She stopped the car in the drive and Adam got out. Jenny pulled the wheelchair from the trunk as if the small space was made for the large chair. When she had driven away, Adam pushed the chair into the garage. He needed to make an official list, now that he was figuring out more of what Jenny needed.
He pulled the little notebook from the pocket in the wheelchair and limped toward the backyard. He sat at the patio table and wrote “What Does Jenny Want?” He knew she wanted to be considered, to have her wants attended to. His gaze landed on the boards from the fence project stacked in the backyard.
Building Jenny a fence wasn’t exactly a grand romantic gesture, but she had already said she didn’t want flowers. Maybe romance wasn’t the best way to reach out to his wife.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made a call. Maybe building a fence would be the next step in bridging the gap between them.
* * *
JENNY GRABBED A multipack of macaroni and cheese off the shelf at Mallard’s Grocery, tossing it into her cart and reaching for a box of rice. She was tired of sandwiches for lunch, breakfast-for-dinner or the boys’ favorite: hot dogs and home fries. If she was going to get out of the rut her relationship had been in, she might as well also get the family out of the food rut they had been in.
She’d enjoyed playing around with slow-cooker recipes before the tornado because it made things simpler after work. Chicken and rice was a good option. In the butcher department, she saw the makings for a pot roast and added that to the cart, as well.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Her father’s voice caught her attention, and Jenny turned.
Doug must have come to the grocery store straight from the bank he managed because he still wore his usual khaki pants, polo shirt and wingtip shoes. When she was a little girl, she’d thought it was strange that her dad wore wingtips with khakis, but he’d always insisted they were the most comfortable shoes.
“Hi, Dad. What are you doing here?”
“Your mother has bridge club tonight. I’m escaping the madness.”
“At the grocery store?”
He grinned sheepishly and motioned to his cart, which held five different kinds of cookies, a loaf of wheat bread and a package of deli ham. “Your mother is on one of her kicks again. She keeps ordering all our food from one of those box companies. You know, the ones with step-by-step directions on how to create a fabulous meal from a couple chicken breasts, some chickpeas and zucchini squash? Only she never adds desserts to the box. I’ve started hoarding a few of my favorites.”
“I think the point of those subscription boxes is to eat more healthily.” Still, it was typical of her mother to think about only what she wanted. Margery wanted to watch her weight, so she subscribed to a healthy cooking box, but didn’t think that her husband might also want a dessert occasionally.
Jenny stopped short. Just like Adam had never considered the kind of flowers she liked or if she wanted to go with him to the Slope. Just like she had never said she wanted to go, had only gone along with what he was already doing.
She was her father.
Adam was her mother.
Jenny didn’t like where this conversation was taking her, not even a little bit. Her dad didn’t seem to notice her distraction, and continued talking.
“Man cannot live by chicken breast and zucchini noodles alone.” Doug hugged her. “You’re looking better. How’s Adam?”
“The last doctor’s appointment was positive. They may have hit on the right medication combo. And he’s doing the physical therapy.”
“That’s great, sweetheart.”
“How’s the banking business?” She leaned a hip against the cart handle.
“Interesting,” he said, that familiar grin crossing his face at the lame joke. “It’s fine. Keeps me busy and your mom happy. How’s it going with Nancy and Owen back at the cabinet shop?”
Jenny considered. As frustrated as she still was with her in-laws’ interference in the business, Buchanan’s was on track. The new contracts were signed. Nancy still clucked about the furniture side of things, but Owen seemed supportive. And he’d been right about shipping the granite countertops with the lowers instead of parsing it into two shipments. “Not bad. We had dinner with them Sunday. They’re talking about going to Florida after the holidays.”
The thought of them leaving sent a jolt of apprehension down her spine. Nancy and Owen had meddled, but they’d been here to help her. While her own parents, who lived across town, hadn’t changed anything about their interactions with Jenny, Adam, Frankie or Garrett. What if, when Nancy and Owen left, Adam went downhill?
Jenny clenched her hands on the cart handle. She would manage it. The two of them were talking now in ways they never had before. She wouldn’t let things slide this time. She wouldn’t be reduced to sneaking dessert into her house because her husband was on a diet.
They started down the aisle, and Doug added a bunch of grapes to his cart. “Just so you won’t worry about my sugar addiction,” he said.
Jenny grinned at him. She could keep this light, joke with him about grapes and dessert. Or she could ask a hard question. “Dad?”
Doug grabbed a box of Pop-Tarts off another shelf. At this rate, his entire shopping cart would be a carboholic’s dream. “Yeah?”
“When I was talking to Mom a couple weeks ago, she, ah...” No, scratch asking him a hard question. When Margery had expressed her disappointment with Jenny’s choice of husband, she’d been blowing off steam, annoyed that what she wanted wasn’t high on Jenny’s priority list. “Never mind.”
Doug stopped his cart and took hold of her arm. “Your mom, what?” he asked, in what she’d always considered his Bank Loan Revocation voice.
“Aiden’s back in town. We’re having a barbecue on Sunday. You and Mom should come.” Because if she hadn’t had a normal relationship with her parents to this point in her life, maybe she could, moving forward. Jenny was making things work with Adam. He was listening to what she needed. She could do the same with her parents. She could make their relationship better, too, but not if she undermined Margery about something her mother likely hadn’t meant.
“We don’t have any other plans.”
“Noon.”
Her father nodded. “Now what did your mother do or say that’s making this frown line so deep?” he asked, and rubbed his finger along the bridge of her nose between her eyebrows, as if he could wipe her worries away just that easily.
“It’s nothing.”
Doug watched her for a long moment and Jenny squirmed. As if she was back in elementary school and had forgotten her homework. Again. “She kind of said I should leave Adam. That he wasn’t—”
Doug folded his arms across his chest. “Nonsense. Sweetheart, your mother has always had...ideas about what your life should be like. I was busy with work so I didn’t interfere. But you chose Adam. What she wants or wanted for you stopped at that point. You need to do what is right for you, not for your mom.”
Hearing the words shored up Jenny’s confidence. “You don’t agree with her?”
“I’ve never known Adam to be anything but kind, loyal and caring. I might have wanted the two of you to wait to get married, but I’ve never been sorry that you did.”
Jenny heaved a sigh of relief. Hearing those words from her father reassured her on a basic level, especially after realizing she and Adam had some of the same traits that her parents showed to one another.
“You’re doing okay? Really okay?”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. She might not have the call-twice-a-day relationship with her parents, but it was nice to know her father cared about her.
“I’m doing okay, Dad. Really.” She wanted to tell him more about Adam, but she hadn’t even shared her worries about him with his parents. It seemed like a betrayal, espec
ially after the turnaround he’d had in the past couple weeks. Adam deserved her first loyalty.
“I need to get home,” she said instead. “And oh, I saw there’s a special on bratwurst in the meat department.” Her father loved bratwurst, and Jenny was positive that particular favorite would not make it into any of her mother’s food subscription boxes.
Doug’s eyes brightened and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you, sweetheart. We’ll see you Sunday.”
“See you Sunday,” she said, and started for the checkout, still thinking about the parallels between her parents’ relationship and the path she’d fallen into with Adam.
As much as she didn’t want him to take her for granted, she didn’t want to take him for granted, either. She wanted more for both of them than a tepid friendship or sharing a house. One person sneaking in junk food while the other made unilateral decisions about everything from television shows to meals.
The two of them were on the right track now. She would keep them on it.
CHAPTER TEN
JENNY HEAVED A deep sigh as she saw not one, but two, sets of parents slam their car doors on the street before her home.
Nancy, wearing cropped pants and a cardigan twinset, carried a plate of cookies in her hands. Owen had on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt in deference to the still-warm October sun. Her parents, by comparison, looked like they might be headed to a formal garden party in Tulsa or Saint Louis, not a backyard barbecue with children. Her mother wore wedge-heeled, peep-toe slides and a sheath dress in royal blue, with a wrap of some sort that was bound to have grass stains on it by the end of the day. Her father wore the familiar wingtips, pressed pants in a dove gray and a pearl-buttoned oxford shirt.
“Sweet Lord, this might have been a disastrous idea,” she muttered before pasting a smile on her face as she opened the front door. Their parents had never been the best of friends, but her mother’s attitude had significantly cooled since Adam’s accident. “Moms, Dads,” she said, “come in. Everyone is in the backyard.”
Nancy pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’ll just leave the cookies in the kitchen on my way through. Don’t you look lovely today?”
Jenny glanced at her outfit: denim capris with little birdhouses embroidered along the hem, and a striped T-shirt. Nothing to write home about, but then again, at least she wasn’t in danger of ruining a garden-party-fabulous dress like her mother.
Owen and Doug followed Nancy through the house, but Margery hung back. She shot a disgusted look over her shoulder toward the RV. “What is the world is that...that thing doing here?”
Jenny wasn’t about to tell her mother that Adam was living in the camper, at least for now. Margery might stage an actual offensive in the hopes this separation would become permanent. Jenny might not trust that they could save their relationship, but inviting her mother’s criticism would only make things worse.
“We’re thinking about taking the boys on a trip,” she said, deciding that if the lie was good enough for Adam’s parents, it was good enough for her own.
“In that?” Margery wrinkled her nose as if the RV might hold some awful disease.
Jenny had never been overly interested in camping—not even in an RV—but her mother’s instant dislike of the possibility rubbed her the wrong way. She knew it was childish, but going on a vacation in an RV wasn’t the end of the world. There were RVs worth millions of dollars that had better amenities than the best five-star hotel might have.
“Yes, in that. Probably to Branson.” Her mother’s least favorite place. That Jenny wasn’t overly fond of it herself was beside the point. This was her life, not her mother’s, and Jenny would live it the way she wanted to.
“God, dear, why would you want to go there?”
“The music? The food? The golf?”
Margery shook her head and continued through the house.
Adam had set up several small tables and chairs around the patio. His parents settled with Aiden at one, watching Frankie and Garrett tussle over a football in the yard. Doug stood near Adam at the grill, as if inspecting the cooking going on. Margery sat at a table by herself, hands folded in her lap, a benign expression on her face. Jenny made a beeline to the grill.
“Anything you need from the kitchen?”
Adam shook his head. “Chicken will be ready in about ten. How are the potatoes and salad coming along?”
“Ready when the chicken is.” There was nothing left to do except take a seat. Jenny sat with her mother at the second table.
“Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”
“It’s awfully sunny out here,” Margery said.
“Well, yes, it’s the middle of the day.”
“You could have put up umbrellas or a tent or something.”
Jenny hadn’t thought of that. The four of them rarely used the umbrella stand that folded out to cover nearly the entire patio area. Besides, it was October. The sun was high in the sky, but it wasn’t exactly sweltering. In fact, Jenny thought it was perfect, just sitting in the warm sunshine on a beautiful fall day. Still, she didn’t want to be rude.
“I’ll get an umbrella out of the garage.”
She hurried around the side of the house. The umbrella was in a corner behind a pristine trash can Adam used to hold rakes and hoes and other lawn equipment. She pulled on it, but it didn’t budge. Jenny pulled again and lost her balance. Strong arms came around her middle, holding her against a strong chest. Heart beating hard, she struggled to regain her footing.
“Whoa, there, champ, what did that umbrella ever do to you?” Adam chuckled.
“Nothing,” she said. “My mother is playing Scarlett O’Hara and needs to shade herself from this unbecoming sun.” Jenny could feel his heat through their clothing. Little jolts of electricity seemed to pulse between them, and her mouth went dry. She stepped away from Adam’s side and brushed her hands over her capris. “I’m fine. Should have just moved the barrel first.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he said, reaching for the heavy container.
Jenny reached around him. Heavy lifting was among the no-no’s on the list from his doctor. “I’ve got it.”
“I can move a trash can and an umbrella, Jen.”
“I know.” But he wasn’t supposed to. Things were going so well for him, so well between them. She didn’t want a freaking umbrella to bring everything crashing down around them again. Jenny grabbed the handle of the can and pulled it out of the way before Adam could. “She’s my mother,” she said, hoping Adam would let it go if she made this about her mom instead of his injury. “Is the chicken ready?”
“I left your dad in charge.”
With the oversize can out of the way, Jenny grabbed the umbrella from the corner. “I’ll just take this around,” she said, and turned.
“Oof!” Adam staggered back. The umbrella clattered to the floor, and he doubled over.
“Oh, my God,” Jenny said, rushing to him. She put her arms around his shoulders. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
He took in a long, slow breath. “I’m...fine,” he said, still breathing heavily. “You pack a punch with that umbrella.” He chuckled.
“Well, you were kind of in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I should have remembered that from other times your parents came over for a Sunday barbecue.” He straightened, and she saw that his clear gaze was filled with laughter, not pain. The squeezing in her chest lightened. He was okay.
“I should have been paying more attention,” she admitted.
“I should have ducked. My reflexes are a little slower than I remember.” But he didn’t seem upset by that fact. A few weeks ago, slower reflexes might have sent him into a days-long funk. He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m okay, Jenny.”
“I know.”
It was the first time he’d ever made a joke about what had happened to him. That had to mean something. Didn’t it?
“I guess not.” Jenny wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He was still Adam. His body felt the same. That smile looked the same. She inhaled. He still used the same soap that made her nose tickle. “You’re still here,” she said, meaning the words to be a whisper.
His arms came around her waist. “I’m still here, Jen.” They stood like that for a long moment. Finally, Adam stepped away. “I should go make sure your dad isn’t burning my chicken.”
“And I need to make sure my mom isn’t melting in the seventy-degree sunlight.”
Together, they walked toward the backyard.
“It’s my ball.”
“Well, you’re not throwing it right.” Frankie raised his voice, and Jenny tensed as she walked through the gate with Adam and the umbrella. Her older son held a foam football in one hand high above his head, while her younger son jumped up and down trying to reach it. “I’m teaching you how to throw it.”
“I know how to throw it.”
“Do not.”
“Do, too.” Garrett leaped again, and Jenny started toward him, ready to referee the boys. Adam’s hand on her arm stopped her. She shot him a glance.
“Boys fight over balls. It’s nature.”
“But Frankie’s so much bigger.”
“So Garrett will have to work that much harder. Besides, Frankie isn’t tackling him. He’s holding a ball over his head.”
Aiden walked up behind them. “I see the games are in full swing,” he said, taking in the argument between the boys.
“Frankie’s torturing Garrett about his throwing arm,” Adam replied, making way for his brother, who deftly slid the large umbrella from Jenny’s arm.
“Looks like you could use some shade.” Aiden headed toward the tables where Nancy and Margery sat. “Hey, Mom,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Nancy’s cheek once he’d set the umbrella in the stand.
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