This Time

by Rachel Hauck

  He pressed her one more time. "Dinner at my place?"

  Her eyes met his. "Dinner sounds lovely."

  An hour later, Burke had showered and tossed seasoned steaks on the grill. Humming to himself, he moved about the kitchen, tossing broccoli florets into a steamer. Fresh picked sweet corn boiled on the stove and sweet tea steamed from a crystal pitcher.

  Belle hollered hello from the front room.

  "In the kitchen."

  "Burke," she said from the front hall. "This place is amazing."

  He grinned as she appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing a white sleeveless turtleneck and dark green cargo shorts. A light touch of makeup replaced the dirt smudges. "You clean up nice, Jamison."

  Her sunburned cheeks flushed a deeper red. "Don't look too bad yourself, Benning."

  "So, you like the house?"

  "It's beautiful. I always loved this old place… but wow."

  "Grandma covered all the wood with paint, wallpaper and carpet. I found an older gentleman, Max, who's an excellent craftsman. He's been doing the work for me."

  "He's a genius." Belle ran her hand along the cherry stained trim, glancing at the molding around the ceiling and then the polished hardwood floor.

  Burke explained. "The kitchen is basically new; refrigerator, stove, and windows. Dean and I did most of that work while Max worked on the family room and the front hall. He just finished those. Dad, Dean and I still need to paint the walls where there's no woodwork. After that, it's the living room, then the upstairs."

  "Sounds expensive," she said, arms crossed, hovering shyly in the doorway.

  "Well, I plan to live here for a long time."

  "The other day someone told me they saw a tabloid headline at the checkout counter declaring that you were broke," she said.

  He laughed. "What tabloid was that?"

  With a slight shrug, she confessed, "Didn't ask. Personally, I avoid gossip magazines."

  He noticed her reservation about entering the room. Gently, he urged her to come in and sit down. "Dinner is ready. I just have to pull the steaks off the grill."

  "I'll pour the tea," she volunteered as he stepped outside.

  He nodded his approval, his heart palpitating when their eyes met.

  They settled down to dinner and into an easy conversation about Burke's new career and the Bar J's new Web site.

  "How's Duke?" he asked when he got up to fetch the tea pitcher.

  "Anxious to come home."

  He refilled their glasses. "Two weeks in the hospital is a long time."

  "Yeah, but the doc wasn't happy with how his leg was healing. Either way, he won't be roping calves anytime soon."

  "I'm free if you need an extra pair of hands," Burke offered with sincerity.

  Belle chewed her last bite of steak and waved her fork at him. Swallowing, she said, "You've done enough for us, Burke. Thanks."

  He focused on his food, hiding his desire to spend his days at the Bar J, near her. "Offer stands."

  "I guess we could use an extra pair of hands while planting the new fence--"

  "I can bring my own tools."

  Belle laughed. "Tools I got. I need strong backs and a willingness to work."

  "Got both," he said with a chuckle.

  "All right, but only if you let me pay you."

  "No," he protested. "Belle, please, I don't need the money."

  She bristled slightly. "We don't need free labor."

  Burke sat back in his chair and rested his hand on his leg. "I didn't mean to imply--"

  She interrupted him. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."

  "So, you'll let me work?"

  Belle stared at him for a long, silent moment.

  Lord, how can I lay down my life for my friend if she constantly resists me?

  After a moment, he caught the mischievous glint in her eyes. She said, "I'm not too proud to turn down solid, but cheap labor. You got a deal."

  Burke's laugh rang across the kitchen. "Deal."

  After dinner, they piled the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and he started a batch of homemade ice cream, a Benning special recipe. Belle sat on a stool at the counter and watched, carrying on the conversation from dinner.

  "Did you hear Meg is going to have another baby?"

  He looked up from where he poured salt into the ice cream maker. "How many does this make?" He flipped the switch and the machine hummed.

  "Their third."

  He moved to the sink and filled it with hot, sudsy water, then reached for the pots. "Good for them."

  Echoes of old, long ago conversations whispered across his mind. Hours upon hour they used to talk, sharing their dreams and hopes, fears and disappointments. One deep philosophical conversation kept them up until the wee hours of the morning.

  "Remember the time we stayed up all night talking?" he suddenly asked.

  "How could I forget?"

  "Your dad came down to start breakfast, and there we sat in the den, fire crackling in the fireplace--"

  She laughed. "What a raucous we caused. I nearly died when Dad grounded me for two weeks."

  Burke rinsed the last pot and emptied the sink. "I didn't even know we talked all night," he said, leaning against the counter, wiping his hands. "I never liked saying good-bye to you."

  She slid off the stool and walked toward the family room. "But you did say it and in the worst way."

  He sighed, flipping the dishtowel over the sink to dry, seeing again the long shadow he'd cast over their lives.

  "Candles?" Belle called from the other room.

  "Believe it or not, I like them. They're romantic."

  "Slap me silly, but Burke Benning is into romance."

  "Give me a break, Belle." He flipped off the kitchen light and joined her in the family room, settling on the couch, stretching his long legs over the coffee table. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, curled up in his grandfather's old chair, the candlelight casting warm hues on the delicate curves of her cheeks and chin.

  "Sure, like the one you gave me," she bantered, her green eyes snapping.

  The shadow again, he thought, cushioning his head with a throw pillow, shifting his stare to the open beam ceiling. "If I'd have known then what I know now."

  "What do you know now?" she asked.

  He moved to the edge of the sofa, unable to imagine anyone lovelier than Belle. How foolish he'd been, utterly foolish. "I know that you are an incredible woman. Warm, intelligent, funny. Beautiful."

  She shifted in her seat, appearing uncomfortable. "Please," she said, chuckling nervously. "Now, Grace Peterson is beautiful."

  "Grace is very gorgeous lady," he admitted. "But she can't rope a cow."

  Belle laughed outright. "With her looks and talent, who cares?"

  Me, Burke wanted to say, but thought better of it. This evening was not about Grace. It was about them, it was about continuing the healing and restoring a friendship.

  "Want to know what else I've learned?"

  "What else have you learned?" she asked.

  "To never give into my doubts and fears."

  "Perhaps the best lesson of all, then."

  Silence drifted between them, a peaceful silence, like the kind that comes after a storm.

  "Remember Tyler McDermott's thirteenth birthday party?" This time Belle started the reminiscing.

  Burke flopped against the overstuffed cushions of the sofa, draping his arm over his forehead. "I held your hand for the first time during the couples' skate."

  Belle laughed heartily. "Your hand perspired so bad you couldn't hold on to me."

  "Nerves. Pure nerves."

  Still laughing, she asked. "Nerves? It was just me."

  "Just you," he echoed, tossing his hands in the air, searching for the right words, lifting his head slightly to look at her. "Until then, you were Belle Jamison, my best friend who had the misfortune of being a girl."

  "Oh, really?" She raised her eyebrows and tipped her head slightly, waiting for mor
e of the story.

  "I figured you couldn't help being born female. But you were so cool I wanted to hang out with you."

  "And why am I just now hearing all of this?"

  Burke laughed. "It never came up before, I guess."

  "Is there more to the story?"

  He nodded. "Like I said, until then, you were just Belle. Very cool, mind you, but more like one of the guys. But the day we skated together, and your hand slipped into mine, I realized for first time that you were a soft, beautiful girl. I fell in love, right then and there."

  "My heart pounded so fast I couldn't hear the music. The entire scene is one blur."

  The delicate mid-night chime of the mantle clock tolled and interrupted their conversation. Belle bolted from the chair. "I didn't know it'd gotten so late. I should go."

  He walked her to the door. "We didn't get to eat any ice cream."

  She smiled. "Maybe another time."

  "Another time." He liked the idea, and the sound of her voice making the suggestion.

  She started down the porch steps, then stopped when she reached the front walk. "I had a lovely evening."

  Burke propped his muscular frame against the porch beam. "We've said many things over the past few weeks, and that day in the chapel covered a lot of difficult territory," he started, "but there's one more thing."

  "What's that?" Moonlight haloed her silky brown head.

  "I've never asked you to forgive me."

  She sunk down to the bottom step. "I've forgiven you."

  He detected the emotion in her voice and moved next to her on the steps. "I know, but I need to look into your eyes and ask." Delicately he touched her chin and tilted her face toward him. Their eyes met, her face lit with the light from the porch. "Forgive me, Belle. Please forgive me."

  She fell against him, crying.

  Tears smarted in his eyes, and quietly he prayed for both of them.

  After a time, she lifted her head, wiping the tear stains from her face. "I waited twelve years to hear those words."

  "Twelve years too long, I'm afraid."

  "I forgive you, Burke."

  "The day after I left, I desperately wanted to call you, but shame, embarrassment, and pride kept me from doing what was right. Days turned into weeks, weeks into years. After awhile, I couldn't bring myself to even think about it."

  Belle dug in her purse for a tissue. "You know the worst part?"

  "No," he said softly.

  "Losing my very best friend."

  He stroked her hair absently, not wanting the moment to end. "I've missed you."

  They sat in the moonlight for a long time, silent and at peace, the shadow of the past fading in the dawning light of forgiveness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On a sunny Saturday afternoon, Belle sat in a chair at the Shape-Up salon, coloring cap on her head, allowing Mary Beth to pull strands of her hair through tiny holes with something that looked like a crochet hook.

  "Ouch," she said, wincing when Mary Beth dug too deep and scraped her scalp.

  "Sorry, girl, but it's been so long since you've been in here. You're a mess." Mary Beth's long red fingernails clicked against the steel needle.

  Belle leaned away from the hook, her face pinched. "I've been busy."

  Mary Beth's large brown eyes narrowed. With a mischievous glint, she regarded Belle through the mirror. "So I hear," she said.

  Understanding her hairdresser's innuendo, Belle ignored the subtle hint and casually went on about day-to-day news. "I brought Daddy home from the hospital this week. He's in a cast up to his hip, but he can hobble around some on crutches. I have a wheelchair to use when we go to church."

  "Good, good," Mary Beth responded as if by rote. "Give your Daddy a kiss for me, hear? He's one of my favorite people."

  Belle winced again as Mary Beth hooked another strand. "I will, I will."

  "What else is going on, hmm?"

  Still ignoring her prodding, Belle continued. "We bought another Brahman bull this spring to breed with our Angus cows. That crossbreed works well for us. We're getting back good animal data."

  Mary Beth made a face, rolling her upper lip toward her freckled nose. "You know I don't give a flip about animal data. What else ya got?"

  "We fenced in land for a new grazing pasture. Back breaking work, planting a fence."

  Mary Beth whirled Belle's chair around to face her. "Now, you know I didn't go to beauty school to hear about breeding cows and planting fences." She whirled her back around again to face the mirror.

  Belle grinned. She wondered how far the gregarious, pretty hairstylist would fish for the information she wanted.

  "I hear your front porch got damaged by one of those twisters."

  "One of our front cottonwoods fell onto it."

  "Land, I hate twisters."

  "No kidding."

  "My Shane's garage took some damage. We waited three weeks just to get an estimate. The work still ain't done. How 'bout you?"

  Ooo, she's good, Belle thought.

  "We got it fixed last week, better than before."

  "Who'd you get to do the work?" Mary Beth snapped her gum between her teeth, feigning wonder at Belle's good fortune. "Maybe Shane can hire him."

  "Okay, Mary Beth, cut the pretense. You know Burke did the work with some of the boys from the football team. There, you happy?"

  Mary Beth mixed the chemicals for Belle's highlights and started painting the short protruding strands. "Not near enough, Belle. Details friend, details."

  At that moment, the crisp ring of the bells dangling by the front door sang out and Mary Beth called, "Meg, get in here and work with me. I can't get a thing out of her."

  "No fair double teaming," Belle protested, as Meg plopped into the empty salon chair next to her.

  She brushed a wild curl from her eye. "Okay," she said, breathless, resting her hand on her expanding middle, her china doll complexion flushed with the summer heat. "I dropped Stan and the kids at Wal-Mart, Mom at the fabric store. I have an entire half hour to myself, and I want the whole story, Belle. You've been holding out on me."

  "There's nothing to tell," she insisted, glancing askance at her friend.

  Mary Beth and Meg protested with one voice.

  "I'm going to let your hair burn bleach blonde for not telling the truth," Mary Beth threatened, shaking the color brush at Belle.

  "Gates said she and Paul ran into you two at the movies in Tulsa the other night," Meg began.

  "I saw you two at Charlie's one night, eatin' burgers," Mary Beth said.

  Meg added, "Spencer said he hadn't seen you or talked to you in weeks."

  Belle put her hands up against the barrage. "Okay, okay. Burke and I have spent some time together, big deal."

  "It is a big deal, Belle," Mary Beth countered, setting a portable dryer over her head for the color to dry. "You're gonna have to speak up now so we can hear you."

  "Look," she began, speaking above the dyer's low hum, "you guys know the story, so I'm not going to rehash the past. But Burke and I are merely getting reacquainted, working through the healing process, sharing what our lives have been about in the last twelve years. It doesn't mean that we are a couple." She paused and pointed at the two women. "And I know that's what you're thinking."

  "But you were the greatest couple of all time," Mary Beth lamented, fluffing her own carrot top with a pick.

  "You know you still love him, Belle," Meg argued.

  Belle flared, feeling defensive. "Don't put assumptions on me, Meg. Have you forgotten the beautiful Grace Peterson? As far as I know, Burke and Grace are still an item."

  "Posh," Mary Beth harrumphed with a flit of her hand. "He doesn't want that skinny girl."

  Belle looked up at her from under the dryer cap. "I suppose he told you that?"

  "No, but if I were him, I'd pick you."

  Belle laughed, appreciating her old friend's sentiments. "I'll tell him to check with you before he makes his next move."


  "You do that," she said with full conviction, now idly filing her nails.

  Meg interrupted the banter with a pointed question. "So, why? Why did he leave you?"

  Belle shifted in her seat; the humiliation of being left at the altar still stung a bit. Yet, she understood Meg's desire to know the answer to the age-old question of why Burke deserted her on their wedding day. Meg had shared in her devastation and needed to close the door on the past as much as Belle did. Taking a deep breath, Belle said, "He got cold feet."

  Meg sat back in the chair, and Mary Beth gaped at her through the mirror. "Cold feet?" she repeated.

  Belle nodded her capped head. "There's a little more to it, but yeah, that's the bottom line."

  "Why didn't he tell you?" Meg asked.

  "Never could find the words," Belle explained.

  "But to leave you at the altar?" Meg said, her tone full of questions.

  Belle shared Burke's story. "He planned to go through with the wedding until he realized how unfair it was to me if he had any doubts. So, he ran."

  "Hmm, hmm," Mary Beth crooned. "Why did it take twelve years for him to confess?"

  "It just did, Mary Beth. Can we change the subject?"

  "Paul told Stan that Burke's helping out at the ranch," Meg said.

  Mary Beth pulled the dryer off of Belle's head. Her ears were hot, glowing red. "Thanks, Mary Beth. Yes, he's been covering for Daddy."

  "How's that working out?"

  Belle tried to hide it, but her cheeks blushed, matching her ears. Dropping her gaze, she said, "We get along great. We laugh a lot, race the horses. Jake and Cole are in heaven working with him. They love asking him about his football career and what it's like to be on a sitcom."

  "You're in love," Mary Beth said, flat out, leading her to the sink to rise before pulling off the coloring cap.

  "I'm not," she objected fiercely.

  Meg kept the conversation on an even keel. "What's Duke think of all of this?"

  "Speak up, I'm running the water," Mary Beth told her over her shoulder.

  "He's got his surrogate son back. He happy as a pig in slop," Belle explained. "When I brought Daddy home, the two of them talked for a couple of hours, Burke telling Daddy about how he and the boys fixed the porch, and how the new bull is fitting in with the cows."