by Betty Bolte
He wanted nothing more than to live out his days with this woman who waited for him to speak. She had the right to know his darkest secrets as a result. The right to know everything about him to help her make the choices she needed to make regarding her life. He placed his hand in hers and squeezed lightly.
“Remember I told you about my friend, Jeremy?”
“Your friend who died in the well?”
“Yes.” He hesitated, wondering how she’d react to the whole truth. “I didn’t tell you everything about that day. In particular, my role in his death.”
“Tell me what happened.” She laid her other hand on top of their joined ones. Compassion simmered in her eyes, giving him the confidence he needed to spill out the story.
“I had heard about a dilapidated cabin in the hills near his home. I was burning with curiosity about the place, imagining all sorts of fantastic tales of how it fell into ruins. I convinced Jeremy to go with me. Not an easy task, but I can be pretty persuasive when I want something badly enough.”
She lifted a brow and squeezed his hand. “I know. Go on.”
“It was a whim, we just took off on our bikes and pedaled miles to the trailhead.” His gaze turned inward, no longer seeing her. Reliving the day he lost his best friend due to his rash actions. “We didn’t tell anyone where we were going or even take a canteen. I was stupid and too eager to seek out adventure.”
“You were a boy.” She squeezed his hand again to draw his attention. “That’s what kids do.”
“I was twelve. Old enough to have known better.” He shrugged, pulling his hand back to clasp both together on the table. Uncomfortable with the recollection and recrimination he associated with the memory. “If I’d had a length of rope or even a belt I might have been able to save him.”
“It sounds like it was a deep well.” She peered at him for a short span. “Too deep for a belt to reach, surely.”
“I could have tried.”
“Grant, listen to me.” She placed a hand on his clasped ones. “You were a kid, doing what kids do. Exploring, playing, taking risks you didn’t fully understand. It’s not your fault that he stepped on the well cover, nor that the wood gave way.”
“It’s my fault we were out there in the first place.” He raked a hand through his hair, gripping his nape until his neck hurt. “We shouldn’t have gone so far from home.”
“Maybe, but accidents happen. Did Jeremy’s parents blame you?”
“No, they never said anything after that day.”
“Then why do you blame yourself?” She squeezed his hand, her eyes steady on him. “Why not accept that bad things happen through no fault of your own.”
“But…” He sighed as he pondered her words. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was simply an accident, and nobody is to blame.”
“That’s what it seems like to me.” She smiled at him, understanding and empathy in her eyes. “It’s time for you to stop beating yourself up for something out of your control.”
She made a good argument. He had been young and immature. But he had not led Jeremy to his death, only to the site of the house he wanted to explore. Nobody could have predicted how tragically events would unwind on that long ago day. Especially him as a young boy. He needed to move forward and stop letting the past haunt his present. His future beckoned with a bright light, fueled by the beautiful, caring woman sitting across from him.
“Thank you for understanding.” He picked up his sandwich, ready to sample the mouth-watering meat and cheese. “So where do you want to start today?”
“I think the pecan pie is first.” She lifted her sandwich and prepared to take a bite. “It won’t take too long, right?”
He bit into his sandwich and then shook his head while he chewed and swallowed. “It’ll keep well, too. So the pies and then the cake?”
“Sounds like a good plan.” She nibbled her ham and cheese, her gaze on him. “I’m glad we compromised on the crusts.”
“My mom always did, so I do.” Some people might taste the difference between scratch and store-bought pie crust, but nobody had ever complained. He didn’t see the need to spend the time on making pie crust dough and all that it entailed. “It saves frustration.”
“I’m all about avoiding frustration.” Tara took a small bite before laying her sandwich on the wrapper. “I’m ready to begin if you are.”
“Not hungry?” He studied the remaining piece of his sandwich and then popped it into his mouth, chewing quickly. If his lady was anxious to begin, then he’d not keep her waiting. He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “I’m all yours.”
She smiled at him, a hint of caution behind her expression. “Very funny.”
Grant pushed to his feet while Tara gathered the remains of their lunch. If she only knew how serious his flippant comment was to him. She threw away the trash and then moved to the island to open a cookbook laying on the clean surface. Flipping to a page marked with a length of ribbon, she leaned closer to study the contents. Even that proved sexy to him. Her cute butt swaying side to side as she hummed and read. A fingertip trailing down the page in a slow, tantalizing movement.
“It says to chop the pecans. How small, do you think?” She turned a wrinkled brow up at him. “Does size matter?”
He chuckled as he sidled over to peer over her shoulder at the recipe. “Better question is how large, don’t you think?”
She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. “Be serious.”
Her scent enticed as he leaned closer, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I am.”
He tugged her around to face him, inches separating them. He could not resist the temptation of her lips, slightly parted in surprise at his sudden move. Her eyes flicked between meeting his gaze and focusing on his mouth as he closed the distance between them. Sweet heaven. The taste of her when their lips met was better than the sugars on the counter. Sweeter than the taste of honeysuckle in the summer. He devoured her, exploring the depths of her mouth, letting his eyes drift shut, so he only knew her and nothing outside of the delectable woman in his arms.
Minutes passed, and then he slowly broke away, dragging in a long breath as she opened her eyes. Unfocused. As if she’d experienced the mind-blowing kiss as much as he had. He pressed a kiss to her lips and then laid a finger on them, watching her gaze clear and a smile light her eyes. Man, did he have it bad for her.
“I suppose you’re right.” Her lips moved beneath his finger until he lifted it away. “Size does matter.”
He huffed and then kissed her again. He simply couldn’t help himself. “Let me show you how to cut them to the right size.”
She spun away, to face the counter and the set of knives in a wooden block in the center. “Choose your weapon.”
He reached around her and slid one out of its home, hefted the well-balanced blade. Someone, probably her mother, had fine taste in kitchen utensils and tools for cooking. His first assessment of the functionality of the space proved even more correct. Everything about the house fit his taste and his expectations. Especially the woman standing in front of him.
Over the next couple of hours they worked together. He kept her near and within his embrace as much as possible as they moved from task to task. He made a point of brushing her arm in passing. Of lightly resting a hand on her shoulder, or planting a kiss on the side of her neck as he eased around her to retrieve the vanilla or sift the flour. Tug on her ponytail when he moved to locate eggs in the fridge. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him. How much he desired to be with her even if he did have to return to his job. He knew she’d never leave her hometown unless forced to. He’d not be the reason. He loved her too much to ask her to make such a sacrifice.
Still, the thought of leaving evoked a sense of despair in his soul. Sure, he’d floated the idea of staying in Roseville, but how could he without a job? He couldn’t support a wife and eventually a family without a source of income. Which currently existed in another state. And left him
in a state of anxiety unlike any he’d ever endured. For the present, he’d touch and taste her much like a fine wine or an elegant dessert. Savor every moment with her. Memorize her every move, inflection, and expression to carry with him. Until he found a way to return to her side for good.
Tara wiped her hands on a towel and grinned at him. “That finishes the pies, and the cake is baked and ready for the final construction.”
“Are we building something?” Grant loved her quirky little smile at his question.
“You could say that. We need to slice off the top of the cake, then cut out a tunnel in the bottom and pull out the center part of the cake.” She motioned with her hands to show him what she meant. “Then we fill the tunnel with whipped cream, sliced strawberries, and slivered almonds.”
“Yum.” She was so cute when she wrinkled her brow in thought. “Then what?”
“Put the top on and smother the whole thing in more whipped cream.” She pointed to a second box of strawberries. “Some of those get spaced on top as decoration.”
“Double yum.” He gazed at his woman, drinking in her features and enjoying her animated motions with her hands. “What happens to the cake you pull out?”
She wiggled her brows with a grin aimed his direction. “That’s the best part. You get to eat it.”
“I’m in.” He propped his hands on her shoulders and gently spun her around to meet his gaze. “You’re an amazing woman, Tara.”
She canted her head, a question in her eyes. “I see I’ve got you fooled.”
“No, I see you.” He squeezed her upper arms, searching her eyes for several moments. “I love you.”
That hint of wariness appeared again in her eyes as she regarded him for a heartbeat. “I love you, too.”
“We’ll work it out, now that we’ve found our way back to civilization.”
She raised her brows a fraction of an inch, pursing her lips for a moment. “I hope so but it may be more difficult than we think.”
She didn’t bother to deny she’d been concerned about the same thing. Remarkable woman, indeed. Almost as if she could read his mind. But that wasn’t possible. Was it?
“Tara, don’t give up on me. On us.” She had to believe in him, trust him, as much as he did her. “We’ll always be together. I promise.”
She nodded slowly as she eased a step away, breaking contact with him as her expression sobered. “For now, let’s enjoy the holiday and worry about the future next week.”
“When I leave?” The mere idea of not being able to touch Tara festered deep in his chest. He’d figure out a means of being with her. He must.
“When you leave the hard part begins.”
“For both of us.” Grant closed the small space between them, placing a finger under her chin to raise her gaze to meet his. “You know that. Don’t you?”
She inhaled sharply and nodded once. “Right. Let’s get this done before my sisters come home.”
“Very well. What do you need me to do?” He would honor her wishes for now. He had no other good choice but to follow the plan.
Soon, he’d devise a strategy for how to keep his promise. To her and to himself.
Chapter 26
Rain lashed the dining room windows, pelting hail against the sashes. Tara glared at the water cascading down the outside of the pane. She’d hoped for a sunny Thanksgiving, but nature had other plans. She searched through the dresser drawer reserved for tablecloths until she found the dark orange one imprinted with pale gold and burgundy leaves as well as the memory of past family dinners when her mother had acted as hostess. She lifted the lightweight, soft fabric and then pushed the drawer closed with her hip as the sound of her sisters fussing echoed through the short hallway. Good thing the desserts were already done, so she didn’t need to venture into that tiny kitchen with too many cooks.
With eight expected for dinner, she’d added a couple of leaves to the table. She shook out the cloth before draping it over the wood surface, smoothing out wrinkles with her palms. So many memories clamored for her attention, but she merely let them swirl into the background as she retrieved the centerpiece from the sideboard. Simple yet appropriate. She set the large, flat glass bowl with a lone gold pillar candle nestled among whole walnuts, pecans, and hazelnuts. A reminder of the lessons she learned in Raven Hollow. She rotated the bowl slightly to the left, then made a few adjustments to the arrangement of the nuts. Stepping away from the table, she smiled.
The doorbell rang, startling her. Nobody came to the front door of the house. Practically the entire town felt welcome at the back door. The townsfolk treated the three sisters like their own kin and had as long as Tara could recall. So who had rung the bell at the front? She hurried into the hall.
“I’ll get it!” She paused for a response but heard only bickering from the kitchen.
She shook her head as she strode to unlock the door and pull it open. A small crowd huddled on the covered porch, shivering in an assortment of rain gear. Her cousins, Meredith and Paulette, and their husbands, Max and Zak, respectively. And of course Paulette’s newborn son. Standing one step behind the others, not quite covered by the porch roof, Grant waited with one hand on the white column supporting the tin overhead. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, the memory of his kisses as they worked together. Heat flared on her cheeks when she remembered the others impatiently waiting to be let into the warm house.
“Goodness, get that baby out of the cold.” Tara stepped back to urge everyone inside.
“It’s awful out there.” Paulette stepped across the threshold; little Pat bundled so he was barely visible in his infant carrier. Zak followed right behind them carrying a bulging tote bag.
Meredith shivered as she passed through the doorway, then Max came in close behind her. “I can’t believe it turned so cold so fast.”
“I know. I’m sorry you had to face the deluge. Let me have your coats.” She held out her hands, waiting for them to shed their outer garments, aware of Grant’s every step as he trailed in after the others. “Why did you come to the front door?”
Paulette set the carrier down and wriggled out of her dripping coat. Zak shrugged out of his slicker, grabbed his wife’s, and then offered them to Tara. “It’s a shorter distance from the street out front than to the back door.”
“Right. Come on in. Beth and Roxie are stirring up trouble, or rather dinner.” Tara took the others’ coats and hung them on a free-standing coat rack tucked in a nook along the hallway.
Grant came up behind her, reached around to hang his jacket on the last hook. “I’ve missed you.”
She spun around, lifting her gaze to meet his smile. “It’s only been half a day.”
“I know. Too long.” He kissed her, light and easy with the promise of much more to come.
She sighed with a smile on her lips. When he left, she’d only have these memories to keep him close. “Tempting me again, huh?”
“Always.” Grant chuckled, the sound reverberating in Tara’s chest pressed up to his.
“Behave.” Tara pushed him away from her, giving her space to breathe and chance for her pulse to calm.
“If you insist.” He winked at her.
“I do.” How else could she maintain her equilibrium in front of her family? Knowing the hours ticked away too fast for her peace of mind.
“Should we come back later?” Max asked with a smirk.
“Ignore Grant. Follow me.” Tara, cheeks flaming, led the way to the dining room. The urgent murmur from the kitchen drifted down the hall, punctuated by bursts of laughter. She paused at the door to the dining room. “I was just setting the table.”
“Staying out of the way?” Paulette held the carrier with both hands, little Pat’s eyes blinking awake as he yawned.
“Look at how adorable he is.” Tara pulled the pale yellow blanket away from the one-month-old baby’s face so she could see his cute nose and tiny mouth. A hat covered his head so she couldn’t see more than his round fac
e. “He’s growing so.”
“He eats enough, let me tell ya.” Paulette beamed with contentment and motherly pride. A good look for her.
Zak hefted the tote. “We brought wine. Where shall I put it?”
Tara straightened to regard Grant’s handsome brother. He’d been part of Roseville for little more than a month, but already had found employment as a chemical engineer for a local defense contractor. Like Grant, he’d only planned to visit for a spell, but Paulette had changed his mind. If only Tara could change Grant’s. A depressing thought when she hadn’t the heart to make him forego living in the kind of environment most pleasing to him. Love shouldn’t require such a huge sacrifice. Should it? Could she sacrifice living in Roseville to be with Grant in the city? Give up the comforting surroundings, memories, and people she’d depended on her entire life? At the moment, watching Grant meld with her family seamlessly, she thought maybe she could. Witnessing him laughing and teasing his brother, her heart swelled with love for the man.
“I’d say the kitchen, but you really don’t want to go there.” Tara pointed to the sideboard with a wave of her hand. “The sideboard works.”
“Want some help with the table?” Meredith scanned the room and then winked at Tara. “Busy hands are better than idle ones, our grandmother always said.”
“Us men folk will take Pat and get out of the way in the living room.” Max chuckled and glanced around the room. “Unless you need us to do something?”
“Nope. Shoo.” Tara grinned at the guys as they made good on Max’s plan.
“I’m happy to help, too.” Paulette rubbed her palms together. “What do you need me to do?”
Tara rattled off a short list of tasks and the three women set to work. Before many minutes had passed, the table was ready for the roasted turkey and all its trimmings. Tara surveyed the results and then ushered her cousins into the living room.
“Something smells good enough to eat.” Zak greeted her with a smile and a lift of the cocktail in his hand.
“I’m glad you’ve made yourselves at home.” Tara glanced to Grant, who shrugged. He’d become familiar with the lay of the house during his visits over the past few days. “Where’s mine?”