by Lori Wilde
He turned his charm to her relatives. “Anybody got anything that’ll make her say bedroom words again?” Then he winked and made fish lips at April.
Nicole passed them three large boxes in increasing sizes. “Here you go. Grandma and Mom and I chipped in together to get these for you.”
They opened the middle-size box first and pulled out a tapestry garment bag. “A set of luggage,” April declared.
“Hey, no fair guessing what’s in the other boxes,” her sister said with a hint of mischief.
Colton picked up the bag and admired it. “This’ll come in handy when we go to the RV rally next winter.”
“Look inside,” Nicole suggested. “But be careful with the zipper.”
He undid the fastener, taking care not to snag whatever was inside, and pulled out a wispy white length of fabric. Holding the thin spaghetti straps to his shoulders, Colton rose to his feet and displayed the negligee for all to see. “I think it’s a bit too small.”
Grandma Cole cackled at the sight, and Joan Hanson wore a sly smile as she said, “It’s not for you to put on, Colton. It’s for you to take off.”
“Mom!” April couldn’t believe her ears. She stood in indignation amid the piles of wrapping paper. After all these years of being lectured about what was and wasn’t proper behavior for a lady to engage in, her mother was now making sexual innuendos. In mixed company, no less.
“It’s okay, dear. This is your future husband.”
“But we’re not…”
“Not what, honey?” Colton prompted. He slid one arm familiarly around her waist.
He knew what she’d started to say … that they weren’t going to need the negligee because they weren’t going to be making love. The clinic would be handling that aspect of their union. But that would be a foolish admission at their own bridal shower. With only a moment’s hesitation, not enough to alert anyone to their shared secret, she backtracked.
“We’re not going to conduct bedroom talk in public,” she said primly.
Stella’s bell tinkled once again, and this time Colton dipped April in Rhett Butler fashion. She clung to his neck, making the ladies in Nicole’s living room think that she was enjoying it as much as they were.
To be honest, April did enjoy the thrill of having him so near, having him look at her with that steady, unflinching gaze that let a woman know she was the only one on his mind. What a wonderful actor he was.
He lowered his head to hers, and April remembered that she was supposed to breathe. Her lungs filled with air, and she was aware of her body grazing his chest. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before the hardness of his chest muscles or the breadth of his shoulders?
She shouldn’t let him carry this charade so far. She shouldn’t let him tease her, making her want what wasn’t hers to take. Most of all, she shouldn’t look at him and see a man where before she had seen a dear and trusted friend. A platonic friend.
His kiss obliterated all rational thought from her mind. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, presumably to prevent her from falling, but April didn’t care. She liked the feel of his body against hers, liked the way he pulled at her lips as he tenderly kissed them. Without realizing she was doing so, she was soon returning his kisses with a fervor she’d never experienced before.
“I think you should give them another present to unwrap,” said Grandma Cole, “before they unwrap each other.”
6
April smiled in pleasure at the blanket nestled in the second piece of luggage. “Grandma Hanson’s quilt.”
She unfolded it and examined the patches she had committed to memory. There was the square of white from Nicole’s baptism dress, the rosebud fabric from April’s prom dress, and the satin scrap saved from making Grandma Hanson’s wedding dress.
It was all there, just as she remembered. She looked forward to the day she would relate the stories behind the patches to her own child.
“Thank you, Mom.” She hugged her mother, hoping she would understand how much this meant to her.
“It’s been a lot of years since the last patch was added,” Joan said. “You’ll have to start adding some of your own special memory squares.”
“Yeah,” Nicole teased, “maybe that negligee will have a place on there someday.”
“If there’s anything left of it.” Stella nudged her and said in a low voice that only she could hear, “You did a pretty convincing job of making your ‘engagement’ look real.”
April didn’t look at her sister. She wasn’t sure whether Stella had caught on that her response to Colton’s kisses was genuine, but if she looked at her, April was sure that she would be able to read the truth in her eyes.
Colton leaned forward and pointed to a square near the edge, which indicated it was one of the pieces added later. “That reminds me of my high school football jersey.”
“It is,” Colton’s mother said from the refreshment table. “Joan added it after you got creamed in that big playoff and broke your arm. The shirt was so mutilated that I was going to throw it away, so she just snipped out the one area that wasn’t torn.”
“But he wasn’t a member of the family,” Ardath said thoughtlessly.
Joan stiffened her posture. “Anyone who ate as many meals at my house as he did certainly qualifies as family.”
April ran her fingers over the last square added. The burgundy-and-gold Cozy Acres T-shirt that she and Colton had designed and sold to campers was here on the corner. But nowhere was there a square to indicate Eddie Brock’s long-ago presence in their lives. He had been her husband, but according to the family quilt, he’d never existed. However, the quilt certainly acknowledged Colton as a family member, long before they’d ever thought up this marriage farce.
Colton broke into her thoughts as he patted her hand. “This will look nice in our new apartment.”
April sat bolt upright in the wooden rocking chair. “What new apartment?”
“You know,” he prompted, “you’ve been saying you wanted a bigger place.”
She didn’t recall saying anything of the sort, and she didn’t know why he was bringing this up now. “But I thought—”
“We don’t have to move right away. But you did say you wanted an extra bedroom.”
April swallowed hard. Was he bringing up their sleeping arrangements in front of her entire family? She frowned, trying to warn him with her eyes not to say anything that would lead them to suspect something was amiss with their supposed marriage.
“You know,” he continued as if they’d already had a long discussion about this, “for the baby.” Then to the rest of the people in Nicole’s living room, he added, “We want to start trying right away.”
Grandma Cole pointed her toes in delight and pressed her hands together. “Oh, how lovely.”
“Then you’ll want to open the next gift,” Stella urged, her eyes bright with devilment. “That—and the negligee—ought to help you get a jump start on your family.”
“Great.” Colton ripped the paper off with glee. He pulled out a makeup case covered in a tapestry design that matched the other two pieces of luggage. “This must be for you.”
April held the case on top of her lap, half afraid to open it. But the longer she waited, the more suspense she built among the onlookers in the room. Not wanting to call any more attention than necessary to this final gift, she casually popped the latch on the case and pulled out an envelope containing a hand-lettered coupon.
“It’s a gift certificate,” Nicole interjected, “for a three-day stay at Virginia Beach.”
“But I—” April darted a glance at Colton. He looked like a kid who’d just found a bicycle under his Christmas tree. “We can’t—”
“We knew you’d say that,” her mother reminded her, “but it’s early enough in the season for you to take a few days for your honeymoon. Whatever Clyde and Steven and your other part-timers can’t handle at Cozy Acres, we’ll pitch in and do.”
“I’ll help, too,” sa
id Verna Radway, holding her punch cup aloft. “Anything for my son and his beautiful new wife.”
The envelope was becoming dog-eared under April’s nervous fingers. Colton took the paper from her and set it on the floor between them. Her hands now stilled between his big palms, he lowered his voice. Concern showed in his brown eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Maybelline, who’d been napping near her feet, apparently decided now would be a good time to play catch-the-dog. The golden retriever snapped up the paper in her mouth and dashed through the living room with a half dozen women in pursuit.
Oblivious to the commotion taking place around them, April nodded in answer to her friend’s question. “I forgot all about the honeymoon.”
April stood waiting for her turn at bat. Mother Nature had decided to throw another scorcher at them on the day of the family reunion. She lifted the hem of her shirt and wiped her face with it.
Colton had made it to second base where he goaded Steven by lifting his foot and promptly leaping back to the safety of the padded bag a mere second before the second baseman could tag him out. After Uncle Joseph demanded the ball so he could pitch the rest of the game, Steven tossed it to him. Colton responded by taking off his shirt, snapping it at the boy, and dancing around the plate.
Standing along the fence with the rest of the lineup, April watched in amusement as their young charge took a playful swing at him. If this continued, as their horsing around often did, they’d wind up wrestling on the ground instead of playing softball.
She never tired of watching them. Her boys, she’d often called them. Now, she found herself focusing on the way the midafternoon sunlight caressed the firm lines of her future husband’s naked back and shoulders. Shadows fell across the concave of his abdomen.
April became vaguely aware of someone standing nearby on the other side of the fence, but she was too entranced watching Colton’s mad sprint to third base to see who it might be. His limbs moved like the powerful driver rods of a steam locomotive, and it was clear he was determined to let no one stop him. He was a sight to behold.
“Oh, my,” came a soft whisper behind her.
Dragging her eyes away from the awesome spectacle after he made it safely home, April turned toward the sound. Mrs. Turner leaned against the fence, her lower jaw hanging slack and her hands clutching the rail.
April smiled. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a woman staring at her partner, but this broke into another age bracket. “Pretty fine sight, huh?”
Mrs. Turner met her gaze and offered up a sheepish smile. “He reminds me of my departed husband. When he was younger, of course.”
“His horsing around?”
The older woman looked down at the rail she’d been gripping. “That, too.”
Suddenly aware that the sun’s scorching rays might be too much for the septuagenarian, April asked, “Would you like to sit down in the shade? We have refreshments.”
Mrs. Turner nodded and followed her to the picnic shelter.
Once they were seated at a picnic bench and they’d had a chance to sip their fruit drinks, April couldn’t help wondering what had brought their persnickety neighbor over here this time. It didn’t take long to find out.
“I hate to complain,” she began, and April knew that was a stretch from the truth. “But all the noise and commotion from the campground is upsetting my titmice. They haven’t come to the feeder for the past couple of hours.”
“It’s the middle of a blistering hot afternoon,” April suggested gently. “I’m sure your birds are just staying in the shade for now.”
“It’s not only that,” she persisted. “From my screened porch, I can hear the laughter and shouting. It’s enough to give a person a headache.”
The open field where they were playing ball was one of the areas closest to Mrs. Turner’s property, but the noise shouldn’t have been loud enough to disturb her. The distance and the grove of trees between them were certain to have muted the sounds significantly.
April held her tongue for a moment, afraid that she’d say something she shouldn’t. She turned her attention to the children running a relay race under the direction of Mrs. Radway and Clyde. At first, she was surprised to see such an ethnic mix among the children at her family reunion, and then she remembered that their relatives had invited friends to come with them. Their reunions had always been a more-is-merrier type of event, and April was glad her kinfolk wanted to share the fun with their friends. Clyde had often reminded her it also made business sense to expose as many people as possible to the pleasures of their campground. Potential customers, he’d called them.
“Mrs. Turner, you knew when you bought your land from Mr. Irwin that it was part of a family campground. Surely you knew that children would be laughing and playing nearby.”
The older woman sniffed. “We were expecting residential neighbors. My late husband and I were of the impression that the former owner of this land would sell it off piece by piece.”
“But Buddy and I bought it instead, and it remained a campground,” April finished for her.
Mrs. Turner drained the last of the red drink from her paper cup. “Only busier and noisier than ever before.”
She was right about that. Mr. Irwin had spent more energy and money trying to buy the winning lottery number than he’d ever put into the campground. Selling the corner of the property that now belonged to their difficult neighbor had been one of his feeble attempts to fix his financial problems, but the gambling habit had been too deeply ingrained in him. By the time April had approached him about buying the campground, he jumped at the first price she offered.
“The campground is successful,” she admitted. “And we want it to continue growing.”
April got up and refilled her neighbor’s cup. This was the first time they’d been able to talk reasonably and rationally, and she hoped the experience would help mellow Mrs. Turner’s attitude. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the case today.
“I see that boy is back working for you.”
Her words seemed like an accusation, and April immediately felt defensive on Steven’s behalf. “If you’re referring to the mistake he made of trespassing on your property to go swimming, then you should know he’s been punished for his error in judgment.”
“Mistake?” Mrs. Turner made a scornful noise. “Error in judgment? That’s the problem with kids these days. People are always making excuses for them.”
“And sometimes the kids who are trying to mend their ways are not allowed to live down their pasts.”
They were interrupted just then by April’s sixteen-year-old second cousin. The girl lifted a furry animal with a harness and leash out of the oversized pocket on her shirt. “Rocky’s thirsty. Can I give him some punch?”
April trusted Jasmine to be gentle with the creature, but sometimes her Down syndrome meant she needed a little extra guidance.
“No, Jasmine, I’m sure he’d prefer water.” April filled a paper cup and let Jasmine hold it while Rocky drank from it.
Mrs. Turner wrinkled her nose at the sight and turned her attention to a badly frayed woven basket on the picnic table. With a few nimble moves and some thread from her purse, she deftly finished it off and set it back on the table.
“Hey, that’s cool,” Jasmine said after Rocky had drunk his fill and proceeded to climb up her shirt to her shoulder. The teen stepped closer to Mrs. Turner and inspected what she’d done with the basket. “Will you show me how to do that?”
The elderly woman gave the girl a disbelieving look.
April tried to distract her cousin. No need annoying Mrs. Turner any further. “Let’s check to make sure his harness and leash are secure. He’s still a bit young to be out on his own.”
Once she’d sent the girl on her way, she turned back to Mrs. Turner, prepared to argue further about Steven’s innocence. But her neighbor was preoccupied with the goings-on at the relay race.
A little boy had been standing near the activit
ies, leaning on crutches. A cast covered half his foot and went almost up to his knee. April didn’t recognize the child. Probably a friend of her family’s, she thought.
Colton’s mother had already handed out spoons to the children who were lined up for the relay race and now gave them each a potato. This game was always a favorite with the youngsters as they tried to balance the potatoes in their spoons in a dash to the finish line.
Following Mrs. Turner’s gaze, April saw Clyde urging the lone boy to come closer to his wheelchair. By the time the race started, the boy’s crutches were tossed to the ground and he sat on the older man’s lap, holding his own spoon and potato. The little fellow’s expression had changed from a frown to one of pure glee as they were the second ones to cross the finish line.
It was a sight that touched April’s heart, and a glance across the table showed that her neighbor was equally affected. For the first time since she’d known her, April saw a hint of softness on Mrs. Turner’s face. Her trademark pink lips relaxed, turning ever so slightly upward, and her pale-blue eyes seemed almost dewy. The dreamy, faraway expression changed the woman’s appearance so completely that she looked almost … grandmotherly.
“Hey, April!” Steven’s full-speed approach to the shelter pulled her attention away from the new facet she’d seen in her neighbor. “Colton said it’s time to start getting ready for the wedding.”
Almost instantly, Mrs. Turner’s face hardened again, and her lips returned to their usual pursed expression. She stood to leave, and Steven came to an abrupt halt before he reached the table where April had been sitting.
“Oh,” he said, his mouth grim, “I didn’t realize you had Killer Bea with you.” At that, he turned and stalked away.
April rose and followed Mrs. Turner to her golf cart, offering a supportive hand, only to have the gesture ignored. “Mrs. Turner, I apologize for his rudeness,” she said sincerely. “Colton and I will see that he pays the consequences for it.”