One Perfect Year

by Melinda Curtis

  Shelby clutched her arm. The purple velour was cold to the touch. “I don’t think you do. Let me take you home.”

  “I will not be weak.” Mae might have tried to pound her cane on the sidewalk, but she only managed to give it a shake. “I have never been weak.”

  “Okay. All right. How about we get into my SUV and I’ll drive you past the shop?” Hopefully Mae’s eyesight hadn’t improved and she wouldn’t see the complete devastation.

  Mae nodded and walked on shaky legs in the direction of the SUV. Lucky had taken the front seat. Seeing Mae, he hopped in the back.

  Once Mae was settled, Shelby made a slow U-turn and drove back toward Dream Day Bridal. She stopped in the middle of the street instead of parking nose first in front of Mae’s shop, hoping to dilute the impact.

  It didn’t work.

  “There’s nothing left. Nothing.” Mae hung her head and let out a heartbreaking moan. Lucky leaned over the backseat and nudged Mae’s cheek, drooling on her shoulder. “Take me home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, Shelby pulled up in front of Mae’s purple house.

  Mae hadn’t lifted her head during the entire drive. “And to think, I was teasing the sheriff about his love life. What right have I to cast stones at anyone when my life is in ruins?”

  Shelby rubbed Mae’s arm. “Let’s get you inside.” All that purple would cheer her up.

  “The beast can’t come in,” Mae said, opening the door and stretching her purple sneakered feet toward the sidewalk.

  “I thought you liked Lucky.”

  “He’s a tolerable soul, as dogs go.” Mae turned to pat Lucky’s head through the open rear window. “But I have dresses everywhere. The last thing a bride wants is a muddy footprint on her train or a drool mark on her bodice.”

  Shelby gave Lucky the stay command and followed Mae inside. “You weren’t kidding about the dresses.”

  Dresses hung from curtain rods, were draped over the purple furniture and dining room chairs. Matching shoes were on display beneath each dress. Dyed satin pumps, ivory sandals, white crystal-decorated heels.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  Mae nodded. “Nate took the dresses out of the storage boxes for me and I had some in the guest room closet. I like to appreciate a beautiful dress.” She closed the door and worked her way slowly to her plum-colored velour recliner, which was the only piece of furniture not being used as a mannequin. “Dresses are like husbands. There’s something special to appreciate about each one.”

  Shelby wandered through the living room fingering satin, taffeta and lace. “They’re all beautiful. And each one shines in its own way.”

  “The way you dress expresses your mood. Just like every man a woman loves changes her. Every time I fell in love, I felt renewed.” Mae coughed thickly. “The way you dress is an expression of your inner self and your love. I see you’re still wearing black.”

  “I told you. Black hides stains.” Shelby approached a side table with Mae’s six wedding photos. “You were married in a blue dress?”

  “Once. It was the palest royal blue. The silver beadwork was exquisite. I’d just lost my fourth husband and was feeling delicate. Soft colored bridal gowns were in fashion for a time.” Mae sighed. “They should never have gone out of style. Colors are a wonderful way to set yourself apart.”

  “Which one is Oliver?” The husband Mae mentioned most often.

  “The man with the broken nose.” Mae’s smoker’s voice smoothed like fine grain sandpaper. “I wore a tea length dress when we were married.”

  Shelby studied the photo. Oliver had bright green eyes, a big bump in his nose, and a smile that rivaled Gage’s. “He’s very handsome.”

  “And you’re a very good liar. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense. His personality made it hard to look away from him.” Mae gave a short, wheezy laugh. She held a hand toward Shelby and gestured she come closer. “I need to show you something.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Oliver?”

  “Yes and no.” Mae reached into a drawer in a coffee table next to her recliner. “I want you to have this.” She handed Shelby a small notebook.

  Shelby jammed her hands into her coat pockets. “It looks like a diary.” She wasn’t touching it.

  “It’s my widow’s journal.” Mae continued to wave the book at Shelby. “I was never a believer in diaries, but a friend of mine who was widowed at a young age told me about it. You write all your depressing, dark thoughts in here after you lose someone. And then at the end of each day, you record one thing that made you smile or gave you joy.”

  Shelby tucked her hands behind her back.

  Mae didn’t seem to notice. She rested her elbow on the recliner’s arm and kept holding the journal up to her. Mae’s gaze turned distant. “I used it through my divorces, too. It’s a means to expunge your worst worries and your fears. It helped me rediscover love.”

  Gage would call her a coward. Christine would urge her to be supportive.

  Shelby couldn’t move.

  “I had body image problems when Stan left me.” Mae made a disparaging noise. “I’d just given birth to my two girls in the span of three years. Who wouldn’t feel as if they were a swaybacked brood mare? I didn’t feel the least bit attractive.”

  Shelby would add this conversation to the uncomfortable file, along with the time her father tried to explain the birds and the bees.

  “You know.” Mae wheezed, and then caught her breath. “I felt guilty when I started dating Raymond, because I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. I kept looking at his lips and thinking my mother would call me a hussy, but I never would have wanted to kiss him if I hadn’t been falling in love with him.” She let the book drift down to her lap. “Oh, it was a turbulent romance, but that short time we had together...I wouldn’t trade it.” Her gaze sharpened on Shelby. “In fact, I wouldn’t trade a moment of happiness or upset with any of my husbands. It was love and it was a journey and it made me who I am today.” She thrust the book in Shelby’s direction once more. “I want you to read it.”

  “No. Something like that needs to go to your daughters.”

  “And it will. Humor me and read it.” Mae didn’t speak with annoyance or anger. She spoke as if she was inviting Shelby to tea. “I don’t care if you skim through it. Bring it back sometime in the next week. I bet you shed that stain-hiding black.”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “No, because you’re young and that Gage fellow is a keeper.”

  Shelby glanced again at the six different wedding photos, then back to Mae’s journal. “Someone else will keep him.” Someone courageous enough to let him go to work every morning.

  “Such a martyr. When was the last time you laughed with a man?”

  “This morning.” Okay, maybe she hadn’t laughed out loud when Gage silently disparaged her cooking, but she’d been laughing on the inside.

  “Ah, with the keeper you’re throwing back.”

  “Mae—”

  “He’s reeling you in. Let him.” She coughed again. “First impressions are everything. I think the white knee-length sheath will suit you perfectly. You don’t need to wear the train for a courthouse wedding.” She gestured a pale, mottled hand toward a dress hanging from a curtain. The same one she’d tried to coerce Shelby into trying at the shop. “It says you’re young, modern, confident and open to love. Why don’t you try it on?”

  Gage’s bruised back. Hormonal horses. Funeral homes.

  The purple walls closed in. “I can’t.”

  “You can. You will. I’m leaving you that dress in my will. And that dress...” She pointed to a pale rose satin gown with a sweetheart neckline and a mermaid skirt hanging over a dining room chair. “That
goes to Nate.”

  “It’s not exactly the sheriff’s style.”

  Mae smiled. “It’s for the woman he jilted at the altar.”

  “What? When did this happen?” Grandpa was plugged into all the gossip and he hadn’t said a word.

  Mae settled into her recliner. Her eyes drifted closed. The thick black coats of mascara gave her face a bluish cast. “I don’t know.”

  “He must have told you.”

  “He told me nothing. I guessed. I guessed it all, but he, of course, said nothing.”

  “So this is all conjecture?”

  “Mark my words. The truth will come out someday and he’ll need this dress.” Mae opened her eyes. “The woman who wears that dress will need to be bold and perky and gentle. Strengths to counter the darkness in Nate.”

  It was all truly interesting, but about as believable as a fairy tale. “How do you know all this?”

  “I watch people. They have the most incredible tells.” Mae’s eyes drifted open. “I could have been a world-class poker player. For example, you scrunch your face when things don’t go your way. And that vet of yours tugs his hair when you frustrate him.”

  Shelby caught herself before she got all barnacled.

  “And that man of yours gets silent every time he offers you his heart and you elbow it back.”

  Now she knew Mae was wrong. “Nick was never silent.” He was always moving, always talking.

  “Not your husband. Your man.” Mae coughed. “The vet. Gage. He loves you. And you love him. But all that black you wear.” She tsked. “It’s in your way. Read my widow’s journal and you’ll see.”

  Shelby knew she loved Gage, but in a lonely, emotional transference way. Gage didn’t love her. Not like that. Not if he planned to leave.

  But then she recalled his touch down by the river. His hand so tender on her cheek. Those kisses. His expression. It couldn’t be...It couldn’t... It...

  * * *

  “DO YOU WANT a haircut?” Phil, the barber lowered his newspaper and squinted at Gage.

  Gage took in the shaking hands, the slightly rheumy eyes, the dust on every flat surface in the barber shop. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

  Phil levered himself out of the chair, crumpling the paper in the process. “Come on, then. It’s not like you’re the first young man to come in here and have second thoughts. I cut Mayor Larry’s hair once. He didn’t always have that ponytail.”

  “I...uh...”

  Phil snapped a drape. “Don’t lose your nerve. Terrible trait in a man. Once you make a decision, go with it.”

  Gage liked his hair. He liked the way it curled up disobediently, and the way Shelby ran her fingers through it. But there was Kentucky and a man had to take a stand.

  He stepped forward.

  “That’s it,” Phil said. “I don’t have all day.”

  Gage sat in the chair and allowed Phil to settle the plastic drape over him.

  Kentucky. Secretariat.

  Only when Phil’s hands shook so badly he couldn’t snap the drape at the back of his neck did Gage have second thoughts. Finally, Phil got it fastened, but it was so tight Gage felt choked every time he swallowed.

  “Why I remember the first time I cut your hair. Had to use the booster seat.” Phil rummaged in one drawer and then another. “Almost forgot to ask. What are we doing here? A little trim or should I get out the clippers?”

  Gage had come in with a trim in mind, but those hands...

  “That’s all right. You don’t need to say a word. I know just what you need.” He held up the scissors, opening and closing them with a definitive snip snip.

  * * *

  “LUCKY! IS LUCKY HERE?” Shelby hurtled into the clinic, panicked and breathless.

  Gage had been back in the kennel area checking on the goose. Lucky, currently acting as Gage’s assistant, blinked up at him, then loped toward the front of the clinic and, presumably, Shelby. The sound of his paws scrambling over worn linoleum and the surprised gasps in the lobby drifted down the hallway, followed by reassurances from Doc that Lucky was fine.

  “Lucky! Where have you been?” Shelby’s relief was palpable.

  The goose honked and waddled down the hallway before Gage could stop her. She was a spry gal, that goose, despite her splint. And she’d taken a liking to Lucky.

  Running a hand over his short hair, Gage trotted after her, entering the lobby as Doc was explaining, “He showed up here a few minutes ago. I thought you’d dropped him off.”

  “Why would I drop him off and not come inside?” Shelby patted Lucky’s big barrel chest. “What’s this?”

  The goose hesitated for a moment as she reached Lucky’s side. And then she did the strangest thing. She limped to Shelby, looked up and honked.

  Right there. In the middle of yowling cats and whining dogs, Shelby fell in love. Her blue eyes softened. Her mouth formed a gentle O. And Gage wanted to hug her.

  “She wants you to touch her,” Gage said, resigned to the fact that Shelby had become the Pied Piper of the animal kingdom. “Just to acknowledge that you’re aware she’s interested in you.”

  “On the shoulders,” Doc mumbled. “I’ll be darned if that goose isn’t as motherly as a hen. Thinks we’re all in need of watching over.”

  Shelby gingerly patted the goose’s white feathered shoulders. “Whose is she?”

  “Yours,” Gage said before Doc could reply. “Someone abandoned her this morning. She’s particularly fond of those kittens of yours. Frank dropped them by. He said they’re ready to go home with you.”

  “That goose isn’t coming in my house,” Doc said, before answering the phone.

  Gage knelt to pick up the goose, tucking her beneath his arm. “She shouldn’t be rushing around on that splint.” He returned to the back room and put her in a cage next to the two orange kittens. Shelby followed. “I told you Lucky needs to be on a leash.”

  Shelby hesitated in the doorway, Lucky at her side. “Gage, I... You cut your hair?”

  He was not having this discussion in front of Doc. “Having animals is a responsibility, Shel. A dog, two kittens and a goose.” But not him. His gaze touched everything in the room but her. “The goose will need a small wading pool and—”

  “Gage?”

  He stared at a scuff mark on the faded brick linoleum.

  “Thank you.”

  He sighed. “For what?”

  “For not giving up on me.” Her hand stole across his hair. Smoothing. Soothing.

  He didn’t dare move.

  “It’s been more than a week since we found Lucky.”

  Gage made a noise of assent.

  “We made a deal, remember? After a week, we’d consider him mine and you’d set me up on a date with someone.” She swallowed. “I’m ready.”

  He wasn’t. Set her up on a date? What a colossally stupid idea! His choices were limited to Leo or the sheriff. “Shelby, I—”

  “I’ll always love Nick,” she rushed on in that whisper-like fragile voice. “But lately...things have happened...and I...maybe Mae’s right. Maybe it’s time I stopped wearing black.” She tugged at the hem of her T-shirt. “It hides stains, but it hides other things, too. Like my fears.”

  He didn’t know what to say. The sheriff or Leo? If he chose Leo, she might never date again. And if he chose the sheriff, she might fall in love with Nate.

  “The things you and Nick did always scared me.” Her gaze drifted to his booted feet. “Heights, cliffs, white water. It always scared me.”

  “Sometimes I was scared, too. But I had Nick there to lean on.” Gage removed her hand from his hair.

  The bell over the clinic’s front door rang.

  She drew herself up, gulping a deep breath. “About that da
te—”

  “Do we have to talk about that now?” Gage glanced at the clock on the wall. He had patients waiting.

  “I want to settle things between us.” She’d gone extreme barnacles on him—her face, her voice, her stance. She was a scrunched up ball of tension. “I’m trying to settle things between us.”

  “Okay, I’ll set you up with someone.” It hurt to say the words. They even made it hard for him to hold on to his smile.

  “But Gage...I don’t want someone. I want you to take me out.”

  Gage felt as if he was on a ledge looking down. Way, way down. “On a date?”

  “Well, yeah. We’ve kissed a couple of times. It makes sense.” She searched his face, adding, “Doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, Shel. Yes.” He tried not to shout hallelujah. He tried not to tug her into his arms with all the finesse of a tuna fisherman dragging his prize on board. He tried to compose himself and not kiss her. He tweaked her nose instead. But she grinned and blushed and he laughed. “All I ask is we give each other a chance. I’m leaving soon and I wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t at least see if this is going to lead anywhere. Come with me to Davis when I get the next call to deliver. We’ll have dinner and you’ll see what I do isn’t as dangerous as you imagine.”

  Her features began to twist with tension, but then she smiled. Too brightly. “It’s a date.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LIFE HAD A way of changing your course without you being aware of it.

  A few weeks ago, Shelby had been alone and lonely. Now she had a community, tentative friendships, a date on the horizon and a collection of animals depending upon her. Her life was beginning to feel full and normal. Predisaster.

  Although it scared her, she was committed to going with the flow where Gage was concerned. Perhaps it was easier now since there was an expiration date on his time in Harmony Valley. His future was with racehorses. Hers was with wine.

  Shelby was reviewing the safety procedure document she’d been preparing to submit to the state when Gage appeared on the stairs to the winery office. His features were somber. The happiness on his face when they’d agreed to a date that morning seemed a distant memory.