She stepped back to let him in and then handed him the baby. Marybeth made a small, happy little sound.
“How’ve you been, sweetheart?” He kissed her fat little cheek, and she cooed as he laid her against his shoulder. The pain and lack that had dogged him all day eased a little.
“I have a few errands to run,” Jody said. “I’ll be back in two hours.”
Wait. She was leaving? “You don’t have to go.”
Her mouth tightened. But all she said was “I just fed her. See you.” And she grabbed her purse and phone from the table by the door and left.
* * *
When she got back she wanted to set a regular time for him to visit.
How about every night, all night, and mornings and weekends? How about you just let me come home?
But of course, that wouldn’t fly, so he asked for evenings. He could come over from the justice center once he was done for the day before heading back to the ranch for the night.
“Eat before you show up,” she said. “Please.”
That cut him deep. “You don’t even want to eat with me?”
She took a slow breath before she answered. “The whole point is to have a break. People taking a break don’t eat together.”
He couldn’t resist a show of sarcasm. “I didn’t know there were rules for this.”
“Well, there are. Just like your rules about loving—or not loving, as the case may be.”
About then, Marybeth must have picked up the tension between them. She started to fuss.
Jody said, “Let’s not stress out the baby. See you tomorrow night.”
She opened the door for him and ushered him out.
* * *
The next night he brought dinner with him anyway, in spite of her rule. He offered to share. She just picked up her phone and purse and said she’d be back in a couple of hours.
It went the same on Tuesday night. She left as soon as he arrived and shooed him out the door the minute she got back.
By Wednesday, he was starting to wonder why he didn’t just go ahead and say it to her. Would that be enough for her, if he just said, I love you?
Unfortunately, he knew he couldn’t do it—or at least, that if he did manage to choke the words out, he would only sound like a bald-faced, despicable liar. And that would only make her all the more determined to keep on as they were.
As they were? It was awful. He couldn’t believe he’d lived like this for all those endless years. He wanted his wife back, wanted his life back, the life he’d created with her, the life with laughter and honest talk between them, with great sex and her soft, curvy body in his arms while they slept.
By Friday afternoon, it was so bad he was starting to admit that maybe Jody was right.
He had a problem, one he hadn’t made himself solve for seven years. The problem had worked for him. It was an excellent and effective way to punish himself for what had happened to Irene.
But then along came Jody. And now, when he punished himself, he was hurting her, too.
He needed to talk to her about it.
But when he picked up the phone, he set it right back down. Because just admitting he had a problem wasn’t enough.
What was she supposed to do with that information?
It still remained his problem to solve.
She’d said he should talk to Pastor Jacobs or a therapist or maybe his dad. What were they going to tell him that he didn’t already know?
As he picked up the phone again, he realized it was time to find out.
* * *
Jody wanted Seth back.
Every time he showed up at the door, it got harder not to throw herself into his arms.
Still, she held out, held back. She reminded herself of the hardest truth: it wasn’t going to work if she couldn’t have his heart.
Friday night, he seemed different, somehow. Quieter, more at ease. He didn’t bring dinner to share, didn’t try to get her talking the way he’d done every other night that week, didn’t offer to take the Tahoe in for service the way he had two days before.
He took Marybeth from her arms and asked, “So, where are you off to tonight?”
“Dinner with my sisters and Rory at the Sylvan Inn.” She’d set up the meeting and would pick up the check. “I’m going to tell them about my little boy.”
He studied her for a moment, his expression hard to read—accepting maybe? Even pleased? “Why now?”
“I don’t know. It seems like it’s about time, that’s all.”
He gave her a slow nod, but didn’t say anything else.
She caught herself about to lean up for a kiss. “Well. See you in a while.”
“Take your time. I’ll be here.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, Jody sniffed back tears as the waitress—not Monique Hightower, thank God—set three gorgeous desserts and a handful of spoons on the table. She then poured them coffee, served Jody tea and left them alone.
Nellie dug right into the tiramisu. “I can’t believe that Ma knew.”
Jody sniffled. “Yeah, it’s scary when you think about it. She’s a lot more perceptive than she lets on.”
Clara handed Jody another tissue. “You all right, Jo-Jo?”
“I’m still sad about it. I always will be.” Jody blew her nose. “But I really do feel I did the right thing.”
Across the table, Elise dabbed at her eyes, too. “I get why you didn’t tell us then. Some of us were downright evil at the time.” She pointed her thumb at herself and pulled a long face.
“You weren’t that bad,” said Nellie. Elise shot her a look, and Nellie relented. “Okay, you were pretty bad.”
They all laughed through their tears.
And then Rory said, “I know you’re going to work it out with Seth.”
Nell tasted the lava cake. “I still don’t get what the problem is.” Jody had only said that they were having issues, taking some time apart. “What issues, exactly?”
Clara reached over and ran a hand down Nell’s fabulous auburn hair. “I don’t think we’re getting details, honey.”
Nellie wrinkled her perfect nose at Clara. “Hey, a girl can hope.”
“And we’re here for you, remember that,” said Elise. “Anytime. Whatever you need.”
A chorus of agreement went up from the others.
Jody wiped her eyes again. “I hit the jackpot when it comes to sisters, that’s for sure. Cousins, too.” She gave Rory a wobbly smile and raised her teacup high. “And here’s to our sisters-in-law.” They all lifted their cups. “To Addie and Ava, Chloe and Paige.”
Nellie tried the crème brûlée. “Omigod. This is the best. Pick up your spoons, my sisters. You need to taste this, and I need not to eat it all myself.”
* * *
“How’d it go?” Seth asked, turning off the TV and rising from the sofa.
“It was good. Really good. It feels right that I told them.”
“I’m glad.” He picked up his phone from the table at the end of the sofa. “Tomorrow I’ve got some things I have to deal with.”
Things he had to deal with? What did that even mean?
Not that it was any of her business. They were taking a break from their marriage. That meant neither of them had to explain their activities to the other.
A break from their marriage?
Who’d come up with that brilliant idea?
Oh, right. She had.
He added, “So I think I’ll have to skip the visit tomorrow. Unless you need me to—”
“No. No, really. That’s fine. Sunday at three, then, same as last week?” Had they only been doing this for a week? It seemed like a lifetime to her.
“Three’s good
.” He turned for the door.
She followed him to her small square of entry hall. “Good night, then.”
“Night, Jody.” He went out the door.
She shut it behind him and leaned back against it with a heavy sigh.
* * *
Seth was waiting on the front steps of the ranch house at 2:15 p.m. the next day when the rental car rolled into the yard. He got up and went down the steps.
The blue sedan pulled to a stop, and the trunk popped open. Seth grabbed the small suitcase from inside as Bill Yancy got out and shut the door. Roman’s dog, Toby, came bounding over.
Seth’s dad bent to greet him. “Hey, Toby. How’s my good boy?”
The dog panted and wiggled in delight as Bill scratched him around the ruff of the neck.
Seth said, “Long flight just for a conversation.”
His dad rose to his height. “I’m retired. I can go where I want when I want. And some conversations oughtta be had face-to-face.” He reached out his arms. Seth put down the suitcase and went into them. They slapped each other on the back and stepped quickly apart.
From the porch of the foreman’s cottage, Mae called, “Hey, Bill!” Seth’s dad waved, and Mae whistled for Toby, who barked once and ran back the way he’d come.
Seth picked up the suitcase and led the way inside.
Two hours later, Bill was all settled in one of the rooms upstairs. He’d had a little nap and a sandwich. It was a sunny day. Seth got a couple of cold ones from the fridge, and they went out to the back porch, where they sat in the pair of black walnut rocking chairs that Seth’s great-grandfather had made back before he died in the Battle of Belleau Wood during World War I.
“Where even to start?” Seth took a long pull off his beer.
His dad didn’t say anything. Bill Yancy had always known how to wait.
Finally, Seth started talking. He talked about Irene, about her death, about the promise he’d made himself that there wouldn’t be anyone else for him. “But then along came Marybeth. And Jody. And everything changed.” He spoke of his happiness. And the words of love he felt he couldn’t give his wife. “And now she’s gone. We’re taking a break, she says. She’s not going to take me back until I can say I love her and mean it.”
“Well, do you love her?”
Seth opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. “I don’t mean no. I just mean...” Seth swore. It was one of those words he never let himself say, but the moment seemed to demand that word, somehow. “I don’t even know what I mean.”
Bill sipped his beer. The old rocker creaked as he leaned back. “I’m going to tell you something now.”
Seth slanted his dad a look. “Something helpful?”
“Well, that’s my hope. And while I’m telling you, I want you to think how I always said that above all, a Yancy is loyal.”
“You’ve always been that, Dad, loyal to the core.”
“Yeah.” Bill didn’t sound especially pleased with the fact. “I fell in love with Darlene when you were seven years old.”
Seth took a moment to let that sink in. “But you never brought her home until I was fourteen. I was fifteen when you married her.”
“That’s right. By the time I brought her and Nicky to meet you, I had been in love with her for seven years. I met her first when she worked at Ames Bank, before she got that waitress job at the diner. I used to go in that bank and make extra deposits and withdrawals just to see that smile of hers.”
Seth had started to catch on. “But you were still thinking my mother would come back.”
“That’s right.” Bill rocked and the old chair creaked. “Carlotta had run off when you were barely walking. I should have divorced her by the time I met Darlene. But no. I had my ingrained Yancy loyalty to live by. I was a married man, and it was my duty to wait for my wife to come home. Then came the day that Darlene asked me out. I passed her two twenties and a deposit slip across the counter between us and she gave me that beautiful smile of hers and said, ‘Bill Yancy, let’s go to the movies, just you and me. What do you say?’”
Seth swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I miss Darlene.”
“Son, you are not alone—and where was I? Ah, yes. Darlene asked me out and that scared me to death, I wanted it so bad. But by then, I’d been telling myself for six years that Carlotta would come home. I’d never gotten a divorce. I was a married man. I told Darlene I couldn’t. And then I turned around and left that bank and never went back. I started banking at Wells Fargo, and I set my mind on not thinking of Darlene Sampson’s beautiful smile ever again. Four years after I ran from the bank where she worked, I heard she started going out with Kirk Couch. I knew that guy was trouble and I didn’t like it, but I was a married man and had no right to say anything about what Darlene Sampson did. And then she went and married Kirk. And then he left her, ran off just like Carlotta had done to you and me, left her with a sweet little boy and nothing much else. I got my divorce then, and Darlene got hers. The rest you pretty much know.”
Seth didn’t much like the comparison his dad seemed to be making. “My mother walked away from us and never looked back. Irene died saving me. No way is that the same.”
“Course it’s not. Your Irene and Carlotta were nothing alike. But you and me? You not only got that Yancy look from me, you got that sense of loyalty so strong it can lead you astray if you’re not careful.”
“Loyalty is a good thing, Dad.”
“I can’t argue that point. What I can say is that I threw away seven years of happiness because I wouldn’t stop clinging to something that was long gone. I think about that, son. I think about it a lot. Seven years I lost in misery, seven years I could have been spending with my beautiful Darlene. Yeah, I think about Nicky, too. That without my pigheaded foolishness and those seven years wasted, we wouldn’t have had Nicky, and I can’t imagine a world that never had Nicky in it. But still. Darlene’s gone now. And the hard fact is that I could have had seven more years with her if I’d only had my head on straight. What will you be thinking when Jody is gone?”
“Damn you, Dad. Don’t say stuff like that.”
Bill stopped rocking. “Tell me, Seth Patrick Yancy, is Irene Vargas ever coming back?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you think she died so that you could be unhappy?”
“What are you saying?”
“Irene died so you could live, boy. Think about that. Think about what she gave for you. Think about Jody and Marybeth, who are living and breathing and in need of your love and tender care. Ask yourself if the way you’re behaving honors a fine woman’s sacrifice.”
* * *
Bill left the next day.
Seth walked him out, put the suitcase back in the trunk of the blue sedan and closed the trunk lid. He went around to the open driver’s-side window. “I wish you’d stay.”
“Not this time.”
“Think about coming back home to live, Dad.”
“I like Florida. The blue, blue sky. The palm trees and white sand beaches with the waves sliding in. And it’s been easier, not to be where everything reminds me of Darlene.”
“You might change your mind, though. We miss you here.”
“I gotta admit, I’ve always been a family man. You work things out with Jody, I might be tempted to come on home and practice bein’ a grandpa full-time.”
“I love you, Dad. Thanks.”
Bill gave a quick nod. “Proud of you, son. Never forget that.” And then he started up the car.
Seth stood back to watch his father drive away.
Five minutes later, the blue sedan was long gone, and Seth was still standing there in the yard beside the cruiser he’d driven home the day before. He was thinking about Jody, about all the things he needed to say to her. H
e was hoping he could somehow make her see that he was finally ready to be the man she needed him to be.
* * *
It was one of those Sundays.
Lois was on the schedule for that day, but she had some weird virus and called in sick. Jody called Marlie and got lucky there. Marlie went in to open up.
But then Bloom’s Sunday delivery driver, Bobby Krebstall, didn’t show up. When Marlie tried to call him, he didn’t pick up and didn’t call back.
So at ten thirty, Marlie called Jody, who packed up a fussy Marybeth and drove to the shop, where she discovered that Bobby, who’d worked the day before, had driven the delivery van home. So, not only no driver, but no van to deliver the orders in.
Bobby was so done working for Bloom. Jody tried the two drivers they used during the week, but neither could come in that day.
It could have been worse, she reminded herself as she sat in the office in back nursing Marybeth and hoping the baby would stop fussing so much. There weren’t that many deliveries, and she could make them in the Tahoe.
At two thirty that afternoon, Marybeth was crying in her car seat, and Jody had one more delivery to go. Sweet old Mr. Watsgraff and his wife were celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. They lived in a small, new development not all that far from the turnoff to the Bar-Y. Mr. Watsgraff wanted the usual white roses, but this time he’d ordered three dozen and sprung for a gorgeous Tom Stoenner art glass vase.
All day, as she’d alternately soothed her unhappy baby, helped Marlie in the shop and headed out to make deliveries, Jody had kept thinking she ought to call Seth and warn him that she might be late to meet him at the house. Actually, he would have come to her rescue in a New York minute and appeared at the shop to do Marybeth duty for as long as she needed him if she’d only asked him.
But she didn’t like asking him for things. She didn’t like how damn wonderful he was with her, with her baby—okay, fine. Their baby. After all, he would be Marybeth’s legal father as soon as the adoption went through.
The Lawman's Convenient Bride Page 17