Since I came to talk to Robert, I said in a voice husky with passion, “It’s true, Robert. Nothing will ever be the same. And I have to come to terms with that. I love you and I will love you forever—but life goes on down here on earth. I don’t know what you’re doing right now, or where you are, but I do know it must be something good. Because you are a good man.”
I slipped the card in my pocket before it could blow away and wrangled with my torn emotions.
“Baby, I will come back next week with Zach on the anniversary of your passing. But I had to come today to tell you about a decision I’ve made, and see if I can feel any peace here, from you, that will let me know that you’re okay with it too.”
Again I paused, sniffling and wiping my eyes. “I’m not ready to marry again. I’m not even ready to date yet. But Lonny asked me out last night. I told him no, but Grandma told me I needed to get on with my life.” I smiled. “You know how nosy and bossy she can be.”
The wind pelted me with icy air and I pulled the blanket more tightly about me. Though the snow from last month’s monster snowstorm had pretty much melted, the intermittent wind blasts cut clear through me.
“I’ve begun to realize that Grandma’s right. I have to get on with my life. I keep wishing you were here, but you’re not. So I just want to let you know that the next time Lonny asks, I’m going to say yes. And if David—you don’t know him; he’s a new guy in town who seems nice—if David asks me out, I’m going to say yes to him, too.”
I paused, blinking back tears, but not feeling as devastated as I feared I might. “I love you, Robert. I always will. So this isn’t goodbye, but just sayonara, like you always used to say.”
Emotionally spent, I stopped talking. After several long moments, I felt an undeniable peace stealing over me, enfolding me. It was as though Robert were letting me know he was okay with my decision. Almost as if his arms were wrapped around my shoulders. As if he were reassuring me that I could go on now.
“Thank you,” I whispered as a couple of fat tears slid down my cheeks. I instantly recognized Robert’s calming presence as I always could. It was the same sense of serenity I’d always gotten whenever I was around him, even now.
“Thank you,” I whispered again, and the peaceful rays of warmth from him dried my tears.
I stayed by the grave until the cold tried to settle deeply into my bones. Finally, standing up, I brushed off the dirt and brittle leaves, picked up the lap blanket, and shook it out.
With one last glance at Robert’s stone again, I nodded. “Sayonara, my darling.”
I drew in another deep breath. I didn’t know where “moving on” would take me, only that it would take me away from Robert—temporarily. But I believed he was waiting for me on the other side, and I felt such peace, I knew I’d made the right decision.
Turning away, I walked back to the path and toward the gate, in no hurry now.
It truly was time to start my life over again. And to prove it, I planned to stop at the Moose Muffin Café and buy myself a piece of pie. That’s where I went on my first date with Robert and we shared a piece of cherry pie á la mode. Walking through the café door, I would be symbolically moving on to whatever life had in store for me. I wasn’t going to hide from life any longer.
I could envision it but it scared me. However, I was blessed with a lot of family who could help me through.
After closing the cemetery gate behind me, I turned back and blew a kiss toward Robert’s grave. Once more, I said, “Sayonara, Robert. Until we meet again.” I smiled. “And next week, I’ll bring Zach.”
Thinking of Zach, I gasped as I looked at my watch. I didn’t have time for pie or symbolic anythings. I had lingered here much longer than I realized. I was barely going to make it to Grandma’s in time for her to still have lunch with her friends.
~ ~ ~
Back at the Inn, I offered to settle Zach down to watch his favorite dog movie, 101 Dalmatians, but he wanted to finish some homework in the kitchen, and how could I discourage that? Grandma decided she’d rather visit with us than “some old ladies” and followed Zach. She’d probably be his biggest distraction.
I headed down to the “dungeon,” as Liz liked to call our very nice family quarters in the basement, and found her lying on her bed.
I had done some major fixing up in the basement, both in decorating and remodeling. I had one wall removed to add one bedroom to the great room. There were still four bedrooms—mine, Zach’s and two guest rooms, one of which Liz was occupying for a few months until she got her divorce. We each had our own baths and large closets, and we could hang out in the spacious great room, which was the size of the law library and exercise room combined. With a kitchenette in one corner, a TV and couch in another, along with a game table, and lots of storage, it was certainly the nicest dungeon I’d ever seen…well, heard of anyway; I’d never actually seen one.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, looking at my sister. “You still look pale.”
Lying on her bed, Liz sighed and stretched. “I’m just trying out the new goth look. Let’s buy matching black clothes. Maybe even some black nail polish.”
“Oh, yeah, that will look really good with our red hair. We’ll look like the undead.”
“Which is very popular right now.” Liz smiled. “Don’t worry. I was just bitten by a vampire. My skin is cold, too.”
I studied her. “But not sparkly.”
“No, not sparkly. Half the people in Silver City have some sort of virus. I probably just caught a low-level strain of it.”
“That’s true enough.”
She sat up. “There could be some stress involved, too, but I’ll be fine as soon as the divorce is final. In fact, I’m going to throw a huge party to celebrate!”
“Vicki!” Grandma called out from the other room in the basement, startling my heart right out of my chest. “Where are you?”
“In here,” I replied, as Liz and I smiled.
“What a sneaky grandmother we have.” Liz rolled her eyes and slipped her feet into her sneakers, tying them.
“There you are. Hello, Elizabeth.” Grandma stuck her head in Liz’s bedroom door. “Victoria, did you know that nice, young David is in the kitchen?”
“No, I didn’t.” Normally, that might have perked me up, but I was still emotionally drained from my visit to the cemetery, not to mention Grandma scaring the crap out of me a moment ago. “What’s up, Grandma?” I asked suspiciously.
“Now why should anything be up? I’m going to fix some of my special tonic for you, Liz. You just lie back down now and let my tonic perk you right up.”
Liz groaned. “Not your tonic, Grandma. I’ll be out for days.”
“Oh, shush, child. You’re obviously not well. My tonic will fix you right up.”
“Where do you plan to find enough alcohol to make your deadly, little medicinal concoction?” I asked.
“Oh, I have my sources,” Grandma said.
I snorted. “Probably from David.”
“He’s awfully cute. If you’re not interested, maybe I’ll go after him.”
“He’s more than half a century younger than you are, Grandma.”
“I’m feeling really sick now.” Liz flopped back on the bed and groaned. “Act your age.”
Grandma sat on the bed and caressed a lock of hair from Liz’s cheek. “I’m going to act Cher’s age instead. David would make a very cute boy toy.”
“Oh, gross,” I said, though I agreed. He would. But not for my grandmother!
Her grin told me she was teasing. Thank goodness for that! Otherwise, I might think she’d truly lost some of her mental faculties.
Grandma motioned me toward the door. “He has a question for you.”
“Zach?”
“David. They’re both in the kitchen, cooking up a secret.”
David was, indeed, in the kitchen. Since he was older than I, he couldn’t possibly be my boy toy, either. Lonny could. But, as I pointed out
to my grandmother last month, Mormons didn’t have boy toys.
David was strikingly handsome, and made even cuter by standing at the stove, wearing shorts and a pale blue polo shirt, partially covered by an apron with the words Kiss the Cook emblazoned across his manly chest. He was helping Zach stir something in a pot.
Zach was standing on a chair they’d pulled over, and David’s hand protectively hovered in the air behind Zach, thereby endearing him to me even more.
My son looked over at me and grinned. “Hey, Mom. Guess what we’re making?”
I sniffed the air. “Wet noodles?”
Zach exchanged a look with David. “I told you she’s not very good at cooking.”
“Or smelling,” David said solemnly, but the crinkles around his eyes told me he was teasing.
Taking a step, I tripped over something on the floor. I didn’t fall, just looked spastic for a moment.
“Or walking,” Zach said before the two of them laughed.
I looked down. I tripped over a bowl half-filled with water beside the edge of the fridge. “What is this for?” I asked, grabbing some paper towels to mop up the mess.
“That’s for my new dog,” Zach announced.
I looked around the room. “You’d better be joking.”
“I’m not. It’s for the one you said you’d let me get. And we pulled the old doghouse around where I can see it, too, so my new dog won’t get lonely,” Zach said as if I were a bit slow. “David’s teaching me how to visualize”—he stumbled over the word much like I did over the dish—“having a dog.”
“Oh, he is, is he?” I asked, shooting David a glare of death. David’s response with a grin ramped up my heart rate more than it should have. “And what else is David teaching you?” I motioned to the steaming pot.
“How to cook spaghetti sauce for dinner.”
“You can teach your mother now,” David said with a smirk.
I nodded. “And I want to take this moment to seriously thank you for the cooking lessons, David.”
He shrugged. “I was thinking of your poor guests.”
Zach said, “I can be a Bear in Cub Scouts now.”
“A rank advancement?” I asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at David. “That’s great.”
David nodded and grinned. Very cute. Indeed.
“Okay, chief,” David said. “You’re all done here. It just has to finish cooking now.”
Zach jumped down. “Thanks, David.”
They high-fived and Zach took off, calling back to me. “Is it okay if I watch my movie?”
“Sure,” I said as he raced toward the door under the main staircase that led to our rooms. He’d watched 101 Dalmatians so many times, we all had the lines memorized.
In the quiet following his departure, I leaned against the counter. “Thanks for helping him with the rank advancement.”
“But…?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I paused, not sure how to proceed. “A couple of buts, actually. First, why are you so willing to help Zach like this?”
“Because he’s a good kid.”
“And…?” I asked.
“And he doesn’t have a dad around to help him. And he told me he doesn’t like the cubmaster very much.” He must have seen the impact his words had on me—they cut deep—because he softened his voice. “My dad died when I was ten, so I get it.”
“I’m sorry about your father.” I nodded. “And you’re right. On all counts.”
“But…?” he asked again.
“I’m just wondering what will happen when the international reporter male role model gets tired of small town life and moves away. What happens to my son then?” I had to think that one through.
“Your son will continue to spend time with an international reporter who has become quite fond of small town life.” He lowered the flame, gave the pot another stir, and covered it. “I understand your concern. He’s your son. I just wanted to help him, like Curt Bennett, the guy who stepped in and helped me. I was determined to do the same as he did for me, if I ever could, by helping another little boy in need.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
“I am an Eagle Scout, you know. Trustworthy and filled with merit.” He grinned. “Reporters aren’t all bad, you know.”
“I guess not.” Though I certainly didn’t think much of him when we first met, I found him growing on me. “Speaking of the reporting that you probably are anxious to get back to, I called and placed an ad in the paper for a new cook.”
He shrugged. “Schedule the prospective applicants to come in on a Saturday and I’ll interview them.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you have more important things to do instead?”
He chuckled. “According to most of the people who know you best, you wouldn’t have a clue what questions to ask a chef.”
I tossed the nearest dry dishcloth at him.
He snatched it from the air and laughed.
I pushed away from the counter and walked over to the pot, sniffing the aroma appreciatively. “It does smell awfully good.”
“Awfully good. That’s one of those interesting oxymoron word combinations. Like pretty awful, a little pregnant, and Army intelligence.”
I thought of my pale sister downstairs. “Amicable divorce.”
“Good one.” He nodded. “How about low-fat ice cream?”
“Truth in advertising.”
“Middle East peace.”
“Oh, wait. I have one.” I leaned back against the counter. “Double solitaire.”
“My favorite game.” He took a step in my direction, hanging the dishtowel on a hook very close to me.
“I bet.” I forced my mind away from David to the game at hand. “Kosher ham.”
He let his gaze scan my body briefly and smiled at me. “Luxury compact.”
I managed to get out, “Mild-mannered reporter.”
He laughed. “I keep my Superman suit hidden under my apron.”
“Nice apron, by the way.”
“Thanks.” He looked down to see what was written there. When he saw Kiss the Cook, he grinned. “And this is truth in advertising. I accept all kisses.”
“Grandma will be happy to hear that.”
The air between us heated up like a mirage, shimmering between us. After a long pause, during which his eyes darkened, I said, almost in a whisper, “White chocolate.”
He leaned toward me and his voice lowered, as well. “One size fits all.”
Not wanting to step away and show how wary I was of the attraction growing between us, I tried to make him laugh again. “Journalistic integrity.”
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he chuckled, a low, husky sound that came deep from his chest. He leaned a little, so that his lips were only inches from mine. “Definite maybe.”
I swallowed hard, and for that instant, couldn’t think of anything to say. I found myself leaning in, too. Close enough to catch the nice, manly scent of him mixed with the clean smell of soap. My hands began to tremble and my heart pushed on the accelerator. It was a good thing I had my talk with Robert today instead of waiting, because things were moving a lot faster than I ever anticipated.
When the saloon-type doors slammed the wall behind us, I nearly had another heart attack. David must have, too, as he joined me in jumping back. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to recapture my fleeting composure.
Zach raced in. “Hey, Mom! Germy said their puppies are old enough to leave home now.”
I exchanged a glance with David, whose cheeks showed more color than normal. So I wasn’t the only one affected by our near kiss. Returning my attention to my son, I said, “No puppies, squirt. That was our deal. Remember?”
He sighed deeply and rather melodramatically.
“That’s okay, chief,” said David, and I noticed how husky his voice still sounded. “Big dogs are cool, too.”
“But not too big,” I said.
“Grown dogs,” David clarified, winking at me.
&nbs
p; I felt my face heating up, too.
“And,” he said in a sexy, low voice, “I think right now is the perfect time for me to drive you and Zach into town to look at dogs at the pet store.”
Reluctantly, I scrutinized both of them.
I didn’t want to go. But if I was to begin seizing the day and opening myself to possibilities, I may as well start now. I promised my son a dog—and he already had a water dish for the stupid canine. A water dish that would be left in the kitchen, but well away from the flow of traffic.
I looked at my son’s eager face. How could I say no?
With a sigh, I nodded. “Okay, but I have to stop at the Moose Muffin Café first and drop off some pans we borrowed for the anniversary party. While I’m there, could you drop off Zach’s library books? And then I’ll meet you at the pet store.”
Chapter Five
IT TOOK US A GOOD HOUR to mosey into town. The roads were dry, which is always preferable when coming down Porter Mountain. I may have had all-wheel drive, but I’d witnessed too many four-by-four pickups stuck on the bottom curve after the lunatics driving them thought engaging all four wheels meant they didn’t have to use their brakes—or their brains.
I dropped David and Zach off at the Silver City Library, a stately, old pioneer building. Zach was returning books and hoping to find more with David, who seemed to enjoy helping him. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a book titled, How to Hypnotize Your Mother into Adopting a Whole Houseful of Dogs appear at the Inn. If Zach started singing “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,” I intended to put my foot down.
I headed up Main Street toward the Moose Muffin Café, which was only a block and a half away. When I found a parking spot for my Jeep right in front, I considered it a good omen and pushed through the doors to find DeWayne and Paul seated at a booth. Paul waved me over. They were looking at menus, which they always did—before they ordered their usual favorites: DeWayne had chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, while Paul liked the half-pound mooseburger, which wasn’t moose at all, just a huge hamburger.
Inn the Doghouse Page 4