The Timeless Love Romance Collection

by Dianne Christner

  Willa sighed. She imagined Garrison drove a beat-up old truck since he needed extra cargo room to carry food and supplies for his catering business. Perhaps gallant Mr. Gaines drove a milk wagon that had seen its best days or a decrepit truck sold to him by a retired farmer or house painter. No matter. She could put up with riding in a rusty old Tin Lizzy, just to look into his sparkling blue eyes for one evening.

  At that moment, she spotted a station wagon with wooden side panels slowly making its way up the street. Willa took in a breath so rapidly that a small whistle escaped her rounded lips. The car was beautiful, new, and shiny, the dream of any housewife with a load of kids.

  Willa imagined the happiness of such a lucky woman until her gaze traveled to the top of the wagon. Her jaw dropped open as her hand clapped over her mouth in shock. A larger than life, four-layer white wedding cake, complete with an arch of white roses and a statue of a happy couple, sat proudly on top of the car. How could anyone drive over twenty miles an hour with such a monstrosity, much less through a tunnel? Why, it must be three feet tall! She laughed aloud.

  “What’s so funny, Sis?” Ron’s voice came from the kitchen, where he was assembling a model airplane.

  Willa chuckled. “It’s too hard to explain. You’ll have to come see for yourself.”

  The sound of chair leg tips scraping against hardwood floors, followed by reluctant footsteps, told Willa that for the moment, her brother’s curiosity was greater than his love of model planes. As soon as Ron was by her side, Willa pointed. “Isn’t that a riot?”

  Ron peered out of the window. He let out a snicker when he spotted the car. “I’d say something like that would get plenty of attention, all right. Maybe that’s what it’s all about.” He leaned closer toward the window. “Looks like it’s a fellow driving it. I guess if you’re a girl, he wouldn’t be too bad looking.” Scrunching his nose, Ron let go of the curtain and stood back. He rocked on his feet. “I sure hope he’s not thinking some girl would ride with him in that thing. She’d sure be a poor sap.” The next moment, Ron’s eyebrows furrowed. “Say, it looks like it’s turning into our drive.”

  “Huh?” Willa turned her attention back toward the window. Her amusement evaporated as she watched the wagon pull in front of the house. For the first time, she noticed the sign for Garrison’s catering business pasted on the side. She groaned aloud. “It’s my date. Garrison Gaines.” She extended her right hand to shake her brother’s. “Nice to meet you, Ron. Just call me ‘Poor Sap.’”

  Chapter 3

  Ron didn’t bother to wait for Garrison’s knock. He bounded out the front door and ran across the wide porch, down the steps, and across the lawn to meet Garrison. Should she wait before joining them? Mama had always said not to seem too eager. Making sure to walk slowly and with grace, Willa strode out to meet them.

  “Get a load of this!” Ron pointed to the sign on the door. The letters, painted a shade of pink to mimic icing, proclaimed, You Have Lots to Gain with GAINES GOODIES. “You didn’t tell me your date makes his living doing women’s work.”

  Tightening her lips together, Willa breathed in such an agitated lungful of air that she felt her chest rise. Too embarrassed to stare Garrison straight in the eye, she gave her brother a warning look. “Nice evening, isn’t it, Garrison? I see you’ve already met my brother. As you might have guessed, he’s planning a career in foreign diplomacy.”

  “Aw, knock it off, Willa. I was just fooling around.” Sufficiently convinced of Ron’s chagrin, Willa made the introductions. To her relief, Garrison didn’t seem to have been offended by Ron’s remark.

  “Nice meetin’ you, Garry.”

  Garrison’s lips tightened into a line as straight as a ruler.

  Ron ignored Garrison’s obvious warning that he didn’t care for his name being shortened. “I’d better run,” he told Willa. “I promised Sid I’d meet him later.”

  Willa watched her brother leave before she turned back to Garrison. This time her gaze met his. Her heart did an unexpected flip-flop when she studied those blue eyes again. She imagined herself swimming in water just that shade. Perhaps the Mediterranean Sea. She’d be wearing a beautiful swimsuit in a cool shade of aqua. Her strokes would be as smooth as those of Esther Williams, the mermaid of the silver screen.

  Suddenly she remembered she should say something. “Um, don’t mind Ron. He’s full of himself. Thinks he won the war single-handedly, even though he wasn’t old enough to serve until ’44.”

  If Garrison noticed her prolonged stare or her awkwardness, he didn’t give any indication. “So many of our soldiers were just kids when they were shipped out overseas. And they’re still kids now.” He shook his head. “They’ve seen more than they should have for their years.”

  “Just kids, huh?” Her mouth twisted into a wry grin. “What are you, a hundred?”

  A pleasing chuckle arose from his throat. “Not quite. Although during the conflict, I felt that way sometimes. Even flying the plane when it felt like I was on top of the world, literally above it all.” He paused, a flicker of remembrance darkening his features. “Perhaps especially when I was on a mission.”

  “So you were a flyboy. A glamour job.” Willa knew her voice indicated that she was impressed.

  “Not as glamorous as everyone says. I’m just like all the others who fought.”

  “You’re right. You are just like all the others who fought for our freedom, Garrison. You’re a true hero. And you always will be.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m no hero.” His gaze traveled skyward, as though he were remembering his fellow airmen. “I just did my part the best way I knew how. That’s all.”

  “Maybe you can tell me all about it sometime.”

  “Maybe.” He paused, silent in his own reflections. “Maybe not. I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “I understand. Ron and Don are the same way.” Willa forced herself to smile. She searched for a change of subject, then remembered the icing pink letters on his advertisement. “At least you’re not shy about your business.”

  Garrison broke out into a winning smile, his white teeth gleaming in the evening sun. “You’re right. I don’t mind in the least. That cake has brought me a lot of business.” He gave the wagon a fond pat. “Goodie Woodie and I have already traveled quite a few miles together. I brought her all the way out here from Maryland. I hope that trip was only the beginning of a long relationship.”

  Willa had stopped listening after Garrison told her the car’s name. “Goodie Woodie?”

  “A swell name for a swell car.” A look of slight worry crossed his even features. “I know the wedding cake makes her a little unconventional, but she has to pull double duty as both my business and personal car. Even if I could afford a second car right now, I doubt I could find one. I only got Goodie Woodie because of a friend back home who works at a Ford dealership.” He hesitated, a look of concern crossing his face. “You don’t mind riding in her, do you?”

  “No, no. Not at all.” Willa knew her quick answer wasn’t persuasive. But she could put up with anything for just one night.

  A look of relief washed over him, making Willa glad she had agreed to ride in the unusual vehicle. She was just about to suggest they leave for dinner when Garrison looked toward the side yard. A trellis covered with climbing roses offered an entryway into the garden. “Those roses are absolutely gorgeous. Just like their owner.”

  Willa felt herself blush at his compliment. “If you think those are special, you should have seen my victory gardens. Not that I’m out of the habit of planting vegetables, mind you. I’ve already put up thirty quarts of string beans and twenty jars of sweet pickles. And I’m still expecting plenty of tomatoes yet.” She tilted her head toward the back. “Would you like to see for yourself?”

  “Sure!”

  Willa led him through the side yard, conscious that her dress swished as she walked. She thought she felt Garrison’s stare upon her, so she was surprised
when a more familiar voice greeted her from behind.

  “I guess I’m on my own for dinner tonight, huh, Willa?”

  Willa turned to greet her older brother, Don. “What makes you think that? I’ll be glad to fix you something before we leave.” She glanced at her date. “That is, if you’re not in a hurry, Garrison.”

  “Not at all. The chef is flexible.”

  Where did he plan to take her to dinner? In a tiny town such as Prairie Center, no restauranteur presumed to be so egotistical as to use the term “chef.” “Short-order cook” was more like it. A shiver of delight ran down Willa’s spine. Surely he must have plans to take her to a stylish place in Kansas City!

  “Let’s say he’s a personal friend of mine,” Garrison said, answering her puzzled look.

  “A man about town, then,” Don joked.

  “Really?” Garrison made a show of noticing his surroundings. From their vantage point, only four other houses, surrounded by generous yards, were visible. Their street was not a city boulevard, but a narrow lane that curved through the residential section. And it was no secret that they were near very few businesses. The village supported only the essentials—Prairie Center Pharmacy, Wilson’s Grocers, County Dry Goods, Dr. Goodman’s office, and Minerva’s Diner. “Maybe. If you can call Prairie Center a town.”

  Folding his arms, Don bristled at the inference that his hometown was less than a bustling urban center. Hoping to salvage the conversation, Willa jumped in with introductions. Garrison displayed a disarming grin to show he was only joking. Don grinned back and extended his hand.

  Garrison flashed his cerulean eyes at Willa. “If I stay around long enough, will I meet more brothers?”

  “Nope. This is it. Don and Ron do a pretty good job of watching out for me by themselves.”

  “You’d better believe it,” Don concurred. “That means I want my sister home plenty early, Garrison.”

  Garrison’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve given a grown woman a curfew?”

  “No, I’m giving you one.”

  “Don, you’re the biggest joker,” Willa observed.

  “And you love me for it.” Don smiled. “I guess I don’t need to hold you kids up. If there’s some roast beef left over, I’ll make myself a sandwich.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have something hot?”

  “Nope. I’m in a hurry anyway. I have a date of my own.” He nodded to Garrison. “You take good care of my little sister. She’s very special to us.”

  “I will,” Garrison promised. As Don disappeared, Garrison observed, “I can tell he means what he says. I’d better be extra careful with you, Miss Johnston.”

  “You’d better be.”

  “Now that I’ve passed inspection, do I get to see the garden?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  Garrison let out a low whistle as he studied the roses. Willa had planted more than a hundred bushes. Many were in full bloom, offering the eye a plethora of color.

  “There must be a rose in just about every shade known to man here,” Garrison speculated.

  “I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, but I do enjoy variety.” She touched a crimson bloom on a tall bush. “Mrs. Anthony Waterer. One of my favorites.”

  Following her lead, Garrison laid a hand on the deep green foliage. He withdrew it just as quickly, bringing the offended finger to his lips. “Ouch!”

  “I should have warned you. This breed has lots of thorns.”

  “I wonder if Mrs. Anthony Waterer was just as prickly.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Willa giggled. “Are you sure your hand’s all right?”

  “I think I’ll recover.” He extended his finger for her to inspect.

  Willa took his strong hand in hers and lightly stroked where his forefinger had been pricked. “I think you’re right. You’ll pull through.” To her surprise, she realized she really didn’t want to release his hand. Having no excuse to prolong the pleasant contact, she let go and hurried to share the facts about a nearby tea rose. “Here’s a Mrs. B. R. Cant, named for the wife of the hybridizer.”

  “Hybridizer?”

  “Yes. Benjamin Cant developed this rose by combining other breeds. One of my old school chums sent me this plant from back East. She says hers are eight feet tall, but as you can see, I’ve had no such luck.” Willa pointed to the three-foot-tall specimen with only a few silvery pink blooms.

  “So you have friends back East?”

  Willa was taken aback by the odd question since it had nothing to do with roses. His voice seemed to hold some hope that she did indeed have many friends on the East Coast. Perhaps he was searching for a ray of familiarity since he was new to the Midwest.

  “She’s the only one, really,” Willa answered truthfully, even though she knew her answer was sure to disappoint him. “She met a serviceman from North Carolina, and they moved there after they married. Not an uncommon story in this day and age.”

  “And not in my parents’ day, either. That’s how Dad ended up in Maryland. He’s a native of Prairie Center, you know—Ben Gaines. That’s why Anita left the house to him. They grew up together. My grandfather, George Gaines, was her uncle.”

  “So why did your father leave?”

  “Serving in the Great War took him to the East Coast. He met my mother there, and as they say, the rest is history.”

  “So he never came back?”

  “Sure, for visits,” Garrison explained. “But he didn’t want to come back here to live in the old house after all that time. I’m sure Cousin Anita knew I’d end up with it. She always had a soft spot for me.”

  “So that’s how you inherited the house. I was wondering how the son of a first cousin got so lucky.”

  His dark eyebrows rose. “I see I’ve been the subject of a bit of gossip.”

  “It’s not gossip if it’s true.” She folded her hands and sent him a rueful smile. “Oh, all right. I admit it. We have been speculating about you. It’s a small town, you know. And the old Gaines place is a landmark.”

  “In that case, I’ll forgive you.”

  “I’m so glad the house is still in the Gaines family.”

  He nodded, swallowing visibly.

  Why didn’t he seem happy to be the new owner of such a beautiful old home? “I hope the renters didn’t do much damage to the house. I didn’t know them well, but they seemed nice enough.”

  Garrison shrugged. “I guess they were. They left the house in good condition considering its age.”

  Why did he seem so nonchalant about the house where he would be living? Garrison seemed to be hiding something, but what? Whatever it was, she could see from the dark look on his face that he had no plans to reveal his secret to her. At least not at this moment. She considered it best to return to the topic of roses. “Here’s a Mrs. John Laing.” Willa showed him a shrub with pink blossoms boasting a hint of lavender.

  “Pretty. But are they all named after someone’s wife?”

  “Not all of them.” She pointed to a delicate pink flower. “Here’s a Ballerina.”

  “Looks more like a dogwood than a rose.”

  Willa studied the flower as though she were seeing it for the first time. “Come to think of it, you’re right. It does look a bit like a pink dogwood.”

  “How do you manage to keep all these names straight?”

  “I don’t have any trouble at all. Each plant is as individual as a person.”

  “You obviously have great love for your flowers. No wonder you’re so successful in growing them.”

  “I could be even more successful if …” She hesitated.

  “If what?”

  “You’ll think I’m ridiculous.”

  “Try me.”

  Willa averted her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see Garrison laugh at her dream. “I wouldn’t mind having a hot house.”

  “What’s so silly about that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not used to thinking big, I suppose.”
<
br />   “Maybe one day you could own your own nursery,” he suggested.

  “My own nursery?” Willa didn’t remember the last time she’d heard such an outrageous proposition. “Don’t be silly. I would never dream of starting my own company. You’re a businessman. You of all people should know it’s a man’s world.”

  “Perhaps. But the war showed us we might change that one day,” Garrison observed as he led her to the station wagon.

  “In the meantime, I’ll be quite content to let you open the car door for me.”

  “And I’ll be quite pleased to do so.”

  As she entered the station wagon, Willa wondered if she had been wise to leap from dodging Garrison’s passes to jumping into his wagon. What must she look like, sitting inside a car with such an incredible rooftop decoration?

  Maybe no one I know will see me, she thought, hoping her outward expression didn’t reveal her embarrassment. She swallowed, then said in her most cheerful voice, “Let’s go!”

  As they rode through the neighborhood and down Main Street, Willa soon realized she would have no such luck. Everyone she’d ever met seemed to be outdoors.

  As Goodie Woodie passed, two young children pointed and giggled. “Hi, Miss Johnston!”

  Willa tried to ignore the heat flushing her face. Showing herself to be a good sport, she smiled and waved to the children. They moved their hands up and down wildly, as though she were Santa Claus himself.

  “Who are they?” Garrison asked.

  “Flora and Hattie. Twins from the Sunday school class.”