She didn’t know what his plans were now that he wasn’t going home to Oklahoma City, but she had to assume he would be at the homestead, ready to eat copious amounts of turkey and mashed potatoes.
Part of her mourned that he hadn’t tried harder to get back together with her. The other part argued that Jonathan Carver was Jonathan Carver, and he hadn’t tried to stay in touch when she’d moved eleven years ago. It wouldn’t have been that hard. She could’ve done it too, but with him being silent, one year older, and about to graduate, she’d stayed away too.
She’d fantasized that this Christmas could’ve been celebrated as their eleven-year reunion, the opportunity they hadn’t had as teenagers. Her heart hurt thinking about it, so she shelved the thoughts. She’d made it through the busiest day of her life, and tomorrow would be what tomorrow would be.
By the time she arrived at the ranch, lunch was about to start. She’d purposely left late, hoping to sneak in when the crowd wouldn’t notice her. Of course, with Heidi there, that didn’t work. She parted the sea of bodies and beelined for Grace as soon as she stepped through the French doors leading into the kitchen.
Heidi enveloped her in a motherly hug, and it was exactly what Grace needed in that moment. “Thank you, Heidi,” she said as the woman stepped back.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”
Grace swept the people in the kitchen, searching for Jon.
“He left last night,” Heidi said. “Went to Wichita to be with his brother.”
“Oh.” Grace didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the relief and simultaneous disappointment threading through her. She put on her happy face, the one she’d employed while she swept out her bakery for the last time, the one she wore while she drove from Dallas to Three Rivers, the one she used whenever she didn’t want anyone to know how cracked under the surface she was.
Chelsea must’ve possessed some of her mother’s x-ray vision, though, because after dinner and after pie and after the kids had been put down for naps and after the men had gone downstairs to watch football, she positioned herself next to Grace on the couch upstairs.
“Where’s Jon?” she asked as she lifted a steaming cup of coffee to her lips.
“Wichita,” Grace said.
“Heard you guys broke up.”
Grace cut a sharp look in her direction. “From who?”
Chelsea waved her hand like the living room walls had told her. “He was in a real funk. It was obvious.”
The idea of Jon being in a funk over their break-up brought Grace some satisfaction.
“What happened?” Chelsea asked as Kelly sat in the recliner opposite them.
Grace had always liked Chelsea, always trusted her with new recipes and old secrets. “He hates Three Rivers,” she said.
Kelly gasped and Chelsea laughed. “I know how he feels.”
“What?” Grace stared at her friend from Dallas.
“Remember when I moved here?” She glanced at Kelly. “I think I turned around three times on the way from Dallas. I hated it here…at first.”
“I came back after a failed marriage,” Kelly said. “Wasn’t my idea of a great time either.”
Grace had known Chelsea needed to leave Dallas. “I assumed you were…upset because of…you know.”
“Danny’s death,” Chelsea said. “It’s okay, Grace. I can talk about it now.”
“I didn’t know you didn’t want to come to Three Rivers.”
“Heavens, no.” Chelsea laughed. “I left this place as fast as I could after high school. We both did.”
Kelly nodded her agreement. “But I love it here now. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Exactly where I want to raise my kids.”
“All good points,” Chelsea said, her eyebrows raised in Grace’s direction.
“Jon and I—well, we didn’t make it to the family and kids conversation. He wouldn’t even talk about anything past Christmas.” Bitterness surged up her throat.
Chelsea put her hand over Grace’s. “Be patient with him. He probably doesn’t know what he wants. Not everyone is as put together as you are.”
Grace gave a mirthless laugh. “I am not put together.” She felt like she was falling apart at the seams.
“You sure are,” Chelsea said. “You went to pastry school, something you’ve dreamed about since you were ten. Who does that? Actually knows that they want to be when they’re a child, and then does it?” She exchanged a glance with Kelly. “He’s probably afraid. Worried he’s not good enough for you.”
“I bet he feels inadequate.”
Grace listened to her friends in awe. She was not intimidating. No one—least of all Jon—should be afraid of her. And he was definitely good enough for her. The very idea that he wasn’t seemed laughable. “Well, I think I’ll go.”
Chelsea squeezed her hand. “Okay, but Grace?” She peered up into Grace’s face as she stood. “Just give him some time, all right?”
“Sure,” Grace said, but she knew: Time didn’t do anything. She’d given her cupcakery months to succeed, and all she’d done was dig herself deeper into debt. She drove home, more determined than ever that she’d done the right thing when she’d cut Jon loose.
Jon arrived at the address his brother had given him. The two-story brick house seemed to loom over him, shout at him that he should be in Texas and not Oklahoma. But he hadn’t been able to stay, to face Grace. And the thought of spending Thanksgiving alone appealed to him even less.
He’d done that before—spent Thanksgiving with hundreds of other men in Iraq. No family. Just the watered down version of turkey, and the hope that he’d be home in time for Cam’s wedding at Easter.
He’d made it then. He could do this now. He got out of the car and walked up to the front door, which opened before he arrived. Cam, his older brother, beamed at him before clasping him in a tight hug. “It’s been too long, Jon.”
“You’re the one who lives in Maryland.” Jon chuckled, though he’d secretly resented Cam for years because he’d left the carpentry business for Jon to handle. Now, though, none of those old feelings surfaced, and Jon realized he’d forgiven Cam, moved on.
Cam released him and welcomed him into the house. His wife, Erika, stood in the living room. A petite brunette, Jon felt like he might break her when he hugged her hello. She introduced him to her parents, who Jon thanked over and over for adding him to their guest list so last minute.
“What happened in Texas, anyway?” Cam asked.
Jon flashed him a warning look and smiled. The gesture felt wrong on his face. “I was plannin’ to spend Thanksgiving in Oklahoma City,” he said. “But someone gave someone else plane tickets to New York.”
That shut Cam up. Thankfully. Jon wanted to talk about Grace, but in private, without the presence of several strangers, no matter how accommodating they were. That moment didn’t come until much later that evening, after visiting and dinner and coffee on the screened-in back porch. A humming space heater kept the airy room warm enough, and the hot liquid definitely helped.
Erika swept a kiss across Cam’s mouth and headed into the house with her parents and brother, leaving Jon alone with Cam. He enjoyed the silence for a few minutes, searching for a way to bring up Grace without giving too much away.
In the end, he simply blurted, “So I met a woman in Texas.”
Cam put his coffee mug down and faced Jon. “Oh, yeah?”
“You might remember her.” Though Jon didn’t really think so. Cam was three years older than Jon, and Jon a year older than Grace. “Yeah, Grace Lewis.”
Cam’s blank expression indicated he did not remember Grace. And why should he? He hadn’t been the one entranced by the woman’s navy blue eyes, or captured by her laugh, or intrigued by her obsession with baking.
So Jon reminded him, though Cam still didn’t have any memories of Jon’s high school homecoming dance or Grace’s sudden removal from his life. “And now she’s back.” He ran his h
ands through his hair. He’d left his cowboy hat in Texas, and he suddenly felt naked without it. “What are the chances she’d be in Three Rivers when I am?”
“Probably less than one percent.” Cam gazed into the distance, though his degree was in statistics, and surely he knew the exact odds of Grace and Jon being in the same small Texas town at the same time.
Jon stewed, wishing he knew how to articulate to his brother what his problem was, what help he needed. Instead, he told him about Grace, about his hesitation to stay in tiny Three Rivers. He finally fell silent after he said, “Tell me what to do.”
“Nope.” Cam exhaled and stretched his arms above his head. “Not gonna tell you what to do, Jonny. You always wanted me to choose for you, and I did when we were growing up. But I can’t do that here.”
“Then what would you do?”
Cam leveled his gaze at Jon. “I’d ask myself if I liked this woman enough to want to see if I could fall in love with her. And if I do like her that much, I’d figure out what to do to keep her in my life long enough to know if we could have a future together.”
Jon started nodding halfway through Cam’s statement. “I like her enough.”
“Do you hate Three Rivers that much?”
“I—” Jon’s throat narrowed, and familiar frustration ran through him. “I don’t know.”
“I think you know what to do, then.” Cam stood and entered the house, the screen door slapping behind him as he left Jon alone on the screened-in porch. He stared at the unfamiliar horizon and wondered why he cared where he lived. If Grace was there, he’d be happy. And if she wasn’t….
He reached for his phone and dialed her, hoping she’d be forgiving enough to answer. Her line rang and rang, wringing his stomach tighter and tighter. She didn’t pick up, and something clogged the back of Jon’s throat.
Could he jump in his truck and drive the six hours back to Three Rivers? Show up on her doorstep and beg her to take him back?
He dialed her again, and this time he left a message. “Hey, Grace. It’s Jon. I’ve been….” He sighed and threw caution to the wind. “I’ve been so stupid. Please forgive me. And please call me back.” He wanted to add something more, but he couldn’t say, “I love you.” So he hung up with extreme exasperation pressing against the back of his tongue.
A half hour passed, wherein Jon pressed the power button on his phone every thirty seconds just to make sure it still had a charge. Finally, it rang. He fumbled it in his haste to answer, especially when Grace’s name came up on the screen.
“Grace,” he said. “Hey.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.
Jon tried to gauge her mood by her voice, but his heart beat so loudly in his ears, he couldn’t. “Happy Thanksgiving to you too. Did you get my message?”
“Yes.” A door slammed on her end of the line. “I didn’t have service on the way back from the ranch. And you’re lucky it’s Thanksgiving and I’m feeling extra grateful for all I have—which I’ll admit, I hope that includes you.”
The wave of relief cascading over Jon rivaled a tsunami. He collapsed back to the chair, not quite sure when he’d stood. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I wish I was there to tell you in person.”
“Hearing it in your voice is enough.”
“So what now?”
“Well, Jon, we’ll need to talk about important things when you get back.”
He leaned back in his chair, unwilling to let her go now that he had her on the line. “What about tonight?”
“I’m too tired to talk about serious things tonight.” She yawned. “I was up early to make the pies for Thanksgiving dinner. Tell me about your trip.”
Jon imagined Grace reclined in the armchair in her living room, her eyes already closed. He smiled and began to talk.
Grace’s skin itched with anticipation. With the need to be doing something. She wasn’t good at sitting, never had been. But with all the holiday orders fulfilled and nothing to do until Monday—and she wasn’t even sure what she’d do then—Grace had a few days to herself.
Problem was, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d driven through her favorite java hut and watched the sun rise over the river on the south side of town. Jon was driving back from Wichita today, but it was a long way, and she wasn’t expecting him until at least afternoon.
Black Friday in Three Rivers started later than in other areas—no lines around the block before five a.m. here—and gradually the town came to life. Grace walked down Main Street, ducking into a few shops until she finally found a beautiful clothing boutique. She browsed through the clothes, the scarves, the shoes, looking for something cute to wear to church.
She tried on several things, made her purchases from a kind dark-haired woman named Andy, and headed home. It was only nine o’clock.
A level of exhaustion Grace hadn’t experienced since pastry school engulfed her, and she dropped her shopping bags at the mouth of the hall and dropped to the couch.
She woke to the gentle pressure of Jon’s lips against her forehead, the masculine smell of pine trees and wood smoke making her smile and open her eyes.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Sorry to wake you. You just looked too beautiful not to kiss.”
“Smooth,” she said as she lifted her arms to hug him. “I’m glad you came back.” She enjoyed the weight of him against her, the electricity zipping down her neck when he kissed her there, the absolute joy coursing through her that he’d called, apologized, come back.
“Are you too tired to talk?” He traced his lips up her throat, and all thoughts of talking fled her mind. By the time he finally kissed her mouth, Grace’s muscles felt like warm marshmallows. She twined her fingers through his dark, silky hair, and gave her whole self to him.
She finally put a knuckle of space between them, and his labored breathing indicated he enjoyed kissing her as much as she enjoyed kissing him. But there had to be more to this relationship than hot sparks and great kissing.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Nearly two.” He sat back on his haunches as she came to a sitting position on the couch. “Want to go grab lunch?”
Her stomach answered with a roar. She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to deny she’d slept for five hours and failing. She’d definitely slept for five hours. Jon stood and slid his hand down her shoulder. “You ready?”
“Sure.” She collected her purse and followed him out to his truck. Her stomach twisted and untwisted on the drive there. She wanted him to start the conversation, because she felt like she’d said everything she needed to already.
But he told her about his visit with his brother, and the drive from Wichita, and how he wished he’d been able to taste one of her pies. After being shown to a booth, Jon finally fell silent. Grace ordered sweet tea and fixed her gaze on him, almost like she could communicate telepathically with him.
The waitress left to get their drinks, and Jon squirmed. “I’m not great at making decisions.”
Grace blinked, unsure of where he was going. “Okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” He rubbed his hand up the back of his neck and looked away. “It’s why I’m still in construction. I couldn’t decide if I should go to school and if I did, what I should do.”
“You don’t like carpentry?”
“No, I do.” He let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know how to articulate what I’m feeling.” The waitress returned and took their orders, and Jon gulped his soda before meeting her eye again.
“You’ve always known what you wanted to be. And you went out there and did it.” He reached across the table and took her hands in his. “I love that about you. But I’m not like that. I was raised in construction and I liked it. Cam didn’t want to stick around, and I didn’t have anything else to do….” He shrugged. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. It’s just that I didn’t choose carpentry. I’m not good at making choices. It’s like…it’s like, if I do, then I might not get what I want.
I might be disappointed. I might fail.”
Grace’s chest heaved with emotion. Here was this handsome, talented man, looking at her with all the vulnerability of a scared boy. She squeezed his hands and opened her eyes wide to try to keep the tears back.
She couldn’t quite get herself to speak yet, choked up as she was. He blinked a couple of times, the tendons in his neck tight, tight, tight.
“Do you know why I moved to Three Rivers?” Grace fought against the fear of telling him about all her failures. But at least she had them. Maybe if he knew about them, he’d know life could be great, despite setbacks and disappointments.
“To help Heidi open her bakery.”
Grace shook her head. “Yes, because I needed a job after my cupcake shop in Dallas failed.” She inhaled, relieved the previous emotion had settled back into her stomach. “And that was after it took me three tries to get into culinary school.”
“Grace,” Jon said, and she loved hearing him say her name. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” His jaw tightened and he let out an angry hiss. “Here I am crying about failing, and you…. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, don’t feel bad. I was just trying to let you know that I’ve failed. I understand the fear of it. But at least—” She cut herself off before she could say something that would hurt him further, drive him farther from her.
“At least you’ve tried,” he finished for her. His fury faded, leaving behind the scared man again. “I want to try, Grace. With you. Can you give me a few more weeks to try?”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t need to think about it.” And she didn’t. She liked Jon, always had. She wanted to see if they could have a future together as badly as she’d wanted culinary school, as much as she’d wanted her cupcakery in Dallas, as desperately as she’d tried to hold onto it before admitting defeat.
Maybe she was doing the same thing here. She wasn’t sure. She just knew she liked him enough to think she might be able to love him, and she didn’t want to walk away before either of them knew for sure.
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