A Promise of Forever

by Marilyn Pappano

  “Your head is just filled with trivial information, isn’t it?”

  She flashed him a smile. “It’s good that you said trivial rather than useless. That will earn you points in bed tonight.”

  A few hours later, with another game in the win column for the Drillers, Ben cashed in those points. Afterward, in the cool stillness of the bedroom, with nothing between them but steady breathing, he spoke. “You met Patricia when she and George were…”

  “Dating. Falling in love.” Avi’s hair brushed like silk across his arm as she snuggled in closer. “Yes. She was happy, Ben, in this lighthearted, beaming, it’s-a-wonderful-world sort of way. Like me these last couple weeks.”

  He nuzzled her hair in acknowledgment but didn’t stray from the subject. “Didn’t she feel at least a little guilt?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know, Doc. I was ten years old, and all I saw was a beautiful woman and a handsome man who were totally smitten with each other.”

  “Smitten,” he repeated, thinking of Sara’s use of the word whoopee. “Who uses smitten these days?”

  “I do,” she replied haughtily. “It’s a lovely word that says it all perfectly.”

  After a moment, she went on. “I’m sure she felt guilty, Ben. She loved you guys. Part of her still loved your father. Take it from me: A person can feel guilty as hell without anyone knowing it. I’m sure Patricia wished she felt that sort of passion for your father. She didn’t want to break up her family, to give up having you and your sisters in her life. But what she felt for George, what he felt for her…It was beautiful. And complicated.”

  He and Avi were complicated, too. He didn’t want to be. He wanted everything simple and straightforward: fall in love, get married, make a home, raise a family, live a long happy life. But what kind of life would he have if he got everything he wanted?

  A perfect one, at the moment.

  He stroked her stomach where his fingers rested, the skin soft and smooth and warm and, after their day at the lake, a deep caramelly gold. “What do you feel guilty about, gorgeous?”

  She was still a long time, her breathing steady but shallow. He was starting to think he’d asked one too many personal questions when she spoke. “I don’t think it’s possible to be in a combat zone when someone gets killed and not feel guilty. It’s just all so random. Five vehicles pass on a road, and the sixth gets blown up by an IED. A couple of people are walking across the base, and a sniper kills one of them. A mortar blows up this tent, not that one. Someone takes his buddy’s place on patrol, and he’s the only one who dies, when he shouldn’t have even been there. It’s hard not to think Why them? Why not me? Why did I survive when the person twenty-five feet away died?”

  Ben couldn’t offer any answers to her questions. He couldn’t say it was because she was special; every casualty’s family thought the same thing. He couldn’t say she was spared because she had things to accomplish, gifts to offer; so did everyone who died. He couldn’t say she survived because she was lucky, because it wasn’t her time. Even if it was true, an answer that simple wouldn’t offer any comfort.

  All he could do was hold her a little tighter, maybe make her feel a little more secure, and know he didn’t give a damn why she survived. He was just glad she did.

  * * *

  Thursday morning, after her parents had left for work, Avi changed into running clothes, hooked up Sundance’s leash, and headed out for a jog. Theoretically, for her, Labor Day had always meant the change from summer to fall; the weather cooled, school started, football games were on the schedule; thoughts of wiener roasts tempted, with fat, charred marshmallows slowly melting off their sticks; she began anticipating Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas.

  Three days post Labor Day, if it was cooler, she couldn’t tell. So even though she’d planned a run, she was happy to keep her pace to the quickest walk Sundance would allow. Given that the puppy felt the need to sniff every tree, street sign, and fence that might conceal a dog, it was more of a snail’s crawl.

  As they approached Patricia’s house, Avi’s steps slowed. Parked in the driveway was a vehicle she’d never actually seen in person but had seen plenty of pictures of. George’s ’65 Mustang had been meticulously restored, down to the Rangoon Red paint job. It was the only car he had ever owned, purchased used the day he’d turned sixteen. It was his baby, and a real beauty.

  “Hey, sweet girl.” Patricia came down the porch steps, purse strap over one shoulder. “I was about to come by your house and bring you back here, and there you are. How lucky can I get?”

  Avi let Sundance pull her off the sidewalk and across the grass. She looked a mess next to her friend. Patricia wore pale lavender pants and a perfectly matched striped blouse, with her hair styled and her makeup expertly applied. She believed in always looking her best, for herself, for George, for any soul who happened to see her.

  Avi, on the other hand, wore ratty clothes, sloppy hair, and only hoped her socks and shoes matched, and she hadn’t seen the point of putting on makeup to go for a run.

  “You could have called, and I would have walked over. What’s up?”

  Patricia dug through her purse, then offered a leather key chain. The brown leather was embossed with a rearing mustang, and two keys dangled from it. “Welcome home. Merry Christmas. Happy birthday.”

  Avi accepted the keys with a frown. “I don’t…”

  Patricia pulled her to the Mustang. “I was there, remember, when George told you he wanted you to have the car when he was gone. I wanted to get it tuned up, checked out, washed, and waxed before I gave it to you. But here it is, in A-one condition and with a full tank of gas.”

  Avi stared at the immaculate interior, soft black leather and carpet, and her fingers curled over the keys as her eyes grew damp. “Oh, Patricia, I can’t. You should give it to one of your own kids.”

  “I have three. They’d fight over it. Besides, they weren’t George’s kids.” Patricia gently wiped away a tear sliding down Avi’s cheeks. “You were the closest he ever got to a daughter, Avi. He loved you, honey, you know that. He wanted you to have it, and so do I.”

  Only vaguely aware that she was rubbing her fingers across the leather of the driver’s seat, Avi still protested. “This car is a classic, Patricia. It’s got to be worth a nice bit of money.”

  “I don’t care about the money. I care about knowing that George’s wish was carried out. Please take it, Avi, and enjoy it the way he wanted you to.” A cajoling tone came into her voice. “C’mon, it’s make-a-widow-happy day.”

  The voice saying no inside her shushed as Avi hugged Patricia tightly. “I’m honored to have it. Thank you.”

  Patricia patted her back. “He was honored to be part of your life, honey.”

  Avi surreptitiously wiped her eyes, then asked, “Can you come and take a ride with me?”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment.”

  Concern rippled through Avi. “Are you okay?”

  “I couldn’t be better. You met Fia Monday, didn’t you?” She waited for Avi’s nod. “It’s actually her appointment. Her health has been declining since early this year, and she can’t get a straight answer from the doctors, so Jessy and I are going with her today. Fia’s so sweet and timid and exhausted these days. They find it easy to brush her off. But I’m a colonel’s wife, and I don’t take brush-offs well, and Jessy’s a steel magnolia who will get answers if she has to go to the very top of the chain of command—and, yes, I mean the Chief of Staff of the United States Army himself.”

  “Fia’s very lucky to have you guys on her side.”

  “I think so, too, but I’m biased.” Patricia’s smile faded. “Honestly, Avi, these girls saved my life. They’re the strongest, most compassionate women I’ve ever known. They’ve cried with me and laughed with me and listened to me endlessly talk. They didn’t even know me, other than Lucy, but they were there when we buried George, and they’ve shown me that life goes on. I’m bless
ed to have them, and I hope to be a blessing to them in return.”

  Avi hugged her again. “Well, you’ve certainly been a blessing to me.”

  “And you to me.” Patricia smiled slyly. “And to my son, as well. So tell me quick before I go: Do you have a doctor’s appointment of your own this evening?”

  “I do.”

  Avi didn’t know what emotion crossed her face, but Patricia cradled it in both her hands. “Love works miracles, honey. I’ve seen it so many times. You and Ben…just don’t give up too soon.” Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to Avi’s forehead. “Now I’ve got to rush across town to Fia’s apartment. Jessy is picking us up there, and frankly, when she’s in warrior woman mode, she scares me a bit. I don’t want to be late. Love you, honey.”

  “Love you, too.” Avi watched her get into her car, back out, then drive away. Slowly she turned to the Mustang, its top down ready for a drive. Preferably sans Sundance, who had a little thing about drooling with her head out the window.

  She circled the car, admiring every little detail, and decided to risk letting Sundance in for the short ride home. The puppy was a perfect lady, sitting tall in the seat, ears flapping, drool not flowing. At home, she ran ahead to the front door, racing to the kitchen for a drink, while Avi headed upstairs. An hour later, showered, changed into a nice outfit that matched, with her hair neatly braided and makeup in place, she disappointed the dog by leaving without her.

  There were a half dozen cars in the nursery parking lot, with another two out back beside her parents’ cars. She parked next to a display of mums in vibrant fall colors, including a russet shade that made her itch for a plot of dirt. Maybe she could fill the tiny balcony of her apartment back in Augusta with giant pots of them; maybe that would be enough to satisfy the yearning.

  She found her mom watering hanging baskets, and together they located her dad in the office. “What brings you by, kiddo?” he asked, looking at her over the reading glasses his computer work required.

  “I want to take you and Mom to lunch.”

  Her parents exchanged looks. “Hmm. Wonder what prompted that,” Beth said, tapping her index finger against her lips. “Couldn’t be because you’re going to miss dinner with us again tonight in favor of seeing Ben instead.”

  “Nah, can’t be that,” Neil agreed. “Couldn’t be because she’s suddenly missing us, could it?”

  Beth shrugged. “Couldn’t be because she has a new car she wants to show off, could it?”

  Avi gave her a chastening look. “Do you and Patricia talk every single day?”

  “Sometimes twice a day,” Beth replied with a grin. “She told us Monday she was getting it ready for you. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  Gorgeous. She could almost hear Ben’s voice from last night and she blushed a little. “Absolutely. Can you guys go?”

  “Sure,” Neil agreed. He saved the file he was working on and closed the computer, called to Linda that they were going out for a while, then followed Avi and her mom to the Mustang. “Man, I have good memories of this car. I’ve got to admit, one of the first things I liked about George was the car. It was every guy’s fantasy, at least every guy I knew.”

  “And here I thought I was your fantasy,” her mom retorted before opening the passenger door and stepping into the backseat.

  Avi rolled her eyes. “Please, your child is listening. Dad, you want to drive?”

  He looked tempted for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ve driven it my share, and I’m sure you’ll give me another chance.”

  Secretly happy he’d turned her down, Avi slid behind the wheel. “Okay, where are we going?”

  “I vote for Bubba’s.”

  Avi twisted to face Beth, surprised that her mother even knew of the place. Avi had heard of it for the first time herself Monday evening, when the margarita girls were talking about the appeal of cowboys, and it hadn’t sounded like the sort of place her fifty-something mother would be the least bit interested in. “Bubba’s? That’s a cowboy bar, Mom.”

  “I have been to a few bars in my lifetime, little girl. Besides, they have the best burgers in town. They have an onion burger—the Oklahoma kind, you know, with heaps of onions mashed in with the meat while it cooks—that’s incredible.”

  An onion burger did sound good. It had been so many years since she’d had a genuine one that it would be depressing to add them up. “All right, Bubba’s it is.” With a smile for the sweet rumble of the powerful engine, she pulled out of the parking lot and pointed the Mustang west.

  * * *

  Lucy had just taken her lunch bag from the shelf behind her desk when her office door swung open and three of her favorite margarita sisters sashayed inside—at least, as much as Fia was able to sashay. Pleasure warmed her from the outside in. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Little Sister had a doctor’s appointment,” Jessy said, “and we came to make sure it went well.”

  “Did it?”

  “We kicked ass and took names,” Jessy boasted.

  “Well, Jessy did,” Fia added.

  Patricia stood between the two women, her arms around their waists. “Before the doctor even had a chance to dismiss Fia’s complaints, Jessy informed him of our reason for being there and laid out exactly what we expected of him. He turned as pale as a ghost, bobbed his head, and swore he wouldn’t give up until he finds out what’s wrong.”

  “She was scary, Lucy,” Fia said, grinning broadly. “To be so short, she makes one hell of an impression.”

  Jessy preened under the praise. Even being short—the same height as Lucy—she looked pretty darn impressive in white blouse, black pants, and four-inch heels. Add in the forcefulness of her personality, and Fia had the best advocate she could ask for.

  Leaving her chair, Lucy circled the desk and hugged them. It came naturally with Patricia and Fia; they were used to giving and receiving hugs. Jessy had never been as touchy-feely as the rest of them, but she was getting better. “I’m proud of you all.”

  “Thank you. Now put that salad away”—Patricia gestured toward the small lunch cooler Lucy hadn’t opened yet—“and come dine with us. We’re going to Sage—my treat. Are you in?”

  Sage was one of Tallgrass’s newer restaurants, and one that didn’t fall into Lucy’s budget except maybe for a special occasion. She couldn’t possibly turn down such an invitation. “Let me get my purse.” She grabbed it from the lower desk drawer, stuck the salad back on the shelf, and followed the others outside. Stopping in the open door across the hallway, she said, “Hey, Jane, I’m going to lunch.”

  “I’ll pick up your calls,” the other secretary replied with a wave.

  They took the elevator to the first floor, then Jessy strode ahead to the double doors. “I can walk to the car,” Fia said with a bit of a grumble in her voice, but Jessy’s only response was a wave over her head. There was a hint of relief in Fia’s eyes. “I hate being such a burden.”

  “You’re not a burden,” Lucy and Patricia declared at the same time.

  Patricia offered more reassurance while Lucy thought about how hard all this was for Fia. She was the youngest of the margarita sisters and, until recently, had been the fittest. She worked as a personal trainer, though her bad days now outnumbered the good. She’d worked out hard, not just because she had to be strong and buff for her job but because she truly loved the effort, the results, the energy invested, and the energy gained in return.

  Then she’d hurt her leg. Next it was her foot. After that her arm. Fatigue became a problem. She lost weight. Sometimes she couldn’t drive. Sometimes she could hardly stand. She’d had to cut back her hours at the gym and move to a first-floor apartment. She didn’t have any family besides the margarita club to count on. And, until today, none of the doctors she’d seen had taken her seriously.

  Lucy hoped this new doctor liked a challenge and hadn’t just said what Jessy and Patricia wanted to hear.

  As Jessy pulled up under the portico in Dal
ton’s pickup truck, a smile curved Lucy’s mouth. If the doctor had just been bluffing them, he was in for a very rude awakening, because he hadn’t seen anything until he’d seen Jessy Lawrence with her hair on fire.

  * * *

  Ben was tired when he stepped out of the Spine and Orthopedic Center at Hillcrest into the muggy evening. He’d changed into shorts since Avi was picking him up to go to dinner. He was scanning the street for her father’s pickup when a whistle sounded to his left. Sitting in the drive was a vintage red Mustang convertible, and driving it was—

  He walked over to the car and rubbed one hand over the polished chrome. “Nice car, gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, Doc. Hop in and we’ll take it for a spin.”

  He opened the door and slid inside, settling comfortably into well-worn leather, giving the restoration an appreciative look. “I never really considered what kind of car you would drive, but this suits you perfectly.”

  “I was never this imaginative. I had a Honda, a VW, then a Nissan. When I deployed last year, I sold the car rather than leave it in storage, so shopping for another one was going to be first on my to-do list when I got to Fort Gordon.”

  “But you came across this beauty and couldn’t resist?”

  She checked to make sure there was no one waiting behind them, then turned to face him. “Actually, this was George’s. He’d said he wanted me to have it, so Patricia has had it in the shop, getting it checked out and ready.”

  “Very nice of him. And her.”

  “It was. Is. I was shocked. I thought she might want to give it to you or your sisters, but…” Her shrug was accompanied by a faintly questioning look.

  “Avi, it wouldn’t matter even if we were his blood kids. If he wanted the car to go to you, of course it should go to you. Like I said, it suits you perfectly.”

  Her grin warmed him. “What? I’m wild, racy, and fast?”

  “You’re a classic beauty and very cool.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” After their conversation about his use of the word, she’d claimed it as her own endearment for him. He liked it. “How was your day?”