by Grace Greene
I took a bite of fudge and sipped the coffee. “Mel, I think I’ve just experienced a glimpse of heaven.”
Mel smiled.
“You asked if I still wanted him to come back. I can honestly say I want him to do what calls to him.” I took another sip. “When I think about it, I hardly knew him. I liked and still like Seth very much, but I wanted him to be who I needed—not who he needed to be.” I smiled wryly. “Sorry to be so awkward with words.”
“You and that Will Mercer seem to be getting along well.”
Will. After misjudging the stability of my marriage to Niles and, more recently, the feelings that Seth and I shared—or not, as it turned out—I was determined not to rush blindly into a new relationship. I had no intention of involving Mel in that.
“Will and I have worked well together, and I like him, but Mel, the reality is that I haven’t had much luck with choosing men. I’m not placing any blame or criticism on Seth. He was willing to stay here, but then the job in LA came along. You and I know that staying here would’ve been wrong for him. Seth and I want different things. I’m glad we found out before our hearts were too committed. As for Will—whatever happens, I’m not going to rush into a new relationship.
“For now, I’d like to help you and help Maddie too. If you’d like to try it. In the evening, you have Nicole for help, but we both know Nicole will always have her head in her business. It’s where her comfort is.”
Mel shook her head and pulled at her hands. “But that’s the thing—I mean Seth staying in California and you maybe liking Will. Nicole means well and tries, but I can’t count on her in that way. Maddie has had her life turned upside down enough. She needs stability.”
“There’s truth in that. But there’s also value in having your eggs in more than one basket.” I laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to throw a cliché at you. What I mean is it’s good to know many people care about you, that if something goes wrong or you lose someone important in your life, others can and want to step in and love you. Stability is important, but nothing’s certain. When we least expect it, fate jumps in and shakes things up.”
Mel looked thoughtful, but she didn’t respond.
I touched her hands, and they stilled.
“Give it some thought. I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t mean it. Over the winter, I’m having construction done upstairs to add bathrooms and also to improve the attic area. I won’t host overnight guests until early spring. When it comes to lonely winter days, it will be especially nice to have Maddie around.”
I’d managed to get past my growing self-medication problem. For me, I saw that as a personal triumph over fear. But a crutch could be simpler at its core—a basic emotional human need for love such that people settled for relationships not right for them rather than risk being left to live life alone.
I’d done that too. And I was proud of the big steps forward I’d made. I had another problem to tackle—allowing myself to be vulnerable to risk or rejection.
Victoria and I had reached an understanding. Same with me and Seth.
Now there was Will.
I’d hardly seen him since he’d finished up the carriage house and the paths. He’d had other jobs over the past week. Wildflower House wasn’t Mitchell’s Lawn and Landscaping’s only client, and Will was in demand, but I wondered if he was also deliberately staying away. He’d come back today to plant the azaleas he’d ordered for the medallion garden bed. I’d returned home from Mel’s on foot, and I stood at the path’s entrance watching him as he worked.
I was getting up my nerve to tell Will that Seth had gone back to LA and we were no longer anything more than friends. But suppose Will had had time to reconsider? It had been almost two weeks—really just a little more than a week and a half. But maybe time had already moved on for him. And for us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I walked up the slope toward him. Still several yards away, I stopped and called out, “Will, can we talk?”
He glanced up from where he knelt at the planting area, but then he looked away quickly and focused on brushing the dirt from his hands.
“I talked to Seth,” I said.
He looked at me and rose to his feet. “And?”
“Will? Is everything okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”
“Just say it, Kara. If you’ve decided to give Seth another chance, just say the words. I’ll disappear.”
“I—” The words were there in my head, ready, but I wanted to say them right. “I don’t know how much you know about me—my history.”
“Don’t take this wrong, Kara, but I don’t care about your history. I know you and want to know you better.”
“Of course,” I said.
He looked confused.
Surprised, I said, “What I had in mind was a fresh start.” I spoke slowly, saying, “A fresh start for us. For me.”
By now, the space between us had vanished. As we met somewhere in the middle, I put my hand on his arm.
“Bear with me, Will. I need to say this.”
“Okay.” He took my hand from his arm and held it in his.
“I thought Seth and I were more than friends. I thought he and I had a future. Don’t misunderstand me—he didn’t do anything wrong. I saw him as someone he wasn’t. That’s not his fault. In my heart, though, I knew. I saw the truth coming at us head-on. Seth and I would’ve been a mistake, and I’m grateful it got sorted out before that happened.”
I kept my eyes pinned on Will’s face as I was speaking. “I don’t want to repeat that mistake with you. I want to know you better and for you to know me. Who we really are. As for Seth, he’s not in my life now, other than as a friend and occasional neighbor.”
Will smiled, and his eyes—that perilous blue—lit up.
He squeezed my hand gently and then realized the dirt on his hand was now also on mine. He brushed at the bits of dark earth. “Sorry, I’ve been planting.”
I grabbed both his hands and held them securely. “This is Wildflower House. The Wildflower Property.” I smiled. “This is Wildflower dirt, and there’s none better.”
Will nodded. “I agree. Anything else you want to say?”
“No, that’s it. Assuming you’re still interested, of course.”
He said, “I’d like to invite you out.”
“A date?”
“A date. You and me. Wherever you’d like to go.”
I experienced a sudden rush of anticipation that immediately defaulted to doubt. I was too happy. This was too much like daring fate to screw with my life again.
“Will, I hope you understand I need to take this slow. A lot of things have happened in my life this past year—even before that—and I want to make decisions regarding my life, not just react to change.”
“No objection. Slow is fine as long as we’re taking it slow together.”
“Then I’d love to go out with you. Maybe dinner?”
“When?” he asked.
“Whenever.”
Will said, “Then now, but I need to clean up first.”
“You look fine.”
“No, ma’am. I’m sincere about this. This is a small town, and people may recognize us. I won’t have anyone thinking you weren’t worth cleaning up for.”
That stopped me. He was thinking of me. Concerned about me.
“I can be back here in about an hour and a half. About suppertime.”
“Where shall we go?”
“There’s a place in Louisa. Good food. A relaxed, comfortable place.”
“I’ll be ready.” I was so delighted, so suddenly energized, that somehow more words rolled out past my lips. “I’m glad you aren’t shy now.”
Will smiled. “Shy? Maybe a little. But only because I fell for you the moment I saw you. That day when Jim Mitchell and I were talking to your dad about the landscaping work and you came out of the house . . . your face was lit up, and it was all I could do not to say how I felt right out in front of everyone. But we were
strangers, and I saw pretty quickly that you had feelings for Seth. With him away so much . . . well, it seemed wrong to move in like that. I was afraid to rush it, that you might shut me out.” He touched my cheek. “I’m glad you’re giving us a chance.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
Will had said the restaurant was relaxed and comfortable. I tore through my closet. Jeans or leggings didn’t feel like a safe choice. I was getting nervous until I caught sight of my worried face in the mirror.
I untwisted my anxious fingers. No worries. Not for him. Not for me. This was about dinner with someone whose company I enjoyed. Stress and worry didn’t fit into that picture.
Will Mercer. Kara Lange Hart. Supper.
The rest was just noise.
He pulled up in his truck, but the ladders and work material were gone. Judging by the water droplets still hiding in the crevice where the door met the truck body, his vehicle was fresh from a car wash. Will had shined up, too—nicely, in fact. He wore a blue cotton button-down shirt with jeans so neat they looked pressed. He must’ve moved fast.
I stood at the front door as he pulled his truck up to the front steps; slipped out of the driver’s seat; came around, beating me to the passenger-side door; and held it open.
“Nice manners,” I said, smiling.
“Maybe,” he said as he reached out to help me with that big step up into the truck. “Mostly, I can’t have you falling out. You might get injured, and we’d have to reschedule supper.”
“No way,” I said with a mock frown. “You aren’t getting out of this so easily. I’m tougher than I look. And I’m hungry.”
The view from the height of the passenger seat was almost heady. I glanced at Will, giving him a sharp look, and he grinned. The blue shirt made his eyes even bluer.
I shook my head and focused on fastening the seat belt as Will settled into the driver’s seat. “I’ve never ridden in a truck before.”
He looked at me, those blue eyes giving my heart a sharp twang, and said, “Better hold on tight, then.”
“What?”
“Joking,” he said. “Just joking, Kara. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Boldly, he reached across and rested his hand on mine. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride. If I scare you, you let me know.”
With his hand on mine, so comfortable yet so new, I was a little scared then, but not in the way he meant. And I certainly wouldn’t enlighten him. I might be scared of getting hurt, maybe even of the temptation not to take it so slowly, but I wasn’t going to allow that impulse to control my choices. I was in the driver’s seat for that.
Will drove to the town of Louisa. It was a relatively silent few miles until I said, “You know a lot about me, but I don’t know much about you.”
“What do you want to know?” He tapped the steering wheel. “Born and raised here. I’ve been out of state a few times, but never to anywhere bigger than Nashville.”
“I’ve never been to Nashville.”
“Nice place. Nice countryside between here and there. I have a cousin who works at the Opry part-time. She might get us in backstage with a little notice.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “But that’s not what you want to know. I understand that. There’s not much to tell. I have a small place on the other side of Mineral. Live alone. I’m not there much because it seems like I’m always working.” He gave me a sideways glance. “Especially over the last couple of months. I wish I could tell you I was smart and educated and well traveled. I can’t. I barely made it out of high school and will never sit in another classroom again, not if I can help it. I’m smart, but in other ways. I’d rather be doing than sitting.”
“I think my father would’ve agreed with you. I wish you’d had the chance to know him better.” More than that, I didn’t say, but I saw in Will that work connection with my Dad—the love of creating something with one’s own hand—but more. Creation with a purpose.
By then we were driving along a street in the town of Louisa, a street on which businesses had been operating probably before it had officially become the county seat. Old and restored storefronts filled the block, and in the middle was a restaurant named Obrigado.
“Right there,” he said. “Good food and good people.”
Will was there at the side of the truck to catch me as I pretty much fell out while trying to exit. He laughed as he steadied me but didn’t release me—not right away. He kept his hands on my waist, and I kept mine on his arms, but now it was my turn to feel shy. When he did let go, he moved his hand beneath my elbow in case I needed assistance in stepping over the curb.
“Thank you.”
As Will had said, the restaurant atmosphere was casual and relaxed, but the aroma was amazing. My stomach growled, and I would’ve been embarrassed, but the noise was covered by a man who was sitting on a stool on a small stage strumming a guitar in a jazzy tune. Low conversations hummed around us, and a woman walked past us with a quick “Hi, Will” and a “Take a seat where you like.” I didn’t miss that extra look, the quick one that she cast back at Will and at me before moving on.
“Over here,” Will said. Before we could reach the table, a man came forward and slapped him on the back. It seemed rough, but Will didn’t blink. Instead, he grinned and said, “Kara, this is Clay Ward. He’s a relative of some degree or other. Clay, this is Kara Hart, who consented to join me for dinner, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cause any chaos or embarrassment.”
“No indeed, Cousin Will. Pleased to meet you, Kara.”
I almost giggled as Will urged me forward and we left Clay behind.
Will pulled out my chair. I touched his hand where it was still positioned on the chairback. He looked at me and smiled, and my heart was happy.
The date had the usual ebb and flow of first-date conversation—but different. It wasn’t like conversations with Seth. Will and I didn’t speak of favorite poets or the excitement of LA, and besides, Will and I had spent a good deal of time together already. We’d worked on improving and readying Wildflower House for its future, so we had that in common, and it might have seemed a natural topic. But it was different when you were sitting across a small table from each other, hoping you weren’t going to screw up an already friendly relationship by trying to take it further than it was ready or able to go. I’d been there, done that already with Niles and Seth. Maybe this was a case of the third time being the charm?
“You said you grew up here,” I ventured. “Does that mean your family has been living in the area a long time?”
“Long time. Lots of extended family.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Has its good points and bad points. Mostly good, I guess.”
We paused while the waitress brought us a menu and took our drink orders. When she was gone, Will said, “I guess that means you don’t have much family.”
“Nope. Never have.” I thought of Dad and the missing twin siblings. Not much family, but the possibility of more was out there. “What about your sister? Did she study art in college, or is she self-taught?”
Will looked across the room at the bar. Several people were seated there chatting and eating. He nodded. “She went away to school. To Charlottesville. Studied art, but she had that accident and dropped out.”
“Sad. Especially about the accident.”
“She’ll be okay. She’s tough. She just needs time.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her. What about your parents? You mentioned your mom once but didn’t really say.”
“She’s Mom. Vivi. I’ll let you make up your own mind about her.” He sipped his drink. “What about yours? You lost her when you were young, right?”
This time I looked aside. But only for a moment. I turned back toward Will. “She loved to dance. It was before I was old enough to remember, but Dad told me. And she loved flowers. I have some that she pressed in waxed paper long, long ago. By the time I knew her, most of that—or whatever it was that made her who s
he was—was gone. I wish I’d known her before she lost herself.”
Will stared. He reached across the table and put his hand on mine. “We all get lost from time to time. Just make sure you have the right people around to pull you back into the game when you need them.”
I clasped his hand in return. It felt like a moment. A huge one. And it was interrupted when the waitress returned with our drinks.
“Ready to order?” she asked.
I looked at Will, he looked back, and we laughed.
“Sorry,” he said. “We haven’t decided yet.”
“Okay. Just wave when you’re ready.”
“Got it,” he said.
“Wait,” I said to her. I did a quick scan of the menu. “The greek salad looks good.”
“Yeah?” Will said to the waitress, “Two of those.”
She walked away.
I stared at Will. “Seriously? Have you actually tried the greek salad?”
He laughed. “No, I haven’t. I’m not too sure what all that stuff is in there.”
“Then why did you order it?”
“Because I haven’t had it before. I’m more of a beef person, but it doesn’t hurt to try something new from time to time.” He leaned toward me. “I want to know what you like. If you like greek salad, then so be it.”
I felt touched by his gesture and his words.
He continued, “That said, if I don’t like it, I’m going back to the catfish dinner next time.” He touched my hand. “It’s good to be flexible, but it’s important to be honest.”
I put my hand over his. “We might make a good team, Will Mercer. I’m looking forward to finding out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Victoria arrived with clothing and a box of small but tempting pastries.
She said, “I’ll run up and change real quick. Take the box”—she handed it to me—“and put them on a fancy plate. I’ll be right back down.” And she rushed up the stairs.
I stood there in her wake, wanting to say that the book club members were bringing their own food. And they were. But I saw what Victoria was intending. Delightful pastries on a crystal plate on the foyer table. Totally unnecessary but indisputably inviting. And I had the perfect little napkins to set right beside it.
