Sweet Joymaker

by Jean Oram

  “I’m sorry I ran out of the condo.”

  “You know you’re important to me, right?” he said at long last. She didn’t answer, and he added, “And I understand that it scares you.”

  It did. It scared her a lot, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  No, she knew. She feared he would sweep her into his world, she’d fall in love, wrap her life around his, and then he’d leave. One day… he’d just go. Like her dad had. Like Roy had.

  There had been signs, of course, but with her father she’d been too young to understand what they’d meant. With Roy she hadn’t believed he’d truly leave after all they’d been through together.

  “I want to date you even when we go home, and our real lives intrude and everyone gets nosy and interferes,” Clint said. His voice was gentle, but firm. He knew what he wanted with such certainty. But how long would it last? How long before it changed into something resembling apathy?

  She made a small sound.

  “Did Kit really leave you at the craft store?”

  “She was instituting tough love, apparently.”

  He chuckled.

  “She told me to reclaim my life.” She sighed, shaking her head at the moving clouds above.

  “Sounds like that could get epic. Where are you?”

  “Downtown. I can walk back to the condo.” It would probably take her half an hour, but she’d walked farther and in worse weather.

  “I know a guy with a scooter. He could swing by and pick you up.”

  She hesitated. She wasn’t sure if he meant himself or not.

  “It’s me, Maria,” he said, laughter in his voice, as though he was sensing her doubts. “I’m the guy with a scooter.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Be there in five?” The question in his voice warmed her.

  Was that why she’d called him? For a rescue? Or had it to do with that something that made her smile when she thought of him? That something she couldn’t seem to escape, even when she tried to run from it.

  “That would be nice,” she said.

  She ended the call, wishing they had more time in Indigo Bay to sort things out. They had only a day and a half left, and that wasn’t long.

  What would they do? Could they bring this home to Sweetheart Creek like he believed? Before she could sort out her thoughts, the scooter glided up in front of the craft store, Clint looking like a hero on his robin’s egg colored machine.

  “It’s blue!” she said, grinning. It looked good. Fresh, bright and retro. The thing had adventure and fun stamped all over it.

  “One more coat of blue to go, then a clear one and it’s done.”

  “But you’ll dirty it driving around town. You’re going to have to clean it again.”

  He gave a small nod.

  “I could have walked.”

  “When are you going to learn you’re important to me?” he asked, handing her a helmet. “Everything that’s important to you is important to me.”

  “Everything?” she joked, reaching for it. He didn’t let go until she looked up, met his eyes.

  “Every little thing,” he said with emphasis, warming her from the toes upward.

  He slipped off the machine as she put on the headgear, then helped her onto the small seat behind the driver’s. When they were both aboard he looked over his shoulder. “Do you want to drive?”

  She shook her head. She was fine with him taking the lead on the small machine.

  As they drove down the streets of Indigo Bay, they passed a stately woman walking her small fluffy dog. Miss Lucille.

  “Told you it would look cute!” Clint called to her. She flinched when he merrily tooted the horn.

  Maria giggled and wrapped her arms tighter around his waist even though she didn’t need to. His body relaxed, melting into her a little more.

  “I’m supposed to be painting those stupid bags, but let’s go play hooky for a little while,” she called to him when he switched lanes to turn toward the condo.

  He sped up, moving back into his original lane, then turning onto a narrow road that would take them along the beach. Maria smiled, feeling as though she was living someone else’s life. The thrumming of her pulse, the ocean air, riding on a scooter with a man who wanted to win her heart…

  Maybe he already had.

  Maybe things were already perfect, and she just had her head stuck in the logistics. Maybe she needed to listen to Kit and allow the future to be where it was supposed to—in the future.

  Look at her son Levi, and his girlfriend. Laura was from New York City, and a fashion model by trade. Levi was from out in the boonies, his life devoted to the family ranch. Yet somehow the two of them were making it work, logistics be damned.

  And Maria had raised him. Surely she could make something work between herself and a man who lived just a few miles away.

  “Okay,” she said over the wind.

  Clint pointed toward a small pullout ahead on the sandy shore. “Here?”

  “No. Okay.” She put special emphasis on the word, knowing he’d understand.

  He let up on the throttle as the meaning sank in. “Okay?”

  She tightened her arms around him. She wasn’t ready to say he was her boyfriend, and it felt odd to say they were dating. But that’s what she wanted. When she went home, she wanted more moments and afternoons just like this one, even though there’d be no ocean, no salty air, no scooter. But there would be the most important thing—Clint. He made each day interesting and special. And they could have moments like this anywhere, if they tried. Even in Sweetheart Creek.

  “Let’s date. Slow and steady, though,” she warned, hoping to temper his enthusiasm before he ran away with his expectations.

  “Slow and steady? What does that look like?”

  “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s enjoy playing hooky, and then you can take me out for supper, instead of tomorrow night.”

  “You know the best part of playing hooky is making out somewhere, right?”

  She laughed, her entire body feeling lighter and freer than it had in years. There was something very special about her sweet joymaker, Clint Walker.

  “Hello?” Maria said, after picking up her phone. She was almost ready to go out for supper with Clint. Okay, it was a date. She wouldn’t kid herself any longer, and was unable to disguise the happiness in her voice even though caller ID informed her it was her ex-husband on the other end of the line.

  “Maria?” he asked, as though unable to identify her, despite having shared forty years of marriage. The past year apart sure must have been a kicker if he had trouble recognizing her voice. Or maybe he just didn’t expect her to sound happy.

  That was a sobering thought.

  “Yes, Roy?” she said with exaggerated patience, a tone he was well familiar with, suggesting she wasn’t in the mood for dickering.

  “You just sounded different,” he said defensively. “I’m calling about Christmas.”

  Christmas… Should she get Clint a gift? Maybe it was too soon. Definitely too soon to spend the holiday together.

  “It’s on the twenty-fifth,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at her own attitude. “It’s on a Friday this year.”

  “I know when it is.” She could tell by his sharpness that her joyful mood had put him off his own.

  No doubt the man knew she was in Indigo Bay at the moment, and was probably wondering what she was up to, and whether she was visiting his family and spreading lies. Because, sadly, that was what her ex-husband had become: suspicious. Their divorce, though taking her by surprise, had been mutual, and she had no plans to taint the waters with his family after so many years of having his back.

  “Well then?” she asked kindly. “Are you wondering what you should get me?”

  “I’m calling to ask what you’re going to do about Christmas,” Roy scolded. “What are we going to do about the boys?”

  “I’ll buy them gifts from myself an
d I’m sure you will do the same.”

  “I meant Christmas Day. Where will you be?”

  “I will be at the ranch, just like I am every year.” She’d missed spending only one Christmas morning there—last year. She’d moved into town just before the holidays, and Christmas morning alone in town had nearly done her in, waiting for it to be time to join her family on the ranch for supper.

  When Roy had moved off the ranch in June to marry Sophia, Maria’s first instinct had been to move back. However, she’d refrained until autumn, knowing by then that Sweet Meadows Ranch was truly what she wanted and where she was meant to be.

  “You can’t kick me out of my home on Christmas Day,” Roy protested.

  “You left by your own volition. You are now living in a new home, with your new wife. I am on the ranch, right where I’m supposed to be. We are all happy.”

  “I shouldn’t feel like a guest on the ranch I was raised on,” he grumbled. “I can’t believe I have to ask for permission to come to my own home.”

  “You don’t have to ask for permission, and that ranch was my home for forty years. I have every right—”

  “And it was mine for sixty!”

  “You don’t turn sixty for another three months.” She said it calmly, realizing that a fight wouldn’t help anything, and would likely please Roy. “I had every right to move back out there when you left. I put blood, sweat and tears and hard work into that ranch, as did you. You’re no longer there, and that place needs me. Our boys need me. Carmichael is my father as much as yours.”

  When Roy sputtered a protest, she raised her voice to speak over him. “Do you know he has arthritis in his knees and can barely move when there’s a good storm blowing in? Are you there taking care of him? Making sure he eats his vegetables and goes to the doctor? Are you stepping in to cook meals for our boys when they go down two belt sizes? Are you there showing them they can work together to run that ranch you walked away from? Or helping them through the bumps of figuring out how to love a woman? Have you not noticed our sons are growing up?” She stopped speaking, the lump in her throat too tight to speak past.

  “And you’re there mothering them,” Roy said, his tone grumpy.

  He sounded like Clint. As if mothering her boys was a terrible thing.

  She supposed to them it was. They wanted that attention and energy put into them.

  “And I will be there for them until the day I die.”

  She almost ended the call, but instead sucked in a deep breath and carried on in a civil tone. “You are always welcome to join us at Christmas, as is Sophia. You don’t need an invitation. But know that I will always be there at Christmas. That is my home. That is my family. And nobody can convince me there is a better place for me to be.”

  Then she hit the End Call button with a flourish, but her earlier joy had vanished.

  Clint held the door to Katie’s Kitchen, a restaurant on Bayview with a Caribbean-themed decor, and ushered Maria in. Once they were settled with glasses of wine, he took her hand across the table. Maria inhaled, absorbing the ambience. Christmas songs played softly in the background, kettle drums being incorporated into the tunes to give a Caribbean feel.

  Clint’s phone rang, and he silenced it. “How was the rest of your day after we played hooky?”

  “You can answer that if you’d like.” She pointed toward his cell.

  “Nobody’s more important than you are right now.”

  “Sweet talker.”

  He smiled in agreement. “So? The rest of your day was good?”

  Maria thought back. They’d been cramming so much into each day, maximizing their time away. They’d go off to do their own thing for an hour or two before meeting up again.

  It had been only that afternoon that Kit had left her outside the craft store. And only a few hours ago that she’d decided that yes, she wanted to date Clint once they returned to Sweetheart Creek.

  One more day together. What would it bring?

  Maria squeezed Clint’s hand, a sense of anticipation building inside her.

  “Did you start painting?”

  She shook her head. Not much had happened since they’d seen each other a few hours ago. She grimaced, thinking about Roy’s call, and Clint shifted forward, catching her brief switch in moods. He raised his chin as an invitation to discuss what was on her mind.

  “Roy called to ask about Christmas,” she revealed.

  “Sharing Christmas isn’t easy.”

  “How do you and Kay-Lynn manage the holidays?” Clint had two grown kids of his own. They lived in San Antonio now and had families themselves, Kay-Lynn having moved to the city with their preteens after the divorce.

  Clint leaned back in his chair, his hand sliding out of her grip. He looked uncomfortable as he ran his palms down his thighs, exhaling slowly, his eyes on a dancing Santa wearing a Rastafarian hat complete with fake dreadlocks.

  “It’s that bad?” Maria asked.

  “No, not anymore,” he said quickly, though pain was evident in his eyes. “It was when the kids were younger.”

  “So how did you get to where you are now—not so bad?”

  He gave a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The kids grew up.”

  “Well, mine already are, so I suppose that’s a plus.” It still didn’t make it easy, though.

  “Christmas Day doesn’t mean as much as it once did.”

  Maria felt the muscles in her face slacken.

  “No, I meant that sometimes the kids and I celebrate on the day, or before, or after. I learned that it’s just as special, whenever we get together. Christmas is about time with the kids.”

  “I’m still at the greedy stage, where I want to spend all of Christmas with my boys.”

  He didn’t laugh, as she expected. “I think a mom always will.” His words were carefully chosen. “And I also think with you living on the ranch with several of them, it feels natural to wake up and spend Christmas morning together. Then the rest of the day.”

  “I told Roy that he and Sophia are welcome to join us. He feels he needs an invitation because he’s become a guest in his childhood home.” Maria studied the tablecloth, a blend of Christmas and beach patterns. Her heart felt heavy. She hadn’t ousted Roy, and she knew it wasn’t her fault he felt that way about the ranch.

  “He left the place, didn’t he?” Clint asked.

  “Yeah, but now I live there again. I don’t think he saw that one coming.”

  “I don’t see Sophia as the ranching type.”

  “Oh, she’s not,” Maria said quickly. That was the key reason Roy had moved to town.

  “Then I think this is a Roy problem, not a Maria problem.”

  “I know.”

  “But you still feel responsible, don’t you?”

  She nodded and took a sip of her wine.

  “I have faith the two of you will work it out. And it gets easier with each passing year.”

  “Does it?”

  “You know, after Kay-Lynn left me—”

  “Why did she?”

  Clint inhaled breath between his teeth, then blew it out. “You would think after all these years I would understand it a bit better.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Apparently I was never her true love.” He had reached for Maria’s hand, but then withdrew his own, studying her.

  “What?”

  He shook his head, looking away. “Nothing.”

  She wondered if he feared he might be moving too fast, repeating old mistakes. Thinking she was the new Kay-Lynn. Just like she sometimes caught herself thinking he might leave her, like Roy had.

  But Clint hadn’t left his wife.

  He had followed Maria to a different state for a vacation, in fact. Was he thinking it was love? Or was it simply an opportunity to get to know her better?

  If they’d stayed in Sweetheart Creek, how long would it have taken them to reach this level of trust and affection? Years? Here, it had taken only a fe
w days.

  “I’m glad you came to Indigo Bay,” she said.

  “Are you?”

  “I am.” She smiled. Friendship, laughter, joy. That’s how she’d sum up this vacation. And kisses. Lots of wonderful kisses.

  “I’m glad, too.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “So? Tell me about these bags you needed to race out and buy paint for. They’re for the gala’s gold-level sponsors? Or did you just say you wanted to paint them in order to escape a man who was getting all serious on you?” He rested his arms on the table, leaning forward.

  She laughed. “As embarrassing as it is, both.”

  “Well, I guess whatever gets you back into the groove of painting again is worth it.”

  “Really, I am so sorry for running out on you.”

  Their appetizer arrived, interrupting her apology.

  “I tend to move fast,” Clint said, dunking a pita chip in the shared bowl of cheese dip.

  They both moaned as the rich food hit the spot. They were starting to make a dent in it when Maria’s phone rang, the sound causing a few people to glance her way. She reached into her jacket pocket, hitting the silence button, then glanced at the screen, noting it was Levi. She put the phone back in her pocket.

  When she glanced up, Clint was watching her. “Answer it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s Levi. I’m sure it’s not important.”

  Clint looked thoughtful for a moment. “You should call him back.”

  “Why?” He had silenced his phone, but she should answer hers? What was that about? Or was it a way to prove to her that her boys were important and it was okay if they intruded?

  Or did he sense something was wrong back home? A stab of worry surged through her, and she pulled her phone out, debating.

  Clint gave her a nod, and she dialed quickly. “Levi? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. How are things?”

  Maria felt her body sag. He was interrupting her date to ask how she was doing? She gave Clint a dry look and mouthed, “Not an emergency.”

  Clint frowned at her in confusion, peering at her lips. She shook her head again and waved her hand. “Did you need something, Levi?” she asked.