“I get it. It’s the opposite with my mother and me. She had just the one kid to focus on, and her idea of my ideal life doesn’t come close to mine.”
“She didn’t want you to join the Army?”
He shook his head. “I was supposed to go to college, get a nice boring job in a nice boring office, marry my high school girlfriend, buy a house somewhere nearby and have the kids, the pets, and the white picket fence.”
“And instead you joined the Army, went off to see the world and get shot at on a regular basis and…No wife? No kids?”
Dane watched her swipe her ATM card, then thank the clerk with a smile as she took the bag. He paid for his own purchase—the picture hangers—then shoved them into his jacket pocket.
“One ex-wife, no kids.” He didn’t discuss the marriage with anyone as a rule. When it had imploded, all his buddies had known all the details, since Sheryl had been sleeping with guys in their unit. Hard to keep that sort of thing private. Since then, she’d been ancient history. He only talked about her with his mother, and then only because there was no way to shut Anna Mae down.
So why did he open his mouth and go on? “She was the high school girlfriend. That was the only part I got right.”
“I know it’s an easy thing to say and not so easy to do, but…” She shrugged as they left the PX for the minimall that fronted it. “It’s your life. You have to live it. You have to do what makes you happy. If my parents had their way, I’d be married to a nice experimental physicist, having one child every three-point-two years and instead of reading them nursery rhymes, I’d be teaching them Max Born’s take on spooky action at a distance.”
“Wow. And you do seem perfectly normal.”
She turned a bright smile on him that brought back those feelings: warm, comfortable, greedy. “Seem is the key word.” Abruptly she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Pizza. It’s dinnertime. Want to share a large double everything with me?”
Two meals out in a week—and the second one with a pretty woman. Look at him, seeming perfectly normal, too. His shrinks would be happy, his buddies relieved, his mother disapproving. And him? All he could identify was a funny feeling in his gut—anxiety, he guessed. He wasn’t ready to get involved with a woman, especially one still grieving her war hero husband.
Then the part of him that had been dealing with women nearly half his life took over. Spur-of-the-moment pizza at the PX was so far from getting involved that it was laughable.
Though he didn’t feel much like laughing, because another part of the knot in his gut was longing. He wanted to sit at a table with Carly, enjoy a meal and forget at least for a while that that was all he could have for now.
He didn’t get to forget very often.
“Does double everything include anchovies?”
She shook her head, her face wrinkled in a delicate gesture of distaste.
“Good. Sounds great.”
“I can’t believe we ate all that.” Carly wiped her hands on her last napkin, then dropped it on the large pizza pan that held nothing but crumbs and a few pieces of crust. With an overstuffed feeling that stopped just short of uncomfortable, she rested her arms on the table. “It’s a good thing I don’t go out for pizza often.”
“That’s the first one I’ve had that wasn’t frozen since I was in Italy. A couple years, at least.”
She feigned an incredulous look. “Every time Jeff came back from anywhere, his first meal was steak, his second barbecued ribs, and his third pizza. He couldn’t have gone a week without all three.”
Dane’s gaze darkened before he lowered it and paid more attention to gathering their trash than was needed. “How long ago…”
“Twenty-five months.” She drew a breath, then went on. “Three weeks and five days.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, I brought him up. It’s nice being able to talk about him. For a long time, I couldn’t. It hurt too much and, especially here, it makes a lot of people uncomfortable. The men have lost too many friends, come too close to dying themselves, and the women look at me and think If it could happen to her husband…” She shrugged.
It was nice. Dane understood the war part so he was empathetic, but he hadn’t known Jeff so Carly’s particular situation wasn’t personal for him.
“Why did you decide to stay in Tallgrass? Why not go home to Utah?”
She toyed with the straw in her drink. “I did go home for a few months and stayed with my brother Roger and his wife. Lisa and I are pretty close. But I didn’t fit in. I kept calling the grocery store the commissary. When I needed something, I’d say, ‘I’m going to the fort’ before I remembered there was no fort. I couldn’t get used to not seeing the base stickers or the people in uniform or the haircuts. I felt even stranger than I had when I’d married into the Army. My job was still open, so I came back. This is where Jeff and I last lived together. It’s home.”
She hesitated. It was clear his marriage wasn’t something he liked to discuss, but he’d touched on a sensitive subject with her, so she felt justified doing the same. If he chose not to answer, she would understand and wouldn’t ask again. “What about your ex-wife? Did she go back to Texas or stay where you were?”
His chuckle sounded startled from him. “God, no. She couldn’t wait to leave.” It seemed he would leave it at that, but unexpectedly he went on. “When your husband’s going to work every day with the guys you’ve been sleeping with, it’s best to put a whole lot of distance between you and all of them.”
All of them. Carly winced inwardly. One affair was bad enough, but multiple ones must have been so much harder. Or did it work the other way: The first one he’d found out about was such a shock that each subsequent one had less impact?
He left the table, emptying the trash, returning the tray, then came back. When he didn’t sit, she lifted her purse and bag to the tabletop and stood.
“Who knew when I left to buy a hammer and picture hangers, we’d end up having a pizza together?” he remarked.
“Who knew you’d forget the hammer?” She smiled when he looked down as if he clearly expected to see a hammer hanging around somewhere. When he rolled his eyes, it gave him a boyish look that needed only a wicked grin to give her a clear image of the mischievous kid he’d been.
“Guess I’ll head back inside.” He didn’t move, though, not right away. “I’ll see you?”
“Probably.” Four times in less than a week? Very likely. Still…Opening her purse, she pulled out a crumpled receipt and a pen and scrawled her phone number on the back before offering it to him. “Just in case.”
He removed his wallet from his pocket, smoothed the paper and tucked it in with the folding money. “Be careful.”
She watched until he disappeared inside the store again before heading for her car. The answer Jeff had always given to that admonition echoed in her mind. Always.
She was two blocks from her house when she decided she didn’t want to go there. It took less than five minutes to reach Therese’s. She parked behind the mom van, jogged up the steps, and rang the bell.
The door was jerked open with enough force to make Carly take a step back. Abby Matheson oozed derision from every pore, her lip curled into such a sneer that her cupid’s bow disappeared. “Tuh-reese!”
Her shout was still echoing in the foyer when she started stomping up the stairs.
And there was a prime example of why Carly didn’t teach middle school.
As she stepped inside, Therese came down the hall from the kitchen. Tight lines bracketed her mouth and her hair was tousled as if she’d been raking her fingers through it. No need for television in the Matheson home. They had enough family drama on their own.
A bit of the pinching on Therese’s face eased. “Hey, come on in. I’ve got fresh tea and warm chocolate chip cookies. Not homemade, mind you, just freshly baked.”
Everyone in the Tuesday Night Margarita Club knew Abby’s habit of comparing Therese
to her mother in every endeavor and finding her lacking. No doubt, tonight it had been, My mom always made cookies from scratch. She would never serve this store-bought crap.
Everyone in the margarita club thought Abby needed her bottom paddled except Therese. She tolerated stuff that would have yanked Carly’s own mother out of her oh-so-important lab for disciplinary action. Just once, Carly often thought, someone needed to remind the child that Therese had taken them in after Abby’s mother abandoned her and Jacob, refusing to take them back even after their father had died.
And that always reminded Carly why Abby was so angry and Therese so tolerant.
After closing the door, Carly followed Therese and took a seat at the cozy breakfast table. “Tough evening, huh?”
“Tough week.” Therese brought two glasses of ice, a pitcher of tea, and a plate of cookies to the table, then sat down. “She’s still on detention, she’s still grounded, and I still haven’t given back her phone. She’s…unhappy.”
“I know she is, Therese, but it’s not your fault.”
“Who else does she have to take it out on? Paul? Catherine? Her grandparents?”
Carly reached for a cookie. That had been Abby’s second choice for living arrangements after her father died. All her grandparents had been kind and sympathetic and apologetic, but that hadn’t made their refusals any easier to bear.
“Life sucks, doesn’t it?” she commiserated.
Therese studied her for a moment, then said, “Not always. You look…lighter. One might even say almost giddy. What have you been up to?”
“Nothing. Just shopping at the PX. Having a pizza for dinner.”
Carly wasn’t a big shopper, and she knew Therese knew it. Her friend also knew how much she disliked eating out alone, so she locked in on the second part. “With whom?”
Stuffing the last half of the cookie in her mouth, Carly poured herself a glass of tea, chewed a bit longer, then finally washed down the crumbs with a big gulp. “Dane Clark.”
Therese’s eyebrows practically arched into her hairline. “Dane from the cave? You just happened to run into Dane again and had dinner with him?”
“Yeah, I know. Coincidence.”
“Or fate. Or an answer to our prayers.” Therese shrugged when Carly looked at her. “I pray for you. I pray for all of us to be happy and safe and content.” She stared into her tea. “I’m glad God’s listening to some of my prayers.”
Even God needed time to deal with Abby.
“So come on, share. Tell me everything.”
That was why she’d come here, Carly realized. She’d wanted to tell someone. “I ran into him in the paint section at the PX. He picked out some colors for me to try on the living room walls. I decided this afternoon that I really need to paint, but there were so many choices. The ones he picked are really pretty. Do you want to see—” Automatically she reached for her purse, and Therese playfully slapped her hand away.
“No, I don’t want to see the colors. I want to hear how you went from discussing paint to having dinner together.”
“It wasn’t really dinner. I mean, not like a date or anything.”
“Was it the evening meal?”
“Yes, but—”
“Did you sit at the same table and talk?”
“Yes, but—”
Therese interrupted with an imperious wave, her point made. “Tell me. Everything.”
Carly related parts of the conversation, feeling like a fourteen-year-old girl with her very first crush. She and her best friend had whispered and giggled for days, until something else had caught their attention.
When she was done, Therese sat back and stared at her. “You gave him your phone number.”
Still feeling about fourteen, she shifted awkwardly. “Well, yeah. The way he said it…‘I’ll see you?’ rather than ‘I’ll see you.’ I just thought…I mean, sure, we’ve run into each other four times in less than a week, but—”
“Wait, wait, wait. I only know about three times. The cave, the WTU, and today. When was number four?”
Carly’s cheeks warmed. “Oh. Uh, coming back from the bathroom at dinner the other night. He was in the bar, and we said hello.” And a little bit more.
“And you didn’t mention it to us. Hmm, wonder why.” Therese tapped one fingertip thoughtfully against her chin before raising her brows again. “Maybe because you didn’t want to share him with us? Maybe you wanted to keep him all to yourself.”
Now her face burned, as if she stood in front of a blazing fire. “No, it was just…he seemed…as a group, we’re a little intimidating…”
Therese’s fingers wrapped around hers in a tight squeeze. “Hey, sweetie, I’m glad you like him. I’m glad he likes you. He knows about Jeff?”
She bobbed her head.
“Good. Really, really good.”
Carly hesitated over the question on the tip of her tongue, then gave herself a mental shake. She’d asked a virtual stranger about his ex-wife. Surely she could get a little personal with her best friend. “Have you thought about dating again?”
“I like to think I will, but—”
As perfectly as if it were scripted, something sounded directly overhead with enough force to vibrate the light fixture above the table.
“My life is so chaotic, I can’t even imagine bringing someone else into it. If the kids hate me for trying to fill in for their mother, how desperately would they hate another man trying to fill in for their father?”
There was such sadness in her voice that Carly’s stomach knotted. “Are we meant to spend the rest of our lives alone?” Therese had asked last Saturday. Despite having the two kids in her house, she was even more alone than the rest of them. Their hearts had broken in one swift moment. Paul’s children were breaking hers every day.
“I’m sorry.” Carly maneuvered her hand to give Therese a squeeze. “I wish I had the magic to fix it all—the kids, you, all of us.”
“I know. And just knowing helps. Really.” Therese took a deep breath and lightened her tone. “So…show me these colors Cave Guy picked out for your living room.”
By the time Carly left, Therese was feeling a little better. Her head had stopped pounding, and she’d resisted the urge to get weepy. Sometimes crying helped—all those emotions had to escape somewhere—but usually it just made her eyes red and her nose stuffy and kept her from getting any restful sleep at all.
As she finished cleaning the kitchen, she considered the circumstances that had brought Carly and Dane Clark together so often. If it was fate, Therese would be a little jealous. If it was God’s answer to her prayers, well, she would still be a little jealous.
But very happy, too, she hastened to assure herself. Just because her future looked bleak didn’t mean everyone else’s should. Whatever happiness her friends found would give her hope that she would find it, too, someday.
She shut off the kitchen lights and went into the living room. Abby was in her room, apparently having withdrawal symptoms from the thousand and one texts she sent or received each day, and Jacob was in his, probably playing one last round of video games before going to bed.
Switching off all but one lamp, she curled into her favorite chair and picked up the Bible on the table beside it. Usually she read it in the morning, before the kids were up, with a strong cup of coffee and the energy bar she ate for breakfast. That was when she did most of her praying, too, though there were always short prayers during the day and the regular nighttime ones.
For so many years those prayers had ended the same way: Please keep Paul safe. He was forever safe now, and she liked to believe his spirit was with her when she needed more strength than she had on her own. If she could just see him, hear his voice one more time…If he could just talk to his children…
Talking with her didn’t help them. She’d lost control of her temper and screamed back at Abby tonight, and that hadn’t helped, either. All she could do was pray, and she was about to do that one more time when on
e of the cell phones in her pockets began to ring, a happy kid-style song. She’d tried just putting Abby’s phone away until the suspension ended, but her stepdaughter had proven she wasn’t above sneaking in and stealing it back.
Shifting, she pulled the phone out and saw Mimi M on the screen. Paul’s mother. She should answer and let her know Abby was fine but without phone privileges, but instead she muted the ring and let it go to voice mail. She wasn’t up for the subtle criticism Eileen always offered regarding her parenting skills.
She moved to set the phone aside, but her hand hesitated over it. Abby’s winning argument for getting the cell had been the ability it would give her to check in with Therese, though she never had. Had she even programmed Therese’s number into the phone? And if she had, what ring tone had she given her? Certainly nothing like Eileen’s.
She knew she should resist, but now that the question had been raised, she couldn’t. She called up the address book, scrolled down to the Ts. A first quick glance showed no entry for Therese.
A second sharp glance showed she was wrong. She was listed, all right, just under another name.
TheB*tch.
Carefully she set the phone down. She put the Bible beside it, turned off the lamp, drew her knees to her chest, and she wept.
Chapter Five
Saturday morning found Carly running through her usual routine: cleaning, doing laundry, vacuuming. Next she did her grocery shopping for the week, and then the rest of the day was free.
Free had been so much better when there was someone to share it with.
Today, though, she had plans for the afternoon. She was going to move the furniture away from the main wall in the living room, put down a drop cloth and open those three small cans of paint. It had been too late Thursday by the time she’d come home from Therese’s, or so she’d told herself, and Friday evening she’d had a headache. The smell of paint, she’d convinced herself, would likely have made her sick.
A Hero to Come Home To Page 8
