“Maybe not, but real guys do.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep telling myself that next time I go shopping and have to go up a size.”
He made a dismissive gesture, then wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. “What’s Jessy’s story?”
“Sadly, nothing you haven’t heard before. She and Aaron got married as soon as he graduated from Basic. He did a tour in Iraq, survived several times when he shouldn’t have and came home without a scratch. He was only two weeks from the end of a twelve-month rotation in Afghanistan when he was killed by a sniper.”
“Too bad.” He stared into his coffee. “What about Jeff?”
“Helicopter crash. Twenty-million dollars or more invested in equipment, weapons, and the training of the crew and troops onboard, and they were brought down by a single rocket-propelled grenade.”
“Sometimes that’s the way it goes,” Dane said softly.
“Such loss. Such heartbreak.” But—sorry, Jeff—she didn’t want to think about loss and heartbreak right now. “Do you know it’s supposed to snow tonight?”
He shook his head. “I don’t watch the news much.”
“An inch or more by morning, then probably in the seventies again on Monday. They say you can’t be sure winter’s gone here until the last part of April. Then I can start working in the yard.”
“You like that, huh? My grandmother planted a garden big enough for five families. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cursed every single weed to ever rise through the Texas soil. I got blistered, sunburned, covered with gnat and mosquito bites and had more than a few run-ins with snakes.”
“Aw, and you didn’t even get hazard pay for it.” It was easy to imagine him as a little boy, in overalls with a straw hat and barefooted, skin turned brown by the summer sun and always on the lookout for an escape from weed duty. Granted, overalls and straw hats were more likely from his father’s generation; for Dane, it had probably been a T-shirt, shorts, and disreputable sneakers.
Regardless of how he might have dressed, she liked the idea of him working, however unwillingly, at his grandmother’s behest.
“No hazard pay,” he agreed, “but there were rewards. The first ripe tomato of the season, still warm from the sun, with a little salt to sweeten it. Grandma’s new potatoes and green beans and her zucchini bread and homemade bread-and-butter pickles.”
There was an ease to his expression that didn’t show up often, but she was happy to see it. For a man who’d been through years of combat, life wasn’t as simple as it had been for that young weed-hating boy, but as long as he could remember the simpler times, he was all right. She believed that.
With a sigh that was more wistful than not, she nodded toward the front. “There’s a line at the door of people wanting our table. We should probably go.”
“And without even a piece of pie.”
She grinned as she shrugged into her jacket. “We can get it from Miss Patsy. She’s the cashier and Serena’s grandmother.”
They both reached for the check at the same time, their knuckles bumping. Carly’s fingertips were curled over one end. Dane held the other similarly. She tugged, but there was no give. “You paid for the pizza the other night.”
“I invited you out today.”
“I offered to buy you a cup of coffee.”
“But I didn’t accept.”
“Crossing the threshold into the restaurant and then ordering implies acceptance.” Faking a stumble, she grabbed for him with her other hand, then scooped up the bill when he released it to catch her. Swinging the strap of her purse over one shoulder, she gave him a broad grin before heading for the counter, circling around tables to avoid the family making a beeline for their booth.
“Can you add a couple of to-go desserts to the check, Miss Patsy? One pecan pie and…”
“Coconut cream pie.”
Carly loved coconut cream pie, and the meringues here rose six inches above the cream in towering peaks. She persuaded herself the pecan pie, so much smaller in volume, was also lower in calories, though sadly that didn’t make it true.
After swiping her debit card, then signing, she picked up the smaller foam carton Miss Patsy had retrieved from the counter, and they squeezed their way past patient diners huddled inside the door. As soon as she stepped outside and the wind rushing east down Main Street caught her with a faceful of fat snowflakes, she shuddered.
The snow was starting to stick to the ground. Thankfully, there was no ice under it. Put ice on the streets, and she’d be missing in action everywhere from church to school to the margarita club until it cleared.
When they reached the corner curb, Dane reached for her free hand to steady her on the slushy snow between them and the truck. A tiny smile curved her mouth. Her fingers were safe and warm inside Dane’s hand. It felt natural, when nothing between a man and a woman had been natural for her in a long time.
“Did you learn to ski while you were in Colorado?”
“Oh, no. Racing down a slick hill on sticks in the cold is not my idea of fun. What about you? Did you learn in Italy when you were with the Hundred Seventy-Third?”
“I did. So close to the Alps, how could I not? I was like an elephant on ice skates. I tried a half dozen times and took harder falls than the worst parachute landings I’d ever had. I decided I would stick with hiking the lower mountains in the summer, when I had relatively stable footing.” He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, his hand at her elbow steadying her on the slick running board.
The stiff leather of the seat made her shiver, the chill seeping through her jacket and pants. She set her pie on the console, then pressed her hands together between her knees. She imagined she could feel the warmth from Dane’s grip seeping slowly from one hand to the other.
In five minutes, eight tops, they would be at her house. A small sensation fluttered in her stomach. Her living room was a mess, but there was room to sit on the couch and eat dessert. Would asking him in seem pushy? After all, when he’d invited her to do something, he probably hadn’t intended to spend the entire afternoon and most of the evening with her. He might already have plans to meet his buddies at one of Tallgrass’s numerous bars or clubs. He could have a date. He could be tired of her.
She couldn’t think of anything to say as they drove slowly down Main to the cross street nearest her house. The snow was beautiful in the headlights, thick wet flakes that made the best snowballs and snowmen. She’d hardly blinked, it seemed, and they were turning onto Cimarron Street. Her house in the middle of the block was brightly lit by the lamp she’d left burning and the blinds she’d forgotten to close. It was a pretty place, not just a house but a home.
For one.
Dane turned into the driveway, and for a moment they both sat motionless and quiet. Then, abruptly, he shut off the engine and opened the door. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Go ahead and say it, Carly. “You want to come in for some coffee to go with that pie?” But the chill from the open door sapped her confidence. She couldn’t get the words out. Instead, with a tight smile, she picked up her own pie and slid from the truck, digging in her bag for her keys as she met him in the headlights.
She climbed the steps and went to the door, sliding the key in the lock.
Dane stopped at the edge of the top step. “Thanks. For dinner. Dessert. Your company.”
“You’re welcome.”
What was the protocol these days for kisses? Second date, third, fourth? Or, rather, meeting, since this wasn’t really a date. She’d known once, but that was a long time ago, and life had changed. Societal norms had changed.
But it turned out she didn’t need to know the protocol, because instead of moving toward her, Dane smiled politely. “I’ll see you.”
Realizing he was waiting for her to move, she opened the door, went inside and closed it. After turning the lock, she moved the few feet to the blinds and, as she twisted them shut, watched him walk to his truck
.
“Yeah,” she whispered to the empty house. “I’ll see you.”
And they weren’t just empty words. For the first time in ages, she was anticipating something other than the margarita club’s adventures. Something personal. Something with potential.
One thing she had in common with her family: she loved potential.
The snow stopped falling and started melting soon after the sun rose. Carly lay in bed, listening to the drips from the eaves. The lazy part of her wouldn’t have minded being snowed in this morning, puttering around in her pajamas and fuzzy house shoes until she got energetic enough to put on clothes and go shopping for paint.
But there wasn’t much point in trying when she knew Therese would be calling soon, offering to pick her up for church. Therese knew how much she dreaded driving on slick streets. Having grown up in Montana, her friend had no such qualms. She considered it a challenge: Point the car where she wanted to go, stomp down on the gas, and hold on for the ride.
Besides, even if Carly managed to convince Therese she was perfectly all right, just being a bit lazy, what would she do all morning? Cry over Jeff? Sigh over Dane?
Sliding her feet into her slippers, she pulled on an old sweat jacket of Jeff’s that she used for a robe, then shuffled to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and the last bite of pecan pie. It wasn’t enough to replace breakfast, so she glanced through the pantry before choosing—surprise—oatmeal, setting the water to boil while the coffee brewed.
She’d gotten little more than a sip of hazelnut-flavored coffee when her cell phone rang. Too early for Therese, so maybe…
It was embarrassingly juvenile how quickly her hopes could get raised.
“Hey, sweetheart, it’s Mom. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
A person could be forgiven, after a greeting like that, for thinking the caller was actually her mother. It wasn’t. For one thing, her mother made personal calls only between eight and nine p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays. Second, her mother believed everyone should arise at the break of dawn, as she did. Third, the only time her mother had ever used the words sweet and heart together were in the lab when she’d been given a prime human heart to study.
“No. I’m up,” she told Jeff’s mother, Mia. Bracing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she took both the mug and bowl into the living room, where the couch still occupied the middle of the room. “Just having breakfast.”
“You know, they have these other breakfast foods called ‘bacon and eggs’ and ‘pancakes with maple syrup.’ You should try them sometime. You might never go back to bland, tasteless oatmeal.”
“I might never go back to a regular-size clothing store again, either.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re beautiful the way you are.”
“Thank you, Mama Mia, perfect size two. How’s Pop?”
“He’s fine.”
“And you?”
“Oh, you know that old song. ‘Some days are diamonds. Some days are stone.’”
Carly didn’t know the song, but she could embrace the sentiment.
“Juanita announced at book club yesterday that her daughter’s expecting her third child this summer. That’ll make eight grandkids for the old hag, and it just made me feel a little blue.”
“I’m sorry, Mia.” Carly regretted she and Jeff hadn’t tossed the birth control right after she’d tossed the bride’s bouquet, but he’d been heading off to Basic, and she’d still had a year of school left. They hadn’t been ready to become parents.
Now they could never be parents and Mia and Pop could never be grandparents.
Mia laughed shakily. “Aw, honey, I’m sorry I even brought it up. It’s just that Juanita has always gotten on my last nerve, and Phil’s out of town until tonight. He invited me to go along, but seriously? Three days in a cramped boat fishing, eating what we catch, sleeping in tents, and not bathing? Uh-uh. This girl is way too smart for that. So what’s new with you?”
The image of Dane flashed into Carly’s mind, and she deliberately pushed it right back out. Mia had assured her she wouldn’t be alone forever, that she would find someone else not to replace Jeff but to love just as well. She had promised Carly and her second prince would live long and happily, having pretty little girls and handsome little boys.
But there was a huge difference between a future possibility and Mia, I’ve met someone.
“I’m going to paint the living room.”
“Good for you. I hope it’s something wild and wonderful. We should be surrounded by bright cheerful colors.”
“It is. Burnt orange walls and cream trim.”
“Yum, sounds like the holidays. Send me pictures when you’re done.” A clock chimed in the background, and Mia sighed. “Well, darlin’, I’d better get ready for church. Imagine yourself getting a big hug from all of us Lowrys. Love you, girl.”
“Love you, too.” Carly set the phone down, then wrapped her fingers around the insulated coffee mug. At the moment, she did feel comfortingly hugged. Then she wondered again how in the world she would tell Mia about Dane.
“First,” she announced as she stood up, “there’s got to be something about Dane to justify telling. A real date? A hug, a kiss, a commitment? Maybe even sex.”
Sex. It had been so long. She and Jeff had spent as much as possible of their last few days together, making love, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. She’d been all out of tears when she’d gone to the post with him that last morning. The unit had loaded up on the buses that took them to Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma City for the flight out, then she’d gone to work, pretending that her heart wasn’t breaking.
Since then…she had plenty of memories to keep her warm.
And maybe Mama Mia was right. Maybe this thing with Dane would continue to develop. Maybe he would be the man to join Jeff in her heart.
Or maybe he was just the catalyst that would propel her toward that man.
She let herself imagine a future where she wasn’t lonely and lost, only to be brought back to the present by the trill of the cell phone. “Margaritaville.” “Morning, Therese.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Carly recalled the snow cover she’d seen from the kitchen window while the coffee brewed and shuddered. “I’d rather have sunshine and a warm beach, but it could be worse.”
“You’re a wuss, Carly Lowry. We’ll be by to pick you up in forty minutes. Don’t make me wait in the van with two unhappy kids one minute longer than necessary.”
Carly could practically see her friend shaking her finger in warning. While science had ruled in the Anderson household, there had never been a time in Therese’s life that she didn’t attend church. Carly hadn’t begun going herself until she’d married Jeff, and neither Abby nor Jacob had gone until Therese had come into their lives. Carly wasn’t sure what the two kids got out of it, if anything, unless the tenets of Christianity could be absorbed by osmosis, but she admired Therese for not backing down on her beliefs, no matter how difficult the kids could be.
“I’ll be ready. Be careful.”
“I do my best.”
“That’s all any of us can do, isn’t it?” Without waiting for a response, she said, “I’ll be waiting with my boots on.”
“Good. And you can have dinner with us after church and fill me in on your weekend. See you.” The last dozen words had a singsong quality.
Uh-oh. Sounded like Jessy had talked. The pint-size tattletale. Carly had better make sure to protect more than just her feet.
Therese loved the peace she felt every time she stepped inside the sanctuary—any sanctuary. It reminded her that she was never alone, that God was always there to help her and to shoulder her burdens when she couldn’t. Sometimes, she thought with a sidelong glance at Abby and Jacob, He seemed to think she was stronger than she really was. That was one place she wouldn’t mind a little bit more of the shouldering and a little less of the being there.
Then, as the kids split to go sit with the
ir respective friends, she murmured a silent apology. Don’t mind me, God. It’s just been a long week.
Carly slipped into their usual pew, about a third from the rear. Therese took off her coat, but left her scarf and gloves on. The large room was rarely completely warm in winter, but she wouldn’t trade its soaring ceiling and high-set stained-glass windows for anything.
“How are the kids?” Carly leaned over and whispered in Therese’s ear.
Therese smiled at a neighbor three rows up. “Abby caught Jacob snooping in her room last night. She still hates me, but now she hates him, too.”
“Snooping for what?”
“Batteries, he says, and I actually believe him. If his electronics went dead, God forbid, he’d have to check into the real world for a while. Of course, he could have asked me for them, but that would have meant coming downstairs and actually talking to me.”
“Do you think it would be easier if they were really your children?” Carly asked, then quickly went on, “Not because they would be of your blood, but because you would have grown up with them. You would have shared their entire history, from birth to now.”
“It must be. Otherwise, parents raising their own kids would be about to plunge off the deep end.” She nodded toward a family across the aisle and closer to the front. “The McAfees would have long since been committed somewhere.” Burt and Joyce McAfee sat together, with their six children, ages eleven to nineteen, filling the row beside them.
The kids were neatly dressed, well behaved. The older ones helped the younger ones with their Bible study, and they participated in everything as a family. Rumor had it that they actually preferred each other’s company over others’.
Therese couldn’t imagine the instance when Jacob would choose her over his games or Abby over anyone else in the universe.
Sullen. That was about the best behavior she ever saw from them. And not just the typical teenager sullenness that would pass as they matured, but the traumatic-life-damaged-forever kind.
Please, God, help me with them.
A Hero to Come Home To Page 11