by Lori Leger
“I don’t know how he does it, Cyn.” His voice broke as he rested his chin on her head. “How do you let your wife go—over and over again—and still come out of it with a positive attitude?” He cleared his throat. “Every time he goes through this I have a whole new respect for him.”
“I know. He’s obviously a strong man who still loves his wife very deeply. As parents, they’ve both set the best examples their entire lives and are obviously still doing it.”
He nodded. “I’ve been lucky, I know.”
“More than that, you’ve paid attention and given them the respect they deserve. You show it, John Michael. In the very life you lead, in the way you treat them and others. It shows.”
He took a deep breath, pulled back to meet her gaze. “Thanks Cyn, for those words and for being here. It means a lot to me. It’s easier having you here.”
She placed a hand on his face. “Do you have any idea how honored I was to be a part of it? I got a picture with her to show my mom. She’ll be so thrilled.”
He nodded and managed a smile. “We got a four generation picture out of this visit, Cyn. That’s something no disease can take away from us.”
The next morning, John Michael stood at the feed store’s counter, going over a list of inventory at the computer. He glanced up from the monitor at the sound of the door opening and swooshing shut. The cloud of perfume reached him first. It was heavy, sweet, and out of place in the store he’d spent a good portion of his life. He faltered at the sight of Robin standing before him, barely managed to keep from high tailing it out of the room.
“Johnny! I didn’t expect to see you here. Somebody said you’d retired.”
“I did, but I’m filling in here for my son. He and his wife brought home their new twins yesterday and they need some quality time together.”
“Grandchildren, huh?”
He couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “You bet.”
She grimaced, as though she found the thought repulsive. “I don’t have any of those little beasties yet. And if and when I ever do, they’d better be prepared to call me something other than Grandma. I am nobody’s grandma.”
“I’ve been looking forward to being a paw paw for years.”
She gave a feminine grunt as she jutted one hip out and clicked her zebra striped nails on the surface of the sales counter. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you sure don’t look like a grandfather. I refuse to say Paw Paw. That sounds so archaic, so back woods.”
He turned his attention back to the computer monitor. “I want mine to call me Paw Paw Johnny. And I will cherish every archaic and back woods second of it. Because my wife didn’t live long enough to see her grandchildren, and my mother doesn’t remember who she is ninety-five percent of the time, much less that she has great-grandchildren.”
Put in her place for the moment, but still determined to stay, Robin rested her arms on the counter. She leaned forward, baring her significant cleavage to his line of sight.
“You might want to buy a bigger size shirt, there, Robin. You seem to be falling out of the one you’re wearing.” He pointed to a rack. “We have some denim work shirts in women’s sizes hanging right there.”
She threw her head back, sniggering as though she found his suggestion highly amusing, then dabbed at the corner of one eye.
John cringed at the sight, expecting her to gouge out an eyeball with her ridiculously long nails.
“I had no idea you were dating again, Johnny. If I’d known you were ready to get back into that particular saddle, I’d have thrown my hat in the rodeo arena earlier. I love a good ride.”
“Well, thanks Robin, but I doubt I could keep up with you.”
“Oh honey, my cousin the pharmacist has got something to fix you right up.”
“Not exactly what I was talking about. I’m fine—there.”
“I bet you are,” she purred and reached out to scrape a long nail over his arm. “So, are you and Cynthia a couple now, or what?”
John gritted his teeth, seeing where this was headed. More than ever, he wished he could say yes. But he hadn’t heard it directly from Cyn’s lips, and he wasn’t the type to out and out lie to a lady—or—person. “Um, I hope to see her again, but we’ve only had the one date you saw us on.”
She straightened, her breasts practically bursting forth from their meager confines of latex animal print in a display of brazenness that would do a Bourbon Street hooker justice. “So, the barn door’s still open for other fillies.”
“Well, not exact—”
She spun on her high heels and headed out the door.
He was still waving away the cloud of perfume she left behind when his dad walked in from the back room.
“Okay, the bedding plants are inventoried, and so are the—good God!” He stopped to cough. “What the hell is that smell?”
John pointed to the red Cadillac pulling out of the drive. “Robin White, an old classmate of mine. The smell is whatever she drenched herself in before she waltzed in here.”
“Smells like a putain, to me.”
John sent a sidelong glance at his father, deciding the old man had hit the bulls-eye on this one. “C’est toute la meme chose.”
“Geez, since when does someone like her come into this place? Did you set up a cheap perfume counter in here?”
“She’s under the assumption I’m dating again.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but not her.”
“Is it exclusive between you and Cynthia?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”
“Well then …”
John widened his eyes at his father. “You didn’t get a look at her, did you?”
“Nope.”
John shook his head. “She’d chew me up and spit me out. I can’t stay far enough away from her.”
J.D. chuckled. “I get your point, Son.”
Unfortunately, Robin didn’t. By closing time of that afternoon she’d made two return trips, clearly determined to bribe him with gifts of food. She’d done the same every day for the rest of the week. No matter how many times he said he wished she wouldn’t go to the trouble, she waved him off and kept it coming.
By Friday afternoon he’d brought home lasagna, pot roast, cookies, three sheet cakes, and two pies, none of which had even been sampled by John the younger.
J.D., on the other hand, was of the opinion that any food he didn’t have to cook was better than no food at all. He finished off the last bite of his latest slice of sweet potato pie. “I wonder if her apple pie would be any good.”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe you should ask.”
John glared at his father. “The only thing I’m going to ask is for her to stop. I don’t like all this. I don’t like it at all. She won’t take no for an answer.”
“Hell, don’t ask her to stop. String her along to keep it rolling in.”
“Pop, do you hear yourself?”
His dad shrugged and pushed his plate away from him. “I guess you’re right.” He rubbed his belly. “She’s kind of a crappy cook, isn’t she?”
John shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven’t touched anything she brought.”
J.D. frowned. “Why not?”
“I’ve been too afraid she put a roofie in it or something. I’m terrified I’ll wake up with her in my bed and not remember a thing.”
“A what?”
“A roofie is a drug.” Rather than take the time to explain, John waved it off. “Never mind.” He picked up his ringing cell phone, grinned when he saw Cyn’s name flash across his screen. “Hey there, pretty lady. What’s up?”
“Mom and I are in Lake Erin and I thought we could stop in for a visit.”
John jumped up, immediately began tidying his kitchen. “Come on over. Please keep in mind we’re not the best housekeepers and I’ve been pulling Zach’s hours at the store.”
“No problem. We’re leaving the cemetery now. B
e there in about five minutes.”
John ran around throwing away junk mail and trying to de-clutter the living area as best he could in five minutes. J.D. loaded the sink full of dirty dishes into the dishwasher and set it to washing.
John opened the door before either of the two women had a chance to knock. He hugged the older woman briefly. “Come on inside, Ms. Bess.” He turned his attention to Cyn, giving her an even tighter hug. “I’m glad you called. It’s nice having you drop by like this. Were you two visiting Mr. Ham’s grave?”
She nodded. “It was Dad’s birthday today. We brought a new silk arrangement for his vase. Mom and I found Jenna’s and Beth’s graves and I took a couple of roses from the arrangements and put them on their headstones. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. That was sweet of you. Come on in the kitchen. Pop put some fresh coffee on if you ladies would like some.”
Bess turned at the mention of his father. “J.D.’s here, too?”
John nodded. “He stays here during the day most of the time. He’s not too fond of being alone in his big old house.” He scratched his head. “He’s where he is the majority of the day. In the bathroom with his enlarged prostate.”
J.D. entered the room grumbling. “I heard that.”
“It’s no secret, Pop.”
J.D. walked toward Bess and stopped. “It’s good to see you, Bessie.”
“You too, J.D. I’m so sorry to hear about Marilee. My old friends have had more than their share of hard times. How’ve you been?”
He nodded. “I’m good. Fit as a fiddle.”
John rolled his eyes and coughed the words prostate in one hand and cataracts into the other.
Bess’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “J.D., you know Marilee wouldn’t want you neglecting yourself. If you’ve got health and vision problems, they’ll only get worse with time if you don’t stay on top of them.”
J.D. sent a glare his son’s direction and waved off Bess’s comment. “Now, I know you didn’t come here to discuss my health issues. I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee and we have a ton of desserts.”
The two women entered the kitchen first and stopped in front of the snack bar filled with sweets.
Bess waved a hand over the multitude of trays. “Which one of you gentleman has taken up baking?”
J.D. snorted. “Neither. One of us has a suitor and it ain’t me.” He wagged his eyebrows at his son.
Cynthia turned on him, her brow raised in question. “Oh? Is it serious?”
John gave her a sheepish look. “No.”
She put her head back and laughed. “It’s Robin, isn’t it, John Michael?”
J.D. nodded. “That’s her! Robin somebody. She smells like a—”
“Pop!”
J.D. lowered his voice and whispered in dramatic fashion. “Like an ol’ putain.”
John Michael shook his head. “Oh yeah, like nobody heard that.”
“Well, it’s true,” J.D. insisted.
Bess reprimanded her old friend through her chuckles. “J.D., that’s not Christian. What would Marilee say?”
“Marilee would tell that old whore to quit stinking up the store and to stay away from her son.”
Bess burst into laughter. “Knowing her as well as I do, you’re probably right.”
“I know I am. Sit down. What’s your poison—pecan or sweet potato pie? Carrot cake?”
“The cake looks interesting. I’ll try it.” Bess thanked John Michael as he set a cup of coffee in front of her.
Cyn took the opportunity to sidle up to him. “So Robin’s staking her claim, huh?”
“Stop, Cyn. Please.”
She chuckled, obviously enjoying his discomfort. “So which one of these do you recommend?”
He shook his head. “Ask Pop. I haven’t touched them.”
“You haven’t?”
“Hell, no.”
“You afraid of cooties?”
“He’s more afraid of roofies,” J.D. interjected. “Whatever the heck that is.”
John glared at his father. “Good God, Pop. You can quit talking any second now.”
J.D. leveled one of his don’t-mess-with-me gazes at his son. “Now Johnny, you know you burned that bridge the second you uttered the words prostate and cataracts. Payback’s hell, ain’t it?”
John groaned as Cynthia’s hand flew over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Bess cleared her throat and put a forkful of cake in her mouth. After a moment, she set the fork down and took several sips of coffee before pushing her plate away.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Well, it’s not bad, per say. It’s just not very good.”
Cynthia turned to John Michael’s dad. “You see, Mr. J.D.? That’s how you criticize someone’s cooking the Christian way.”
J.D. slapped the table and gave her an enthusiastic nod. “I’ll be damned. I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.”
Bess tried the other desserts with the same results. “The poor dear really isn’t a good cook, is she?”
Cynthia stopped laughing long enough to add. “Now Mom, you know it isn’t southern unless you end it with ‘Bless her heart’.”
The room resounded with John Michael’s laughter. “I threw a huge container of lasagna and a burnt pot roast to the chickens, yesterday afternoon. The stuff’s still sitting out there.”
J.D. shivered. “You know it’s bad when the chickens won’t eat it.”
“Oh, you poor things.” Bess’s gaze moved from the father to the son. “The two of you are coming over to our house tomorrow for a good supper, along with a dessert that won’t turn your stomachs.”
J.D. turned to his son. “I’m game. How about you, Johnny?”
“I’ll be there.” He leaned over to whisper in Cyn’s ear. “If it’s early enough maybe we could do something after supper?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Sounds good to me.”
The same evening, around eight p.m. sharp, John Michael’s name flashed across the screen of Cynthia’s phone. “Hello there.”
“Hey, Cyn. You got a few minutes to talk?”
“I sure do, what’s up?”
“This whole thing with Robin has me bugged. I want you to know I haven’t encouraged her at all. I hate to be rude, but …”
“But you may have to resort to it at some point?”
“Exactly. I guess I didn’t want you thinking I was leading her on in any way.”
“I wasn’t.”
He paused. “Does it bother you?”
She was quiet for a moment, weighing her response carefully.
“Cyn?”
“I’m here. I was wondering how to answer without sounding presumptuous.”
“About what?”
“Well, it shouldn’t really bother me. It’s not like we’re dating exclusively.”
“But it does bother you?”
“A little, I admit.”
“What if we were exclusive?”
“Then I’d definitely be bothered.” She paused. “John Michael, are you asking me to go steady?”
“If I did, would you accept?”
“Absolutely not. We haven’t even kissed yet. It could have a major impact on my answer.” The sound of his low snort reached her.
“It’s as good as done.”
She laughed into the phone. “You’re mighty sure I’d say yes.”
“If your answer is based on a kiss from me, I’m not worried.” He waited through her pause of silence. “What are you thinking, Cyn?”
“I’m not sure I should say.”
“Come on.”
She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.
“You know you want to tell me,” he urged.
“Okay. Well, a certain amount of confidence in a man can be downright sexy.” She could practically see the sexy little uni-dimple forming in his confident grin.
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh huh. B
ut anything over the top is borderline pompous jerk.”
“O-oh …”
She pictured him again, deflating like a leaky balloon before her eyes. “Mom likes to get her cooking over with early. We’ll see you both at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow, John Michael.” She ended the call before he could answer.
He pushed back from the table. “Ms. Bess, the roast—everything—was delicious. Thank you so much for this.”
“You’re very welcome, Johnny.”
J.D. patted his belly. “It sure was. I haven’t eaten good home cooking since Marilee …” He moved his hands to the table. “It—it’s been a while.” He threw a glance in John Michael’s direction. “Too bad your stalker isn’t a better cook, huh, Johnny?”
Cynthia rested her elbows on the table, linked her fingers under her chin as she gazed at John Michael. “Yeah, too bad.”
His mouth twisted as he shifted in his chair and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You’ve had the last of it, Pop. She came into the store this morning with something and I told her I wouldn’t accept it.”
Cynthia sat up straight in her chair. “Did you?”
J.D. leaned forward to face his son. “You did? What was it?”
John Michael rested his forearms on the table and smiled at Cynthia. “Yes, I did, and it doesn’t matter what it was because I didn’t want anything from her. Not a single thing.”
She pursed her lips then gave him a slow nod.
Bess cleared her throat. “How long has Marilee been in extended care, J.D.?”
“It’ll be a year August 1st, but in all honesty, she should have been there a good six months earlier.” He wiped his face with one hand and shook his head. “I couldn’t see it then, but I do now.”
Cynthia didn’t miss the look passed between father and son. “Did something happen?”
“I’d say so,” J.D. grunted. His mouth tightened, accompanied by a series of rapid blinks.
“Mom nearly burned the house down one day.”
Cynthia leaned forward in her chair. “Oh no! What happened? Was anyone hurt?”
John turned to face Cynthia. “No, but it could have been really bad. Dad was sick, sleeping in his recliner. Mom was feeling pretty good so she decided to cook. In the middle of it she got … lost.”