Recipe for a Homecoming

by Sabrina York

  “What does firefighter training look like?”

  His chuckle escaped on its own. “Probably not what you’re visualizing. It’s a bunch of local businessmen and ranchers starting fires and then putting them out in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes we have special sessions on electrical fires and chemical fires because you have to handle those differently. We also have CPR refreshers...” Was he as boring as he sounded to himself? Why was he still talking? Why was she still listening? But she was.

  “That sounds very exciting.”

  “Yeah. It gets me off the ranch.”

  Her smile became mischievous. “And if I’m remembering correctly, you always were a little pyromaniac.”

  Heat crawled up his cheeks. Oh, God. She remembered that. “Yeah. We’ve replaced that shed.”

  “Good to know.”

  Somehow, the reference to his aborted career as an arsonist when he was five launched them into a raucous game of Remember When. He hadn’t realized how many memories he had of her from those days, but bringing them up now made him remember even more.

  Running through the sprinklers in their bathing suits.

  Climbing the cherry trees to claim their harvest before the birds got them all.

  Eating Popsicles until their tongues turned blue.

  Oh, his siblings had been with them much of the time, but in his mind, these were memories of Roni.

  And then when they got older, he’d started seeing her as something more than a coltish playmate with freckles on her nose. He didn’t know why he’d kissed her that day. She’d just looked so...pretty with the sun shimmering through the leaves of the apple tree. Something about her had suddenly seemed...different. It might have become something—they might have become something—if she’d come back the next summer...but she hadn’t.

  They lingered longer over lunch than they probably should have, but Mark was loath to end this reunion. Amazing how the awkwardness of those thirteen years apart seemed to evaporate. He didn’t even realize the time until DJ texted him to ask where the hell he was.

  He sighed heavily and shoved his cell back into his pocket. “Well, I should probably get back. I’ve really enjoyed seeing you again.”

  “Oh, me, too. This has been lovely.”

  And then, he blurted, “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? You know, so we can really catch up?”

  “Oh, Mark.” She set her hand on his. It was warm. Soft. “I would love that.”

  “Unfortunately, this is the only place in town.” He winked.

  She chuckled. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Would tonight work?” Hopefully his tone wasn’t too eager.

  Her smile dimmed. So did his mood. “I need some time to get one of my cousins to stay with Gram. Tomorrow, maybe?”

  “Sure. Can I pick you up at six?”

  She beamed at him. “Make it seven.”

  He grinned because everything had worked out so perfectly.

  It could not have gone better.

  * * *

  After lunch, Veronica found herself infused with a marvelous energy and sense of well-being—the kind she hadn’t felt for, well, years, really. Chatting with Sam and Mark had seemed to renew her spirit. The conversation had been funny and enlightening and Mark’s body next to hers had been so warm—

  She cut that thought right off.

  Yes. He was probably the most attractive man she’d ever seen, with that perfectly sculpted face, a scruffy beard and muscles...

  Oh, heavens. His forearms had been thick and veined and his T-shirt had been laminated to his cut abs.

  He’d had that kind of scent that drove women crazy—a mix of manly musk and sweat from plain old hard work. Every time he moved, she’d gotten a whiff of it.

  If she’d been in the market for a hunk...

  But she wasn’t.

  She was, however, in the market for a friend, and he fit the bill perfectly.

  Now that he was back in her life, it felt as though everything was finally back on track. She didn’t bother to explore that revelation too closely, she just enjoyed the feeling; it had been so long in coming.

  Gram had finished reshelving and had gone down for a nap when she got home so Roni, still feeling high on life, headed for the kitchen.

  Of all the things she used to love, baking was at the top of the list. And it was a long list. Her job teaching children, listening to music, laughing...chocolate. Who would ever believe a person could fall out of love with chocolate? Unthinkable! But it had happened.

  For Veronica, chocolate had been the canary in the coal mine. Her disinclination to imbibe—because of disinterest—had been the red flag she’d finally seen. By then, it had been too late.

  The depression had snuck up on her, like a marauder from the shadows. She hadn’t even realized she was depressed, not until the incident had forced her to acknowledge her PTSD.

  Funny, how hard depression was to overcome. Roni and her therapist—the amazing Gretchen—had worked out a treatment plan that included trying various medications until they found the right combination, along with trying acupuncture, yoga, self-defense courses and more. Some things helped for a while, but then, the darkness would return, sometimes worse than ever. But Veronica refused to let it own her, and had fought with every tool at her disposal to maintain the equilibrium she’d struggled to rebuild.

  There had been a lot of other little passages. Filing for divorce, filing a restraining order in case Anthony got out of jail, changing her surname from Randall back to James. Tiny steps for sure, but each one led her back to herself.

  This was her life, by God. She would not let anything or anyone control her.

  After living so long under that cloud, it was refreshing and exhilarating to have something to look forward to.

  She wondered how much of this giddy feeling had to do with her reunion with Mark. That hug, that unexpected, all-encompassing acceptance, had shifted something in her. Made her feel...protected, free, released by the darkness. Or some of it, anyway.

  Recovery was a journey of tiny steps, Gretchen had told her, but, with diligence, there was a way out. Roni hadn’t believed her. Not really. But now, she was starting to see it. Starting to glimpse a future where happiness could blossom again.

  She strapped on her wrist brace and turned to the kitchen to express her joy. Just as she used to do when she was happy—a long time ago.

  By dinnertime, she realized she might have gone a little overboard, but as she looked around the crowded countertops—at several batches of cookies, a cake and a pan of seductive dark-chocolate brownies—she didn’t feel a hint of guilt. Yes. It was a lot. Way more than she and Gram could ever eat, but it was beautiful. And she felt wonderful. As though she’d done something to reward herself for putting herself out there today. For leaving this structure. For being social.

  Granted, this much sugar was hardly healthy, but who was she to split hairs?

  It was a good thing that she and Gram were going to the ranch on Sunday. The thought of an appreciative crowd of Stirlings devouring her baking lightened her mood even more, and she chuckled at the visual in her mind.

  “What’s so funny?” Gram asked as she shuffled into the room in her pajamas and slippers even though it was hours away from bedtime. Unsure if this was something new, or just new normal, Veronica made a mental note to quiz Gwen about Gram’s recent behavior changes.

  “I’m just happy,” Veronica said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Here, have a cookie.”

  Gram wrinkled her nose. “Is it molasses?”

  “Of course.”

  She came over to survey the platter. Sniffed...and smiled. “Mmm,” she said, taking two. “I like them when they’re chewy.”

  Veronica poured two glasses of milk and joined her at the table. They sat and munched and totally ig
nored the fact that they should be having something sensible for dinner.

  As they sat in silence—because Gram often went silent nowadays—Veronica thought about her day. Lunch with Sam had been great, for sure. Reuniting with her was proving to be a much-needed respite from her loneliness. But, if she was being honest, it had been Mark’s presence that had truly delighted her.

  That, and the fact that they’d seemed to just step back into that easy friendship they’d once shared. Easy, warm...and safe. Yes. There was that about him.

  In all their summers together, he’d saved her from childhood perils—like the time he’d led her to the pond to outrun the hornets when she’d kicked over a nest. The time he’d rescued her when she’d climbed too high in the old oak tree. The time he’d untangled her hair when she’d gotten it caught in a nail in the barn. Silly things, really, but they mattered. They left an impression of the kind of kid he was.

  The kind of man she suspected he’d grown up to be.

  Oh, how often in Seattle she’d wished for just one friend like Mark. Just one person who cared for her and liked her and laughed at her jokes. One person she could trust, who would make her feel like...herself.

  Anthony hadn’t been any of those things. Not even in the beginning, she now realized.

  Anthony had—

  No. She shook her head. She was not going to think about him. About that.

  Gretchen always said it took discipline to focus on the positive. And sometimes, it took determination, too. Veronica was determined she was not going to let Anthony eclipse this happiness.

  Better to focus on tomorrow’s dinner with Mark. And, oh, now that she thought about it, she remembered she needed to call her cousins to see if one of them could stay with Gram while she went out. It would be hard to relax and really enjoy catching up with Mark if she didn’t make those arrangements.

  She was just reaching for her cell phone when someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Gram called. She didn’t even ask who it was first. Veronica sighed. Maybe she did need a sitter.

  Her cousin Gwen pushed through the door with her twin toddlers, Charlie and Tiffany, in tow. “Hey, guys,” she called.

  “Oooh!” Veronica zeroed in on Tiff, who was dressed in a princess dress with a tiara and wand and everything. “Look who’s here.” When she opened her arms, Tiffy threw herself into a sticky hug. Veronica hugged her back. Clung, a little, perhaps, because Tiffany was soft and smelled of powder and strawberries. She was full of hope and possibilities.

  Kids this age had always been irresistible to her.

  “Look,” Tiffy said, thrusting an amorphous pink-and-purple blob of sugar in Veronica’s face.

  “Wow,” she said, but only because it seemed expected.

  And then, when Tiffy demanded, “Taste!” she pretended to do so and then dissolved into rapturous sounds, which made the little one giggle. But, seriously, the candy—whatever it was—was covered with dirt and a little bit of hair. So yeah. No thanks.

  When Tiffy lost interest in her and bolted for Gram, Veronica took Charlie from Gwen’s arms and gave him a cuddle. He was the quieter of the two, and he stared at her with big brown eyes as he sucked on two fingers.

  “I hope you don’t mind us coming by,” Gwen said.

  “Not at all. It’s great to see you!”

  “We were in the neighborhood and I had some leftover casserole I wanted to bring by for Gram. Last time I made it she really liked it. You know how hard it is to get her to eat sometimes.” She paused and glanced at the crumbs on the plates, and then, at the array of carbohydrates dominating the countertops. She chuckled. “Well, I guess you figured out Gram has a sweet tooth.”

  “These are for Sunday,” Veronica responded, almost defensively, though she didn’t need to justify her every move, not anymore. But old habits were hard to break. She forced a smile. “Gram and I are going over to the Stirlings for supper and I thought I’d bring some desserts.”

  Gwen arched an eyebrow. “Some? You could stock a bakery with all this stuff.”

  All right. Maybe it was a bit...excessive. “Do you want to take some home?”

  Gwen shook her head. “I’d love to, but I’m on a diet and sugar just hops the kids up.”

  Veronica glanced at Tiffy, who was dancing around the kitchen singing about a baby shark at the top of her lungs, but she refrained from commenting on purple-and-pink globs of sugar. She was hardly the one to give parenting advice.

  Gwen dug into her enormous Mom bag and pulled out a Tupperware container. “It’s salmon loaf,” she said as she handed it over.

  “Oh, nummy.”

  “Just nuke it for a few minutes. Not too hot, though. Gram forgets to check the temperature and last time she burned her mouth.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Veronica let Charlie down and put the meal into the fridge. “Oh, while you’re here, I wanted to ask if there’s any way you can stay with Gram tomorrow night.”

  “Don’t need a sitter.” This from Gram.

  Gwen, who had helped herself to a cookie, sat at the table with a thud. “What’s tomorrow night? Umm.” She looked at Veronica in ecstasy, lips covered in crumbs. “This is good.”

  “Thanks. Yeah, well, I have dinner plans and I don’t want to leave her alone.” She lowered her voice, because Gram was listening. “You know. It’s only the B&G, but I worry.”

  “Dinner plans?” Gwen’s brow soared skyward. “With whom?”

  A trickle of discomfort slid through her. She didn’t want to talk about Mark with Gwen, but she wasn’t sure why. However, her cousin was waiting, staring at her like a curious owl, so she sucked in a deep breath and said, “Mark Stirling,” in the most nonchalant tone she could muster.

  Silence hummed. When she glanced at Gwen, it was to find her staring, mouth agape.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You have a dinner date with Mark Stirling?”

  Heat crawled up Veronica’s cheeks. “It’s not a date. We’re just going to catch up. You know. It’s been thirteen years.”

  Gwen snorted. “Mark Stirling does not take women out to catch up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, Veronica, you’ve been away a long time. The last time you saw him you were, what, twelve?”

  “Fifteen.” He’d been sixteen.

  “Well, Mark Stirling isn’t exactly a boy anymore.” Oh, no. He was clearly a man.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “He’s the biggest playboy in Butterscotch Ridge.”

  “He is not.” What a terrible thing to say. He was the sweetest guy she’d ever met.

  “He eats virgins for lunch.”

  “Gosh, I had lunch with him today and all he had was a burger.”

  Gwen’s eyes widened. “You had lunch with him today and you’re going to dinner tomorrow? What are you thinking?”

  “Technically I had lunch with Sam. Mark showed up. And he had a burger.”

  “Maybe there weren’t any virgins on the menu? Look, Veronica, I just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into. The man will break your heart and toss you aside. It’s in his DNA.”

  Veronica drew in a deep breath. She had no intention of launching herself into a romance of any kind. That Gwen thought so poorly of Mark bothered her. She ignored the fact that the thought of him romancing the entire county made her belly ache. “It hardly matters. It’s not a date. We’re just catching up.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Gwen nodded. “You just keep telling yourself that. But you can bet your brownies, he thinks this is a date.”

  “I don’t want to bet my brownies,” she grumbled. “Look, can you do it, or not?”

  “Of course I can do it. Roger can watch the kids for once.” She glanced over at Charlie, who was methodically pulling items out of the tr
ash and arranging them on the floor. Meanwhile, Tiffy was crawling around on her hands and knees and barking like a dog. “In fact, I’ll probably enjoy the peace and quiet for an evening. Just remember what I said, though, and watch your step with Mark.”

  “All right,” Veronica said, just to end the conversation.

  But it was a ridiculous thought. She and Mark were meeting for dinner. A friendly get-together. That was all. It wasn’t a date. Surely he knew that.

  Didn’t he?

  Chapter Three

  Mark was surprised to find that he was actually nervous about his date with Roni—more than he should have been. After all, they hadn’t really talked for thirteen years—they didn’t really know each other as adults.

  Seven in the evening was actually great timing for a date. The dinner rush was over and the wild antics on the bar side of the establishment wouldn’t yet be in full swing. It wouldn’t be as quiet, or romantic, as he might wish, but unless he took her to a restaurant in the Tri-Cities—or to his place—there really were no other options.

  As eager as he was, he ended up being five minutes late for their date. A tire on his truck had picked up a nail. It took forever to find Sam and ask to borrow her car—DJ’s was in the shop and the tractor was just a no-go for a first date, wasn’t it? It was frustrating as hell, but by the time he got into town, he had reclaimed his good humor. And why not? He was going on a date with Veronica James. His sixteen-year-old self was fist-pumping with excitement.

  After he parked behind the bookstore and levered out of Sam’s tiny coupe, he ran a hand through his hair, grabbed the flowers he’d picked up at the grocery store and bounded up the stairs at the back of the building that led to the apartment where Roni and her grandmother lived.

  His heart thudded as he knocked. He ran a finger around the neck of his dress shirt, wondering if he should have added a suit jacket and a tie. But, heck, this was Butterscotch Ridge. People might think he was heading for a funeral if he wore something like that. Besides, the shirt was tight enough without the tie. He knocked again and shuffled his feet a bit as he waited for an answer.