An Old-Fashioned Romance

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Breck looked around, but there wasn’t a Thatcher man in sight. “Is everyone else still asleep?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Marjie said. “They went back to bed after breakin’ up the ice in the tanks this mornin’.”

  Good. Breck hadn’t wanted Reese to be up before her.

  “But don’t worry,” Marjie added. “The smell of this bacon will have them up before long.”

  “Daddy ate one of your pumpkin pies for breakfast before he went out this morning, Breck,” Katie said. “The whole thing! In one sitting!”

  “I hope you don’t mind, honey,” Marjie said. “He loves pumpkin pie for breakfast on Thanksgiving morning and wanted to try one of yours.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. I brought them for you,” Breck told her.

  “Well,” Marjie began, “I did have a bite before he gobbled it down completely, and I do have to admit…Reese is right. Your pumpkin pie puts mine to shame.” Marjie winked as Breck began to shake her head. “Oh, now don’t go tryin’ to be humble, Breck. Shout it from the rooftops. I’m pleased as punch about it.”

  Breck smiled, uncomfortable with the fact she might make a better pumpkin pie than the lady of the house.

  Breck looked around then when she heard Reese mumble a “Good morning, ladies” as he entered the kitchen.

  Her eyes widened as she beheld him wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. The pajama bottoms were littered with cartoon character, but that wasn’t what made her jaw go slack in astonishment. It wasn’t even how adorable he looked with his hair tousled or the fact he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand like a tired toddler. What stunned her into shocked silence was the sight of him bare from the waist up! Quickly she closed her gaping mouth and turned around, going to stand closer to the stove next to Marjie—feigning interest in the frying bacon. Reese’s torso was supreme in its muscular structure. His body looked more like a professional body sculptor’s than a guy who worked an office job at an investigation firm.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Kate,” she heard him tell his sister. Still, she didn’t dare turn around and look at him again. It wasn’t until she felt his arm—his bare arm—go around her shoulders as he stepped between her and his mother that she looked at him again. Even this time she only glanced up at him quickly.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom,” he said, pulling his mother tight under one arm as he kissed her cheek affectionately.

  “Breck,” he said then, and she held her breath as he kissed her cheek too.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie,” his mother said, raising herself on her toes and kissing his whiskery cheek.

  “Yes,” Breck said as he looked down at her, smiling. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Reese inhaled deeply—exhaled a happy sigh. “How many pounds did you do, Mom?” he asked.

  “Four, Reese. And that will be plenty, do you hear?” Marjie chuckled.

  “That leaves three for everybody else to share,” Reese said aside to Breck. Breck wished he’d take his arm from around her shoulders. Well, not really. She liked having him touch her. But it was making her terribly nervous. She wished he’d at least put a shirt on! Well, not really. But his state of undress was making her even more nervous.

  “The ice in the tanks was an inch thick this morning, Mom,” Reese said, releasing the two women and going to sit down at the table.

  “It got pretty cold last night,” Marjie said.

  “Uncle Weese?” It was one of Katie’s little girls—the oldest, Lizzy. Breck turned to watch the sweet child climb up onto Reese’s lap and lock her hands at the back of his neck.

  “What, sugar?” he asked, chuckling and twisting a lock of her hair around one finger for a moment.

  “Why don’t you have any babies?” Everyone laughed at Lizzy’s sweet, innocent question.

  Reese continued to chuckle as he answered, “Well, Lizzy…I don’t have a wife. And a man needs a wife to have babies.” The child looked at him and seemed pensive for a moment.

  Then, to Breck’s utter horror, Lizzy pointed to her and said, “I bet she could do it for you, Uncle Weese.” Breck thought she might drop dead from the heat of the blush that rose to her cheeks. Marjie, Katie, and Reese erupted into laughter and giggles, but Breck remained red-faced.

  “I bet she could,” Reese managed to respond.

  “I think she’d have pretty babies for you,” the child prattled on.

  “Yes, she would,” Reese managed again—though his eyes were watering with mirth.

  Breck wanted to dash from the room—escape the embarrassing situation. What could she possibly say? She felt Marjie pat her understandingly on the back, but it didn’t really help to soothe her predicament.

  And then the situation got worse as Reese said, “Why don’t you ask her if she’s up to it, sweetie?”

  “What?” Breck gasped.

  “Okay,” Lizzy said, happily hopping down from her uncle’s lap.

  “Now, Reese, you quit,” Marjie halfheartedly scolded.

  Breck forced a smile at the little girl as she approached and took Breck’s hand.

  “Hey, lady,” Lizzy began. Breck hunkered down so the child could address her more easily. “You wanna have some babies for my Uncle Weese?”

  Breck glanced up to Reese, who was bent over withholding his laughter. He winked at her—offering no salvation.

  “I-I…” Breck stammered. What could she possibly say? “That’s a big question, Lizzy, and I just got here yesterday,” she said.

  Reese burst into laughter, and Marjie and Katie were beside themselves.

  Lizzy frowned for a moment. But then her face brightened. “Okay,” she said, a disappointed sigh escaping her tiny lungs. “I’ll tell him he has to wait a while longer.” Breck breathed a sigh of relief herself and even managed a giggle when the child turned back to her and added, “Could you maybe have some kittens for me instead?”

  ❦

  The morning passed quickly with so much to be done to get such a big meal ready. Keith arrived with the cranberries, and Reese had followed him into the den, allowing Breck to survive the embarrassment she’d suffered at the hands of him and Lizzy. She’d even managed to keep breathing when he’d hugged her after breakfast—still bare-chested—telling her what a good sport she’d been.

  Katie and Marjie were absolutely wonderful! They treated Breck as if they’d known her their whole lives—involving her in every aspect of preparing the meal. Once in a while throughout the morning, the three women would take what Marjie called “a cider break”—sit down at the kitchen table and sip a glassful of freshly made apple cider. They asked Breck questions, and she answered and asked her own. It was a beautiful, dreamy morning.

  Furthermore, Breck had never seen such a perfectly prepared Thanksgiving dinner! The turkey was roasted to perfection and stuffed with fresh rosemary, thyme, and sage. Marjie Thatcher served her cornbread stuffing on the side, and it was unlike anything Breck had tasted since her Grandmother McCall’s! Mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, candied yams, cranberry sauce, deviled eggs, black olives, green beans, and the lightest, sweetest dinner rolls Breck had ever eaten.

  Reese’s father had said the blessing before the meal and even thanked the Lord for their “beautiful addition, Miss Breck.” However, the best part of the meal wasn’t the antique china, the perfect food, or the friendly, loving conversation. It was the fact that Breck was seated next to Reese, who would put his arm across the back of her chair and rest his hand on her shoulder each time he leaned back to give his food time to settle.

  Once in a while, he’d bend over and whisper something in her ear too. Something like, “Do you want me to get you anything else?” Or, “They’re hilarious, aren’t they?”

  Breck simply cherished every moment spent at the table that day. She laughed with everyone else as Lizzy and Sarah put a large black olive on each of their fingers, popping them into their mouths one by one, then starting over. She smiled when Reese’s father unfastened the bu
tton at the waist of his jeans to “allow for more fixin’s,” as he put it.

  And when the feast was finished, she was amazed when Marjie and Katie led her into the living room while the men cleaned up before disappearing into the nearby den to hoot and holler over football. It was a day made of dreams come true, and Breck savored it as best she could.

  Sitting in the living room on the sofa in front of the fireplace, Breck could see Marjie and Katie were as sleepy as she was.

  Finally, Marjie said, “Time for a nap, girls…or we’ll never make it to dessert.”

  “I’ll have Keith watch the girls,” Katie yawned. “Can I bunk in with you, Breck?”

  “Of course,” Breck said. How incredibly fast they’d accepted her. How incredibly comfortable she felt with them. It was strange—and wonderful!

  ❦

  “Breck? Breck?” his voice whispered again. Breck forced her eyes open to find Reese standing over her, smiling.

  “Oh,” she said. He put an index finger to his lips and pointed to Katie, still sleeping next to Breck on the bed. Sitting up carefully, she smiled at him.

  “Do you want to go with me to bust up the ice again?” he asked. Breck’s smile broadened, and she nodded. “Grab your shoes and a coat. I’ll meet you outside.” Breck nodded again and tried to hush the butterflies flapping around in her stomach.

  It was already dark, and frost was again falling through a clear sky as they rode the four-wheeler from trough to trough to make sure the stock would be able to stay watered through the night.

  Breck was surprised when Reese didn’t head back to the house after checking on the horses but drove in an unfamiliar direction instead. Suddenly Breck could make out the shape of a house in the distance, silhouetted in the moonlight. There were no lights coming from it, however, and when Reese stopped the four-wheeler in front of it, she could tell that it was empty. Empty, but charming and beautiful!

  “This is the house I grew up in,” Reese told her as she stepped off the four-wheeler and followed him up the front porch stairs. It was hard to make out the exact architecture of the house in the dark, but Breck could tell it was old—an old Victorian-era house, complete with front bay window and two-story turret.

  “We built the new house when I was about fourteen,” Reese explained. “But…I still think of this one as home. I miss living in it.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and sorted through them until he found the one he was looking for. Breck smiled—touched that he would still carry a key to his boyhood home.

  “Want to see inside?” he asked, an expression of mischief blatant across his face.

  “Certainly!” Breck assured him. She watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. It creaked to a stop, and Reese motioned for her to step inside.

  Breck stepped cautiously into the old farmhouse, and Reese stepped in after her, flipping a switch on the wall. Instantly the room before them was illuminated, and even though it stood empty now, somehow the echoes of times gone by—of lives lived in it—somehow the house still seemed welcoming and happy.

  The house was the perfect example of an old farmhouse. The hardwood floors were worn but beautiful. The walls were once white and needed new paint badly, but what walls in an old farmhouse didn’t? It smelled closed up, but not unpleasant like some old houses did. She imagined how cozy and warm a fire blazing in the nearby fireplace would be.

  Reese smiled and lowered his voice, as if revealing a great secret. “Fifth, sixth, and seventh stairs up squeak.” He pointed to the staircase that led from the front or parlor area up to the second floor. “Mom and Dad always knew when one of us was trying to sneak out or in…’cause those three stairs would squeak, and if we tried to skip them and hop up to the eighth, the thud was too loud.” Breck smiled at the image of three teenage farm boys trying to sneak to bed after having missed curfew.

  “That bay window is beautiful!” Breck exclaimed. “A perfect Christmas tree spot,” she mumbled, speaking her thoughts out loud.

  “That’s what my mom always said,” Reese chuckled. “Every year she complains about not having a good spot for the tree in the new house.”

  “Well,” Breck said, going over to stand in the bay window area, “it is the most important part of a house, you know.” She smiled when Reese shook his head, obviously amused by the priorities of some women. She turned and looked out the window to the clean, unmarred winter scene beyond. Snow and trees—just snow and trees—no other buildings as far as she could see—frost sifting through the air, sparkling like glitter in the moonlight.

  “Many are the Christmas Eves that I stood just there, peering out the window, hoping to see Santa and his sleigh fly by,” Reese chuckled.

  “It’s the perfect spot to watch for him,” Breck said. She sighed, enraptured by the entire moment.

  “This house,” Reese said, coming to stand beside her and following her gaze out the window into winter, “it’s…it’s…”

  “Magical,” Breck finished for him. A strange tingling sensation caused her to shiver.

  “You cold?” he asked, having noticed her shivering.

  “A little,” she lied.

  “We can go, if you want to,” he said. “Mom will have hot chocolate waiting, and we can warm you up.”

  Breck nodded, even though she paused in wanting to leave the house. Somehow, she’d fallen in love with it, as well as the boy who grew up embraced in its loving walls.

  ❦

  “So,” Reese’s dad began, “tell me about this girl.”

  Reese feigned ignorance as he sat on the sofa next to his dad’s lounge chair. He smiled as he watched the fire burn and heard his sister, mother, and Breck giggling over a game of rummy in the other room. He knew his father wouldn’t be deterred, but it was worth a try.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Ben Thatcher chuckled. “You know what I mean, boy.” He leaned back in his armchair and waited for an answer.

  Reese grinned, shaking his head. “She’s my assistant at work.”

  “So you’re seducin’ your secretary, huh?” his father said.

  “It’s been done before, Pop,” Reese said, smiling.

  “That it has, son. That it has.” Ben sighed—a sign that he was finally relaxing for the day. “What are your plans then?” he asked.

  Reese shrugged. “You mean plans for life…or for Breck?”

  “Both. I reckon they’re about to become one and the same.”

  Reese chuckled. “Pop…she’s just—”

  “She ain’t just nothin’, son,” his father interrupted. “Come on now…tell me. What does she put you in mind of?”

  Reese was trapped, and he knew it. Once his father got something stuck in his brain, there was no deterring him until he was satisfied. He could spot a lie a mile away too. So there was nothing left to do but ’fess up.

  “She puts me in mind of…of changing careers, for one thing,” Reese admitted. “I’m tired of dealing with criminals, infidelity…basically all the crap involved with my job. Not that there are many jobs where a man doesn’t have to deal with it. Just that…”

  “You’re finally rememberin’ that although there’re a few piles of manure out in the barn…they ain’t as ugly as what you’re dealin’ with at Wilson.”

  Reese nodded. “Still…somebody has to shovel it, Pop. Somebody has to fight for the good people who need help.”

  “Somebody does, Reese. But that don’t mean it has to be at Wilson.” His dad leaned forward—a serious scowl on his face. “Ranchin’, farmin’, and the like…it’s hangin’ on by the skin of its teeth, Reese. Everybody knows it. But as long as someone’s fightin’ to keep it…this country won’t go completely to the dogs.” His dad sighed again, and Reese didn’t balk the argument he’d heard so many times. For one thing, he agreed. “And…I’ll tell you this,” Ben added. “You wouldn’t be keepin’ such a tight-fisted hold on that old house and the acreage you own here if you didn’t know it.”

 
Reese nodded. “I’ll admit to you, Pop. Lately…I’ve been thinking about…about…”

  “Just say it, son. You ain’t gonna explode for sayin’ it out loud,” Ben urged.

  Reese drew in a deep breath and admitted, “I’ve been thinking about…about coming back out here, fixing up the old house, running a few cattle…”

  “It’s the girl that got you thinkin’?” his father asked. Reese shrugged—but his father knew him too well. “Good! I like a girl who makes a man reevaluate his life. And she’s a pretty little thing. Comes from good stock too.”

  Reese smiled. “You like her ’cause she’s got horses in her blood,” Reese chuckled.

  His father smiled. “I like her ’cause she’s gettin’ under your skin.”

  “She ain’t getting under my skin, Pop,” Reese lied, standing to leave.

  “Oh, she’s under your skin all right. Never known you to bring a girl home for Thanksgiving, local or otherwise,” Ben said, yawning.

  “Mom invited her, remember,” Reese said.

  “And you invited your mom out to dinner that night, boy,” his father countered. “And besides…I saw you takin’ her out to the old place.”

  “I just wanted to show her where I grew up,” Reese told him.

  “Hm-hmm,” his father chuckled. “That’s why I took your mother out there the first time too.”

  ❦

  Breck couldn’t sleep. Even by midnight she was still wide awake, all the wonders of the day replaying over and over and over in her mind—that morning in the kitchen, Reese’s kissing her on the cheek, Lizzy’s baby questions, the beautiful dinner, and the evening ride out with Reese to the old family home. It was marvelous, and all Breck could think about was the wonder of it all and how she would ever go back to everyday life. Even watching the family’s favorite Christmas movie that evening before everybody went to bed. It was perfect! She covered her mouth to muffle her giggles as she remembered Reese’s father wiping the tears of joy from his cheeks as the little boy in the movie was daydreaming about getting a BB gun for Christmas. All of it, the entire day—all of them—it had been perfect. And Reese! Reese had been perfect! Perfectly cute in his cartoon character pajamas—perfectly gorgeous with his shirt off—perfectly attentive and flirtatious. And there were still three days to go!