“You guessed it,” he said as casually as he could manage. “So, now that you’ve got me into this mess, do you have any advice as to how to get me out of it?”
“Advice on how to handle my mother?” Again Bliss laughed. “How much time do you have?”
He looked up at the heavens, then down at his watch. “I ought to be heading home, but I could be tempted to stay for a cup of coffee and an hour of conversation. What do you think?”
From where he stood, he could see her nod. “Come on back inside, then. I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“No,” he said quickly. From the look on her face—too quickly. “It’s a beautiful night, and my guess is you’ve been cooped up in that kitchen all day. Am I right?”
Her smile was glorious. “Yes, that’s true,” she said slowly.
“Then let me have my turn offering you coffee. What say we stroll down to the Java Hut? My treat.”
Six
Stroll down to the Java Hut? That was four blocks away. Bliss bit her lip and thought only a moment before making her decision.
“Sure, but let me grab my coat. I’m shivering out here already.”
Bobby looked concerned. “I could drive us.”
Ah, a sensible solution, especially since she’d been on her feet all day. Bliss glanced up at the starry night, inhaled the crisp February air.
“No, it’s fine.”
And it was. The stroll down Main Street flew by, and before Bliss realized it, the Java Hut loomed ahead just the other side of the Magnolia Café.
They’d walked in silence, a fact that made Bliss smile. No need to force conversation with someone you’d known since pink bows and ruffled socks were a fashion statement. Since he and Landon were forced to buy her a new bicycle.
“What’s so funny?” Bobby asked.
“I was thinking about that time you tied my bicycle to the tail of Mr. Blanton’s crop duster.”
Bobby stopped short in front of the Dip Cone ice cream shop and doubled over with laughter. “I’m not sure who was more surprised, Mr. Blanton or our third-grade class.”
Bliss closed her eyes and saw the image as clearly as if she were still that little girl on her first ever Latagnier Elementary field trip. Thanks to Bobby’s father, the entire class was invited out to the airstrip to sing the national anthem before the president addressed a collection of local dignitaries and former military men on Veteran’s Day. Mr. Tratelli, who’d made the president’s acquaintance during the Second World War, was granted the honor of hosting the hour-long stop on the commander in chief’s tour of the South.
Just about the time the third graders sang the line about the rockets’ red glare, old Mr. Blanton ignored the ban on using the airstrip during the high-profile visit and landed his crop duster within full view of the assembled throng. Newspapers the next day carried a photograph of a stunned president ducking behind a podium, with the mangled remains of a pink Barbie bike surrounded by sparks, its formerly white front tire in flames, in the background.
In the lower left-hand corner of the picture were the host and his wife. While the former Flying Tiger could be seen glaring toward a crowd of innocent-looking schoolchildren, his wife’s grin could not be hidden despite the fact that her white-gloved hand partially covered her mouth.
“That was priceless.” Bliss watched the light at Martin Street turn yellow, then red, before returning her attention to Bobby. “I’d say it was the Secret Service, though. When that crop duster landed and the sparks started flying, I thought poor Mr. Blanton was going to be shot.”
Bobby ducked his head. “Hey, that was nothing compared to what happened when I got home.”
“And all because you and Landon told me your daddy could make bicycles fly. Of course I had to dare you to prove it.”
“Landon and I never could resist a dare, no matter what the consequences.” A strange look came over Bobby’s face. Seconds later, he seemed to shake it off. “I should get you inside. I’m sure you’re freezing.”
He ushered her into the warm interior of the Java Hut, a former feed store now restored as a place for coffee and conversation. Tonight a roaring fire danced in the rock-clad fireplace, the only new addition to the expansive space.
“How about there?” Bobby gestured toward a pair of leather armchairs set facing the fire. With their backs to the room, the seats offered a private place for talking without being overheard. Something about the thought of sitting there with Bobby rattled her.
“Perfect,” she said anyway.
Bliss allowed Bobby to help her out of her coat. “It’s nice here,” she said as she settled into the depths of the soft chair. Except for what looked to be a study group, the place was empty.
“It is, but I liked it better when it was the feed store. Hey, this is progress, I suppose.” He rested his hands on the opposite chair and surveyed the room before meeting Bliss’s gaze. “So, what can I get you?”
A jolt of high-energy java sounded—and smelled—wonderful. Good sense and expensive medical advice reigned, however. “Do you think they might have some Earl Grey on that long list of teas I saw? I have to confess, without my reading glasses, it all looked like gibberish.”
“Yep, I saw it on the list.” He pointed to his eye, then winked. “Contacts.”
While she watched, Bobby placed their orders at the counter where farmers once ordered seed for the winter. He returned with their drinks and silently sipped at his coffee while Bliss dunked her tea bag in the steaming water. She waited for it to steep, forcing her memories not to cascade backward in time. “How quickly time passes.”
“Hmm?”
Bliss looked up sharply as she dug her fingers into the soft leather arm of the chair. “I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?”
He set his cup down and reached over to rest his hand atop hers a second before removing it. “You okay, Bliss?”
“Of course,” she said, hoping Bobby would take that answer without questioning it. “I wonder, though,” she continued, “what’s been happening with you all these years?”
“Me? Oh, I don’t know that there’s much to tell. It all turned out pretty much like everyone expected. I took over the family business. Guess that’s about it.”
She watched him speak, trying to decide if he was hiding something or merely downplaying the more interesting facts in his past. His poker face gave her no clues.
“Well, that might be true, but I suspect there’s more to the story, Bobby. Why don’t you tell me about Amy?”
He stretched out his legs and rested his booted feet on the edge of the fireplace. When Bliss glanced up, she saw a change in expression. “Amy.” He spoke the name as soft as a caress. “The light of my life.”
Bliss tucked her feet beneath her and dragged her coat across her legs. “Tell me about her,” she urged.
“Amy was—is—an amazing gift from God.” He took another sip of coffee, then stared down into the cup as if studying the dark liquid. “Do you know what a gift is, Bliss?”
Their gazes met, and Bliss shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“A gift,” he said slowly, “is something you didn’t know you wanted until you got it.” He paused as if deciding whether to go on. “I didn’t know I wanted Amy. Actually, that’s not true. I was certain I didn’t.” He set the cup down with a clatter, then ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
“It’s okay.”
“No.” He gave her a desperate look, then glanced around to see if anyone was near. “I can talk to you, Bliss. I’m not sure why, but I can.”
She tried to make light of the serious mood. “Sure you can,” she said with a wink. “After all, you didn’t tell anyone who put Jell-O in the chemistry teacher’s grade book. I certainly owe you.”
The slightest hint of a smile touched Bobby’s lips. “We all owed you for passing chemistry, Bliss. At least those of us who needed it. But you asked about Amy. . . .”
“You don�
��t have to say anything else. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“No, I want to tell you.” He shifted positions to lean against the arm of the chair. “See, there was a time when I lost touch with the road the Lord put me on. I thought I knew better than He did.”
“Been there,” Bliss said.
“Not like this, I’m guessing.” He frowned. “I want you to understand that I was just a kid. You and Landon were off at school.”
When he paused, Bliss said nothing.
“Amy’s mother’s name was Karen.” He paused. “I didn’t love her, but she was crazy about me.”
Bliss let the statement hang in the air between them, and she reached for her cup of Earl Grey. The warm liquid slid down her throat as she watched the flames dance and listened to the logs crackle.
“But I lost my heart to my daughter as soon as I laid eyes on her.”
She looked over and smiled. “And Amy still has your heart.”
“Yeah, she does.” He let out a long breath. “Karen was a makeup artist on the West Texas shoot. I was a kid, but she wasn’t. That doesn’t excuse what happened. There’s no excuse, really.”
Another pause. It was Bliss’s turn to rest her hand on his. “It’s all in the past.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “it is. I found out about Amy when Karen called my grandpa and told him she had just given birth to his great-granddaughter. By then I was back in college working at A&M on an aviation engineering degree. I met Karen and my daughter on the tarmac of the Latagnier Airstrip three days later. We went straight to the justice of the peace and got married. That’s how I spent my twentieth birthday. The next day, I withdrew from A&M and went to work for my father. After all,” he said with a grin, “I had a family to support.”
“But you were twenty.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It seemed pretty old at the time.”
Bliss tried to take this in. Shy, quiet Bobby a husband and father while she and Landon languished in college?
“Why didn’t I know any of this?”
Bobby shrugged. “We’d all begun to lose track of one another by then. Landon came in and stood up for me as best man. We talked about calling you, but what would I have said? Back then I was still in. . .”
He’d almost said it. Almost told Bliss he’d been so in love with her that he couldn’t even be man enough to find any feelings for his new wife. Couldn’t call to tell his dear friend he was married or had a daughter.
Bob sighed and reached for the coffee cup. All these years and he’d managed to hide it. Why was he running his mouth now? Best bring this conversation to a close before he made a complete fool of himself.
“Anyway,” he said, “the short version is that I learned to love her and we had a good life together.”
Bliss looked away. “I’m glad.”
She wouldn’t ask anything further; he knew this. Still, he’d told this much of the story. Might as well tell the rest.
“Then she died.” He waved away Bliss’s comment. “See, she knew she was dying when she called Grandpa Tratelli. She didn’t really want to be married to me; she wanted a home for our daughter. I’ll never really know if she loved me or not. Guess that’s what I deserve.”
Bob set his feet on the floor and stood. “I’m sorry, Bliss, but I need to go. Can I walk you home?”
Again, he knew she wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t complain at the half-full cup of Earl Grey on the table between them. He helped her into her coat. Then, as they stepped out into the cold, he reached for her hand.
They walked the four blocks in silence again, not because he had nothing to say, but because he had too much to say. It was simpler not to speak at all.
At the door, Bliss stabbed at the lock several times. “Guess I need to look into some contacts,” she said.
“Guess so,” Bob said as he took the keys from her and opened the door.
Bob looked down into her eyes, got lost in them, and swallowed hard. She’d been pretty as a girl, even prettier as a young woman. But tonight in the café, with the firelight in her hair and the gentle signs of age on her face, well, he’d never seen Bliss look so lovely.
Bliss reached for the keys, and he dropped them into her palm, then wrapped his hand around hers. Her fingers were warm in his.
Somehow he found himself leaning down, moving toward those eyes. Those lips. Was it his imagination, or did she lift onto her toes to inch upward?
A horn honked, and Bliss jumped backward, slamming against the door. The keys went flying, and Bob nearly lost his balance.
“Evening, Miss Emmeline,” Bliss called to the town’s grande dame and eldest citizen.
“You two behaving yourselves?” the woman called from her cherry red sedan.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bobby answered, “we’re trying to.”
“Well, all right then,” the elderly woman responded. “Bliss, tell your mama I’ll be seeing her at the quilt guild.” With that, she sped off down Main.
Retrieving the keys, Bob stuck them into the lock to keep from coming too close to Bliss. He couldn’t do that. Not until he got a handle on whatever insanity had possessed him.
“Bobby,” she whispered, and he placed his forefinger against her lips.
“Good night, Bliss. Go inside now.”
Something that looked like disappointment crossed her face, then quickly disappeared. She nodded and turned. Bob watched Bliss disappear inside, watched the door close and the light go on.
With nothing left to do but leave, Bob trudged down the steps toward his truck. “What’s wrong with you?” he whispered. “You told her to go inside. What did you expect?”
“Bobby, wait.”
Bob looked over his shoulder to see Bliss in the doorway. “What?”
“Come here.”
“Why?”
She affected an exasperated look. “I may live downtown, but I do have neighbors. Do you want me to give them something to talk about, or are you going to come over here?”
Bob chuckled despite himself. What in the world was this woman up to?
He slammed the truck door and hit the alarm, then trotted toward the door of the Cake Bake. “Okay,” he said, “I’m here.”
Bliss smiled. “You didn’t have to lock your truck. This is Latagnier, after all.”
Standing on the porch felt awkward, but going inside wasn’t an option. “What did you want to tell me?” he finally asked.
“That I think you’re wrong about Karen.”
“Look, Bliss, I really don’t want to talk about—”
“You’re a good man, Bobby Tratelli. If I can see it, I know Karen could. If she didn’t think that, why would she have bothered to look for you after she had the baby?”
Bliss reached up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck. For a moment longer, the years were held at bay. Then it was time to leave.
Seven
Bob pulled his truck to a stop in front of the Tratelli Aviation offices and shifted into park. Beyond the nondescript building, the Latagnier Airstrip’s wind sock showed a stiff north breeze. The flags flying to the right of the front doors confirmed this.
His thoughts shifted back to the topic that had been running through his mind all night, the one that kept him from sleeping, the fear that finally caused him to drag out of bed for a five-mile run well before daylight.
That fear was that he might be falling in love with Bliss Denison all over again. The same Bliss who’d made it clear decades ago that they’d never be more than friends.
Bliss was back in Latagnier and, sadly, back in his heart. Something must be done. While he couldn’t force her out of town, he could force her out of his mind. . .eventually.
He’d have to start by firing her mother. Of course, given the luck he’d had with office help, it shouldn’t take long to find a reason to let the older woman go.
With renewed resolve, Bob climbed out of the truck and snagged his briefcase. By the time he’d pushed through the doors of Tratelli Aviati
on, he’d almost perfected his good-bye speech to Bliss’s mother.
To his surprise, however, the perpetually messy desk where he expected to find Mrs. Denison was wiped clean. No piles of paper, only neat trays with In and Out labels met his gaze. He inhaled deeply of the scent of fresh coffee.
“Oh, there you are.” Mrs. Denison rounded the corner dressed in a dark blue suit that made her look more like a flight attendant than his assistant.
“Good morning,” he said slowly.
“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her outfit and back at him. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“What? Wrong? Oh no,” he said. “It’s just that we’re a bit more casual here.” Bob glanced down at his own khakis and golf shirt. “But suit yourself. You look lovely.”
“Why thank you, Bobby.” She paused to shake her head. “I mean, Mr. Tratelli.”
“Bob’s fine. Or Bobby, if you prefer,” he said as he headed for his office.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Bliss’s mother slipped in. Resting against her hip was a tray holding an ancient coffeepot, a mug, cream, sugar, and the morning paper. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a granola bar, an apple, and a stack of notes.
A glance at the clock told him the time was twenty-five minutes to eight. Five minutes into the workday, and he had hot coffee and a person on the other side of the intercom who could actually pronounce his name.
Life was getting better by the minute. Except for the fact that he had to find a way to fire her before the end of the day.
Bob watched his newest temp set the tray on the corner of his desk, then arrange the breakfast in front of him. He let her fuss over the placement of the items while he reached for the papers. “What are these?”
“Wedding planners.” Mrs. Denison straightened and clasped her hands together. “I know I could have e-mailed them to you, but personally I like to have something in front of me to jot notes on. That’s why I gave each planner a separate sheet.”
Bob flipped through the pages, noting that not only had Bliss’s mother researched planners in the New Orleans area, but she’d also found a few in the much closer cities of Lafayette and New Iberia. In all, there were close to three dozen possibilities for salvaging Amy’s wedding.
Wedded Bliss Page 6