by Barbara Lohr
Stanley made one of his weird sounds. “Right. Seemed like it because you were so young.” Killed her when Stanley’s smile got all trembly like it was now. “So sweet.”
“Fresh from Escanaba,” she murmured. “Rosie and I were traveling down the east coast of the lake that summer. Having a great time. Oh, we were wild in the Upper Peninsula. But nobody was like Ryder. Not in my neck of the woods.”
“Exactly. He should have been more careful. Realized what he had with you.” The way Papa said those words, Phoebe knew he’d said all this to his son, maybe more than once.
“But he was so charming. Ryder was really sweet with me, Stanley.” Sickened Phoebe that she jumped to Ryder’s defense. “He took care of me. Just like he’s doing now.”
“Yeah, but you were busy with your shop. And Ryder was spoiled. Used to having all the attention.”
Was Papa saying that Phoebe’s Place had helped ruin her marriage? The thought sent a chill through her heart. “But Ryder loved me having my own business. He told me so. The salon made it possible for me to move down here.”
Tilting his head back, Stanley studied the tongue and groove ceiling. “You two were about as close as any couple I’ve seen, but stuff happens. And you got married so fast. I always wondered about that.”
“Four months isn’t a very long time. But I felt I’d met the man of my dreams.” Her eyes blurred, remembering.
“Ryder felt the same. I know he did. But a couple has to know each other before tying the knot. And the man has to get the beans out of his shorts.”
“Papa.” She giggled.
“No, I mean it, Phoebe. He has to realize what he’s committing to and why.”
Her laughter died. “My own parents felt that way. My dad had a fit. But Ryder and I wouldn’t listen.”
“No, you didn’t. Marriage needs preparation and tending. Sometimes we forget that.” Stanley looked so sad. Their divorce had hurt him real bad. Collateral damage, wasn’t that what he’d called it? Another military term.
“But I did.” She was trying not to cry. “I did try to pay attention to our marriage. But I was working a lot then and so was Ryder.”
When Stanley’s gaze swung to her, his blue eyes had turned watery. “I’m not talking about your marriage, girl. I’m talking about my own.”
She gasped. “You mean you had an affair?” Looking at Stanley, she couldn’t believe he had that in him.
But Stanley shook his head. “Not me. Marietta.”
The world stopped turning. “Papa? No. Ryder never told me.” And that fact made her feel she had never really known her husband.
Stanley fixed her with a level stare. “Because he doesn't know. And you have to promise you’ll never mention it. Right now, I don’t know what’s down the road for you two. I’m only telling you this because I think you need to hear it.”
“It’s hard to believe, Papa. Ryder always said you two had a perfect marriage.”
“I thought so too. But I was working a lot. Ryder was a baby and Marietta just lost it. Postpartum something-or-other. It’s a female thing. With each baby it got harder to shake. I was busy at the garage, working long hours. Too proud to hire help and doing everything myself. Marietta needed me and I wasn’t there, I guess. She lost her hope in us.” His voice broke on the last word.
“For how long?” Not that it mattered.
“Until I realized what was going on between her and one of my friends.”
“Some friend,” she spouted.
“Yeah, Earl was a TV repairman, if you can believe it. I sent him over to the house. The set broke a lot. She told me the TV was all that she had.”
Phoebe didn’t know what to say. “But you had the perfect marriage,” she repeated, mind in a daze.
“That’s just what I’m saying, Phoebe.” And with that Stanley thumped a fist on the rattan arm. “No marriage is perfect. It’s like a plant.” Here he waved a hand toward her pathetic wild tiger lilies growing like crazy out in the ditch. “Earl’s wife Mary came to me. I closed up the shop real quick after that conversation, let me tell you. Drove home like a maniac. Threw open that door, asking her to tell me it wasn’t true. Begging her.”
“What did she say?”
Phoebe was ashamed of probing for details. From his painful expressions, Stanley was reliving that terrible scene. “She cried, Phoebe. Just broke down. Those tears broke my heart. We cried together and we promised each other we would always tend to our marriage. I hired Fred Myer to help me in the garage. That worked out so well from the start that I hired a couple other guys so I could keep normal hours. Have a weekend now and then to take Marietta and the kids to Silver Beach. Funny thing was, that’s when my business took off. Started to grow.” His grin was back. Phoebe exhaled.
“But how could you trust her after that?” she whispered.
Silence ballooned on the porch, sucking all the air from her chest until Stanley finally said, “It takes time, Phoebe. I thought I knew Marietta. Knew the woman I’d married. But I’d made some promises to her too. And I don’t think I kept ‘em. No siree. I took her for granted, and she had her hands full with our family and all.”
Turning Papa’s words over in her mind, Phoebe wondered if she had that kind of hope, that trust. And if not, could she build it somehow? How she wanted to trust Ryder again.
“Give him time. You have to feel your way,” Papa said. “I had to leave that house every morning, trusting she was the woman I’d married. I had to picture our marriage being strong. And it was, after that. In fact, it was stronger than before. We both said that. Sure, I could have kicked her out. No one would have blamed me. But I had to own up to my piece of what had happened.”
The respect she’d always held for Stanley just grew by a mile. “You must have loved her a lot.”
“Oh, I loved Marietta to the moon and back. And I knew she felt that way about me. But how can you keep that alive when the person you love is gone all the time? Marriage is about love, but it’s also about forgiving,” he said, as if he was still learning that.
Sitting there, Phoebe felt the whole world change. “Papa, this would devastate Ryder.”
“Which is why he can never know.” Stanley pinned her with his needle-eyed glance.
But she waved his concern away. “I’d never tell him.”
“I don’t want him to think less of his mama, that’s all. Life isn’t perfect, Phoebe, and that goes for marriage too. Sometimes you have to fight for what you want. That takes growing up. That’s what I see in my son these days. For the past two years I’ve watched him struggle. That was not easy. And I'm telling you that just because...”
“Yes,” she said, back in her teasing mode.
“Because I’d like to quit cooking these meals every night, girl.” They both laughed. Phoebe didn’t have to tell him that she’d known all along that Ryder sure as heck didn’t cook those suppers that magically appeared.
“I was glad to have them,” she finally said, wiping her eyes.
Reaching into a pocket, Stanley pulled out a clean handkerchief and handed it over. “You’re probably the only man I know who still uses one of these,” Phoebe said, blotting her eyes.
“Damn shame.” And he reached for his beer.
Chapter 18
This felt wrong but it sure was fun. And it tickled. “So, where did you get the blue rope?” Phoebe shifted on the bed.
Ryder shrugged. “Stanley finally brought my truck down. Mick picked him up. What’s a man without his pickup?” Brow wrinkled, he got back to work. A guy painting her toes. What could be sexier? Since the Fourth, she’d had a lot to think about. Stanley’s words ran on a loop in her head. But tonight? No thinking allowed. They were just a couple having some fun.
“Guys’ trucks carry everything.”
“Right. Kind of like your trunk but bigger.” He glanced up. Understanding sparked between them and didn’t that feel awesome? Her trunk was a total mess and they both knew it. When she reached
in for the hair spray she might come up with sun block. Just no telling. She’d seen Ryder’s. Everything had its place.
Then Ryder bent his head. The frown grew deeper. His big hands wielding that delicate brush? Phoebe tried to hold her breath so she didn’t ruin this moment with giggles. No luck.
His head reared up. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you look real cute.” Phoebe exhaled and tried to look all innocent.
Brush in midair, Ryder gave her a wicked look. The kind of wicked she liked. “Stop looking at me like that,” he said. “I won’t be able to finish.”
“Don’t blame me. Hey, watch it! You’re getting nail polish on your jeans and the sheets!” The ropes pulled on her wrists when she tried to wave a warning, so she slipped her hands free.
Ryder gave her a disgusted look. “Didn’t we agree on this?”
“We did. Sorry.” She tried to jam her hand back into the loop and missed, so Ryder helped her.
But his peeved look didn’t change. “I thought you wanted to do this instead of checkers tonight.”
“I did. I do. I’m sorry, okay?” He just had no clue how cute he looked.
“I mean, this was your idea, acting out scenes from movies. I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He stabbed the brush in her direction and drops flew. “And don’t you dare tell anyone.”
“I won’t.” But it was tempting. The sight of him bent over her feet with a brush turned her on. But then, watching him think about his next move in checkers also caused a rush of heat.
“Damn.” Looking totally panicked, he jammed the brush back into the bottle and grabbed a tissue. Of course, the spots of bright green didn’t blot up from the sheets. Guys just didn’t realize that.
Ryder kept scrubbing. She’d been so surprised when he’d come up with this idea after Papa left an hour ago. They’d had a special day together. She’d been complaining about her nails, and Ryder picked up on it.
Was this the new, improved Ryder? Caution waved a warning finger in her mind. As usual, she ignored it. She needed more time in the yard with Fernando.
“You could have another career as a nail tech,” she teased softly after he went back to work. “Set up shop in my salon. Boy, wouldn’t the women love that?”
“No way. I’m too busy painting your house.”
“Our house.” The words came so naturally.
His head jerked up and so did his hand. Droplets flew again. Face red, he grabbed another tissue. “Sorry. How did Kevin Costner ever do this in that movie?”
She snuggled down into her bed. “Oh, they probably filmed this scene twenty times.”
“Is that it? Does it take a do-over to get things right?” Suddenly they weren’t talking about polishing her nails. No, they’d waded into stickier issues. “Phoebe?”
Oh, how she wanted to say yes. But that yellow caution light in her head? It was blinking. “It takes practice to apply nail polish,” she finally said. How lame was that?
“Sorry.” He dabbed at another spot.
“Don’t worry, Ryder. I can fix that later.” She could buy new sheets. Ryder? There were no replacements for him. She knew that now. Deep in her heart, so deep that it practically poked through to her backbone, she realized there’d never be another man for her. While she let that truth soak in, he kept dabbing.
“You could have made this easier by using one color,” he grumbled, reaching for the second bottle. “You had to have both pink and green?”
“Flamingo pink and neon green.” Phoebe wiggled the toes of her right foot––not easy with the cast. “I couldn’t decide.”
“Your wish is my command.” Another crooked grin.
“Yeah, right.” But his playful tone? It played her body like a twelve-string guitar. Trying to get comfortable, she hoped she didn’t end up with rope burn. What would people think––not that she saw many people nowadays. They used drapery tassels in the movie but Phoebe didn’t have anything that fancy.
“Hey, are you okay, Pheebs?” He gave her a worried glance.
She settled back on the pillows. “Perfectly fine.”
But he wasn’t convinced. “No, really. Are you getting any cramps from lying so still?”
“Trust me. I’m having fun.” And that was the truth. This Fourth of July was turning out to be the perfect day. Family, friends and naughty fun.
Ryder went back to the task at hand, and she returned to studying him. Her ex-husband was one fine looking man. In addition to hair that just wouldn’t quit, his muscles were honed through hard work. Thick lashes shaded eyes that could be warm suede one minute and winter ice the next.
Phoebe was a warm gray fan herself.
After giving the bottle of Flamingo Pink a good shake, he twisted it open. Wasn’t this just the silliest thing ever? But he was so darn serious. And they were having fun. “Maybe we weren’t creative enough, you know, when we were married.”
“What do you mean?”
How she loved that square jaw when he cocked his head a certain way. Phoebe made a circling motion with her head. “This. Why didn’t we do stuff like this before?”
His eyes drifted over her lips. Then he leaned forward to kiss her. First just a brush of the lips, then a sweet settling. Her breath came in quick gasps when he pulled away. “Maybe we took our marriage too seriously, Phoebe.”
“Is that possible?” She let her tongue salve her throbbing lips.
He sat back. “I don’t have any answers.” Picking up the nail polish, he gave it another shake. “Sorry, but this job demands my full attention.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“You’re always bossing me around.” Grinning, he shook the bottle with authority before opening it.
“I told your dad he could stop cooking all those meals,” she said after he’d finished two toes.
“What?” His lips parted and his face flushed. “You mean, you knew?”
“Come on, Ryder. When were you ever able to fix a brisket in the slow cooker? And my favorite sugar-burned carrots would have filled the house with a yummy smell if you really cooked them here. Fess up.”
Ryder looked like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Okay. But still, couldn’t we keep that good grub going?”
Now that really got her laughing and he joined in. “Right, but I think we can handle it.”
His lips pursed. “I’m almost finished with painting the house.”
“You said that before. Two coats?”
He looked offended. “Of course. You know, the big toe nails take a heck of lot more polish.”
“I’m talking about the house, Ryder.” She brought his attention back to what mattered.
“Right. Of course I gave it two coats. Now I start on the trim, right?”
“Make it smooth now.” She said teasingly.
“Do you mean the trim or your toenails?”
“Right now? My nails.”
The brush held too much polish, which ended up dripping onto the sheet. Again. Now the spots were both green and pink. She didn’t care if the spots didn’t wash out. They’d remind her of how much fun she’d had with Ryder today.
Heaving a sigh, he looked hopeless. “You’d never know that I’m supposed to be the one in charge.”
“Well you are.”
“No, I’m not, Sweet Cheeks.” He leveled a serious look at her. “And you know it. “
But she couldn’t deal with that right now. And she was getting a knot in her calf. “Use that bottle of clear stuff.” She nodded her head toward the side bureau. “That’ll harden the polish so it doesn’t smear when I get active.”
Setting the bottle of pink polish on the side table, he smiled and leaned over her. “Just how active are we going to get?”
“Wait and see.”
She was still wearing her little flag top that left her arms bare. His eyes liquid, Ryder ran his fingertips down her arms.
She shivered and then
winced as pain came out of nowhere in her good leg.
“What is it?” He drew back.
“I have a cramp in my left calf. Have to work it out.”
Taking her leg in his hands, he started to knead it slowly. “I didn’t think were going to get active, as you call it.”
The heat of his hands fixed her leg real fast. “What if this is turning me on?”
His hands stilled. “It is?”
She nodded slowly. Yeah, this was weird, but when Ryder wielded that tiny brush, she could almost feel that light touch on other parts of her body. Massaging her calf? Just the cherry on the sundae.
Bending his head to the task, he unscrewed the topcoat bottle and got to work. She loved watching the late sunlight play over his curls. Loved his lips pursed in concentration.
But her conversation with Stanley that afternoon still played in her mind. How hard that must have been for Stanley and for Marietta too. And yet they’d kept their marriage together. She’d never thought that would be possible. Now she wondered.
She wondered and she hoped.
“All done.” Setting the bottle aside, he smiled.
“What about my finger nails?” She fluttered them in his direction.
The box springs squeaked as he crawled toward her on the bed. The look in his eyes? Nothing but trouble. Slipping her wrists from the loops of blue rope, she crooked her fingers. “Come here, Ryder. You did such a good job, baby. You deserve a reward.”
~.~
Ryder’s life felt like he’d opened a new can of motor oil, pure and fresh. Whatever was going on with Phoebe, he wanted it forever. He knew that deep in his gut, just like he knew his name was Ryder Branson. But did Phoebe feel that way too? Sometimes it hurt to look up and find her watching him, a question in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure. But he’d wait it out. He was lucky he’d gotten this far with her. But he wanted to be more than her summer fling. He wanted forever. And he was willing to wait.
Painting the trim, he took his time. The brush was smaller––at least that’s what he told Phoebe. But right now, he wanted to take it slow. Their lunches together felt special and the dinners too. At first his dad had looked relieved that he didn’t have to cook their meals every day. Ryder had him scouting new locations for other sites for Branson Motors farther north, toward Mackinaw. When he came home, they sat out in the yard and talked about the possibilities. But Ryder wasn’t eager to make an offer. After all, he’d have all winter to build out the garage. “I’m taking things slow,” he explained to his dad.