by Jen Gilroy
“Sure, I guess.” Hannah’s gaze ping-ponged from Annie to Seth and then over to Dylan. “It would be different . . . but good.” She slipped her hand into Annie’s and squeezed. “I promised Auntie Tara and Grandma I’d help clean up.” She glanced back at Dylan. “Do you want to help us?”
“Sure.” Dylan gave her the kind of smile a big brother would give a kid sister, and the knot in Annie’s chest loosened.
Everything was working out. Any doubts were a legacy of the woman she used to be, not the one she’d become. She shoved away that pesky twinge of discomfort and smiled at Seth. Maybe, just maybe, dreams, and even wishes, really could come true.
~ ~ ~
“The girls sure looked pretty at Seth’s party.” Maureen took off her rings and put them on the holder then glanced in the dressing table mirror at Duncan reflected behind her. He sat on his side of their bed and took his right sock off first, then the left, the way he always did. Although that precision had once irritated her, over the past few weeks, it had brought curious comfort because it was one of the few things that was familiar and unchanged.
“Not as pretty as their mother.” Duncan tossed his socks into the laundry hamper. “None of them can cook as well as you, either. Those maple-glazed ribs were flawless, and your potato salad and sweet rolls . . . you know the way to this man’s heart.” He rubbed his stomach then shrugged out of his shirt and it followed the socks into the hamper.
“You’re full of blarney.” Maureen’s face warmed as she patted cream onto it.
Duncan was a man of few words, but today he’d been more gregarious than usual and more attentive to her.
“Even Rowan looked like she was having a good time. Did you see her talking to that nice man from the town office? As for Tara, when she served the birthday cake, the new bank manager couldn’t take his eyes off her. I hear he’s single.”
One of Duncan’s rare laughs rolled out. “I was more interested in Annie and Seth.” He settled back on the bed in his black boxers.
Maureen swiveled to face him. No matter how much cream she slathered onto her face, it still sagged almost as much as the rest of her did. Even in his late sixties, though, Duncan had the body of a much younger man. Her throat clenched. Although both their doctors had given them the all clear, he still slept in Rowan’s old room. He’d never say so outright, but it must have something to do with her.
“Annie and Seth seem close, don’t they?”
“They do, but who knows?” Duncan exhaled. “And don’t you go interfering. All our kids have to live their own lives.”
“But maybe . . . Annie’s still young enough, if things worked out with her and Seth, there might even be another grandbaby.”
“Reenie . . .” Duncan let out another sigh, heavier this time.
“I know, I know, and I won’t say a word to her, but a mother can always hope.” It also didn’t hurt to give a little nudge in the right direction. Only this week, she’d gone to the wishing tree and tied a wedding bell charm to her wish that Annie and Seth would find lasting happiness together. She tightened the belt on her robe and moved to her side of the bed.
“No matter what happens between them, Seth’s sure brought Annie out of her shell. He’s a good darts player too. I plan to ask him to join the team next winter.” Duncan picked up his tablet from the night table and tapped the screen. “I’ve been thinking we need a new lawn mower. The hardware store has a sale on.”
Maureen reached out and eased the tablet away. Instead of bringing them closer together, the prostate cancer had driven another wedge between them, but that had to stop, starting now. Unless she took action, she’d spend the rest of her married life like this, she and Duncan together but apart, only talking about their kids, food, and mowing the lawn, instead of what mattered.
“You don’t want a new mower?” His expression was puzzled. “Keeping the lawn nice is so important to you. I thought—”
“You’re more important to me than any lawn.” Maureen’s heart raced as she shifted over on the bed to sit beside him. She had to stay calm and focus. She also had to think positively. “Remember how we used to talk about what we’d do when I retired? All those plans we had?”
“That was before . . . everything.” His voice was a dull monotone.
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” She inhaled his familiar smell. “Remember how we wanted to go to Ireland and Scotland? They’re still there, too.”
“Long flights wouldn’t be good for your hip.” He grunted and bunched a pillow behind him.
“You need to let me decide that, but even if we can’t travel so far yet, we can do other things.” Maureen made herself say the words she’d avoided for weeks. “Like you can sleep in the same bed as me for a start.”
“I flail around. I could hurt you or wake you up. You need your sleep.” He looked so earnest she almost believed him, but not quite. It was in how he wouldn’t meet her gaze and fingered the edge of the sheet.
“I’ll have plenty of sleep when I’m in the cemetery in the family plot.” The backs of her eyes stung and she sniffed. “And I don’t want to spend what are supposed to be our golden years like this.” There, she’d said it, and she couldn’t take the words back, even if she wanted to, but she didn’t. “I miss you, and I miss us. What happened to our date night?”
“So, we’ll go on dates again. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Duncan patted her hand.
“Dates would be a good start.” She’d never been comfortable talking about sex, but if she couldn’t talk to her husband, who could she talk to? “Now your hospital appointments are over for a while, we could even go away for a few days. There’s an inn near Lake Placid that sounds real romantic. I saw a feature about it on the local news. They have four-poster beds, whirlpool tubs, and you can even have a champagne breakfast on your private balcony.”
“Don’t you think we’re a bit old for all that? Besides, champagne is for weddings. Why would we want to drink it at breakfast?” Duncan’s gaze locked on the striped comforter as if it was a particularly absorbing puzzle.
“I need you to love me, Duncan. You’re my husband, not my roommate.” She put her hand on his bare thigh, and he flinched. “I know I don’t look exactly like I did when we met, but I hope you . . . I . . .” She dropped her head into her hands and scrubbed at her face. Despite all his nice words, except for her cooking, he didn’t want her anymore.
“Oh, Reenie.” Duncan let out a breath. “You’re still a good-looking woman, the best in my eyes. It’s not your fault, it’s me.”
“You? How could it be you?” She raised her head to stare at him.
A faint flush covered his cheeks beneath the white beard stubble. “A man like me wants to take charge in the bedroom. He wants to make it good for his woman and . . .” He stopped and the flush deepened.
“It’s never not been good. How can you think that?” Maureen bit her lip. The trouble was obvious. Why hadn’t she guessed?
“I’m not the man I used to be, not with my you know what and the doctors messing about.” He twisted his wedding ring. “What if we . . . and I can’t?” The words were a tormented groan.
“We won’t know unless we try, will we?” She leaned against his familiar chest. “And if you can’t right now, it doesn’t matter to me. We can be more creative. It could even be fun.” She tightened her fists. Somehow, she had to reach him. “If we need to, we can talk to a doctor, too. One who isn’t in Irish Falls. I want to help you.”
“You do?” He stilled as she traced the curve of his shoulder.
“I meant what I promised in church.” Maureen maneuvered herself onto his lap. “For better, for worse, in sickness and health. We’ve had a lot of the for worse and in sickness lately, but in the whole time we’ve been married, there’s always been loving. I want you, Dunc
an Bruce McNeill, in every part of my life, including the bedroom. Won’t you let me show you?”
“My Reenie.” His voice thickened as he pulled her close. “You’re one heck of a woman, my woman, always.”
“Duncan?” The laugh she tried to stifle rang out like she was a girl again. “My hip, I can’t, at least not this way.”
He eased her onto her back and looked into her eyes. She caught her breath at the gentleness, tenderness, and steadfast love in his blue gaze. “Being creative sounds good to me.” He slipped her robe off one shoulder. “Maybe we could see about that trip to Scotland and Ireland after all. We could take it in stages. Iceland’s somewhere in the middle. Do you remember that program on Vikings we watched?”
“No.” She trembled as his lips found the sensitive part of her neck. “It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as we go together.” And that one step, one touch at a time, they’d find their way back to who they used to be.
“I’m still not keen on that champagne breakfast business, but we need a second honeymoon, don’t you think?” His breath was warm against her cheek, his voice soft and throaty. “Our first one was pretty good.”
“It was wonderful.” She touched the curve of his face, dear, familiar, and constant.
“So were you.” He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “You still are.”
The pleasure only Duncan could bring her spiraled in the pit of Maureen’s stomach. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”
His eyes turned dark blue. “Like I’ll always love you. Thanks for not giving up on me or us.”
“As if I could.” She quivered as his hand dropped to her hip.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He raised himself above her on his forearms.
“You won’t.” She took his hand and showed him where she wanted him to touch her.
He groaned like he had when they’d first started along this path and hadn’t known where it would lead.
Together with desire, peace and contentment wrapped around Maureen like a warm embrace. Although her kids scoffed at it, there was something in that wishing tree after all. It had brought Duncan to her almost eleven years ago. And now it had brought him back. She turned into his body in a gesture achingly familiar, yet new. Maybe, if she kept the faith, the tree would make everything right for her family too.
Chapter 21
Annie assessed the bakery display. The red, white, and blue fourth of July decorations had been packed away for another year, and the glass cases overflowed with summer-themed cupcakes, fruit tarts, and picnic cookies. “Summer vacation, then back to school, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.” She glanced at Tara behind the counter. “Our lives are marked by baking. Does that ever bother you?”
“No.” Tara raised an eyebrow. “It’s reassuring. In at least one part of my life, I always know exactly what’s coming up.”
“I guess so.” Although that predictable cycle used to be comforting, now it irritated Annie more than it should. She bit back a sigh. After all, she’d wanted an ordinary life, and it had suited her fine for almost seventeen years.
“Hannah seems to like Seth and Dylan.” Tara moved two cupcakes decorated with fish farther apart.
“She does.” Annie bit back another sigh. She’d worried her daughter might see Seth as competition but, apart from an initial blip, that hadn’t been the case. “She says I need to have my own life.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Tara’s tone was careful. “Especially since you and Seth have spent so much time together lately.”
“It should be but . . .” Annie shrugged. The little niggle that something wasn’t quite right was still there and had only intensified since Seth’s birthday party the weekend before.
“But what? From what I saw at the party, Dylan likes you, too. If you and Seth get married, you’d be a blended family. It’s bound to be easier if both your kids are on board with everything from the start.”
“Marriage? Who said anything about marriage?” Annie’s throat went dry.
“It’s a logical assumption, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be sleeping with the man unless you were serious about him.”
She was, but was he serious about her? “Yes, but marriage is a big step.”
“Ever since he yanked you out of that rut you were in, you’ve glowed.”
“I yanked myself out of that rut, too.” But Seth had helped kick-start the process.
“You sure did.” Tara grinned.
“Besides, Seth’s already been married once. He might not want to do it again. And I’ve been a single mom for all these years. I’m not in a rush for a wedding ring.” Except, she’d let herself consider it, her thoughts skittering like water bugs on the surface of a pond. What would it mean to share her life with Seth and have him and Dylan as part of her family? And what would it be like to have someone to look out for her like she wanted to look out for him?
“It’s good when you find the right man and make a commitment to each other. I want you to have what I did with Adam.”
The poignancy in Tara’s voice tugged at Annie’s heart and she reached for her sister and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s still early days for Seth and me.”
“Don’t leave it too late.” Tara’s eyes glistened. “If you want, you could even have another baby.”
After the death of her husband, the absence of a child was her sister’s other big heartache. Annie gave her an encouraging smile. “Hannah is enough for me, but your time will come, honey.”
“It already did. I can’t think about anyone else yet, but even if I wanted to, how many single men near our age are around here anyway?”
Apart from tourists passing through, no more permanent single men than Annie could count on the fingers of two hands, and one of them was Seth. “The new bank manager seemed interested.”
“Please. Although I might be able to overlook his Star Trek obsession, he wears white socks with brown sandals. That should be illegal.” Tara laughed as the bell over the bakery door jingled.
Seth held the door open for Mrs. Byrne, an older woman who went to Annie’s church, and then followed her to the counter.
“Hey, you.” Annie’s stomach flipped. She’d never felt about anyone the way she felt about him, and every day was better because she’d see him. If this wasn’t love, she didn’t know what it was. She moved to the coffee pot. She didn’t have to ask what he wanted. He always ordered a coffee after work and sometimes added the muffin of the day or a butter tart.
“Wait. I need to talk to you.”
“Sure. I finish in an hour.” She glanced at Tara, who was talking to Mrs. Byrne about gluten-free Black Forest cake. “We still have a few apple muffins left, and I saved a butter tart for you.”
He held out a hand across the counter to stop her pouring coffee. “If Tara can manage on her own, I need to talk to you sooner.” Seth’s mouth was tight. “It’s important.”
“Hannah?” Annie pressed a hand to her chest. Her daughter was babysitting Rowan’s kids, and she’d been in here with them half an hour ago on their way to the park. She hadn’t heard any sirens, but that didn’t mean anything.
“As far as I know, Hannah’s fine. Wouldn’t someone have called you if there was a problem?”
“Yes.” She relaxed her grip on her apron. Rowan’s two weren’t old enough to stay by themselves, but they were old enough to call for help in an emergency. “I guess I can take a break. If it gets busy, Tara can call me. What is it? Dylan?”
“He’s fine, too. Let’s talk upstairs at my place.” Seth’s voice was strained.
She fumbled with her hairnet and took both it and her apron off. The hair on the back of her neck stiffened. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I hope.” Seth’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
; “Cover for me, okay?” She jerked her chin in Tara’s direction, and her sister nodded back.
Seth held the bakery door open for her, and she went through it into the afternoon sunshine. Irish Falls looked its best in mid-July. Colorful flowers were still summer fresh and tumbled out of window boxes along Malone Street. At the Italian restaurant on the corner, sun umbrellas fluttered on the busy outdoor patio.
They went around the building and up the back stairs, Seth’s footsteps thudding behind her. Then they went into the station and left the brightness of the day behind.
She trusted him, at least as much as she could trust any man. She wouldn’t have slept with him, or shared her music with him, otherwise. Except, how much did she really know about Seth’s life before he came here?
As she followed him down the hall to the apartment, that tendril of doubt curled up from her stomach to lodge in her windpipe. In pulling her out of a rut, had Seth pulled her into quicksand instead?
~ ~ ~
“Take a seat.” Seth gestured Annie to Jake’s shabby sofa. He guessed he should replace it, but for reasons he didn’t want to consider too closely, he’d never let himself get too settled in this apartment or Irish Falls. “Do you want a soda?”
“No thanks. I’m not thirsty.” Annie’s expression was wary and, as he sat beside her, guilt punched his chest.
“I planned to talk to you when we met on the bridge. But then it started to rain and you . . . we . . .” He hadn’t been able to resist her. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, but then there was my party, and Dylan was here.”
He was making excuses. He hadn’t wanted to change anything about what they had together, but then Pete called late last night, followed by Rick this morning, and he couldn’t wait any longer.