In a Moon Smile

by Coner, Sherri

  Chesney‘s mind traveled back to the framed photographs on Grace’s bedroom walls and bedside table, photos of herself with her son smiling happily on her lap.

  “For years, your grandmother feared that people might assume she was never married at all,” Ben said. “So when I came along, she was too embarrassed to reveal our relationship to the community.”

  “Because legally, she was still married...” Chesney said.

  “Exactly,” Ben nodded. “Gracie was a fine woman, a very respectable lady.”

  “Yes.” Tears stung Chesney’s eyes.

  “So I went along with her wishes,” Ben shrugged. “Through the years, I tried a few times to talk about the new generation. I tried to explain to Grace that she didn’t need to live in shame, not for the failed marriage to Richard and certainly not about our relationship. But she wouldn't hear anything different. Stubborn woman, your grandmother.”

  Ben smiled and the love in his eyes made Chesney swallow hard. It was tender, gentle, beautiful love. “How did you meet Grace?”

  “I stocked her pond with fish,” Ben said. “She offered me a glass of sun tea. We sat on the back porch and I was in love before my glass was empty. That was more than twenty years ago.”

  Conjuring up a perfect picture of Grace and Ben together on the porch was not a struggle at all. She imagined Grace, wearing one of her cotton print dusters and a straw hat. Ben, sitting there quietly falling in love like a perfect gentleman.

  “Did she love you, too?” Chesney asked.

  “Very much,” Ben smiled. “We were crazy about each other. We made an effort to play, to enjoy life. In fact, we often danced in the kitchen. You remember that big stereo she kept in the parlor? Yes, we often played music and had ourselves quite a few wonderful dances. We laughed all the time. And we rowed that old boat around on the pond and talked for hours.”

  The sadness in Ben’s voice made Chesney feel weak, and so very sorry for his heart.

  “Before I met Gracie, I was alone for several years,” he said. “When my children were young, my wife passed away. And a long time ago, I gave up hope that I would ever love again. But when I met Grace, well, it was like my chest opened up and I was alive all over again.”

  His voice was filled with so much emotion that Chesney was suddenly sobbing. Ben patted her back while she hid her face in her hands. He simply waited, never mentioning the hot tears flowing down her face. “You attended her funeral,” Chesney said when she regained some composure.

  Ben nodded sadly.

  “I saw you there,” She timidly touched his hand. “I saw the pain on your face. I heard you whisper that you loved her. But you were gone so quickly. And I never knew who you were.”

  “I thought I would die that day when I found her.” Big tears dripped over Ben's face. He shamelessly allowed them to dribble down his wrinkled cheeks as he folded his hands and stared at the ground. “We had a plan that day to go for a picnic at Brown County Park. For some reason, Chesney, I woke up that morning with an awful feeling. When I turned down the lane at Chesney Ridge, that bad feeling got worse. The closer I got to the front porch, the stronger the bad feeling got.” He stopped talking for a moment, removed a neatly folded hankie from the breast pocket of his shirt and dabbed at his beautiful blue eyes. “When Grace didn't answer, I opened the door. I called her name. Nothing. Even though my knees were shaking so bad I could hardly stand up, I went up the stairs to find her.”

  He stopped again to wipe his nose and Chesney put her arm protectively around the old man's fragile shoulders. She breathed in the scent of him, fresh soap and that musky smell of too many years of pain. She leaned against his shoulder.

  “There she was,” his voice broke. Chesney’s heart hurt, hearing Ben relive such a painful experience. “She was still in bed with her reading glasses on her chest. She looked like she was sleeping. And she looked like a sweet little angel.”

  A sob erupted from Chesney’s throat. She wanted to know. But yet the vivid images of Grace’s death made her feel overcome all over again with grief.

  “I took my shoes off and got on the bed beside her,” Ben said as sobs threatened to take away his voice. “I dreamed for years about making Gracie my wife someday. I dreamed so many times about sleeping every night with Gracie in my arms. So I just couldn't let her go without at least knowing what it would have been like. I wanted to lie beside her on the bed, even though she was gone and even though it was for only a few moments.” Ben was sobbing again and Chesney held him. Her own tears dribbled down the neckline of her sundress. Under the morning sun, they huddled together on the bench, crying for the woman they both loved so dearly but so differently.

  “I'm so grateful that you were in Grace’s life,” Chesney whispered. “I thought she lived her life alone. And that thought has haunted me forever.”

  “I loved her very much,” Ben sniffed. “She was the most wonderful woman I've ever known. Since the day I lost my little Gracie, I have been ready to leave this world. I don't want to be here without her. It's too lonely.”

  A few moments of silence passed. Ben struggled to stand, leaning heavily on his cane. He smiled at Chesney and again, those blue eyes filled her with questions she couldn’t yet ask. Ben’s eyes matched Dalton Moore's eyes.

  “Your eyes are Gracie's eyes,” Ben said softly. “Thank goodness for that. I look at you, honey, and I see a part of her. You have those same gray eyes. I imagine your family talks about that a lot, don’t they?”

  Sure they do, Ben, when they aren’t criticizing me or laughing at my stupid choices.

  She stood and touched the side of his face. She said nothing about Ben's eyes being the same as her handyman's eyes. She would sound crazy. “I'm so glad you and Grace loved each other. You don't know how grateful I am to hear your story. Grace deserved you, Ben. She deserved a heart exactly like yours.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Ben said. “Maybe I'll see you again one day.”

  “Why don't you visit me at the house?” Chesney said quickly. “We'll sit outside on the porch swing and talk. Winter's coming soon, you know. So don't wait too long before you visit.”

  Ben leaned in and tenderly kissed her cheek. “Maybe I will,” he said. “It might be nice to visit Chesney Ridge again. Gracie loved that place, you know.”

  Then he turned and slowly made his way across the cemetery.

  As Chesney drove home, she couldn’t stop wiping tears away. Now the story was complete. She would carefully put it away in her heart. She didn’t plan to discuss the love affair with anyone but Becca. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her dad or anyone else in the family. It felt too much like betrayal of Grace’s secrets.

  Once back at the house, Chesney walked into the kitchen, which was empty except for little Blossom who bounded through the house as soon as she heard the back door open. “Good morning, little girl,” Chesney cooed as she hugged Blossom close.

  She heard Dalton moving around upstairs and guessed that he was probably busy tiling the bathroom. She could hardly wait to see the transformation. When her cell phone rang, Chesney remembered that she still hadn’t called Charlotte. Her sister was likely on the line with a snippy attitude. But it was her agent calling. And the moment Chesney heard the happiness in Gloria’s voice, she sighed, relieved.

  “Chesney, we love the draft,” Gloria said cheerfully. “I could hardly wait to call you. I don't know how you did it. But this book has a totally different flavor. It's absolutely wonderful.”

  Chesney muttered a rather sheepish thank you which was ignored by Gloria. “John Peoni and I discussed this yesterday,” Gloria spluttered. “We were thinking about the initial book cover designs. We've decided none of those are appropriate.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Chesney asked as she kicked off her sandals, walked into the parlor and curled up on the couch with Blossom.

  “John wants to totally rework the cover. And we both want you to sit for a new portrait shot for the back cover,�
�� Gloria said. “I know you're caught up in renovations, darling. But is there any possibility that you could fly in for a day or two?”

  A trip to New York? She considered leaving her home, her puppy, her handyman.

  No, Gloria. I don’t want to leave. I would probably go into withdrawal if I had to be so far away from Dalton, my dream boyfriend.

  “Chesney?” Gloria’s voice jerked her back to the moment.

  I’m happy to do it,” Chesney lied. “Let me just scribble a note for myself about what John has in mind.” As Gloria babbled on, Chesney barely participated in the conversation. “Okay then. I look forward to seeing you and John in a couple of days.”

  As Chesney tried to end the call, Gloria added, “John and I are so excited for you. We believe this book will easily develop into a series. You’ve got a real winner on your hands. Life in the country must be doing magic for you.”

  After they said good-bye, Chesney stared at the stillness of the room. “I don’t want to go.” She shuffled up the stairs to make flight reservations on the computer. “What in the hell is wrong with me?” she muttered as she printed the flight information. She turned in her office chair to stare out the window. “Snap out of it,” Chesney said loudly.

  “Whoa, that great mood you were in this morning has left town,” Dalton stuck his head in the office doorway. “Is everything okay?”

  She smiled at him, “Is it that noticeable that I’m throwing myself a little temper tantrum?” She tried to avoid those gorgeous eyes and all the questions she wanted to ask about them. “My agent called. I have to go to New York for a few days.”

  “And that’s not what you want?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I’m not really in the mood. I wanted to get all this work done. But I guess if I have to go, it’s best to go before winter. I will only be there for two or three days. I don’t know, I just don’t feel like going.”

  “Don’t worry about anything,” Dalton smiled. “I’ll look after Blossom while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks,” she smiled again, noting that Dalton was again showing that he was a good friend. If he never became anything else, at least she had his friendship.

  “I’ll get going for today,” he said. “I’ve got most of the tile done in the upstairs bathroom. Tomorrow, I’ll finish that.”

  “Sounds good,” Chesney pretended to search through a file so she could hide the disappointment. The very thought of the handyman leaving so early made her mood even darker. “Why don’t I want to go to New York?” She asked herself as she watched Dalton drive away. “I should be ecstatic about my new book. And I haven’t seen my old friends for months. I thought I would welcome a chance to visit everyone again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  How long had it been since she wore one of these stuffy outfits? She frowned at the assortment of pencil skirts, frilly blouses and pumps. Where were those cute wedges she bought last year? Should she search through the boxes on the top shelf to find bracelets and diamond earrings? Chesney was surprised to see how life in the country crept into her identity while she wasn't looking. Before she ever bothered to pay attention, she had developed into a totally different type of woman. For the first time ever, Chesney dreaded wiggling into one of the linen shifts. As she considered accessories and high heels, her mood plummeted.

  “I might have to wear these horrible clothes when I meet with Gloria. But I refuse to travel in something so confining.” She grabbed a favorite cotton sundress then returned it to the closet. “You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered. “You can’t go to New York looking like the county fair queen. Stop being such a baby.” Still frowning, Chesney chose a crisp white blouse and a short, coral skirt for tomorrow’s flight. In the luggage, she added a black dress with black sandals for the photo shoot and a fun, strapless red dress for dinner on the town with old friends, Leanna and Margaret. At the last minute, a crocheted tunic and a pair of worn, comfortable jeans was added to the mix. Maybe she would find time to walk around the city.

  “My heart isn't in this at all, Blossom.” She cuddled the pup as she made the confession. “I want to be here, where I feel safe. I want to be here, where I can secretly lust after Dalton Moore.” After tossing a few cosmetics into the bag, she zipped it closed and brushed her hair before heading down the stairs. With Blossom nipping playfully at the strap on the luggage, Chesney nearly slipped and fell the rest of the way down the stairs. She nearly collided with Dalton in the parlor.

  “Yes, you look cute in shorts and T-shirts. And paint,” he smiled. “But this is the second time in only a few days when I’ve seen you wear a dress. You look very nice. You look like you will fit right in when you get to the Big Apple.” His eyes traveled quickly over her hair, which fell in long loose curls past her shoulders. He then scanned her muscular, tan legs. Chesney pretended not to see Dalton’s long stare.

  “I’ll feed Blossom while you’re away,” Dalton reminded as he carried Chesney’s bag outside to the porch.

  “That will be great,” she said stiffly. “I'll be home in two days. Thanks again for your help, Dalton.”

  “It’s not too late, you know,” Dalton said as he followed Chesney toward the car she rarely drove. “I would be happy to drive you to the airport if you’ve changed your mind.” It was maybe the third time he had offered since yesterday.

  She smiled at the thought of spending nearly two hours with him during the drive north to the airport, two wonderful hours in the same vehicle with this beautiful man. But she didn't want to love that time alone with Dalton. She refused to develop more emotional attachment. She guessed that staying away from him more might be the only way to save herself from falling even deeper into all these odd feelings. Most of all, Chesney wanted to protect herself against more disappointment and humiliation. So she graciously refused his offer. “I’ll just leave my car at the airport, but thank you.” She opened the car door, tossed the bag into the backseat and drove down the lane, cursing herself for the stupid feelings in her chest.

  She wanted Dalton Moore to kiss her good-bye before she left. How crazy was that? No matter how often she scolded herself about this situation, Chesney could not stop herself from waiting every morning for him to arrive. She still dreamed about him, still fought off those lusty thoughts. She wanted to be with him. She wanted him more every day.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When he could no longer see Chesney’s car as she slowly drove down the lane, Dalton sighed and brushed a couple of layers of sawdust off his shirt. He stood on the porch for a few more moments, soaking up the morning sun. He was left once again in her shadow, feeling disappointed. He wanted Chesney to allow him to drive her to the airport. During that two-hour drive, he intended to move past the countless discussions about tile and wainscoting, attic fans, wallpaper. He had hoped for an opportunity to show the spunky Ms. Blake the other side of who he is. But hell, Chesney shut him down once again. She wouldn’t give him a chance. She was so damn stubborn and so fiercely independent. Without a doubt, that beautiful little spitfire lived up to the stereotype of a person with red hair.

  He smiled to himself and shook his head. Then he went back to work, intending to complete the library bookcase before Chez returned from New York. He loved how her face lit up with a wonderfully simple kind of joy. Every time either of them completed a project, Chesney reacted that way. He sometimes thought about grabbing her and kissing her during one of those celebratory moments. But he knew better than to surprise the hothead in that way. Chesney would probably slap him. He knew damn well that she saw him admire her clothing and her lovely body. He certainly made it obvious enough. But she wouldn’t budge. He didn’t know what else to do. So Dalton made a conscious effort to clear the image of his sexy employer from his mind.

  While he measured and cut shelves from the wood, Dalton bantered back and forth in his head. He would never confess this fact to another human being. But yes, he stretched two-day projects into two weeks. He did it so he coul
d spend more time at Chesney Ridge. He thought about Chesney all day. Well, that was an understatement. He didn’t only think about Chesney Blake, he ached for her. It was a terrible situation. But at the same time, Dalton could not remember when he last felt so sure of his heart. One moment he was frightened of being rejected by her. But a moment later, he could convince himself that fate was at work. He just needed some patience.

  One of these days, the perfect time would come around. The perfect words would eloquently leave his mouth. And the perfect woman would suddenly realize that she wanted her handyman to be much more than a friend. He tried to find moments to somehow be closer to her, but Chesney sprinted right past his attempts. Every time he tried to help her, such as offering to climb a ladder so she didn’t have to, Chesney drop kicked his damn manhood and handed it to him with a smile. Yesterday he finally offered a dinner invitation and when she flatly refused, Dalton was crushed.

  “Any other guy would get the point,” he muttered under his breath as he again fired up the saw to cut the shelves. “But not me. I don’t have enough sense to walk away and forget about her.”

  At the end of the day, Dalton loaded a few tools in the back of his truck. As he made his way home, he wondered where Chesney might be and what she was doing at this exact moment. He thought about Becca’s promise, that Chesney was indeed interested in him. If that was true, then Chesney was playing the worst game of hard-to-get. Since that early summer day when day he laid eyes on that sweet face, Dalton knew he was in over his head. At first, he was amused by Chesney’s actions and odd little quirks. Every time he recalled unusual moments, such as the day she angrily threw her cell phone into the yard then fell through the porch, he laughed out loud. He was crazy about Chesney Blake’s colorful spirit.

  Working to renovate this beautiful old homestead was as important to him as it was to Chesney, but he never dared to share that fact. She might ask too many questions. At first, Dalton fought the realization that he felt a lot more than amusement for Chesney. Of course he hadn’t planned for that to happen, at least not so quickly, anyway. He made all kinds of efforts to get past the growing feelings. But Chesney Blake and her impossible attitude dug into his heart like a tick. When she wasn’t excited about the trip to New York, he was thrilled. Since she wasn’t happy about leaving Bean Blossom, it meant she would be back.