The Soldier and the Single Mom

by Lee Tobin McClain

  When he smelled it—smelled Mia—everything he’d been trying to forget came rushing back.

  He could feel her in his arms, could hear her cry. He remembered what it had been like to walk the floor with her, bouncing her gently, helping her calm down. Feeding her a bottle. Tickling her into a good mood.

  Putting her down in her crib for a nap. And when she’d reach up her arms to him, wanting to be held when she really needed sleep, he’d put Pinky into her arms and she would sigh and cuddle her elephant.

  Somehow, he found his way over to the side of the garage where he could be alone. He squatted down, his back against the wall, drawing his arms and legs in while physical pain racked his chest. His throat and eyes felt swollen and he could barely breathe.

  He let his head drop to his chest, held the little pink elephant to his face and fell apart.

  * * *

  Gina steered the truck into its parking space at the guesthouse and looked over at Buck.

  He was staring straight ahead, his whole body rigid.

  Guilt washed over her at having been the catalyst for all this pain. She’d known plenty of grief herself, losing her husband, but the loss of a child was unimaginable. She opened the door and extracted Bobby from his car seat, held him close and looked at Buck.

  Who could never hold his baby close again. She swallowed hard. “Do you want to...? Can I do anything for you? Call someone? Do you want to talk?” She was babbling, asking too many questions, but it seemed better than letting him deal with all of this alone.

  She’d seen men cry before. Her dad had wiped tears when he’d learned that his sister had passed away. And her father-in-law had gotten a little choked up at Hank’s funeral.

  But to see this big, tough veteran truly break down... Whoa. That was a first. Even after she’d given him some privacy, had loaded the truck and gotten Bobby into his car seat, the sight of Buck hunched there, shoulders still shaking a little, had made her cry, too. She’d had to grab a handful of tissues and pull herself together before she could help him to his feet and drive him home. Because this wasn’t about her; it was about him.

  “No. I’m... Let’s get this stuff unloaded. Got to do a couple errands.” He opened the car door and got out, moving mechanically to the back of the truck.

  “You don’t have to...”

  “I got this.” He lifted the box and the couple of big toys out and carried them up to the house.

  Unsure how to help, she followed him, carrying Bobby.

  He had the things in her room before she’d gotten halfway up the stairs. “Can I have the keys?” he asked, his voice expressionless.

  And then he took them from her and drove off for parts unknown.

  A couple of hours later, when he came back, Gina deliberately gave him his space, staying in her room with a book she’d checked out from the Rescue River library. But when Bobby woke up hungry, and she heard voices downstairs, she decided she had to come out of her room.

  Shifting Bobby on her hip—man, was he getting heavy!—Gina walked down the curving wooden staircase and into the large, old-fashioned kitchen.

  Buck, pouring coffee at the counter, didn’t turn around. But at the table, three curious faces turned her way, and two older gentlemen stood. “You sit down right here, sweetheart,” said the one with an impeccable comb-over, a dress shirt and expensive-looking slacks and shoes.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Hinton. My seat is closer.” The other man, shorter and stocky, dressed in a flannel shirt and work pants, held the chair he’d been sitting in, at the end of the table.

  Feeling like she was walking into something she didn’t quite understand, Gina sat in the closest chair and set Bobby down beside her. “Thank you both. I’m Gina Patterson, and this is my son, Bobby.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said the slender, gray-haired woman at the table, holding out a hand to grasp Gina’s. “I’m Lou Ann Miller, and this is Elias Hinton and Roscoe Camden. And you two men can sit down. Honestly! There are plenty of chairs.”

  Buck brought over cups of coffee, a sugar bowl and a creamer, waving off Lou Ann’s offer of help. “You sit,” he said. “The water’s almost boiling for tea, if you’d rather have that.”

  Lou Ann held out for tea while Gina and the men accepted coffee.

  “What brings you to Rescue River?” Mr. Camden asked bluntly. “We’ve been hearing different stories at the Senior Towers.”

  “Leave the woman alone,” Mr. Hinton ordered. “You shouldn’t listen to all of the tall tales over there.”

  “That place is a hotbed of gossip,” Lou Ann said. “There’s no need for you to fill us in on your personal business, dear.”

  “Thanks.” Gina smiled apologetically at Mr. Camden. “It is somewhat personal, but I’m hoping to stay awhile. It’s a lovely town.”

  “Quite a history, too,” Mr. Hinton said. Bobby was holding on to the leg of his chair, looking up with curiosity, and Mr. Hinton reached down and picked him up, handing him a teaspoon to bang on the table.

  “The house’s history is just what I’m interested in.” Gina seized on the topic. “I’m helping Lacey apply to put this house on the National Register of Historic Places, and I’d like to learn more about the background of the house and the area. Do you all have any ideas where I could find out more?”

  Buck chuckled as he sat down at the table, pushing a teacup toward Lou Ann and dunking his own tea bag. “You’ve just opened a big can of worms. These three know everything about the town. From three very distinct viewpoints.”

  Fifteen minutes and a rousing argument later, Gina had appointments to meet with all three of them, and the elders made their departure.

  When Buck came back into the kitchen, Gina raised an eyebrow at him as she gathered up the coffee cups. “Why do I feel like I’ve been through a war?”

  “Longest-lasting love triangle in Rescue River.”

  Buck looked at Bobby, who was chanting, “Up! Up!” He reached down and swept the baby into his arms.

  A tingle of awareness passed through Gina’s chest at the sight of her son against the rugged veteran’s broad chest. A few teaspoons slipped out of her hands and clattered on the floor.

  Instantly Buck was across the room, sliding Bobby to his hip and kneeling gracefully, helping her to pick them up.

  The tingle intensified.

  It wasn’t just his physical grace or his good manners. It was what she’d learned about him this afternoon. Somehow, the fact that he had the capacity for that much emotion had made Buck twice as appealing to her.

  Gina ducked her heated face away from him and deposited the spoons in the sink. “Thanks. Clumsy of me.”

  He rose lightly, his white teeth flashing in a smile. “That’s not the word I’d think of to describe you.”

  Their gazes held for a beat too long.

  “Listen,” Gina said, “I’m sorry to have opened up old wounds earlier today. Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Embarrassed. You think you’re over something and then it hits you.”

  “That’s grief,” she agreed. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural.”

  “I guess.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could we drop the subject?”

  “Oh, sure! I’m sorry.”

  He touched her chin. “Don’t take it personally. At all. I needed to do that, I guess, but now... I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I can’t handle getting run over again today.”

  “Makes sense.” Gina tore her gaze away and rinsed dishes while Buck carried the rest of the dishes to the sink, still holding Bobby. “I guess I’ll have to take a little time off from wallpapering to talk with the folks who were just here, but I hope that won’t be a problem. I know you have to spend some time at the clinic, too. And we don’t always have to
be working together. There’s some stuff I can do alone, or you can. A lot of stuff, actually.” Stop babbling, stop babbling.

  While she felt flustered, Buck seemed perfectly composed. “Time away from the house isn’t a problem. We’re not punching time cards here, just trying to get the work done.”

  “Hey, Gina.” Lacey’s voice, behind them, provided a welcome respite from her worries. “I came home for...” She saw Buck holding Bobby and swallowed visibly. “For an early dinner,” she said, her voice quiet.

  Gina’s heart ached. She and Bobby didn’t mean to, but they kept causing pain. “Sit down and I’ll fix you something. Fix all of us something. We may as well eat before we go back to work,” she added to Buck.

  “No. Hey, I think I’ll just head on back. I don’t have much time.” Now Lacey’s voice sounded choked. Her cat, Mr. Whiskers, meowed loudly, and she picked him up and held him close to her chest. “Hey, buddy, where’s your wife, huh? Where’s Mrs. Whiskers?”

  Gina shot Buck a glance, the same one he was sending to her. Again, that something arced between them. She took Bobby out of his arms, opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of mashed potatoes and peas from last night’s dinner. “On second thought, I think I’ll feed Bobby first,” she said as she headed for the porch.

  She’d give Buck a chance to talk to his sister, give Lacey some space in her own house.

  And meanwhile, she’d remind herself not to pay attention to the occasional sparks between herself and Buck. She needed to remember she had bad judgment with men. Just look at the mistake she’d made in her marriage.

  Anyway, Buck had mentioned leaving Rescue River. He seemed to fit here, but he’d said he was moving on soon.

  She looked down the street toward the library and restaurant that marked the beginning of the town’s small business district. It was unusually warm for this time of year, and despite its being a weekday, lots of people were out. She saw two mothers walking along with babies in strollers. A small group of older people clustered on the benches in front of the Senior Towers. And a group of teenagers stood talking in front of the library, their excited voices floating to her on the warm breeze.

  This was where she wanted to raise Bobby, God willing. She wanted to take him to the library and show him off to the seniors. To shop at the little market.

  And this was where Buck didn’t want to be. Another reason not to get involved.

  Through the screen door, she heard Buck’s rumbling voice and Lacey’s quiet one. Good. That was what Lacey needed, to talk to her brother.

  That, and not to have a baby in her face every moment.

  Gina breathed in the smell of the earth, thawing in the weak sunshine of early March. A few daffodils were pushing up beside the porch steps, and she set Bobby’s food down and carried him into the yard to let him crawl in the grass. She wished she’d thought to put a jacket on him, but she’d been rushing to escape.

  She needed to do something different about Bobby if she was going to stay here and help with the renovations. His presence was causing Lacey pain, and while it was inevitable that he should be around Lacey sometimes, the woman ought to be able to come home for a peaceful dinner without getting her wounds, whatever they were, ripped open.

  Bobby had crawled over to the fence, and as she watched, he pulled himself up to stare out between the slats. It wasn’t good for him to be trapped in the house with paint and renovation tools and overbusy adults. The new toys were great, but he needed more stimulation, more attention.

  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and found Angelica’s number. She was just finalizing the arrangements to have her care for Bobby three days per week when Buck came out onto the porch.

  When she ended the call, Buck lifted an eyebrow. “You’re taking Bobby somewhere?”

  “To Angelica’s,” she tossed over her shoulder, jogging to get the baby before he figured out that the front gate was open. She swept him up and blew on his belly, causing him to chortle gleefully. Then she hugged him close and climbed back up the porch steps. “He’s going to stay with her three days per week. That way, I can focus better on work.”

  “And Lacey won’t see him as much.” He gave her a half smile. “Thanks for that.”

  She nodded, holding Bobby, as the March sun tried to warm her back. His eyes warmed her more and she drew in a quick breath, unable to look away.

  But all at once his face seemed to close and he turned. And that was good, she told herself firmly. She busied herself settling Bobby on her lap and spooning potatoes into his mouth, getting a little inside him before letting him try with the spoon, which would lead to a mess.

  Best to remember that Buck had his secrets, his reasons to keep a distance. As did she. A little front-porch attraction didn’t add up to anything in the lives of two people whose pasts were all too complicated.

  Chapter Seven

  Two days later, Buck held the door so that Gina could walk ahead of him into Love’s Hardware. He tried not to notice the fruity smell of her shampoo.

  They’d dropped Bobby off at Angelica’s and now were picking up some supplies before another day of renovation.

  He was spending too much time with her. The pink of her cheeks, the light smattering of freckles across her nose, the gentle sway of her walk—all of it held far too much of his attention.

  “Wow.” Gina stood staring at the crowded array of garbage cans, lamp oil, electrical cords, gutter spouts, hammers and pipes. “It’s truly everything but the kitchen sink.”

  “We have those, too,” said a voice above them. “Back left corner of the store.”

  At the sound, both Buck and Gina looked up.

  As Buck had suspected, the voice came from Harold Love, the wiry, white-haired African American store owner, who stood at the top of a tall stepladder. He was sliding a large box from the high shelf above the store’s sales racks.

  “Hey, Mr. Love, it’s Buck Armstrong,” he called, knowing the old man’s vision wasn’t the best.

  “I was just praying for a little help here. Buck, son, if I drop this down, can you catch it for me?”

  “But that’s huge—” Gina’s eyes widened.

  “Right here.” Buck stepped forward, feeling an absurd desire to impress her with his strength.

  Mr. Love dropped the box, and Buck caught it easily. It was light, probably containing some type of paper product.

  Gina touched his arm and nodded over at Mr. Love, who was now climbing down the ladder, slow but steady. “Is he okay?” she whispered.

  Buck set the box down on the floor and nodded. “Don’t worry about Mr. Love. He’s been doing this for more than fifty years.” All the same, he took a step closer, ready to help the man if needed.

  “Grandpa!” A pretty, heavyset young woman came bustling from the back of the store. “Did you climb up there yourself after I told you not to?” She turned to Buck and Gina. “His vision is getting worse. He’s not supposed to do things like that.”

  “Now you just let me be, Aliyah.” Mr. Love reached the floor unassisted and smiled in their general direction. “Thank you for the help, young man.” He headed back toward the counter, using his hands to unobtrusively guide himself, moving confidently. He seemed to have an inner picture of every item of stock and every inch of the store, so his visual impairment wasn’t obvious to most people. He liked it that way, Buck knew.

  Buck had renewed his old acquaintance with Mr. Love when he’d started working on Lacey’s house, and he valued their friendship. It was all about nuts and bolts, paints and primers, plumbing and wiring. Unlike most of the other people in Rescue River, Mr. Love knew nothing of Buck’s alcoholic antics, or at least, he hadn’t been affected by them. The eightysomething man was a nonjudgmental, easy part of Buck’s past.

  Aliyah scolded Mr. Love a little more before headi
ng toward the back of the store, shaking her head.

  Gina’s phone pinged. She pulled it out, looked at it and frowned.

  Curiosity tugged at him. Was she starting to make friends in town?

  But whoever was texting her, it wasn’t Buck’s business. Deliberately, he focused on the familiar sights and sounds of the store. From hidden speakers, the sound of Smokey Robinson filled the air; it was all Motown, all the time here at Love’s Hardware. A grinding sound in the back of the store told him a key was being made. The faint, acrid smell of lawn products permeated the very bones of the place.

  Buck walked toward the counter, gesturing for Gina to follow along. “How’s business today?” he asked the older man.

  “Just fine, just fine, now that you’ve come in.” Mr. Love patted his arm. “As soon as I heard it was you, I knew you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand. Just like old times, eh, son?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Now, let me just carry this cleaning solution over to Miz Miriam’s cart and I’ll be right back to help you. Don’t let anyone else take care of you. I want to help you myself. Aliyah and all the young folks want to put me out to pasture and I’m not having any of it.” The old man hustled away, carrying the heavy jug of cleaning solution.

  Buck saw Gina’s raised eyebrows. “My first job when I was in high school. Mr. Love was a tough boss, but fair. He taught me a lot.”

  She smiled, and then her phone pinged again. Her face tightened, just briefly, but she didn’t pull out her phone. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked around. “What an amazing place.”

  Mr. Love, returning to the cash-register area, heard her. “This hardware store has been in my family since 1901,” he said proudly. “Now, what can I do for you people? Buck, son, you still working on Miss Minnie’s old house?”

  “That’s right—trying to get some rooms open in time for the Freedom Festival.”

  “And we’re looking to get it onto the National Register of Historic Places,” Gina added. “If you’ve been in the area and familiar with the house for a long time, I might like to talk to you as I’m doing the paperwork.”