“I was invited for dinner.”
“Huh. Sarah-Jane and I were, too.” Tossing her door closed, she opened the back door to retrieve their daughter.
Wes joined her. “Let me guess, Irma wanted to say thank you for helping her?”
Her gray-green eyes met his. “Cooking is her love language, you know?”
He couldn’t help laughing. “So I’ve been told.”
“Were you able to get those joists replaced?” Approaching the door, she cast him a sideways glance.
“Yep, they’re all in.” Yesterday the wood had been treated for termites, allowing Wes to get in there today with the replacements. “And the plumber will be by in the morning to work on the pipes. After that, things are in my hands.”
The front door opened as they approached, and a little white dog wandered outside.
“I thought I heard voices out here.” Joyce’s gaze moved between them. “You two are right on time.” She held the door wide, allowing them to enter.
Sarah-Jane twisted in Laurel’s arms, seemingly fixated on the dog.
“Come on, Henry.” Joyce waved the animal inside, too.
“These are for you.” Wes held out the flowers. “Or Irma.” He hesitated, feeling like a fool. “Who’s doing the cooking?”
“We both pitched in.” The corners of Joyce’s mouth quirked upward.
“That’s good—” still holding a distracted Sarah-Jane, Laurel leaned in “—because the flowers are for both of you to enjoy.”
Phew. He’d have to remember to thank her later.
Laurel set Sarah-Jane on the floor and held her hand as they followed Joyce and some very enticing aromas into the outdated kitchen. Obviously the ’70s weren’t lost on Joyce. Orange, brown and gold dominated every surface, including the countertops.
“Hello, hello.” Standing beside the ancient downdraft cooktop, Irma waved before shifting her attention to her friend. “Joyce, which serving bowl would you like me to use for these mashed potatoes?”
“It’s right up—” Still holding the flowers, Joyce turned toward him. “Wes, would you mind getting that bowl for me?” She opened the dark walnut cupboard over the pass-through to the family room and pointed to the top shelf.
“Sure.” He reached to grab it.
“It’s so nice to have a man around,” he heard Irma say behind him. “Wouldn’t you agree, Laurel?”
Handing the bowl to Irma, he couldn’t help noticing the pink that had crept into Laurel’s cheeks.
A short time later, they moved into the dark wood-paneled dining room for a meal of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, corn and broccoli. Laurel settled Sarah-Jane into the waiting high chair before taking the seat beside it, while Wes pulled out a high-backed chair across from her.
“Why, thank you, Wes.” Joyce eased into the seat, leaving him standing there, feeling like a bump on a log. As Irma took the chair beside her, Joyce looked up at him. “You can sit next to Laurel.”
He wasn’t about to argue. Not that he minded sitting beside Laurel, but this was turning into one really awkward evening. Especially when Irma insisted they all hold hands while they said grace.
“Wes, what are your plans when you come back from Iraq?” Irma cut into her meat.
With a bite of mashed potatoes waiting on his fork, he said, “Well, I have a year to consider my options, so I’m not a hundred percent certain yet.”
“You’ll be coming back to Bliss, though. Right?” There was a sense of urgency in Irma’s voice. “I mean, Sarah-Jane needs her father.”
Laurel nearly choked on the sip of water she’d been in the midst of swallowing.
Lowering his fork, he passed her a napkin, this whole evening suddenly becoming crystal clear. Laurel must have confided in Irma. Now the woman—his gaze drifted to an expectant Joyce—make that women were doing everything they could to bring him and Laurel together.
“Yes, ma’am. I am definitely considering making a home in Bliss.”
Joyce set down her fork. “Laurel, have I shown you my granddaughter’s wedding photos?”
Boy, talk about subtle.
“No, but—”
The white-haired woman stood and retrieved something from the adjoining living room. “It was such a lovely spring wedding.”
“Spring weddings are always nice.” Irma watched as Joyce handed a stack of pictures to Laurel. “But then, fall weddings are beautiful, too.” She chuckled. “Come to think of it, there’s really not a bad time for a wedding. Except maybe Christmas. Everyone is so busy then.” She regarded Laurel. “Laurel, when do you think is the perfect time to get married?”
Flipping through the photos, her eyes went wide. “Um, I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
“Of course you have,” Joyce corrected. “Every young girl dreams of her wedding.”
“Sorry.” Laurel handed the pictures back. “I’m too busy being a mom to think about a wedding.” She offered Sarah-Jane a bite of mashed potatoes, but the child only had eyes for the dog pacing around her chair. “I think somebody is quite smitten with Henry.”
“Can’t say as I blame her.” Joyce scooted her chair away from the table. “I am, too.” Rounding the table, she looked down at the dog. “If you’ll be nice to Sarah-Jane, I’ll take you outside so the two of you can play.”
“I’ll help.” Irma was on her feet in no time.
“That’s all right.” Laurel pushed her chair away from the table. “I can go with her.”
“Nonsense.” Irma patted her on the shoulder. “You and Wes stay here and enjoy your dinner. Alone.”
Laurel looked as though she wanted to crawl under a rock. As the women departed with Sarah-Jane, she dropped her head in her hands. “This is my fault.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I told Irma you’re Sarah-Jane’s father.” Lifting her head, she pushed the hair out of her face.
“You told the pastor, too.”
“Yes, but he’s not prone to playing matchmaker.”
“Oh. Well, at least they’re great cooks.” He ate another bite of steak.
Laurel scanned the table. “I guess we could clear the dishes.”
“And ruin our alone time?”
Her laugh was genuine. She sure was pretty when she did that. “You know, if you do move to Bliss, you can expect more of this.”
“Dinners?”
“Matchmaking.” She stabbed a piece of broccoli with her fork. “These ladies, not to mention several others, have been beside themselves since Rae, Paisley, Christa and I came to town.” She took a bite.
“Fresh meat?”
“Pretty much. At least I have Sarah-Jane to use as an excuse.”
“You mean, no dates?”
Setting her fork on her plate, she grabbed her glass and leaned back. “I’ve never been much into the whole dating scene.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “After my dad left, my mom spent her life bouncing from guy to guy, thinking one of them would make her happy. I’d rather make my own happiness.”
“My parents had a great marriage.” He wasn’t sure why he said that, but he kept going anyway. “They always seemed so in sync with each other. That didn’t mean they didn’t each have their own goals and desires, but they supported each other and had similar values that permeated everything they did.”
“You were blessed to have such a great example.”
“Yeah.” He foolishly allowed his mind to drift back to before the accident. “I used to hope I’d find a partner like that one day.” He probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.
“Does that mean you stopped?”
“I guess my dream died when they did.” At least, until he met Laurel.
“Sarah-Jane—” Joyce chuckled somewhere in the vicinity of the kitche
n “—we’ll just have to talk to your mama about getting you a puppy.”
And just like that, the moment was gone. But not before Wes realized that Laurel could be the partner he’d always dreamed of.
Chapter Ten
After dropping Sarah-Jane with her regular sitter Mary Lou on Wednesday morning, Laurel headed over to Bliss Hardware with thoughts of last night still tumbling through her mind.
Why didn’t she date? Because she was afraid of falling in love and having her heart broken. Between her mother and her father, she’d endured enough rejection. There was no way she’d tell Wes that, though. No matter how much she might want to. Instead, she needed to work harder at keeping her heart in check. Especially after Wes had all but said he’d given up on the idea of marriage.
I guess my dream died when they did.
Dreams were fragile things. One little slip and they could shatter into a million pieces.
“All right, your color gurus are present and accounted for.” Paisley’s sweet southern drawl was unmistakable.
Laurel tore her gaze away from the wall of paint chips to hug Christa and Paisley. Since Christa owned Bliss Hardware and Paisley had a flair for decorating that would put even professional designers to shame, it seemed only logical that they help her choose the paint colors for Irma’s bedroom, bath and family room.
“You must be busy at Irma’s.” Christa slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I’ve barely seen you since that day Mildred ran you down.”
At the moment, that whole incident seemed like forever ago. Yet it had only been nine days. And, my, how things had changed since then.
“I couldn’t help noticing you sitting beside Rae’s brother at church on Sunday.” Paisley lifted two perfectly arched brows. “Wesley sure is easy on the eyes.”
A grinning Christa added, “I heard he’s doing the repairs at Irma’s, too, so I guess the two of you are spending a lot of time together.”
Before Laurel could cringe at the implications, she realized that she’d not told them about Wes. What kind of friend was she, telling a matchmaking Irma when she hadn’t even told her best friends?
“Oh boy.” She rubbed her forehead.
“What is it, darlin’?” Paisley took a step closer.
Shifting her attention to Christa, Laurel said, “Any chance we could talk in your office?”
“Sure.” Christa’s hazel gaze narrowed. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, there’s just something I need to tell the both of you.”
Christa wasted no time in hustling them across the store, past the power tools, hummingbird feeders and door locks.
“Annie,” she hollered over her shoulder to the gal behind the counter, “I’ll be in my office for a bit.”
While the rest of Bliss Hardware was very utilitarian, Christa’s office had a cozy farmhouse vibe going on, with warm white shiplap walls, a colorful area rug and a modern-yet-rustic wooden desk with a sawhorse-style base.
Laurel eased into one of two trendy metal side chairs as Christa closed the door in such a hurry that the black-and-white-checkered valance over its window stuck straight out for a moment.
Paisley took the second chair, crossing her denim-covered legs, her cornflower blue eyes fixed on Laurel. “All right, darlin’, what’s going on?”
With Christa leaning her backside against the desk, Laurel looked from one friend to the other. “Wes is Sarah-Jane’s father.” Saying it seemed to be getting easier, though the looks on her friends’ faces had her wincing.
“How long have you known this?”
Paisley shot Christa an annoyed look. “I can’t believe you asked that.”
Christa cringed. “I know. That didn’t come out right.”
“I’ll say.” Paisley shifted her attention back to Laurel. “The question is, how long has Wesley known?”
“Oh, a little over a week now.”
“You know—” Christa’s mouth twisted “—that day at the café, I thought there was something familiar about him.”
Laurel and Paisley both looked at her.
“His eyes! Sarah-Jane has his eyes.”
“That she does,” Laurel conceded.
“I’m assuming Rae knows.” Paisley’s gaze seemed riveted to Laurel’s.
“Yes. Our perceptive friend managed to pretty much figure it out on her own.”
“Wow.” Christa pushed away from the desk and began to pace. “This is just crazy.”
“You’re telling me.” Standing, Laurel crossed to the row of two-drawer white file cabinets against the opposite wall and grabbed a piece of chocolate from the small galvanized bucket labeled In Case of Emergency.
“What are the two of you going to do?” Paisley cocked her head, sending her red hair spilling over one shoulder. “Now that Wes knows, is he going to pay child support? Do you think he’ll want partial custody?” She held up a finger. “Wait, he’s on his way overseas.”
Laurel tore the golden wrapper away from the candy. “I think each of those topics has been touched on at some point. But, for now, he and Sarah-Jane are just getting acquainted.” She bit into the chocolate, caramel and cookie goodness.
“And how is that going?” Ankles crossed, Paisley gripped the sides of her chair.
When she’d finished chewing, Laurel said, “Quite well, actually. Sarah-Jane took to him right away. Oh, and she’s finally walking. Her first steps were in an effort to get to him.”
Christa fingered through the bucket now, in search of her favorite candy. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I’m...conflicted.” Laurel returned to her chair. “On the one hand, I want Sarah-Jane to know her father. To have a relationship with him.” One shoulder lifted. “I mean, I’ve dreamed of that for myself my entire life. But at the same time, I’m afraid for her. What if Wes decides he doesn’t want to be a father? What if he goes away and never comes back?”
“The way your father did.” Paisley watched her.
Lips pursed, Laurel simply nodded.
“Well, cautious is good.” Christa tossed her candy wrapper in the trash. “After all, we don’t call you Mama Bear for nothing.”
Paisley remained silent, looking rather thoughtful.
“You’re too quiet, Paise.” Christa dropped into her desk chair. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“I don’t want the two of you jumping all over me for this, however, I am the romantic in our little group.”
“Here we go again.” Christa rolled her eyes and spun her chair around.
“Laurel?” Paisley’s gaze bore into her. “Is there any chance you, Wes and Sarah-Jane could be a real family? Not right now, but eventually.”
Christa brought her chair to an abrupt stop. “You think Laurel and Wes should get married?” While Paisley may be the romantic one, matters of the heart never seemed to blip on Christa’s radar. At forty-two, Christa not only had never been married, but she was adamant that she never would. Probably why she and Laurel got on so well.
“Not right now,” Paisley was quick to add. “But somewhere down the road, maybe after he gets back from Iraq?”
Laurel reached for her friend’s hand. “Paisley, I love that you’re a romantic, and I wish I were more like you, but no. I’m not interested in settling down with Wes or anyone else. And neither is Wes.”
Both pairs of eyes settled on her.
Christa’s were round. “Does that mean you’ve discussed it?”
Maybe in a roundabout way, last night at Joyce’s, but Laurel wasn’t going to bring that up. “No. But Rae says Wes thinks he doesn’t deserve a family.”
“Because he believes he’s responsible for their parents’ deaths.” Paisley nodded. “I’ve heard her say that, too. So sad.”
“Except he does have a family.” Christ
a shrugged. “Two, actually. First it was he and Rae, and now he has Sarah-Jane.”
“This is true,” said Paisley. “So, as he spends more time with Sarah-Jane and, by extension, you, he could change his mind.” She looked at Laurel. “What would you do then?”
Either fall into his arms or run the other way.
“Look, we could sit here and play what-ifs all day long.” She pushed out of her chair. “But we have work to do.” Jerking the door opened, she added, “So are y’all going to help me pick out paint colors or what?”
* * *
By three o’clock that afternoon, the plumber had finally finished repiping the upstairs bathroom. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to get there as early as Wes would have liked, thanks to an emergency at one of the businesses in town, which left Wes to putz around with whatever he could find, trying not to think about Laurel. Yet no matter what he did, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
If last night had shown him anything, it was that he and Laurel were cut from the same cloth. Both were determined to avoid romantic relationships. Yet here they were with a daughter. How was it they’d both wavered from their resolve that night in Vegas? And why couldn’t he seem to stop thinking about her?
He needed to work, to occupy his mind with something besides the pretty blonde accountant and the adorable baby they shared, because the two of them together created too tempting a picture. One he wasn’t worthy of. His parents had paid for his mistakes with their lives. Rae had sacrificed because of those same mistakes and he wasn’t willing to put anyone else he cared about in jeopardy.
Standing in Irma’s upstairs bathroom, he studied the hole that was now crisscrossed with wood and PVC pipe. Tomorrow he’d add the subfloor up here and drywall to the ceiling below. He wasn’t sure what Laurel had planned for flooring in the bathroom, but once the subfloor was in, he could safely remove the old sheet vinyl without fear of ending up in the family room.
“Wes?” Laurel’s voice drifted from the entry hall downstairs.
As if he hadn’t spent enough time with her already today. She just wasn’t aware of it.
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