To the One I Love: That Old Familiar FeelingAn Older ManCaught by a Cowboy

by Emilie Richards

  “Not as much as you might think. Marti’s in Tallahassee and won’t be able to get back. And Deanna’s already called to say she’s going to stay right where she is with that man she’s spending so much time with.”

  Lacey was surprised, but not all that surprised. Her sisters had been away more than they’d been home this week. She’d lost track of them, too. “Well, you’ll have me.”

  “I wonder.” Grammer sat on the love seat and patted the spot Lacey had just abandoned. Lacey flopped down beside her.

  “Matt’s alone with the twins,” Grammer said. “And the Cavanaugh place is right on the Gulf. It was built to withstand the worst storms, but can you imagine what it’s going to be like for Matt alone with those boys?”

  “I’m sure he can take them somewhere else. Skiff and Gretchen would take them in.”

  “You haven’t been to Skiff’s, have you? He and Gretchen have a condo at the marina. There’s no room for overnight guests, and besides, they’ll be right in the storm’s path. They’ll probably move in with someone else.”

  “Matt has a million friends. He’ll be fine.”

  “Will you?”

  Lacey tilted her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean you’ll be thinking about him and the boys the whole time, wondering if they’re okay, worrying, hoping, feeling terrible you’re not with them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Grammer.” Lacey covered her grandmother’s hand. “But it’s a moot point, isn’t it? I’m not going to leave you alone here.”

  “Three different friends have asked me to stay with them if I decide to go. I won’t be alone no matter what.”

  Lacey knew she’d been absolved of all responsibility, but that left her with a dilemma. “If I go, that’s like opening a door I closed already.”

  “Haven’t you ever changed your mind before?”

  “Not about something this important.”

  “Maybe it’s about time, then. I’m not saying you should throw yourself into your young man’s arms, darling, but I’ve seen how miserable you are since you said goodbye. Don’t you think that this once, you can admit you’ve made a mistake? You’re in love with Matt and have been for a long, long time. You looked at this new relationship, though, and tried to be practical well before you should have. Sometimes you just have to trust the universe a little.”

  “That sounds very California, Grammer.”

  “It sounds like simple common sense under these circumstances. Admit you don’t know everything and can’t predict the future. And admit you love him and want a life with him. You might also admit that you could change your mind about his boys, as well. Personally I think you’re exactly what they need.”

  “They hate me.”

  “They are four years old, Lacey. Good heavens. What do they know?”

  “I wonder…”

  “What, darling?”

  Lacey was silent for a long moment. For the past four days while she had moped, she had done some serious thinking, despite her desire not to. She had examined her reaction to the twins, added Geo’s self-serving assessment of her mothering potential to the equation, mixed in the occasional moment when she had felt she was really relating to one twin or the other, divided it by her desire to become a parent, calculated in her natural fears and the reality of two bright young boys who would have tried the patience of Mother Theresa.

  The answer—suspect as it was—always came out the same way. Clearly she—who was usually the soul of logic—had jumped to conclusions, letting Geo’s trumped-up opinions unrealistically weight her decision. Then she had multiplied that messy truth times her love for Matt Cavanaugh. And yes, she did love the man, so she’d had to multiply by a lot.

  She hadn’t just made an error, she’d made a grave error when she called their relationship quits.

  “What are you wondering?” Grammer prompted. “Tell me.”

  “Well, I wonder if maybe their behavior toward me is really something besides simply hating me. Like they’re just scared.”

  “I think that’s a very wise observation. I suspect they’ve noticed the way Matt looks at you.”

  “No, I know they’re afraid they might lose some of his attention. That’s natural. But I’ve wondered…” She looked up. “Everyone’s always felt sorry for them, you know? They’ve been those poor little motherless boys. Maybe they sense that nobody but Matt really sees them for what they are, two very smart, very cagey little guys who probably have a lot to offer under all that mischief. Maybe they’re afraid I won’t love them, that nobody can really love them, so they pretend they don’t care.”

  Grammer smiled. “You’ll make a fine mother indeed, Lacey. I always knew it.”

  “What if Matt doesn’t want me there? Maybe I destroyed what he felt for me.”

  “If you did, then it wasn’t worth much, was it?”

  Lacey stood. “You’re sure you’ll be okay? That you won’t need me? I can stay and help get the place ready.”

  “I have John for that. Go and help Matt get his place ready. He needs you more than I do.”

  Lacey bent down and gave her a hug. “You’re the best.”

  “I know, darling. You and your sisters have told me that a thousand times, and I like to believe there’s just a wee bit of truth in it.”

  Chapter 7

  Lacey packed a carry-on with everything she’d need for the night. For bedtime reading—in case the electricity didn’t go off—she brought the book on parenting gifted children that she’d bought at the key’s only bookstore. Maybe she and Matt could read it out loud to each other. It was a lot more practical than poetry.

  She slipped another of her impulse buys into the carry-on, then dithered over bedtime attire, finally settling on a yellow cotton T-shirt. Not sexy, but not exactly something Grammer would wear, either.

  Grammer was already off somewhere, maybe buying bottled water or flashlight batteries. She’d been surprisingly unconcerned about Leslie, and Lacey knew that she really would be fine. Grammer had weathered every storm that had come the key’s way.

  When she couldn’t put off the confrontation with Matt and the twins any longer, she donned a rain parka, slung the carry-on into the back seat of her Toyota and started toward the Cavanaugh house.

  Rain was falling harder by the moment, and heavy gusts of wind were already blowing trash across Pelican Street. Palms swayed, but the larger water oaks were serene. This was a mere flutter in their lengthy life cycle.

  Lacey noted a flurry of activity as residents battened down their hatches. Families were bringing in anything that wasn’t nailed down. Judging by the number of people hauling plywood sheets out the front door, sales were up at the hardware store. Wallace’s was doing a roaring business, too, even though one of the clerks was nailing boards over the display windows as people streamed in and out. Colman Key’s movements were unhurried and practiced. The islanders could prepare for a hurricane in their sleep.

  At Matt’s house she judged where best to park. Certainly not under a tree, and certainly not anywhere that was guaranteed to flood in a storm surge. She spied a group of cars parked across the road on a low rise and pulled in beside them. She was glad she had replaced her BMW with a more economical model, and she was glad she was well insured. Just in case.

  She slung the carry-on over her shoulder, took a deep breath and plunged into the rain, pulling the hood of her parka over her head for protection.

  She knocked, but when no one answered, she let herself in. “Matt?”

  There was no answer, and no sounds. If the door hadn’t been unlocked she might have thought Matt and the twins had gone somewhere else to wait out the storm.

  She shook like a retriever, sending raindrops dancing on the entryway rug, then she wandered down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Matt?”

  From the kitchen window she saw why no one was answering. Matt
and the twins were out in the backyard picking up toys. The boys did not look happy about it.

  She took a deep breath and prepared to enter the maelstrom, and not the storm, the emotional maelstrom to come. She went into the family room, pushed open the door to the Cavanaugh’s deck, crossed and started down the steps.

  Riley was the first one to notice her. He slapped his little hands on his hips and glared at her. Just then a clap of thunder rattled the boards behind her; Riley yelped, and before she could stop him, he ran straight at her.

  Even the enemy was preferable to the storm.

  She opened her arms, and he hopped into them like they’d been practicing circus tricks all week.

  “Don’t like thunder, huh?” she said, pushing his wet hair off his forehead. “Me, neither.”

  He clung to her like she was the only thing between him and the wrath of Thor. “I wanna go inside.”

  “I’ll take you in. Will you promise to behave while I tell your daddy where you are?”

  His little head bobbed so fast she was afraid he might shake something loose. She carried him across the deck, opened the sliding door and planted him on the family room rug, stripping off his yellow slicker as she did. “I’ll get you a towel. Dry yourself off, okay? You’ll feel better if you do.”

  “Don’t be gone long, ’kay?”

  His cherubic little face was one degree from total collapse. She felt a shiver of empathy. She squatted in front of him and touched his soft little cheek. “I promise.”

  He assessed her, then he nodded. “Hurry.”

  “I will.” She got him a towel—not as clean as she would have liked—and left him by the door. Then she made her way across the deck and down the stairs once more. This time it was Roman who threw himself into her arms. “I wanna go inside!”

  “I know. Riley’s already there. I’ll take you, but let me tell your daddy.”

  “Right now!”

  She looked up and saw that Matt was watching her. His expression was impossible to read through the sheets of rain. She pointed to Roman, then to the door. “I already got Riley,” she shouted.

  He nodded before he turned away. She saw he was hauling a rowboat up toward the deck. She guessed he was planning to store it underneath.

  Inside she repeated the raincoat and towel ritual with Roman. Riley was standing exactly where she’d left him. She toweled both of their heads, then took them upstairs to find clean dry clothes. The clothes weren’t as clean as she would have liked, either. Obviously Yelina’s absence was taking its toll on Matt. She wondered how well they’d been eating.

  One glance in the refrigerator told that story. The guys were low on staples like milk and bread and juice. She glanced at her watch and wondered if Wallace’s was still open. She wondered what her chances were of getting the boys to go back out into the rain with her.

  Matt chose that moment to plunge in from the storm. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Well, right now I’m trying to figure out why you haven’t bought groceries in, what, a week?”

  He stared at her. “You shop or I do,” she said. “What’s it going to be? The kids do not want to go back out in the rain, and I can’t blame them. They were soaked through to the skin and neither of them likes storms.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just heard all about it. Every single detail.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Upstairs cleaning their bedroom.”

  “What?”

  She frowned at him. “What part of that didn’t you get? Upstairs, you know?” She pointed to the ceiling. “Cleaning. I know this is somewhat of a foreign concept lately, but it means—”

  “Cut it out, Lacey. I mean, you left them up there alone? Are you nuts?”

  “Sure I did. They know where to find me if they get scared again.”

  “I’m not worried about scared.”

  “Roman, Riley and I have an understanding, and I promised I’d trust them to follow through on it. I gave them a list of things to do. And if they get them all done by lunch time, I promised I’d let them have ice cream.” She frowned again, threw open the freezer, then shook her head. “Well, at least that’s one thing you won’t have to buy. And we’d better eat a lot at lunch in case the electricity goes off. I’ll make you a list. I think I’d better be the one who stays behind. I’m going to try to do some laundry before things get worse around here.” She searched for a pen or pencil.

  “What are you doing here?” He put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around. “I thought I made myself pretty damned clear. Friendship’s out of the question. Don’t you get it? Friends lend each other a helping hand in emergencies, but we can’t afford to be friends.”

  “I know that.”

  He stared at her. “What are you saying?” he asked at last. “Just tell me in plain English, okay?”

  “Daddy!” A little body bolted into the room and wrapped its little arms around Matt’s legs. “Daddy, Lacey rescued me!”

  “You weren’t in any danger, Roman,” Matt said, patting his son’s hair.

  “I’m Riley!”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, he is,” Lacey said. She closed the freezer. “I’ll make that list for you. Or I can go out and get supplies if you’re willing to do some laundry and run the vacuum cleaner while I’m gone.”

  “You’re criticizing my housekeeping?”

  “Darned right.”

  “And I know my sons!”

  “Matt, just take a closer look, okay?”

  Matt squatted, peered at the little boy then glared at Lacey. “Make your damned list.”

  It was not a day for miracles. The room did not get cleaned to Lacey’s vastly reduced standards, and she sent two pouting little boys back upstairs to finish it before they could get giant scoops of chocolate fudge deluxe. The power went off in the middle of the first load of towels, and she had to rinse and wring them out by hand. Luckily it flickered back on half an hour later so she was able to throw them in the dryer, along with enough clean clothing to last all the guys a day.

  Lunch went well. This time she cut peanut butter sandwiches into stars and moons, which so impressed the twins that they ate six stars and four moons each. She taught them to dip celery and carrot sticks into French dressing, and they played and ate enough to satisfy her dietary standards. They even helped her clean up. Grudgingly, yes, but definitely helped. This time they put the right detergent in the dishwasher and turned it on under her supervision.

  While Matt nailed plywood over windows, she found a chuck roast in the back of the freezer and simmered it with onions, carrots and canned tomatoes, precooking rice to go with it in case the power went off again. She made brownies from mix that Matt had picked up just as Wallace’s was closing. The boys filled containers with tap water, making a game out of finding suitable vessels until they had enough water saved to last them another week.

  They assembled flashlights, candles, matches, made a first-aid kit and talked about how to use each item. She asked each of them to select their three favorite toys to make a stash in the family room in case the lights went out again. That took the better part of an hour as they trooped up and down, exchanging one item for another, judging relative merits and discussing them endlessly.

  Once that game had ended she suggested they write letters to Matt’s Aunt Minnie about the hurricane, and surprisingly, they agreed.

  “They don’t know how to write,” Matt told her during one of his infrequent trips indoors.

  “Because nobody’s bothered to teach them how. But what do you call that?”

  He glanced over Roman’s shoulder and saw crayon drawings accompanied by badly formed but legible letters that made sense if you put them together phonetically.

  “How did you know?” he demanded. “How did you know they could do that? Is this a woman thing?”

  She scrunched up her face and examined him. “Matt, it’s not magic. I just pay att
ention, that’s all. It’s not because I’m a woman. They read, I told you that. They spell. They’re bilingual. They add and subtract. I heard them upstairs doing it with their toys today. I’m not sure but I think Riley understands multiplication. What kind of dumbed-down preschool are you sending them to? How come nobody pointed out how smart they are? They just need somebody to show them the way.”

  “You’re accusing me of being a bad father.”

  She could see he wasn’t going to easily forgive her. He’d been on her case ever since she arrived. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, then she stepped back. “I’m accusing you of being a good father. Look what smart little devils you produced.”

  “You’re acting like you like them.”

  She considered, then she shrugged.

  He shook his head and stomped back outside.

  At three the power went off again, and this time it stayed off. The pot roast was tender, and the house smelled like freshly baked brownies. The windows were all covered, and there had been enough hot water in the tank to give all the Cavanaugh men a good shower before it cooled.

  Lacey had two checkerboards set up in the family room when the boys came down wearing clean pajamas she’d washed and dried for them earlier. A kerosene lantern flickered on the table. Moments earlier she had peeked through a small uncovered space in one of the glass doors. It was so dark outside that it looked like night.

  “Do you guys know how to play checkers?” she asked as they trooped in.

  “I haven’t taught them,” Matt said defensively. “Is that a problem?”

  “These guys are so smart they might well have taught themselves,” Lacey said, ruffling Roman’s hair. “Let’s go over the rules real quick, then let’s have a tournament.”

  “Am I smart?” Roman said.

  “Yep. But polite and kind are more important and still need some work.”

  He wrinkled his nose, but he sat beside her and dumped the checkers on the floor, dividing them between red and black without being asked.

  Once he’d finished she explained the rules; they asked a couple of good questions, then they were off and running.