by Fiona West
“I officially love this chair,” he said.
“I’m at work, Dr. Durand. Maybe slow down a little . . .”
“It’s educational. The children have to find out sometime.”
“Yeah, in fifth grade, though, not first.”
“I know.” He kissed her again. “Someone volunteered me to help with the boys’ talk this year.”
“We’re short on male teachers up there. It’s good for the community . . .” Her train of thought derailed as his stubbled cheek rubbed against her smooth one.
“You know what else is good for the community?” he asked, kissing down her neck to her pulse point, turning her insides to jelly.
Ainsley made a noise that she could only assume was her brain disconnecting from the rest of her body. Brain offline. Backup instincts now engaging.
“Come on, do the sexy banter with me.”
“Wh-what?” Her heart was racing.
He kept talking between lingering kisses. “You’re supposed to say, ‘What is, Kyle?’ and then I’d say, ‘A happy Ainsley, because she’s on every committee that this town has.’”
“Uh-huh,” she breathed, tipping her head back as he kissed behind her ear.
Someone in the doorway cleared their throat, and they both froze.
“Miss Buchanan, might I have a moment of your time?”
Kyle scowled. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought you.”
Daniel chuckled. “Glad to see you two are making up. Where’s the grown-up-sized bathrooms? Cooper didn’t know, and my bladder is about to burst.”
“They’re by the principal’s office,” she said as Kyle continued to kiss down her neck.
“Dude, get a room.”
“Dude, we did. Now get out. And shut the door behind you.” Daniel chuckled as he left, but left the door open. Kyle wasn’t letting up; he caressed her arms, drawing her in for more kisses.
“I should probably get back to work . . .”
He sighed. “So much for compromise,” he said, throwing her own words back at her, and she smacked him with the back of her hand, laughing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WINNIE AND DANIEL’S big day was finally here, and Kyle couldn’t wait for it to be over. Everyone was rushing around, too many women were wearing perfume, and he couldn’t find Ainsley. Daniel was already standing at the altar, and they were supposed to be starting the procession. He was supposed to walk her down the aisle, and she’d gone off looking for a safety pin for one of the other bridesmaids who was having an issue with her dress. Every room he ducked his head into made him more anxious . . . He started whistling just to calm his nerves as he opened the door to the nursery when he heard her voice behind him.
“There you are!”
He turned, and all the upset words he’d been cueing up died on his lips. Her long hair was curled in large rings, her fingernails were painted in ombré hues of pink, both courtesy of his mom. Her dress was asymmetrical, only over one shoulder, but for once, he didn’t think about how she must be cold or how things should be even. He thought about the long slit up the side of the dusty-pink dress. He thought about her perfect lips, painted in a slightly darker shade.
“Kyle!” She snapped her fingers, as if to break his trance. “Come on, honey, we gotta get this party started! Winnie’s mom is freaking out.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him back toward the doors to the sanctuary. It only gave him the opportunity to examine the dress’s fit from behind (very nice), and he couldn’t help but think that maybe he should let her lead him around more often. Had he been going about this all wrong, all this time? He’d been trying to push in all these directions, but maybe the trick was just to let yourself be dragged along once in a while.
They got in line at the doors, and Ainsley was fussing with her dress and hair, touching her face self-consciously, picking at her bouquet.
“Hey.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
Ainsley gave him a small smile. “You’re supposed to tell the bride that.”
“The statement stands for itself.”
She grinned at him, and he wanted to bottle her up for drearier days. He’d meant what he said in her classroom; she was his sunshine, today and every day. She tipped her face up like she wanted a kiss, and he bent his head down obediently; it was going to be easier than normal since she was wearing such tall shoes . . .
“Hey!” Dr. Baker hissed. “None of that. Get going down the aisle. Right, together, left, together.”
Kyle straightened, his face hot at having been caught in a moment of indulgence by the mother of the bride and his colleague. He offered his arm to Ainsley, who took it, giggling.
“Never seen you blush before,” she whispered as they slowly moved down the aisle.
“Your fault,” he mumbled, and she giggled again, squeezing his arm.
They parted ways at the foot of the steps to the stage, but he didn’t take his eyes off her the whole ceremony. He couldn’t. He had Daniel and Winnie’s rings on his little finger, as the wedding coordinator had commanded, but in his inside jacket pocket, he had one more. One that had been burning a hole in his pocket for weeks . . . He just couldn’t seem to find the right time to ask her. Her apartment was too mundane. There were too many people at school and at the build site. He wasn’t one for audiences for landmark moments in life, but given their history, he felt she needed a grand gesture.
Listening to the pastor’s classic platitudes on marriage, an idea formed in his mind. He’d need some help . . . but he was getting better at asking for it. The community loved her; they’d love to be involved in his proposal. He’d almost worked it out when the ceremony ended, and Daniel and Winnie were retreating down the aisle again. He picked up Ainsley, trying to ignore how loud the music was.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “Never been better.”
Daniel had made him promise to stay until the toasts, so he was standing around watching Maggie cut cake when Mr. Buchanan appeared at his elbow.
“Hey, Doc. Good wedding.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Congrats to your brother, they seem like a nice couple. Known him a long time.”
“Yes, I agree.” They stood in silence for a minute before Gary cleared his throat.
“Look, Doc, I want to declare a truce.” He was being too formal; if this man was going to be his father-in-law, he needed to try to loosen up around him.
“Please, call me Kyle.”
Gary adjusted his tie, as if it were too tight. “I know I haven’t exactly been real friendly, Kyle, but all you did for me in the scare the other day at the site, and then the way you defended Ainsley at the fall festival . . . well, I just wanted to extend a hand in friendship. That flap about the mailbox is all but forgotten.”
Kyle reached out and shook Gary’s offered hand firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Buchanan, I appreciate that, but . . . what mailbox?”
Gary paused for a moment, unsure. Then he groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m afraid not. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bet I know who would,” Gary muttered, pivoting to look around the narthex.
“Just a minute, sir. While I’ve got you, I did have something I wanted to ask you . . .”
SHE KNEW THEY WERE standing behind her even before she turned . . . Her boyfriend and her father wore twin expressions of ire, arms crossed over their chests.
“Can I . . . help you?” she asked, cognizant that she was definitely the source of their upset.
“That depends,” her father replied. “It seems Kyle here doesn’t know a thing about what happened to my mailbox.”
“Oh, really?” Her voice was small and squeaky, mouse-like. Even she wasn’t buying her innocent act. It was beyond pathetic. She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess we’ll never know what happened.”
“I think som
eone does know,” Gary said. His voice might appear casual to those ignorant of his ways, but Ainsley knew better. “I think she knows exactly what happened, and yet, she’s been letting me hold a grudge against her boyfriend for no good reason.”
“Okay, look,” she said forcefully, “it was right when all that happened with Shane and I was under a lot of pressure at school and was backing out of the driveway while I checked my phone because it dinged with a notification, and I hit your stupid, ugly mailbox and then you assumed it was Kyle and I just didn’t correct you and all this time I’ve kept trying to find a good time to tell you and it just didn’t want to be found, and I’m sorry to both of you.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. That felt good to get off her chest.
“Ainsley.” Kyle was still glaring at her. “Would you like a hug?”
“Yes, please.” He shuffled forward and gathered her tight in his arms.
“How many more of these traumatic past events are we going to uncover, do you think?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . not too many more, I don’t think.”
He squeezed her tighter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE BIG DAY HAD FINALLY come. Most of Timber Falls had come out despite the rain. It was one already, time to get things underway, but she hadn’t seen her father yet. Ainsley wove her way through the groups of people standing around, feeling anxious. Where was he? Had something happened? In all the excitement, had he forgotten breakfast? She tried to open her phone, but the screen was dappled with rain and wouldn’t recognize her thumbprint.
“Ainsley!” It was Bilqiis, Abshir, and Fawzia, cutting toward her through the throng. Bilqiis wore a bright-red hijab over a red, gold, and brown striped dress, the fabric crisscrossing over her chest. Ainsley felt a twinge of jealousy at how amazing she looked.
“Bilqiis! You’re here! Have you seen my dad?”
“He is inside, in the kitchen with your husband.”
Ainsley sighed. “He’s not my husband, Bilqiis.” Not even close. They had only been dating a few months, she reminded herself. There was time. There was time for all of it. No rush. She was getting used to the way things were. And things were good.
She stuck her head into the house. “Dad! Come on, people are getting wet out here.”
“Coming, kiddo!”
She heard Kyle’s voice say something in a low tone, and her father chuckled. Those two were thick as thieves ever since they’d figured out her mailbox omission. She didn’t trust them . . . They were cooking something up.
“All right,” her dad boomed, coming out onto the front porch, clapping his hands. “All right, attention, please! We’ll try to keep this short.” The crowd quieted, straining to hear him over the drops of rain trickling through the gutters and onto the front yard. “The Sadiq family—all of them—have put an enormous amount of time and energy into this home. And this is their home. By coming here, you are welcoming them into the community wholeheartedly. They’ve asked me to thank everyone for the hours they spent building, their instructors for their financial education and home ownership classes, and those who donated furnishings for the house, especially my daughter, Ainsley Buchanan.” She blushed at that, shooting a glare at Bilqiis, who smiled back at her. “Please join me in welcoming this family home.”
Abshir produced scissors and cut the ribbon they’d placed across the door. The whoops, yells, and applause that went up from the assembled group brought other neighbors out of their houses. Abshir held up his hands for quiet. The soft-spoken man shouted, “You can all come inside, but take off your shoes first!” The crowd laughed, and they shuffled forward. For the next hour, Ainsley chatted, laughed, and hugged her building cohorts. She would see them again in the spring for another build, but she’d miss them in the meantime.
The party was winding down when Fawzia came up to her, hands behind her back.
“Put your hands out, Miss Buchanan.” Ainsley obeyed, but Fawzia added, “And close your eyes.”
Ainsley scowled at her. “I’m not going to get anything alive in my hands, am I?”
“No, miss. Please, miss?”
Begrudgingly, she did as she was asked, and felt cold cardboard in her hands.
“Okay, open them!” She held a small box the size of a CD case in robin’s egg blue.
“Okay, what now?” she asked, and Fawzia laughed.
“Now open it, silly!”
Cautiously, still unsure whether this was a trick, she pried open the lid gently. Inside, in Kyle’s square handwriting, was an index card which read
“But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.” —William Shakespeare
This house is where we started building a relationship, but where did it all start? Go to the place I used to drop you off after school.
What? What was this? She looked around, but didn’t see his dark head anywhere nearby.
“Where is he, Fawzia?”
“Follow the directions. That’s all I can tell you.” She giggled, bouncing on her toes. The girl mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, and Ainsley laughed. She pulled out her phone.
Ainsley: What are you doing?
Kyle: ☺
Ainsley: Kyle?
Kyle: Follow the directions, Ainsley.
Ainsley: Is this because I said we never do stuff in Timber Falls? Because I’m over that.
Ainsley: I know you love me, babe.
No response? Huh. No response. Well. Confused, but curious, she said goodbye to a grinning Bilqiis, then grabbed her purse and keys and hurried out to her car. She drove back to Timber Falls, straight to her parents’ house, as fast as the law would allow, but there were no more text messages from him when she arrived. The man himself was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, as usual, he intended to be a man of mystery. Her mom met her at the door, grinning from ear to ear.
“It’s in the mailbox.”
She rolled her eyes. Of course it was. She found the same blue box. Inside, another note:
“Oh, you’ve got the future in your hand. / Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours.” —Stevie Wonder
You lied about the fate of this mailbox’s predecessor, which was very naughty. Go to the chair with this name for your next clue.
Her mouth dropped open, and she looked at her mother with wide eyes. The future? Is he . . . ? No. He couldn’t mean that, he probably didn’t realize how it sounded. Just a fun date. “Did he break into the school on a Sunday?”
Nancy grinned. “Now, does that sound like something Kyle would do, or something you would do?”
“Point taken. I just can’t believe he inconvenienced someone to—” Ainsley said, heading back to her car, then noticed that her mother was getting on her trench coat and walking shoes. “Where are you going?”
“I have somewhere to be.” Her mother grinned, shrugging her shoulders, and gave her a quick hug.
Shaking her head, Ainsley got back into her truck and headed for the school. All the lights were already on, and the front door was propped open, which was handy, since she hadn’t stopped by her apartment to pick up her ID badge. She was so flustered that she hadn’t even thought of it. She ran through the halls to her classroom, hoping he’d be there, only to find Daniel waiting with the next box. She didn’t bother with pleasantries and ripped into it without reservation this time.
“The giving of love is an education in itself.” —Eleanor Roosevelt
You do so much good for the community on the PTA and all your other committees . . . Go to the place where we’ll be sitting together at town meetings from now on.
Those last three words had tears and laughter bubbling up out of her, and she looked at Daniel in disbelief. “Did you help him with this?”
“Just a little bit,” he said, winking. “This part? This was all him.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”
“Wait,” she called. She didn’t want
to ask him, but she needed to know. She’d never asked Daniel’s opinion on the two of them. He turned back to her. “You never pushed us together. Did you not . . .”
“Oh, no,” he said, hurrying back over to grip her shoulders. “It just . . . Kyle’s got to do things his own way. When I tried to talk to him about you, he’d just shut down. So I decided to stay out of it and let nature take its course. Or rather, let our nephew’s misunderstanding light a fire under his grumpy butt.”
She choked out a laugh, wiping away another tear. “I know, right? So grumpy.”
“The grumpiest,” he agreed.
“Okay. But just so you know, I think I finally picked a favorite Durand.”
Daniel grinned as he pulled her into a long, best-friend-sized hug, which she ardently returned. He put his jacket back on. “I’ll see you later.” He hurried out of the classroom, and she took the time to turn off the lights and lock her door before she followed him. The VA hall wasn’t far. And given the situation at the school, she was fairly sure she’d be able to get inside.
“Hey,” Starla greeted her softly, looking up from her novel, then tipped her head toward Ainsley’s normal seat in the fifth row, where her next box was waiting.
“Love is something sent from heaven to worry the hell out of you.” —Dolly Parton
When I was worried about your car door, this is who I asked to fix it.
Ainsley paused, perplexed. She’d only been to Philip’s house once, when they dropped off Orangesicle. She knew it was on Coral Street, but she wasn’t 100 percent sure which one was his . . . Seeing her hesitation, Starla silently produced a second index card from her back pocket.
Philip’s address is 103 W. Coral. Blue house, red front door, white shutters. Can’t miss it.
Ainsley threw back her head and laughed, then gave her helper a big kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Star.” She paused. “Is this really happening?”
