“Little country cemeteries are the best,” Ben remarked quietly, his hand resting on the curved metal arch that topped the gate. “My grandparents and my father are buried in one north of Sand Springs.” He swung the gate open, its squeaks sounding like feeble birds in the shady copse.
She walked through. The old brick path was mostly buried beneath leaves and dirt, but the headstones were in good shape. Someone was taking care of the fifty or so graves, even if the church had fallen into disrepair. It was harder to leave a person behind, even just his memory, than a building.
Though she hadn’t been there in years, Avi found her grandparents’ graves easily. Their marker was black marble, engraved with their names and birth and death dates, along with GrandMir’s favorite Bible verse: Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you. 1 Peter 5:7 A bouquet of flowers etched into the stone at the top commemorated their love of growing things.
Ben stood quietly as she touched the rough edge of the stone. She knew GrandMir and Popi weren’t here. They were in every lovingly placed board of the house they’d shared so many years, in every bloom in their own yard and half the yards in town. Their spirit was in everyone who’d known them, especially Avi’s parents, and it was in her. The better part of her.
She stayed like that a moment longer, whispering a silent message. I miss you so much. Calm spread through her, the same comfort she’d felt when GrandMir had tucked her into bed at night, when Popi had cuddled her during storms, the comfort that had always come from just being with them.
Smiling, she slowly got to her feet and glanced around at the other markers. Ben was right. Country cemeteries were the best.
* * *
Usually Ben ended his weekend visits to Tallgrass early Sunday evening, giving himself plenty of time to drive back to Tulsa, see about dinner, and get a full night’s sleep. He didn’t operate well, figuratively or literally, on less.
This Sunday he’d overstayed his usual by an hour and was reluctant to even think about leaving. Thanks, Avi.
A tall jar of marshmallow crème stood empty on the counter—the secret ingredient to Patricia’s incredible meringue. She’d made two pies, coconut cream and lemon, pushed to the back of the counter, peaks of golden meringue swirled over the tops. He’d pinched one curl when she’d taken them from the oven, and she’d swatted his hand, an old habit come back to life.
He’d called her Mom today. Another old habit, one that had sneaked past all those years of resentment and had felt as natural as when he was a kid. But she’d been his mom then. Now…he was still working out what she was now.
“Though I know Beth and Neil hate missing even a day of Avi’s leave, I’m kind of glad we’ve got her to ourselves for a while,” Patricia said as she straightened from checking the pot roast in the oven. “She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she is.” Lovely, no doubt. Girl? She’d gone to war and seen people die—strangers, enemies, friends, a man she’d loved like a father. But in spite of that, yeah, she had a girlish quality to her that, combined with her competence and courage, was damned appealing.
He really missed finding a woman appealing.
Patricia smiled at him. “You like her.”
He shifted on the stool at the island, taking a drink of tea to delay. “Sure, I like her.”
“I mean like. The way you liked Traci Monroe.”
Now there was a blast from the past. He hadn’t thought of Traci in years, but when he was fifteen, she’d been all he could think of. Blond, beautiful, with blue eyes and braces, a cheerleader and class vice-president, honor roll student and Girl Most Likely to Make Him Hyperventilate.
“Did you ever ask her out?”
“Are you kidding? I couldn’t remember my own name around her. When she started dating the quarterback, I finally accepted that goddesses were out of my league.” The realization had come as a relief. He’d no longer had to worry about thinking of something to say or trying to maintain eye contact.
“That is so not true,” Patricia responded. “You’re handsome, you’ve got gorgeous eyes, you’re a sought-after surgeon…Traci Monroe would consider herself lucky if you looked her way twice.” She smiled wistfully. “You’ve got your father’s eyes. The first time we met, he looked at me, and I mean really looked, and I was a goner. On our first date, I just wanted to sit the rest of my life and stare into those eyes.”
Ben shifted uncomfortably again. What happened? he wanted to ask. Why had she decided that she preferred staring into George’s eyes? But he didn’t want to know any more than he already did. Not tonight.
None too subtly he changed the subject. “Why does everyone call her Avi?”
“Because her name is Avery.” Patricia shrugged at his blank look. “It’s not a name I would have given an adorable little girl. It was her great-grandfather’s name. As far as Avi is concerned, they should have saved it to use if they had a little boy. As far as I’m concerned, they should have said, ‘We love you, Grandpa Avery, but we’re not saddling our kid with your name.’” She smiled smugly. “I, on the other hand, settled for timeless names. Who could find fault with Benjamin Richard, Brianne Leigh, or Sara Anne?”
“I dated a girl in college who suggested that I go by Richard or Rich,” he said dryly. “She hated Ben.”
She shrugged. “What did she know? She’s not around now, is she, so her opinion counts for squat.”
The chime of the doorbell echoed through the house, bringing a big smile to Patricia and a twinge of something to Ben. Anticipation, he thought. Impending pleasure.
Patricia put on giant pot holders to remove the cast iron pot from the oven. “Get that, would you?”
More than happy to.
When he opened the door, Avi greeted him with a smile. She wore another summery dress, this one in pale yellow, and her hair was loose around her face, falling over her practically bare shoulders. She had on flip-flops again—standard wear for Oklahoma at least ten months of the year—and wore the strap of a giant purse over her neck and crossing her body. She held a bottle of wine in both hands.
“Hi,” she greeted.
“Hi.” He leaned one shoulder against the door jamb and just looked at her. His mother’s words about his father—I just wanted to sit and stare—came to mind, though it wasn’t just Avi’s eyes that drew him.
After a moment, her smile broadened into a grin. “You’re letting the cold air out. Were you raised in a barn?”
“Actually, I spent a fair amount of my childhood in one. My grandfather had horses, and if we were going to ride them, by God, we were going to feed them, groom them, and muck out their stalls.” He backed away so she could step inside, then closed the door behind her. “Patricia’s in the kitchen.”
Unlike last night’s dress, this one was form fitting and showed every sway of Avi’s hips as she led the way down the hall. He appreciated a woman who moved like a woman, all delicate and graceful. He would bet that even at an all-out run, she never lost that grace.
Patricia greeted her with a hug, then Avi held out the wine. “I come bearing a gift from Mom’s pantry. One bottle of Twisted Sisters wine from Girls Gone Wine.”
“Oh, my favorite! Did Beth tell you that?”
“It was a pretty easy guess.” While Patricia took the wine to the counter and rummaged through a drawer for a corkscrew, Avi slipped a pink Post-it note from her pocket and showed it to Ben. Patricia’s favorite. Do not listen to any stories she tells about us going there.
“Your mom and I drove down to Beaver Lake this past winter and visited the winery,” Patricia said, her back still to them, missing the grins they shared. “You should have seen us after the tasting. Good thing there was a restaurant just down the road where we could pass the time until it was safe to drive again.”
“I thought you were supposed to spit out the wine at a wine tasting,” Ben said as he pulled out a stool for Avi to sit on. Watching her climb onto it in that snug dress was definitely a pleas
ure.
“Some say you should, some say you shouldn’t.” Patricia got glasses from a cabinet, carried them to the island, and poured the wine, automatically stopping after only a few ounces in Ben’s glass. “I say when someone’s giving you free wine and it tastes this good, swallow for all you’re worth.”
After gently clinking glasses with them, she rested one hand on her hip. “Have you heard from your mama?”
“Not yet,” Avi replied. “She left a copy of their itinerary. They were in port most of today, so I imagine she’ll call tomorrow when they’re back at sea.”
“Doesn’t a cruise sound just wonderful? Sitting by the pool all day, all the food you can eat, all the handsome waiters you can bear to look at serving you drinks…” Patricia sighed. “The margarita club goes on adventures from time to time. Maybe I can persuade them to do a short cruise.”
“They’d put you all off the ship at the first port,” Ben said with a snort. “For a bunch of nice normal women, you guys sure can get rowdy. People don’t know whether to cheer when they see you coming or run and lock the doors to keep you out.”
Patricia smiled innocently. “Life is too short and too uncertain not to enjoy it to the fullest.”
“Amen,” Avi said, lifting her glass for another clink with Patricia.
Ben gazed into the distance. He hadn’t spent a lot of time enjoying life. He’d played mother and father both to his sisters, gone to college and studied, gone to medical school and studied, run himself ragged in his residency, and devoted himself to establishing his practice. There would always be time later for relationships, settling down, a family, and fun, he’d told himself.
But no one was guaranteed later. Lucy and her husband had put off having kids because there was always later. George had put off retirement and spending more time with his wife until later. Every single one of the margarita sisters and their husbands had delayed their plans until later, and later had never come.
Ben didn’t want to live with a lifetime of regrets. He didn’t want to look back and think if only he’d done this or if only he’d changed that. The one sure thing in life was death. A person had better grab everything else when the chance came.
And the first regret he didn’t want to live with was Avi. Nothing might ever come of it. He might expect too much or not enough. He might get his heart broken. Most likely, after four weeks, they’d be lucky to ever see each other again.
But he could handle all that. He could cope with disappointment or heartbreak or whatever. Besides, he’d have one hell of a memory.
What he couldn’t deal with was the regret of waiting until it was too late. He’d had a lifetime of that, and it stopped today.
* * *
The meal was over, the sun set, streetlights buzzing and drawing haloes of tiny insects to each globe. Avi wished she’d walked to the Sanderson house; after a dinner like that, she needed the exercise of walking home. The salad had been a stab at something healthy, but the rest was pure gastronomic indulgence: tender beef roast, carrots, potatoes, and onions in thick gravy, accompanied by sweet yeast dinner rolls and followed by incredible pies. She was so full she couldn’t eat another bite, but just thinking of the dinner made her taste buds dance again.
They sat on the back patio, tiki torches burning near mosquito plants, the two of them doing a pretty good job of keeping the insects at bay. As if drastic swings in the weather weren’t enough to keep Oklahomans on their toes, God had given them a wide variety of insects to add an extra level of endurance to being outdoors.
Patricia had made a pot of very good coffee, and Avi was on her second cup. She was half reclining on a chaise longue with super-thick cushions, her shoes kicked off, listening to the tree frogs and occasional happy shrieks from across the street. When had she ever felt so at ease with a family not her own?
Across the lawn, a back door opened and a large dog trotted out, quickly disappearing from the bit of light provided by its porch light.
“That’s Norton,” Patricia said from Avi’s right. “His mama, Lucy, is one of our margarita club members and a dear friend. Oh, look, Ben, I think Norton’s caught your scent.”
On her left, Ben mumbled something that appeared to cast aspersions on Norton’s parentage. Avi chuckled as she strained to make out the dark dog in the shadows. She caught the sound of his running paws and panting a moment before he entered the circle of light around them. Skidding to a stop a few feet away, the large dog smiled at Patricia, smiled at Avi, then curled his upper lip to show his teeth, with a bit of pink tongue, to Ben. It was accompanied by a barely audible grumble in his throat.
Avi laughed. “Come here, Norton. Come on, boy.” The dog trotted over for a scratch, leaning against her leg, head tilted back to give her unfettered access to his throat. “What did you do to him, Ben?”
“I never did anything. He doesn’t like me.”
“Norton likes everyone,” Patricia disagreed. “You must have given him a reason.”
Ben declared his innocence. “You sent me to their house one day to invite Lucy over for brunch. He looked at me, growled, and has been like that ever since.”
“But he’s such a baby,” Avi cooed. “Look at this face. You must have scared him.”
“Yeah, I never met a dog who was scared of me. I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.” He leaned forward to set his empty coffee cup on a table, and Avi watched Norton show those teeth again with an even fainter rumble.
Norton was trying to ease all seventy pounds of himself inconspicuously into Avi’s lap when the door across the yard opened again. “Norton!” Lucy yelled.
The dog hunkered lower.
“Come on, Norton, where are you?”
“He’s over here, Lucy,” Patricia called, waving one hand over her head to get the other woman’s attention.
After grabbing a leash, the woman headed their way, disappearing into darkness as the dog had done. A widow and a dear friend, Patricia had said. Avi was expecting a woman about Patricia’s age, but the woman who stepped out of the shadows and into their circle was much closer to her own age. She was pretty, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, a pleasant smile, and sequined flip-flops adorned with tropical flowers on her feet. Avi liked her just for those shoes.
“Hey, Patricia. Ben.” Lucy nodded in his direction, and he nodded back. Next, her gaze skimmed over Norton, who was looking guilty as sin and unable to hide it, before moving on to Avi. She smiled again. “Hi.”
“Hi. I take it this sweet baby is yours,” Avi said as she continued to scratch Norton.
Lucy made a show of looking around. “There must be some other sweet baby around, but the stinker is mine. For six years he’s never wandered off when he goes out, but for some reason he felt compelled tonight.”
“Because he smelled Ben,” Patricia teased. “You know he can’t pass up a chance to intimidate Ben. Lucy, this is my dear friend, Avi Grant. She served with George in Afghanistan. Her parents are George’s and my best friends. Avi, this is Lucy Hart.”
Lucy came a few steps nearer to shake hands. “Are you out or home on leave?”
“Leave. I’m starting an instructor position at Fort Gordon, Georgia, in a month.”
“You’re Signal Corps?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lucy feigned a scowl. “Just Lucy. You don’t want to know what terrible threats I rain down on the heads of young soldiers who call me ma’am.”
“I hear the margarita girls make tough, strong men quake in their boots.”
“Some of them do. Some of us just dream about it.” Lucy perched on the edge of a brick-walled flower bed, dangling the leash between her knees.
“How is Joe?” Patricia asked. Before Lucy could answer, she explained to Avi. “Joe Cadore lives next door to Lucy. He’s a runner and the high school football coach, and he’s a very sweet and darn good-looking guy. He’s single, too, Avi. Maybe I should introduce you.”
From Avi’s left came a rumble
reminiscent of Norton’s, but this one was more human, though not by much. She glanced at Ben, whose expression was implacable, even when she gave him a covert wink. “I’m always happy to meet sweet guys.”
“Good. I’ll arrange that,” Patricia said. “So, Lucy, how is he?”
“Busy now that school’s started. The team has a scrimmage Friday evening, then their first game the week after that. Between that and his regular classes, he’s pretty booked, but he still finds time to roust me out of bed at six o’clock in the morning to walk. This has been going on for nearly three months, and it’s still an ungodly hour.” Lucy leaned forward, gesturing to the dog to come. When he didn’t move, Avi stopped scratching him, folding her hands in her lap despite the pleading look he gave her. Even so, he still made no move toward his mom.
“Ben, would you mind walking over to my house?” Lucy asked, her tone innocent and sweet.
“So your dog will chase me?” He snorted. “No, thanks. I’m not going to be bait for an oversized creature with fangs.”
Lucy dangled the leash tantalizingly. “Norton, wanna go for a walk?”
The dog looked as if he was considering it, then slid into a boneless heap beside Avi’s chair.
That earned a long-suffering sigh from Lucy. “Norton, wanna go see Joe?”
Bounding to his feet, he danced so happily she had trouble attaching the leash to his collar. “Nice to meet you, Avi. Patricia, Ben, y’all have a good night.”
As they disappeared into the shadows again, Ben commented, “Cadore has an unnatural influence over that dog.”
Avi smiled. The more she learned about Ben—intimidated by a baby like Norton and for some reason jealous of the sweet, good-looking neighbor—the more she liked him. The surgeon with a God complex was so common, it had spawned its own stereotype, but there was no God complex here. Just an incredibly sexy guy with a few flaws.
A Promise of Forever Page 7
