Night Stars and Mourning Doves (Dearly Beloved)

by Margo Hoornstra

  And though he would have been more than content to have a long, leisurely lunch with the current company, and had an idea Chris would concur, Angela and even Elyse seemed bent on an opposite course of action. Downing their food in a hurry so they could go on to solving this most recent nuptial crisis.

  With the single-mindedness of those two, there’d be no lingering over dessert and coffee. Another example of someone on a mission. Places to go and people to see. In other words lives to go on with.

  Walking out of the restaurant a short while later behind the sisters and beside Chris, it occurred to him, even with the abbreviated lunch date, he still thoroughly enjoyed her company.

  “How could the store mess this up?” Angela wondered out loud as they all stood for a moment in the parking lot.

  Chris brought a quick arm around her shoulders. “Does it matter? Ma caught it and we’re going over there now to straighten it out.”

  She gave a brave smile and nod as he brushed a kiss on her temple. “You’re right. I’m over reacting.”

  Even if it was a no-brainer, Eric knew better by now than to say so. “I didn’t mean to make light of your problem,” he said instead.

  “You didn’t know,” Angela replied and rested her head on Chris’s chest as he pulled her closer.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  Eric caught hold of a momentary fantasy he should be the one to comfort Elyse. Except, the way she stood beside her sister, talked softly and rubbed a hand along her arm, she gave no indication of being all that upset, let alone needing any kind of comforting from him.

  “Chris will help you fix it,” she assured Angela in a strong voice.

  “You bet I will, sweetheart,” Chris affirmed. “And you’ll give Eric a ride home?” he asked Elyse.

  That was when Eric spoke up for himself. “He picked me up this morning so Ma could use my car.”

  “Sure.” The smile she cast him traveled up to brighten her eyes and he plunged into that familiar cool, clear lake and broke the surface wanting more. “I’ll take you home.”

  Making something out of her “take you home” word choice when maybe he shouldn’t have, he fell into step beside her and wiped a second unreasonable fantasy from his mind. “Where’s your car?”

  “This is mine.” She indicated a brand new silver Mercedes she stopped beside. The same one he’d seen at the daycare.

  He took a stutter step then stopped too. “This is your car?” Another pause and he tried to gather his thoughts. “This?”

  She fisted the keys collected from her purse and, with a click of the remote, unlocked the doors. “Get in.”

  Doing as she instructed, he slammed the door then stretched the seat belt across him and clicked it into place. She did the same then reached up to adjust the rear view mirror, and a figurine dangling there caught his attention.

  “I’ve never seen one of those before.” Suspended on a beaded chain from the mirror’s base was an angel figurine with a seed pearl head, delicate metal wings and a crystal body. “It’s kind of neat.”

  She reached up again. “Angela made that for me.” It spun and whirled at her touch causing pieces of sunlight to wink and shimmer through its prism. “For good luck and protection.” Her hand dropped to grip the steering wheel. “While I’m in the car.”

  Pulling out of the parking lot soon after, she blended with traffic as they made small talk. But, after a few moments she took a turn he hadn’t expected.

  “You’re going to miss your entrance onto the expressway.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s the quickest way home.”

  Slowing for a red traffic signal on the two lane highway she’d chosen, she cast him a look of mock horror. “You aren’t a back seat driver are you?”

  He shifted on the plush leather, unsure where to put his hands. “No. You’re relatively new here. I grew up here. I know my way around.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Attention returned to her driving and the now green light, she accelerated. “I like to take the back roads whenever I can. I detest expressways. Probably a throwback to my time in LA.” He got a side-long look. “You aren’t in a huge hurry are you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “It’s a pretty drive.”

  He took in the delicate curve of her throat, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks, the dimple on the side of her mouth that played hide and seek with him as she talked.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. I mean look at this scenery.”

  Pulling his attention away from the pleasure of taking in her profile, he did as she asked. All sorts of trees, elm, maple, fir, their leaves green and lush, lined the roadway three and four deep. Behind the miniature forest stood alternate fields of knee high corn and golden wheat. All the vegetation, short, tall, or in between swayed and shimmied under the direction of a stiff summer breeze.

  “It is pretty.” His covert gaze slid over her. “All of it.”

  “I can’t wait until fall. Imagine what colors these leaves will take on. They don’t have the changing seasons out west either.”

  “Fall was Jan’s favorite season.” Aw hell. He’d gone and said it out loud. “My—uh—late wife loved the fall. Sorry.”

  The next sidelong glance lasted a little longer. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Eric.”

  Her voice was kind, soothing, and he struggled to swallow. “Sometimes I think I embarrass people when I talk about her.”

  “Only the people who don’t really matter, maybe.” She studied the road in front of her. “What’s wrong with holding on to the memories?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me? Because I could respond either way.”

  “It goes without saying Jan was a significant part of your life. And certainly of Jay’s. Enjoy that. Embrace it. Don’t be ashamed. And don’t rob Jay of the memories of his mother because of your own feelings and reactions.”

  “Is that a nice way of saying hang ups?”

  “No it’s a nice way of saying feelings and reactions. Don’t penalize Jay because of them.”

  “I’d never hurt my son.”

  “Not intentionally. None of us would.” She stopped to take a breath. “There’s nothing worse than a child in pain.”

  “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

  “We all have scars in life to deal with. Some more visible than others.” For the first time that day her voice waivered before she brought back its strength. “This fall, we’ll have to come back and see the leaves.”

  He paused at the thought of seeing her beyond wedding plans and their in-law family connection. “In the fall.”

  “There’s the neatest little grocery store down there.” She indicated a country road as they went by. “Best bacon for miles.”

  As their laidback banter continued, for the second time that day he found he was totally at ease and thoroughly enjoying himself. Too soon, the Mercedes rolled to a stop at Sid and Iris Matthews’ house. Across the street a neighbor watering her grass stared. Elyse put the gearshift into park but didn’t shut off the engine.

  He made no move to open his door and get out. “I appreciate the ride.”

  “Any time.”

  If they’d been on an actual date, he might consider trying a kiss. He leaned forward and the seat belt held fast. Clicking it open with as much finesse as he could muster, he wasn’t sure what to do when she kept hers on.

  The idea she’d be leaving him soon kicked in and the urge to touch her before she did was suddenly too strong to ignore. Unaware he’d done it, his palm caressed her shoulder.

  “Thanks again for the ride.”

  Her attention moved to the fingers so very close to her throat but she didn’t pull away. When she glanced up, his gaze joined hers and they smiled. “Along with the friendly advice?” She blew out a breath that glided over his chin. “Both are free.”

  She was the one who didn’t hold on. When her eyes lowered, her head did too and h
er cheek rubbed across his knuckles. The connection nearly did him in as the strength of too many feelings to process at one time charged around inside.

  “And available any time.” The vibration of her words sent a tingle up his arm as if in search of his heart.

  “Are you sure I wouldn’t abuse the offer?”

  “I’m pretty sure you aren’t the abusive type.” Emotion shone in her eyes, but now he had an idea about its source. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  Gaze locked with hers, he cupped her cheek. “It’s nice to know I have a friend.”

  “I’m very good at being that.” She pulled back until his hand dropped away.

  The spell broken, he slid to his side of the car.

  When can I see you again? “What’s next on the wedding agenda?”

  She cleared her throat and looked away. “There’s another shower coming up.”

  “Oh yeah. The twelfth, right?” When she nodded, he went on. “Some friends of our parents are putting on that one.”

  “It’s a barbecue. Very casual.”

  “Should be fun.” She didn’t protest when he clicked open the door. “Well, thanks again for the lift.”

  “Any time.”

  Kicking himself all the way up to the house for being such a wuss, he walked in to find Jay staring out the window. Prepared for all sorts of questions he didn’t have answers to, he decided offense would be a better way to deal than defense.

  “Did you see Miss Elyse brought me home?”

  “Yeah,” Jay replied, his gaze remained on something in the yard.

  “What are you watching?” He knelt beside his son to rest his chin on the back of the couch as they both looked out.

  “Mourning dove.” Jay pointed then added solemnly. “Grandpa says she does want to live here.”

  Eric watched as the bird landed in the grass inches below the window, stepped around in little circles then began to pick at the ground. She stopped to bob her head then lifted it with a length of dried grass in her beak and disappeared into the pine tree by the driveway. Moments later, she was back to peck at the ground.

  “She’s building a nest,” Eric whispered. “Another home.”

  “There’s Grandpa,” Jay exclaimed and pointed.

  Eric looked to the far end of the yard where his father bent down to pick up a length of twig he broke into manageable, bird sized pieces he then tossed over by the pine tree.

  “You keep watching. I’ll be right back.”

  The boy didn’t have to be told twice. “Okay. But where are you going?”

  “To make a phone call, Jay. To make a phone call.”

  Chapter Eight

  Elyse was mildly surprised and tremendously pleased when Eric called to ask her for a date.

  The dinner he suggested at the small Italian restaurant turned out to have the best lasagna she’d ever tasted, a smooth and tangy Chianti, and a sweetly delicate tiramisu to die for. All served and enjoyed while they shared a quiet booth lit by the romantic glow of a single slow burning candle.

  What was supposed to be a movie after—her choice, Eric insisted—became three hours of talking about themselves and, more importantly, learning about each other. After a while, she found herself revealing events from her past she’d never shared with anyone, ever.

  “The divorce from Vince was beyond messy. Getting through it with our trust fund intact was no easy feat. Being Angela’s guardian at the time, keeping my eye on how I needed to preserve my little sister’s future made all the difference.”

  “Sorry you had to go through that.”

  “Don’t be. His loss. Certainly not mine.”

  He couldn’t let it go at that. “It’s still gotta hurt.”

  “Some wounds are less visible than others,” she conceded.

  “But cut just as deeply. And you took back your maiden name after the divorce. That had to go a ways toward the healing.”

  “I never gave it up. Aside from that, bottom line, the jerk is a never more in my life. He knows now that he can’t get his hands on our money. He’s quit trying.”

  “Why do I get the feeling the high powered lawyer I’ve heard so much about had something to do with his giving up?”

  “That and a nasty confrontation I’d rather not talk about.”

  “Fair enough.” He refilled their wine glasses and lifted his in a toast. “To the demise of Vince in your life.”

  “Here, here.” One sip and she set her glass aside.

  He did the same. “I need to remember I’m the driver tonight. There are huge penalties for drunk driving.”

  “A couple glasses of wine can’t possibly constitute being drunk.”

  “You’d be surprised. Even the slightest impairment—alcohol related or not—has the potential to cause an accident.”

  “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

  “Personal experience. You could say that.”

  “Have you ever been arrested for—”

  “Drunk driving. No. I work for the other side.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re not a police officer.”

  He shook his head. “I used to be. It was the one element in our life that my late wife didn’t particularly care for. Jan used to say my real job was to come home safe to her and Jay after every shift.” He lifted his head on a sigh. “A lot of family members say that. Especially wives.”

  “I don’t doubt it. How awful is that, having to worry about losing a loved one just for doing their job?”

  “She didn’t understand my need to be a cop.”

  “It’s a need you have, not a profession?”

  “Taking care of people, helping someone in trouble isn’t a nine-to-five proposition. It’s the kind of thing I’ve done all my life.”

  “Right wrongs?”

  “I’d like to think so.” He looked directly at her, no very nearly through her, and she caught a breath. “Make sure—or try to help make sure people who deserve it have a better life.”

  “What is it you do now?” Her voice sounded small and insignificant compared to his and the things he’d been saying. She held another breath after she asked, afraid the answer would be international spy or government agent. Some job involving even worse danger or risk than police work.

  “Formally, I’m an accident reconstruction specialist.”

  “Hmmmm.” That didn’t sound like risk.

  Her exhale was so long and loud he shot her a hasty look. “You okay?”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

  Except for all of a sudden the idea of Eric Matthews not being in her life had scared the heck out of her and caused her heart to race at such an accelerated pace it had yet to return to normal. “What is it you do? Exactly?”

  “I go to the scene of a car crash, for instance. Diagram what I see, the position of the vehicles, road conditions and such, then try to give what amounts to my best educated guess of how and why it happened.”

  She sat forward. “Best guess. Not absolute?”

  “I don’t believe in absolutes.” He reached across the table with both hands to cover hers. “I should say I didn’t used to but, after tonight, rather after being with you tonight, I may have to change my mind. Because I’m absolutely sure I want to see you again.”

  “Me too,” she managed as his gentle touch caused all her senses to accelerate. It was official, her heartbeat didn’t stand a chance.

  “Excuse me, folks.” They looked up as the hostess approached. “We’re going to be closing in a few moments, so if you wouldn’t mind—” She left the sentence hanging with a polite smile as she moved on to one other occupied table.

  “Guess that means we have to leave.” Breaking contact which she immediately missed, Eric stood and came around to her side of the booth.

  “Guess so.” She took the hand he offered and rose. “I had a wonderful time.”

  “Even though we never did make it to the movie you suggested?”

  “This wa
s better.”

  “I agree.”

  Nice as it was, the warmth of his palm on her back as they walked to the front did nothing to salve the depth of her disappointment their time together was about to end.

  She waited by the door while he settled their bill, then in no time he pulled his SUV to a stop in her driveway and killed the engine. Without so much as an attempt by him at a good night kiss, they made their way up the sidewalk to her door.

  “Quite a place you have here.” He indicated the Tudor style residence Elyse called home though she had yet to feel fully comfortable in it.

  A shrug hid her true feelings. “It’s paid for.”

  Head tipped back to survey the vast two story house, he let out a low whistle. “Are you kidding me? Must be nice.”

  She followed his gaze, not sure what was such a big deal about the cumbersome and unfriendly structure. “Not through my efforts. That’s for sure.”

  “You didn’t buy it?”

  Her initial answer was a head shake. “All this decorative timbering and ornate double door is not exactly my style. Our parents liked it for a summer home or something. Probably more like a tax shelter.” She was quiet for a moment, grateful he didn’t press for details. “Their wealth was about the only thing those two shared willingly with us. And I have an idea I got possession of this only because that’s how my grandfather’s law firm set up our trust.”

  As the remnants of a warm evening breeze washed over her face, she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. The man fairly towered over her, large imposing figure and all. Yet, more significant, she didn’t feel overpowered or the least bit intimidated. Climbing three broad steps in perfect sync, they reached the porch. Keys in hand, she unlocked the door.

  When she returned the key-ring to her purse, he grasped her wrist to turn her toward him then kept possession of her hands. “It must have been hard. Growing up that way.”