
Her blue eyes twinkled with humor and she nodded mysteriously. “I’m ready,” she said. “This year I’m going to give Emmaline Hayes a run for her money in the dessert category. I’ve been perfecting my recipe for months.”
“Seriously?”
“You bet,” she said. “I’ll admit her butter pecan balls were better than my chocolate dreams, but last year I wasn’t really trying. This year I’m bringing my A game.” She paused and shot him a curious look. “You’re not here spying for her, are you?”
Bear felt his eyes widen. “What?”
“Word is that you’re seeing Veda,” she said, giving him a speculative look. “It’s not too much of a leap.”
“Yes, it is,” he told her with a disbelieving laugh. Jeez, Lord. Veda hadn’t been kidding when she said the townspeople took these competitions seriously. “I’m not spying for anybody. I just came down here to see you while Harris is getting my supplies together.”
“Well, good,” she said, seemingly mollified. “And it’s good that you’re seeing Veda, too. She’s a sweet girl. We were all glad to hear that she was taking over your mom’s place.”
Honestly, from what he’d been able to discern, there wasn’t a single person who was sad to see his mother go. How was that possible? How had she lived in this town for so long and not managed to have a single friend?
Ella hesitated. “Your mother was a good dance instructor, Bear, but—” She paused, seemingly looking for a diplomatic way to finish the sentence. “She was never what one would call…neighborly.”
Narcissists typically weren’t, Bear thought with a wry grin. “I understand.”
“You couldn’t be less like her. You were always such a friendly boy. Courteous, respectful, kind.” She smiled warmly at him. “In your case, the apple might have fallen from the tree, but somehow ended up in another orchard altogether.”
Bear chuckled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, nodding once more. “Don’t be a stranger this week, or after you leave again, either. You’re Hydrangea’s son, whether you or your mother lives here or not. We’re proud of you.”
Touched and strangely shaken, Bear smiled. “I appreciate that, Ella.”
“Do you need anything?” she asked, gesturing around the store. “I noticed that the mover’s loaded up your mother’s things. I’m hoping she left enough there for you to be comfortable while you do that work for her.”
That would have been nice, but not true to her character. He winced. “Actually, I need to get a couple of towels and washclothes.”
He’d brought his own toiletries, of course, but hadn’t realized until he went to shower that she hadn’t left him anything to dry off with. He’d had to use the sheet from the bed and it had been damned awkward.
Ella scowled, presumably at his mother’s thoughtlessness. “Right,” she said. “Tell you what. I’m going to put a care package together for you and send it over with Mark, my delivery boy, this afternoon.”
“Ella, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to,” she said. “I want to. And if you think of anything at all that you need, then you just call me and let me know.”
It was odd having someone fuss over him, Bear thought. Odd, but nice. “I will, thanks.”
She peered around him and smiled. “Ah, Harris is waving, dear,” she said. “He must have your supplies together. I’ll have soup and sandwiches at the counter today for lunch. I know you’re going to be busy, but you need to take time to eat and if your mother failed to leave you a towel—” her voice darkened ominously “—then I doubt she thought of food, either. Oh, and before I forget—” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small white bag “—these are for you.”
He knew before he looked into the little bag what he’d find—chocolate stars.
Bear hugged her again and pressed a kiss against her lined cheek. “Thanks, Ella.”
“You’re welcome, Bear. It’s good to have you home.”
Home? The word startled him, but for lack of a better description, he supposed that’s what Hydrangea was for him. And Veda had been right. Given the kindness he’d been shown since he got back into town yesterday, the little place did have its perks.
And she, of course, was one of them.
Honestly, if anyone had told him that he’d be all tied up in knots over Veda Hayes—Tiny Dancer, of all people—Bear would have never believed it. Until yesterday, on the rare occasions he’d thought about her, she’d remained as he’d remembered her—a young girl w
ith eyes too big for her face and a penchant for blushing every time he looked at her. Refreshingly, she still blushed, but she’d grown into those eyes, right along with the rest of her. She was lovely, with a wry, self-deprecating sense of humor and a mischievous streak that was downright sexy.
Physical attraction aside—and admittedly that attraction was fierce—there was more to Veda, an indefinable something that made him want to get to know her better, to be around her. She excited him. He’d barely slept for thinking about it, thinking about her and that kiss, the way her lips had fit just so over his, the feel of her small, supple body against his own. He hardened, just thinking about it. She was petite and sweetly curved, but there was a strength there, as well, one that he admired and appreciated.
She was different, Bear decided, unlike any woman he’d ever met before and, though they were only supposed to be pretending to date, he could already tell the line was getting blurred.
And the hell of it? He didn’t care.
8
SHE’D KNOWN DINNER WITH HER parents had been a bad idea, Veda thought later that evening. Her face so flushed she felt like it was on fire, she opened the door to the carriage house and resisted the urge to curl up in a ball and die from mortification. “I am so sorry about that,” she said, still unable to face Bear.
It hadn’t been a friendly get-to-know-you dinner—more like the damned Spanish Inquisition. Her mother had been horrible. She’d asked Bear more personal questions about his life and his plans than she imagined the immigration bureau required.
He chuckled under his breath. “No worries,” he said with a deep exhale. “Though, I admit I was a little alarmed over the hooker comment. I didn’t realize that everyone assumed that all men in uniform were frequent visitors to houses of ill repute.” He snickered, his voice cracking with humor.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VII: The Steadfast Hot SoldierWild Thing Page 5