by Leger, Lori
Panicked, she tried to pull her hand back to call for a nurse.
“No, I’m okay,” he said. “I just—want you and Greg to find her.”
Melinda choked back another sob. “I’ve tried Dad. The records are gone, and I can’t find her.”
“Keep trying until you do,” he gasped again, struggling for breath before reaching out toward Greg. “Help her, Hart. Together you can. Find your daughter.” He spoke in short choppy sentences that matched his hitched breathing. “Find her. Love her. Have faith. Both of you.”
“Dad!” she cried, watching in horror as his eyes drifted shut. Melinda held her breath as a nurse pushed her aside to check his vitals.
Melinda sat up to punch her pillow for the fifth time that night. She fell back, hoping this time would be different. She’d flip flopped on that motel bed so many times her sheets were knotted. After another five minutes she gave up the fight and flipped on her bedside lamp. She pulled a paperback from the top drawer of her nightstand and flipped it open to her bookmark. After reading the first page of the chapter for the third time, she jumped at the ringing of her cell phone.
Her breath released in a rush of air as she answered. “This is Melinda Dawson, what happened?”
“Melin, it’s me.”
Her head hit the pillow, relieved it wasn’t the hospital calling with bad news. She’d nearly had a heart attack when her dad had simply fallen asleep on her earlier. Once he’d been transferred, his condition had stabilized.
“Greg? What the hell are you doing calling at this hour? It’s—” she craned her neck to check the time.
“Two o’clock in the morning, I know,” he said, before she could answer. “I saw your light on and figured you were having as much trouble sleeping as I was.”
“You saw my light on?” She reached over to pull the thick drapes aside, saw his truck parked outside. “Oh hell, I can’t wait to hear why you’re parked outside my motel room, two hours away from McCray.” She waited through at least thirty seconds of tension-filled silence. “You planning to answer me in this century?”
“Take it easy on me, will you? I’ve been struggling to get my shit together since discovering I—that we—have a daughter.”
Melinda took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Look, why don’t you come on in and I’ll make us some tea.”
“Make it coffee and you’ve got a deal.”
She smiled, as a sense of deja vu washed over her. They’d definitely had this conversation before, at least once and a long, long time ago. Except he hadn’t asked for coffee. And she’d ended up with a lot more than a case of insomnia.
Greg walked up to the door and knocked softly. Within seconds, she’d pulled it open and waved him in.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him before meeting her green eyed gaze. God he’d loved staring into those eyes of hers, eyes that hadn’t lost their appeal, even after three decades.
“Any more news on your dad?”
“Only that he was still resting comfortably.” She placed a hand over heart and shook her head. “Two a.m. phone calls aren’t good for much, besides scaring the hell out of me. Maybe I made a mistake giving you my number. And there are at least two dozen hotels and motels in this city. How’d you find me?”
“This is the only one near the hospital. I drove around until I saw your car. It’s parked in front of this door and the light was on, so I took a chance. I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have called.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s fine and so am I,” she said.
He felt his mouth tightening as she turned and pulled the belt of her silky robe tighter around her tiny waist. Memories washed over him, of his hands wrapped around that same waist, of pulling her close for a kiss as her arms looped around his neck to lace fingers through his hair. He turned away from the sight of her preparing the coffee pot. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
“Hey!”
Her sharp call brought his thoughts back to the present. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I’ve only repeated the same question three times. Is regular okay? There’s no decaf.”
He waved it off. “I don’t drink decaf.”
She pushed the button on the coffee maker and turned, resting her hips against the room’s entertainment center.
His gaze was drawn to her feet, covered in slippers, and crossed delicately at the ankles. It travelled up shapely calves, firm thighs, and above. Again, a sound emitted from above his line of sight, a subtle clearing of her throat that drew his attention. He tore his gaze away from the lower half of her body and focused on her amused expression.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, as she pushed off from the dresser to walk into her bathroom and close the door. He studied the emergency exit diagram hanging on the wall until she walked out of the bathroom dressed in jeans, with a button down shirt.
She must have seen the disappointment in his face, because she stopped, and quirked her left brow curiously. How many times had he seen her do that? Hundreds? Thousands?
“What?”
“I was hoping you still preferred letting your girls breathe while lounging around.” Disappointment plastered his face.
Melinda’s lips rolled inward, as though stifling a smile before she pulled two empty mugs from the tray on top of the dresser. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind letting the girls breathe around others if they were still that perky. The sad fact is, without getting into details of their downward excursions, they aren’t.” She poured the coffee and handed him a mug. “Things change in thirty years.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” he admitted. “You look better than ever, Melin.” He held up a hand at her snort of disbelief. “Sure, you look more mature, but you’re a perfect showcase for what we called the three ‘T’s’ in my unit. Tanned, toned, and tempting as hell. Honestly, you look great, and it’s not a line.”
She lifted her filled mug in the air and gave him a smug grin. “Unless it works.”
He took a moment to think about her comment then dropped his head back and groaned. “God, I can’t believe you remember that.”
She emitted a low chuckle. “You got me to skinny dip with that line, Gregory. It’s not something I’m likely to forget,” she drawled.
Greg grinned sheepishly down at her. “Yeah well, I guess it was me who introduced it to the guys in my unit – but the memory of you in that lake sort of became the benchmark for all women after that. I was a dog, wasn’t I?”
She shrugged. “As far as I could tell, it was just with me, and that’s why your line worked. Besides—” she paused as she sipped from her cup. “You could have thrown a fourth T in there. I think I was a bit of a tease.”
It was his turn to shrug. “Maybe just a little, but I should have been stronger.”
“You would have held off if I’d asked you to,” she said softly. “The truth is, girls that age don’t realize what kind of power they have over guys. Once I realized I could make you lose control—well, it was a heady feeling. One a seventeen year old girl wasn’t equipped to handle wisely.”
“I was nineteen, and even less equipped to handle it.”
Her lips curled in a provocative half smile. “Oh, I don’t know. From what I can remember, you were pretty well-equipped.”
He put the mug down on the desk and walked over to take her gently by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Melinda. I can’t fathom what you must have been feeling. As a Marine, it shames me. As a man, it kills me that I wasn’t there for you.” She lowered her head and he pulled her close for a hug. They stood, rocking, swaying gently, surrounded by the generic furniture, engulfed in the deafening silence of the sleeping city.
She settled her gaze onto his, the passionate pools of green holding him enthralled as they had so many years ago. He gave her lips a tentative taste, then another. The third transformed into a full buffet as she locked her lips hungrily onto his. He felt her arms loop around his neck and groaned loudly when she
curled her fingers into his hair.
Sweet Jesus, yes. He’d skipped his last cut, hoping, praying for a moment just like this. He’d lost countless hours of sleep lately. He awakened from dreams, drenched in sweat, as though he’d really been in the back seat of that old ’66 Plymouth with Melinda. His first love. His last love, if she’d have him.
She ripped his shirt out of his jeans and pulled the soft jersey over his head, moaning deep in her throat as she plastered her hands over his bare pectorals.
Never had he been so glad for his steady regimen of running and weight lifting to keep in shape. With shaky hands, he cupped her shoulders then ran both hands up her neck to either side of her face, pulling her close for a soul-searing kiss.
Before he knew it, she’d tugged his belt open, unsnapped his jeans and was working with agile fingers on his zipper. With a rush of breath he pulled her hands away. “Wait.”
“I don’t want to wait another second. Not one more second for you, Gregory.”
He grinned down at her. “You know, you’re the only person in the world who ever got away with calling me that.”
“Is that so?” she breathed while nibbling on his ear.
He released a low chuckle. “Uh huh. Now, stop that, Melin. We need to talk.”
She groaned as he pulled her away from him and sat her on the bed. He sat beside her, taking her left hand in his own. “I’ve been thinking about this moment since you walked into my store for those triple-A batteries, lady.”
Her free hand stroked softly down one side of his face. “You have?”
“Yep, and I don’t want to mess it up, so bear with me, all right?” He waited until she seemed to digest his words and gave him a silent nod.
“I want you, Melin. But not until you know how I feel. I guess God had a reason for making things turn out the way they did. I guess we were meant to meet different people along the way.” He shook his head slowly. “But, I feel like we’ve had the majority of our lives stolen from us.”
“Three decades,” she agreed.
He nodded. “I’ve been thinking that maybe getting back on track will help us to heal from this faster.”
“What do you mean back on track?”
Greg pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it in front of her. He stared into the face of the woman he’d been in love with for so many years. Her cheeks flushed a becoming rose color the second she saw the box.
“I’ve held onto this for nearly thirty-two years.” He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, a single tiny diamond, paired with emeralds on either side of it, all set in gold.
She raised her gaze to his, and blinked several times to keep her tears at bay. “You bought this for me?”
He nodded. “I’d planned to give it to you for Christmas your senior year.” He took the ring from the box and smiled. “I had my speech all prepared too, only I never got to deliver it.” He leaned back and held the ring out to her. “So, does this look like something you’d want to hang onto?”
“Surely you had a better speech prepared than that?” she murmured, eyeing the ring longingly.
“I did.”
She cocked her head playfully and sat back on the bed. “Well, I believe I’ve earned the right to hear it.”
Several seconds and a few nervous throat clearings later, Greg began to speak.
“I remember the first day I saw you, Melinda. It was your first day of kindergarten and you were trying to comfort your mother. You told her you wanted to walk in alone your first day of school.” He gave a low chuckle at the memory. “Your poor mom was a basket case. Do you remember that?”
She nodded. “I finally had to tell her she could come with me so she’d quit crying.”
He nodded. “Yep, you did, and I remember thinking that you must be the strongest little girl in the whole world. And me being an ‘older man’ of seven, I’d already seen plenty of girls by then to compare you to.”
“Well sure, you being a mature second grader, man of the world, and all,” she agreed.
“You got it, so even at such an early age I knew what I wanted in a woman. Strength, independence, and even at five, I knew you’d be a looker.”
“What gave it away, my face full of freckles or my banged up knees?”
He passed a finger lovingly over the light spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “The sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes of yours, Melin. They always could see clear into my soul.”
He slipped to one knee before her and heard her breath hitch as he removed the ring from its velvet pillow. “Melinda Denise Dawson,” he said softly. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
She caressed his face and beamed. “I believe I will, Gregory.”
“I’ll exchange this diamond for something bigger, but I wanted you to see it in its original form, first. It’s all I could afford at the time.”
She smiled. “I would have loved it then. And I love it now, bigger diamond or no.”
“Good to know.” He slipped the ring onto her left ring finger. “One thing, though. After we’re married you’re gonna have to nix the Gregory thing. Call me Greg like everyone else. Either that, or love of your life, or your highness, or something equally befitting.”
“Aw,” she drawled. “It’s so cute that you think you’ll ever be able to tell me what to do.”
He kissed the finger he’d just slipped the ring onto and smiled. “Nothing but attitude.” Melinda’s soft laughter had him smiling again.
“I’m too set in my ways to change now. You’ll just have to get used to my lip.”
“I love your lip. As a matter of fact, I love both your lips.” He pushed her gently back on the bed and stretched out beside her. “Are you going to make me wait for you, Melin?”
“Wait for what?”
“To start our life together. To marry me.”
“I think we’ve both waited long enough, don’t you? As soon as Dad’s out of the woods, I’ll start thinking about that. Is that satisfactory, Gregory?”
He supported himself with one elbow as he reached down to unbutton her shirt. “Sounds like a plan. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start the reacquainting process immediately.”
She smiled. “Now that sounds like a plan.”
You want another cup of coffee, Cyn?” Melinda asked her friend.
Cynthia finished wrapping the last of Melinda’s plates and stacked it neatly inside the moving box. “Only if I can have it with another of those fruit tarts.”
“Sure.” Melinda slid a large plastic container across the counter top. “Pick your poison.”
Cyn examined the contents of the container. “Got any strawberries left?”
“If I do, it’s got an X marked on the crust. Good luck, though. Those are Greg’s favorites.”
“A ha!” Cyn held up a tart in victory. “He must have missed one.” She took a bite and rolled her eyes blissfully. “God, these things are so good, Melin. Have you thought any more about buying the bakery? You’d I swear you’d make a killing.”
“Actually, I’ve spoken to Mr. Lee about it and I told him I’d buy the building if he gave me six months. I don’t want to start my marriage fighting to get a new business off the ground.”
“I hear you. I doubt you’ll have to struggle. Hell, there’s nothing else left around here. You won’t have any problems making a go of it.”
“I hope you’re right, my friend,” Melinda huffed as she hauled a step stool to the pantry. “If I haven’t told you this before, I appreciate you helping me get this place packed up.” She shook her head. “I never realized two old people could collect so much stuff. I have to get this placed emptied before the wedding in two weeks. I have some potential buyers coming to look at it whenever I give them the word.”
“I think you two made the right choice. Selling both your places to buy something new. No ghosts from either house Fresh starts for both of you.”
Melinda climbed up on the stepladder
to reach the top shelf. “I’ll be damned! There’s more of mom’s preserves shoved way to the back, up here. At least a dozen more jars.”
“Hey, you’ve hit the mother lode!” Cyn exclaimed, reaching for some of the jars Melinda handed down to her. “There’s something stuck to the bottom of that quart jar you just picked up.”
Melinda stepped down from the ladder before checking it out. She pulled what was left of a pad of post it notes from the bottom of the jar and sat down to examine it. “Looks like a shopping list—” She stopped short.
“For what?”
Melinda could feel the ear to ear grin spreading across her face, even as her eyes clouded with tears. “Oh Cyn! It’s mom’s recipe.” She looked up, her heart filled with joy. “For her strawberry preserves.”
“Her prize-winning strawberry preserves?” Cynthia voice hushed with reverence.
Melinda nodded. “Yep.” She sniffed loudly as she wiped away her trail of tears. “Thanks Mom,” she whispered, holding the notepad close to her heart. “You’re covered when it comes to wedding gifts.”
Wedding Cookies
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter
3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
3/4 tsp. salt
1 1/2 cups finely ground almonds
4 1/2 tsps. vanilla extract
3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1/3 cup confectioners’ sugar (for rolling)
Preheat oven to 365 degrees.
Cream butter in a bowl. Gradually add confectioners’ sugar and salt. Beat until light and fluffy. Add almonds and vanilla. Blend in flour gradually and mix well.
Shape into balls, using about 1 tsp. for each cookie. Place on ungreased cookie sheets and bake for 15-20 minutes. Do not brown. Cool slightly and roll in confectioners’ sugar.
Melinda stared at her beaming reflection in the mirror. She smoothed the waist of her fitted gown, wondering when she’d ever had so much to smile about. A soft knock on the door had her walking over to see who it was. She pulled it open cautiously, determined not to let her future husband see her dress, in case it was him. “Is that you, Gregory?”