A slow smile spread across her face. “Those weren’t the friends I was referring to.”
He gave her an odd look.
“I was talking about your friends back in Virginia. Have you heard from any of them since you’ve been here?”
He hadn’t. No one—other than the one time his boss had called—had bothered to call and see if he was all right or just to check on him about when he’d be back.
Damn. That was a depressing thought.
“Okay, Miss Margaret, it’s time for your favorite meal—meatloaf and mashed potatoes!” the orderly called out as he walked in smiling. “And I even scored you an extra bowl of lime Jell-O.”
“That is my favorite,” she replied with a sweet smile.
“But it looks like Nurse Kathy has to take some vitals from you first, so you deal with that and I’ll get your dinner set up for you.”
“You are the sweetest young man, Derek. Thank you.”
Ford rolled his eyes as he turned and looked out the window. From here, he could see a lot of the downtown area. He could see part of the Ridgeview Community College campus—a place where they used to go and play flag football when he was a kid. A glance to the left was The Broadleaf Hotel. He remembered how his senior prom date, Michelle Channing, had wanted him to book a room for them there afterwards. He hadn’t, and she’d been pissed.
Not far from there, he could see so many of the local businesses that he’d been going in and out of for his entire life and how even though it annoyed him, there was something comforting about seeing friendly faces every day. Even the nurse who was taking his grandmother’s stats was someone he went to school with. They’d had eleventh-grade English together, and she had helped him pass when he couldn’t bear to read To Kill a Mockingbird.
He laughed softly at the memory.
And then he thought of how so many of those places he could see from this hospital room involved memories with his friends. The camaraderie he had with Ryder, Wyatt, Zane, Adam, Jack and Noah wasn’t something he had been able to find anywhere. But was that enough to make him want to come home? To make a life here in Eagle’s Ridge permanently?
“Everything looks great, Margaret,” Kathy said. “Enjoy your dinner.” And when Ford turned around, she smiled at him and said, “Good to see you, Ford.”
“You too, Kathy.” When she was gone, he walked over to the bed and looked at his grandmother’s dinner and frowned. “Meatloaf is your favorite? Since when?”
She shrugged. “Since the chicken tastes like rubber,” she said with a wink.
They both laughed as Ford leaned in and hugged her. He pulled back and smiled at her sadly. “What am I supposed to do, Grams?”
“You’re a grown man, Ford. And I think you’ve had enough of people trying to tell you what to do.”
“Grams—”
“No, I’m serious. Your grandfather would be kicking himself if he realized that he’d put this much pressure on you. He really thought when you said you wanted to make your own way in the world, you meant with the Navy.” She gave a slight shrug and offered him a smile. “Trust me when I tell you that man was not the best at reading situations.”
Ford couldn’t help but chuckle. “What do you mean?”
Margaret rested back against her pillows. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate clutter?”
Not the response he was looking for, but he opted to play along. “Uh…no. No, you never mentioned that.” He thought of all the overstuffed bookshelves and knickknacks he’d had to box up while he did the work on the house.
“The built-in bookcases on either side of the fireplace were my favorites,” she said. “I asked for your grandfather to build them because I wanted to put some books and maybe some pictures on them.”
“O-kay…”
“We had been in the house for about ten years, and I mentioned how I needed to get rid of some of the old books that were on there. Not because I was out of space, but because they were old books.” She gave Ford a bland look. “I had two new bookcases the next day.”
It took him a minute to catch on, then he laughed again. “So you’re saying—”
“Your grandfather wasn’t listening to the reasons why I wanted to get rid of the books. What he heard was that I needed space. Which…I never said.”
“But there were easily like…”
“Over a dozen bookcases? I know. I never had the heart to tell him to stop, because it seemed to make him so happy.” Then she paused. “Maybe if I had spoken up, he would have moved on to making something else. But then…maybe it would have made him feel bad for making the mistake.”
“Okay, mixed signals here, Grams,” Ford said wearily. “I get that it’s possible that Gramps misunderstood what I meant, but does that mean I should take over the company so he won’t feel bad?”
With pursed lips, she reached out and gently patted his cheek. “Ford, your grandfather can’t feel anything anymore. He’s gone. Leaving that company to you made him happy. And whatever you choose to do with it to make yourself happy, will also make him happy. You know, if he could feel happiness right now. I don’t know…maybe he can.” She shrugged and reached for her spoon and dipped it into the Jell-O. “I love that I can eat dessert first and no one can stop me.”
“At least you’ve found the silver lining for being here,” he said as he sat back down.
He only wished he could find one for himself.
Ten
“What are your plans for Christmas?” Callie blurted out after they sat down to dinner.
Ford looked like a deer in the headlights as he froze with a forkful of chicken pot pie halfway to his mouth.
She mentally cursed herself. That was not the way she had envisioned bringing the subject up. Normally she had a little more tact—and self-control—than this. Trying to look like she hadn’t just done something she hadn’t planned, she took a bite of her dinner and waited.
And waited.
When it was obvious that Ford wasn’t prepared to answer her, Callie decided to share her plans.
“Mom and I normally have dinner together on Christmas Eve, and for the last couple of years we’ve gone over to the B&B and had dessert with the guests there. They do a bit of an open house for anyone in town who wants to stop by, as well as their employees, so it’s always a fun night.” She took a sip of her drink. “This is going to be my first Christmas morning where I’m living on my own, so I’m not sure how that’s going to go, but after that it’s normally Mom and me again for dinner. We don’t have any family in town, so…”
Placing his fork down, Ford looked at her and seemed mildly uncomfortable.
“Do you and your family have any traditions?” she asked, hoping to prompt him.
He cleared his throat and then looked down at his plate. “Um…we have a quiet dinner at my parents’ house on Christmas Eve and then, normally, we used to have everyone here for dinner on Christmas Day. I…I’m not sure what the plan is for this year.”
“You’re not sure?” she repeated. “Ford, Christmas is less than a week away! How could you not know what you’re doing?”
This time he looked right at her. “I’ve been kind of busy, Callie, and to be honest, it’s not really a big deal to me. I’m sure my mother will remind me where I need to be, and then I’ll be there.”
She put her own fork down and gently wiped at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Don’t you have to go Christmas shopping or…or…even want to know what you’re doing?”
He shrugged and paused before letting out a long breath. “Honestly, Callie, it doesn’t feel a whole lot like Christmas this year. I’ve never spent a Christmas at home without Grams, and knowing that she’s not going to be here, or that last Christmas was our last one together at the ranch, just…it’s depressing as hell. And so maybe I’m not looking forward to it and I’ve pushed it from my mind.”
“Oh, Ford…”
But clearly, she must have touched a nerve, because he pushed ba
ck from the table and stood. “The holidays are just one more example of pressure on me that I don’t want,” he stated firmly. “It’s the house, the company, the holidays…I mean, how much is one person supposed to handle?”
Callie was about to answer, but she had a feeling he wasn’t so much talking to her as he was just trying to get some things off of his chest.
“You know what I hate?” he asked, looking at her. “Dressing up for Christmas Eve dinner. I always have. Every year, my parents make a big show out of having some sort of Norman Rockwell painting meal—and it’s ridiculous. But I do it every year, like a good son, and what do I get in return? I usually get some sort of hideous sweater that I end up saving until the following Christmas to wear. Do I look like a hideous-sweater kind of guy?”
“Um…”
“Every Christmas Day when I was growing up, my grandfather used to take me out to the workshop and let me take off whatever ridiculous getup I had on and put on an old sweatshirt and we’d hang out and check out whatever new tool he got that year for Christmas or whatever new one he got for me. Why? Because he understood me! He knew me better than—”
He stopped talking so abruptly that Callie came to her feet with concern.
“Ford? Are you all right?”
And he looked at her but it was like he wasn’t actually seeing her.
“I’m sorry but…I have to go.”
He didn’t say anything else, he didn’t kiss her goodbye, he simply…left.
Callie stood rooted to the spot and stared at the door for a long time. Off in the distance, she heard his truck start and saw the flash of headlights as he drove away.
Overwhelmed with confusion, she walked back over to the kitchen table and sank down in her chair. “What the heck just happened?”
How had they gone from sitting down to a nice meal to him just freaking out and leaving like that? And why would he freak out over the holidays? She heard what he said but…none of it seemed like new information. This was stuff he’d been talking about since he got back several weeks ago—with the exception of Christmas—so why had it all just exploded like this tonight?
Maybe she should call someone, she thought. It wasn’t like she wasn’t friends with almost all the same people he was, but…she also knew how private he was, and considered how he might not appreciate her telling the masses that he was having a bad night.
She pushed her food around on her plate, her appetite gone. Now what? What was she supposed to do?
And then she realized what had upset her most about their exchange—not once did he mention wanting to do anything with her.
That spoke volumes.
Obviously, she was good enough to pass the time with while he was doing the work on the ranch, but beyond that, they really didn’t have anything real. She didn’t mean that much to him, and what she was feeling for him was clearly one-sided.
Good to know, she thought, and then immediately took it back. It wasn’t good to know. If anything, it was bad and heartbreaking and…just awful.
She stood and walked over to the Christmas tree and unplugged it. The damn twinkly lights felt like they were mocking her right now. She didn’t want to look at the tree and feel happy or hopeful or anything.
And as she walked back to the table and began to toss the remnants of their meal in the trash, she seriously wished that she could just feel nothing.
* * *
It was a pretty crappy thing to do, but he had to leave Callie’s. Ford cursed himself and the circumstances, but in that moment when he was ranting, it hit him.
His grandfather knew him better than anyone.
Even himself.
In that moment, he knew he needed to just be alone and think about what it all meant for him and his future, and he couldn’t deal with any of that with Callie standing there talking about Christmas. Not that there was anything wrong with her asking, but…
So where was he going? What was he doing? Without really thinking about it, he found himself going toward town and figured he should find a place to just hang out and try to get a grip on what was going on in his mind. The smart thing to do would have been to just leave Callie’s and go home, but right now, home was the ranch, and he didn’t want the temptation of her so close by.
If he was back in Virginia and needed to clear his head, he’d go to the local bar and have a couple of drinks and—
The local bar.
Baldie’s.
Yes, he thought. That sounded like the perfect place to go and simply have a couple of drinks and a plate of their famous cheese fries to clear his mind. And if beer and deep fried things with cheese didn’t help, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
Ten minutes later, he was walking in and heading straight for the bar. The jukebox was playing some classic Aerosmith, and for a moment Ford just let himself inhale the smells that belonged to Baldie’s alone. He looked up at the list of craft beers and decided he really didn’t care what he drank, he just needed something to go with the fries.
No sooner had he placed his order than someone was sitting down beside him and nudging his shoulder.
Adam.
Ford looked behind him to see who else was with him, and was surprised to find his friend alone. “What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be home being a deliriously happy newlywed or something?”
Adam chuckled. “Good one. I see you’re in a mood. What’s up?”
“I asked you first,” Ford said defensively. Right now, he sort of resented Adam’s—hell, all of his friends’ happiness and their all-around direction with their lives. They all knew what they wanted to do and were doing it. Why couldn’t it be as easy for him?
“Jane’s at a meeting about The Broadleaf, so I was killing time doing a little Christmas shopping when I saw you pull in here. I thought I’d come and have a beer with you. But if you’re going to be all pissy, I’ll go.”
He reached out to stop him just as Adam went to stand. “No, no, no…I’m not all pissy.” Then he thought about it. “Okay, I’m a little pissy, but…”
“That’s just part of your charm?” Adam teased.
“I don’t know about charm, but…” Then he shook his head and laughed to himself. “Wait…shopping? You avoid it like the plague.”
Adam ordered a beer before answering. “Yeah, well…sometimes it can’t be avoided.” He thanked the bartender and took a pull of his drink before speaking again. “What about you? What are you doing in town tonight? Shopping too?”
Ford shook his head. “I hate shopping.”
“You hate everything.”
He let out a mirthless laugh. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Seriously, Ford. What’s going on?”
He turned his head and looked at Adam. “He knew.”
Adam stared at him blankly for a minute. “Who knew?”
“My grandfather. He knew me better than anyone. Even me.”
“How much have you had to drink? I swear you just got here three minutes before I did. Or were you drinking before you got here?”
“I’m not drunk, Adam, I’m just…I’m confused.”
“Okay, so…what’s going on? What’s happened now?”
“He knew how I wanted to go out and make my way in the world without it being here. But he also knew that no matter what, this is where I’d come back to.”
Adam’s eyes widened a bit at the statement. “So that means you’re going to take over Garrison’s?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I just said, and it really just hit me tonight that that’s why he did it. I have to decide though if the time is right, and if I’m able to do it and be happy here.”
“Ah…okay. Now I get it. And you don’t think it is?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know. These last few weeks haven’t been all bad. Actually, they’ve been pretty great.” Then he chuckled. “Ryder said somet
hing to me at lunch the other day that really stuck.”
“What was that?”
“He said I could be happy if I’d get out of my own way.” He paused. “The problem is that I don’t know how to do that.”
“You just do, Ford. It’s not that hard.”
“Feels like it.” He was about to say more but the platter of cheese fries came out and, once he thanked the waitress, he immediately dug in and motioned for Adam to join him.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Adam said. And after a few fries he continued, “Look, you actually are pretty damn lucky.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Dude, you have a successful business being handed to you, an amazing house if you wanted it, and a great girl.”
“This isn’t about Callie.”
But maybe…some of it was.
It had been so long since he’d been involved with someone—and he’d never felt for any woman what he felt for Callie—that the whole thing just added to the anxiety he was already feeling about so many other things.
Beside him, Adam was almost halfway through the platter of fries and Ford snapped out of his reverie and smacked his hand away. “Hey! You have a wife who cooks for you. Get your own food.”
Rather than respond, Adam grinned and grabbed a couple more fries.
“I don’t know how to change everything I ever thought I’d do,” Ford said as he pushed Adam’s hand away and took some fries for himself. “I always thought I was the guy who was going to move away from here and be okay with it. I wanted the privacy, the chance to start my own business, build my own house…if I come back here, nothing’s mine. Not really.”
And that was it in a nutshell.
“Damn, Ford,” Adam said. “I never thought of it like that.”
He shrugged. “Neither did I until just now.” With a huff of frustration, he went on. “Is this just ego? I mean, am I that much of a jackass that I’m willing to give up my grandfather’s legacy?”
“I don’t think you’re a jackass, Ford. I know I rib you about that kind of thing, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting something of your own.”
Ford: 7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Page 15
