by Sally John
“No. Actually, I think I’ve given up on my agenda for this month. Sitting still and reading want-ads is simply not on the calendar. Maybe it’s Lauren’s influence. She’s like a whirl-wind flying from one activity to another. And now this fiasco from last night. You really think Aaron should apologize?”
“Well, they probably both should. But he did arrive late, after promising not to.”
“He’s a doctor! He can’t predict how many really sick people need to be squeezed into the day’s schedule. The guy didn’t even eat or change his clothes, and he would have gotten a speeding ticket if he didn’t know the sheriff.”
“He has office hours. His receptionist should be able to juggle things a little more efficiently.”
“Brady, that’s unrealistic. I worked with animals, from 7:00 to 4:00, and I can’t tell you how often at 3:45 one of them got sick or hurt. Waiting until the next morning allows a more serious condition to develop.”
“Stop me if I’m getting too personal, but this begs the question: Did you have a significant other waiting patiently for you?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “Not waiting. He was the head vet, usually working with me.”
“Ahh.” This answered one question he didn’t realize he had until just this moment. “Your boss?”
“Mm-hmm. Former, on both counts. Anyway, Lauren should recognize by now that she’s Aaron’s first priority, but it won’t always look that way if someone’s health hangs in the balance.”
“How does she know it if it doesn’t look that way?”
“Because he called to tell her what was going on, and he eventually showed up with red roses and an apology. Ooh,” Gina shuddered, “I cannot believe she threw the flowers on the floor. Anyway, she can also tell because he would have made it up to her in some way. That she knows from experience already.”
“Sounds as if you’ve figured this all out. Your head vet must have been like that?”
She groaned in reply. “Steve was nothing like that. That’s how I figured it out. Can we change the subject?”
“Why didn’t you speak up more on the Chicago trip?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so logical. Now that group needed some logical direction.”
She laughed. “They had a cast-in-concrete agenda, and I had no idea where we were. I was strictly along for the ride that day. Though I admit it was tough to keep my mouth shut at times.”
“Do you have an illogical, irrational bone in your body?”
“Nope. They’re a total waste of time and energy.”
“Well, Dr. Philips, how then does a man romance you?”
Gina didn’t answer.
“Whoops, that was off limits.” He turned from the highway onto a gravel lane.
She looked out her side window. “It’s just been so long, I can’t remember offhand. Where in the world are we?”
“My place.”
“All this is your place?”
“Just the road. That cornfield belongs to a neighbor who leases the land to my father to farm. The land to the left has been sold to a development company, which means I have a problem right through here.” He slowed for the curve. “See the ravine there? That’s my land, but the road flows into this company’s land because it was easier to build it here. The man who owned the land gave me an easement. He died and his heirs weren’t required to abide by the contract.”
“So you don’t have permission to use this?”
“Right. We’re negotiating new terms, as they say.”
“Technically you’re not landlocked. You could build another road through the ravine.”
“For a small fortune. Then on top of that, I’m not looking forward to having neighbors fill up the place.”
“Oak trees!” Gina exclaimed. “Oak trees?”
He smiled as they entered the woodsy area with its canopy of leaves above the lane. “Told you you were looking in the wrong place all this time.”
“These are yours? Oh, Brady, this is absolutely beautiful!”
“Welcome to the original homestead of Valley Oaks. It’s where the name comes from.” They wound through trees for another quarter of a mile.
“How much land is yours?”
“A little over a hundred acres. Mostly wooded.”
She caught her breath. “A log cabin! You live here? In the midst of all these oaks?”
Brady parked the truck and they climbed out. “And walnut, cherry, elder, and hickory.”
“Was the house here? It looks like the Ponderosa place on those old Bonanza shows.”
“No, I built it. The remains of the original aren’t far.” His golden retriever raced out from behind the house, barking excitedly and wagging his tail.
Gina knelt to pet him. “Hey, boy. What’s your name again? Some old author.”
“Try ancient Greece,” Brady hinted.
“Mmm, Aristotle?”
“Homer.”
“Hey, Homer!”
He watched his dog fall in love with the childlike woman vigorously rubbing him down. He swallowed. “Do you want to stay for a bit?”
“Oh, yes!” She looked up at him, emerald eyes sparkling, and smiled. “Can I see all 100 acres?”
“Sure.” He smiled back at her, aware that he had been holding his breath, waiting for her response. It seemed that he had just stumbled onto how to romance Angelina Philips.
That is, if he were so inclined.
Seventeen
“Magpie, you look sensational.” Marsha smiled at her sister. “Only you could pull off wearing a purple dress splattered with giant red flowers.”
Maggie twirled. “It is fun, isn’t it? Well, I think I’m ready.” She stepped to the small mirror hanging next to Aunt Lottie’s front door and inspected her hair.
“Where’s Gina?”
“She called from Brady’s house. He’s cooking dinner for the two of them.”
“You’re kidding. How’d that come about?”
“I don’t have a clue.” She rearranged a stray blonde curl. “Evidently they ran into each other on the street somewhere and started talking. He invited her to his place. Where does he live anyway?”
“He bought the old Crowley homestead and built a house on it.”
“Really?” She pulled a lipstick from her purse and applied it. “Gina will love that. All those woods and animals. I suppose he has a dog.” Her eyes met her sister’s in the mirror. “Now this is odd.”
“Very odd. Gina and Brady, getting along, eating dinner alone. Maybe they’re hatching a plan to get Lauren and Aaron back together.”
“Haven’t they talked yet?”
“Not as of 30 minutes ago.” Marsha shook her head. “That girl is as stubborn as her aunt.”
Maggie snapped shut her purse. “Ha, ha. Okay, I’m leaving.” She turned toward the stairs and called, “Bye, Aunt Lottie.”
“Goodbye, dear. Have a nice time. I’ll be right down, Marsha.”
“Maggie.” Her sister’s face showed concern.
“It’s all right, Marsh. Reece believed I would have more fun without him, and that’s probably true. He wouldn’t know anyone.”
“But still—”
“He’s not like Dan. I mean, he couldn’t be. He’s been on the road most of our married life.”
“Well, sometimes Dan resembles glue.”
“Except during planting and harvest.”
“True.”
Maggie smiled. “Appreciate the glue, sis. Besides, you’re just saying that to make me feel better. We’re different. We married different men; we have different lifestyles. For the reunion tonight, I’m fine. Okay?” She hugged her sister.
“Have a great time. Remember how to get to the club?”
“I remember. Bye.”
Maggie walked out the front door and down the porch steps to Aunt Lottie’s car parked in the driveway. She was used to engaging in activities by herself, driving herself, being responsible for herself. It reall
y wasn’t the traumatic event it would be for Marsha. She was complete without a man at her elbow.
Then why John?
She dismissed the thought and backed into the street. Pregnant with Rosie, she had vowed to always remain independent. Soon after marrying Reece, they didn’t need her paycheck. He never would have minded if she spent her days volunteering wherever, but she chose to work. She craved the independence it offered. With that independence came the ability to take care of herself.
That way it hurt less when Reece flew off to Timbuktu twice a month.
By rote now she turned corners, eventually picking up the county highway east of town. She nudged the old car up to a conservative 58 miles per hour, the fastest it could handle without shimmying. At least the air conditioning worked. She turned the fan on full blast, swiveled the vents toward her face.
It was what she had wanted. Wasn’t it?
Tonight she would inevitably watch certain couples. Were Neil and Barb happy? Would his wife still have that contented glow on her face that Maggie had spotted ten years ago? What if Maggie had stuck it out? Now that would have been true stubbornness. Would she glow after a lifetime of running a household and being her farmer husband’s right hand?
She shook her head. This wasn’t about “what ifs.” It was about getting a handle on the old Maggie and equipping herself to deal with the consequences of today with a new, confident outlook.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Well, she definitely had a glow about her, too, but it didn’t have a thing to do with contentment.
“Aww, come on, Mags. It’s tradition.” Neil Olafsson held his arms out to her. “Homecoming king and queen dance one together.”
Maggie looked up at the man who owned a large chunk of her youthful past. There was something familiar about him, but it had grown vague after all these years, almost as if their story happened to someone she had only read about. “It’s not exactly tradition for our class. I have successfully avoided this dance at every reunion, whether I attended or not.”
His arms dropped to his sides. “You always were stubborn about the dumbest things.” He winked, taking the edge off his words.
“Was I really?” She remembered her sister saying that.
Couples shuffled near them as slow strands of an old beach tune filled the dimly lit, crowded room. The music wasn’t the din of ten years ago when no one could speak in less than a shout. Tables surrounded the parquet dance floor. A disc jockey, flanked by enormous speakers, stood at one end, buffet tables at another.
“Mags, Barb doesn’t mind. Does Reece?”
She gave her head a slight shake.
“Heck, after 35 years, nobody does. Why should you?”
Indeed, why should she? Valley Oaks was filled with a new generation, one that didn’t condemn her. If tonight was part of her journey through the past, then spending a few minutes with her first husband seemed…acceptable. “No reason.” She placed her left hand on his shoulder.
Neil led her into the midst of the other dancers. “You look prettier than ever.”
She smiled. “You’re looking good yourself.”
His blue-green eyes were still bright and friendly, although the crow’s-feet were deep. The ruddy complexion told of a lifetime spent outdoors in all kinds of weather. Gray had overtaken most of the blond hair that was noticeably thin and revealed more of his forehead than she remembered. His height hadn’t diminished. Nowhere near overweight, he had filled out some, softening the sharp angles of his youth.
“Reece around?”
She shook her head. “Business. How’s the farm?”
“Can’t complain. I picked up a son-in-law, but unfortunately lost one full-time son in the process.”
“The writer? I saw one of his books. You have to admit, that’s exciting.”
“Well, it’s his dream, so I don’t give him too hard of a time. Not many get their dreams in this world.”
“You and Barb look contented, as if your dreams came true.”
Surprise crossed his face, then he smiled. “I suppose they have. She just gets better and better with age. We celebrated our thirty-third last winter. Went to Hawaii. She still works in the fields with me sometimes. We’ve got four great kids. And a granddaughter.”
“You’re a grandpa? Congratulations! And you’re doing what you always dreamed of doing.”
He nodded. “God has given us much. How about you?”
An involuntary shrug lifted her shoulder. She stopped herself from replying “fine.” If she insisted on exploring other people’s states of mind, she’d better have some description of her own figured out. And she’d better be able to ignore the twinge of envy when she heard a husband sing praises about his wife. While she hesitated, compassion clouded his eyes.
“Do you believe in God, Mags?”
“More than ever.”
“Faith makes all the difference.”
“I understand who Jesus is now. Your mother used to tell me often, but I…”
“I know. She was pushy.”
Maggie didn’t add that the woman also succeeded in single-handedly pushing her away from God. “And we were know-it-all kids, determined to do what we thought was best.”
“We all have to make our own way. What about your dreams?”
She glanced away. “After…after, well, us, I didn’t dare dream anymore. But it has been good.” She smiled at him. “I just ploughed ahead without too much thought. I love California. I have a daughter who is absolutely beautiful inside and out. Reece thrives on his work and takes good care of me. I enjoy my job and have time to do volunteer things.”
“Sounds good.”
Maggie nodded.
A quick drumbeat followed on the heels of the fading slow song. They stepped apart.
“Tell Barb hello if I don’t see her tonight,” she said.
“You want to come tell her now?” He pointed over his shoulder.
“I’m going this way. Haven’t talked with Shelley Michaels yet.”
“Thanks for the dance.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “That wasn’t too difficult was it, Queen Margaret?”
“No. It was nice catching up with you.” She turned to go, not wanting to watch him with his wife. What was hard was not that it was Neil with Barb, but that she had never known that kind of adoration from Reece.
“Hey, Mags.” He grasped her elbow.
She looked back at him.
“You know, it’s never too late to dream.” He smiled and moved away through the dancers.
It was one of those moments that stretched, shoving aside the present. Dream? When had she last considered a dream? Weren’t dreams only for the young? What in the world would she dream for at this point in life?
Perhaps…a husband who cherished her so much he would clear his calendar in order to attend her reunion, just to be near her, just so she could share it with someone she loved?
It was a little late for that.
Eighteen
Brady and Gina huddled together in his basement, shoulder to shoulder, arms brushing, and peered into the freezer chest.
Brady glanced down at her. “I hope you’re not a vegetarian. After all, you are in the middle of cattle and hog country, you know.”
“No way. All I’ve seen is corn and soybeans. Don’t you have any tofu?”
“Bleagh! Nope, just T-bones and pork chops.”
“I’ll have a T-bone. A big one.” She grinned at him. “I am famished!”
“Sounds good to me.” He grabbed two packages from the freezer and shut the lid.
“Have I got time to catch a bullfrog?” Her eyes sparkled up at him. They’d been sparkling all afternoon.
“You’ll never catch a bullfrog.”
She laughed. “Yes, I will. Let’s bet that if I get one, you do the dishes. If I don’t get one in 20 minutes, I’ll do them.”
“You’re on.” He looked at his watch. “On your mark, get set—”
She bounded up the stairs, Homer at her heels.
While the meat defrosted in the microwave, Brady watched from the porch. About ten yards away, Gina crouched at the pond’s edge, almost hidden in the tall grasses. He smiled. From the moment she heard the bullfrogs’ foghorn chorus, she had been determined to catch one.
She had fallen in love with his place. They spent the afternoon tromping through the woods. Her excitement grew by the minute. They spotted a myriad of birds, followed deer tracks, surprised pheasants from their hiding place, picked wildflowers, threw in a fishing line, and shimmied along the tree trunk that lay across the creek. In the upper meadow, she gasped at the sight of a soaring hawk. At the sound of the tree frogs’ song, she stood still. When the bullfrogs’ deep hum resonated through the woods, she giggled.
It was another dimension of her personality. Another one he would not have imagined she possessed. That she was smart and serious was a given because of all her work entailed. Her uneven gait had tugged at his heart, arousing protective instincts…until her opinionated attitude indicated how independent she was. Her tears in the cornfield revealed a fragility that meant she was, after all, human. Not a porcupine, not a despicable nonentity named Lindstrom, not really a thorn in his side.
But it was these few hours of witnessing her expression of pure joy in nature that connected with his heart. It seemed to be…unraveling it.
A loud splash from the pond caught his attention. Gina was lying prone, elbow-deep in the water.
“Whoa!” she yelped and jumped up, her hands cupped together above her head. “I got one! I got one!” She screamed with laughter. Her jeans and T-shirt were covered with mud.
“Well, now what?” he shouted. “Frog legs for dinner?”
“No! I just want to kiss it. See if a prince pops out.”
To his amazement, she lowered her hands to her face and peered into them for a moment, then held them to her mouth. He heard an exaggerated smacking noise. With a squeal, she flung the frog back into the water.
“That one’s a dud, Brady! Got any more?”
He found dry clothes for her, sweatpants and a T-shirt left by a young cousin. While he grilled the steaks outside, she rummaged around in the kitchen and completed the salad and baked potatoes. They met on the screened-in porch where she had put place settings on the small wooden table. She had even lit two candles, a soft light in the dusky woods.
