by Barbara Lohr
“Hm. That sounds promising,” his father said, scratching the underside of his chin. “You seen anymore of those pink walls? You know. The ones in the bedroom?”
Ryder laughed so hard, he was afraid Phoebe would peek around the back screen door. “You are a sly dog,” he said, bringing his voice down. “But you might be right.”
“I thought so.” His father’s eyes lit up.
“I’d like to think that enthusiasm is for me,” he said.
Hitching up his jeans, Stanley said, “Just get the job done, boy.”
And right then Ryder understood. “Geesh, Dad. You love Phoebe almost as much as I do, don’t you?”
Damn if his dad’s eyes didn’t get misty. “You bet, son. Want her back in the family. Being around Phoebe feels like old times and...” Here his voice cracked. Ryder started to sweat. He thought he would lose it right there.
“Doing the best I can,” he said, meaning every word. If his father only knew how bad he wanted that to happen.
Chapter 19
As July moved along, summer evened out like a peaceful lake at sunset. Everything felt perfect. Soft lake breezes teased her hair while Phoebe worked on her table on the porch. Because of her project, they’d started having dinner at the kitchen table. Ryder had moved it in front of the open french doors. “Are you getting all creative on me?” Ryder had teased, as he spread more newspapers under her project.
“Hey, wasn’t I creative before?”
Kissing the tip of her nose, he said, “Absolutely.”
Glancing up into those gray eyes, Phoebe felt her knees weaken. This man could make mush of her. Just when she was trying so hard to keep her wits about her.
This was so darn hard.
She loved having Ryder around. Sure, he was doing the work but it was more than that. When she painted hearts on the legs of the table, Ryder hummed along to the radio outside. Never did the man realize he was totally off tune. He sounded happy, and that made her happy. She wasn’t about to tell him that he couldn’t carry a song in a bucket. She’d known that when she first met him at the Rusty Nail on karaoke night.
No use having him sleeping upstairs anymore. Oh, she’d held out on that one. But it was silly although Ryder didn’t try to hurry her decision. She appreciated that. No, the man just waited for her to come around. When had he learned to do that?
The days passed, each one sweeter than the day before. Even though they’d told Stanley he didn’t need to stop by with food anymore, he still did. Those pots of chili that came through the door suited Phoebe just fine. What did she care if it was eighty degrees outside? This was one more meal she didn’t have to cook, and neither did Ryder. She’d never be a Rachel Ray, that’s for sure. Stanley might stay for a beer and then he’d scuttle off, as if Ryder and Phoebe were a good color job waiting to set, and he didn’t want it to do anything to mess it up.
A few days after the Fourth, Diana called.
“Phoebe? Am I interrupting something?” A teasing lilt lifted Diana’s voice. Diana, Carolyn and the rest of the girls wanted to know more about Ryder living here this summer. Phoebe wasn’t sharing details.
“Nope. Are you ready to have Maisy spend some time with us?”
“I sure am.” Her friend’s voice had a strange echo. Diana had probably stepped into her storeroom. This must be serious. “So, what’s Maisy doing?”
“She’s trying on all the clothes and leaving makeup on them.”
“Tell her to clean up her act.” Easy for Phoebe to say.
“Oh, I can’t do that. Will is turning inside out for her. Says his sister Delinda hasn’t disciplined her, and he’s just an uncle. Doesn’t feel it’s his place.”
“What about Will’s parents? I thought that was the program for the summer, to spend time with them.”
“So did I. But Maisy doesn’t want to and she’s very vocal about it. Nothing shy about this girl.” Diana’s voice dropped even further. “She uses the word boring a lot when she talks about her grandmother.”
“I hope Will’s mother doesn’t take that personally. Didn’t you tell me she’s fifteen?”
“Yep, going into her sophomore year.”
Phoebe snorted. “Oh lordy, remember those first years of high school? We were all brats.”
“Maybe so. I can’t remember. Right now my mind is a blur.”
“You don’t need this right now. After all, you’re supposed to be a blissful newlywed.” Phoebe felt terrible that Diana had to cope with an angry teen she’d inherited through Will. “Bring her over. She can weed.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Maisy seemed open to it on the Fourth. Heaven knows, this place is a mess.” Queen Anne’s lace hung in tufts among the black-eyed Susans. Hollyhocks drooped along the garage. Phoebe’s yard was totally out of control, like her life.
“Will tomorrow be too soon?”
Phoebe turned her attention back to the conversation. “Of course not. Can you drop her off in the morning on your way to the shop? I’d come get her but...”
“No need. No need.” Diana sounded downright dithery. Man, she really was in trouble. “I’ll have her there at nine forty-five tomorrow. You’re a good friend, Phoebe.”
“Aw. Now you’re getting all syrupy sweet with me.”
“Okay, enough. Have you read the book for book club next week?”
“No. Have you?”
“Not yet, and I’m having the meeting here. Maybe I can spend all my time in the kitchen that night.”
“Maybe I’ll be right there with you,” Phoebe giggled. “We all know the book club is just an excuse to get together.”
“You got that right. See you tomorrow.”
When Ryder came in a few minutes later, Phoebe was fixing lunch. Clancy’s had sent over a bunch of cold cuts, and Phoebe was slapping them onto the bread. Her breathing got ragged when Ryder came up behind her, turned her around and made her forget all about food. Was she imagining that the kiss held an edge of desperation? Curving into his warmth, she felt them melt together. What they had right now felt almost too comfortable. She couldn’t trust it. But pulling back from the edge was so hard.
That night Ryder took her to Oink’s for ice cream. Armed with double-dip strawberry and pistachio cones, they drove two blocks to the beach and found a picnic table where they could watch the boats trail into their moorings for the night. The air felt rich with summer. Every day the temperature rose higher. Phoebe could hardly lick her cone fast enough before it melted.
“So what’s up?” Ryder asked when they’d finished. Facing the lake, he was leaning back on the table, elbows braced on the picnic table. “You’re not saying much.”
“What do you mean?” Phoebe put her sunglasses in place. Turning, Ryder gently took them off. There was no hiding with this man. His steely gaze held her in place.
“Us. What about us?”
“What about us?”
“Hey, Sweet Cheeks,” Ryder said softly, tracing a finger down her cheek. “What’s next? I’m almost finished with the trim.”
“It looks wonderful. You’re doing...you did a great job.” How could she even think? His finger awakened all kinds of sensations. But his eyes stayed so serious.
~.~
She was stalling. Ryder knew it and it made him crazy. But the commitment he wanted so desperately had to come from her. “Do you want me to...”
“Work on the kitchen linoleum,” she supplied, blinking real fast. He could almost feel those lashes on his chest, the way they’d prickled last night.
Swiveling, he swung one leg over the bench of the table and faced her full on. His heart squeezed tight when she turned to study the horizon. “Phoebe, where are we going?”
A muscle jumped in her neck, that neck that drove him crazy. She’d slapped those damn glasses back in place, and he wanted to see her eyes. But maybe he didn’t need to. Just then a tear dribbled from below the lower rim of her glasses and rolled down her cheek. Her chest started to
heave.
“Phoebe, are you crying?” This was tearing him apart.
Wiping her cheeks quickly with the flat of one hand, she sniffled.
“You are crying. Now don’t deny it.” He pulled her into his arms. “Oh, babe. Pheebs, you are everything to me. I love you. More than anything or anyone else in the world, I love you.” Then he stopped. The more he said, the less it seemed to mean.
“Ryder, I love you too.” Great, now she was bawling openly. A middle-aged couple passing by threw them a horrified look. Ryder wanted to become the invisible man. But he also wanted an answer first.
“So you love me...but.” His finger tilted her head toward him. “So what’s the but?”
She shook her head. “Just but. We should be careful.”
“I thought you said you were on the pill.”
“I am. That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what is it?” Sometimes he felt so confused.
But she wouldn’t say anything.
So he’d say it for her, even though it cut like a knife. “Can you trust me again? That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“Yeeeeeees.” Phoebe’s wail caught him by surprise. He might have clapped one hand over her mouth, but then people would think he was really messing with her.
“Phoebe, I wouldn’t hurt you. I love you.” But he saw the problem. Once someone has let you down, how can you believe in him again?
He was screwed. Getting back with Phoebe might never happen.
Walking back to the car, his own eyes felt damp. He was glad it was dark. Men didn’t cry, not in his family at least.
~.~
Thank goodness Maisy was coming the next day. No way did Phoebe want to be alone with Ryder. She had so much to sort through. Heck, she couldn’t even straighten out her cupboards. How could she ever make order out of her feelings for Ryder?
Could they start over with open hearts? Neither one of them seemed to have the answer. The reassurance she wanted? Maybe Ryder would never be able to give her that. The thought sent her into free fall.
The night of their serious talk, Phoebe could not sleep. Early the next morning, she crept out to Fernando with a cup of coffee. The lawn chair she pulled up beside him was dewy. She sat down anyway. “You got to help me.”
That’s what I’m here for .
“I’m all confused.”
Pobrecita. Join the rest of the world.
Coffee cup in both hands, Phoebe shivered. “No, this is serious. I love this man like crazy.”
That’s not a problem. That’s a gift.
“You think?” she turned so quickly, coffee spilled on her nightie. “Oh, darn it!” She tugged her hoodie tighter.
Life happens. Does it ever turn out like you planned? Look at me. I’m a lawn ornament.
She tried to get her mind around the first part. “So you mean, I should just go with it?”
Got it. How are you going to feel if he gives up? Goes home?
“Oh, no. Terrible.” The bottom dropped out of her world. No more checkers at night. No more other fun and games. No more “Sweet Cheeks,” said the way only Ryder could say it. The early morning gray shadows disappeared, and the birds began to chirp.
Hear that?
“Yeah. The birds?”
They sing every day and they don’t know why.
Phoebe sat real still. “So I should sing?”
Lord no. It’s enough that he tries to sing. But enjoy life. Take some chances.
Getting up, she downed the last of her coffee. “What would I do without you?”
Don’t even think about it. That town dump? Basura. I don’t socialize with every piece of trash, you know.
“Yes, you are picky.” Chuckling, she crept back into the cottage. Everything was still. Opening the dishwasher, she began to empty it. The plates clacked together. She’d break some of her precious Fiesta dishes if she weren’t careful. She’d also wake up Ryder. So she crept back to bed. Sliding into the warmth of their bed, she watched him sleep. Ryder often slept on his tummy like a little boy. His hair was messy; his sculpted lips, slightly open. Stubble accented his jawline. Asleep or awake, the man was a hunk. And he loved her. Phoebe fell back to sleep, warmed by that thought. When she woke up, he was gone. She got dressed quickly, determined to have a day without worrying.
Instead of singing along to his radio, Ryder was quiet outside. He was razoring some of the windows, prying off small drops of paint. Ryder was always good with finishing touches. Branson Motors was known for being good at details.
But today he was quiet. Too quiet. The silence felt strange and nausea stirred in her stomach.
Their conversation at the harbor had riled up all sorts of crazy feelings. She wanted Ryder so bad. This Ryder. The guy who’d been working on their house the last few weeks? He was the man she wanted in her life. Someone who could be playful with her, yet sympathetic when she did dumb things like try to paint the house on an old ladder. But how could she be sure this Ryder would last forever?
If there was such a thing as a relationship contract, she wanted one. She wasn’t good at taking chances. Not anymore. An idea formed in her head. Crazy, but maybe there was a way to bring her peace of mind.
Chapter 20
When Diana pulled up in her yellow Volkswagen that morning with Maisy, Phoebe made her way outside. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she hoped her crazy thoughts would stop. She didn’t want to think about Ryder anymore. Her friend was a welcome distraction. The air felt hot and dry, and Phoebe fanned herself with a hand. The tall grass tickled her left leg. She’d shifted back to her denim mini skirt and a pink T-shirt. “Hey, lady!” She gave her friend a broad wave.
Diana and Maisy exploded from the yellow bug, stormy looks on their faces. What had Phoebe gotten herself into? But she kept smiling. Diana definitely needed her help. Her good friend was not a happy camper today.
“Maisy, you remember Phoebe,” Diana said.
Folding her arms over a chest that would be shapely one day, the teenager grunted. “Hi.”
Oh, my. “I like your hair, honey. Did Jan do that for you?”
Maisy’s face lightened a little as she smoothed the green streak with nail-bitten fingers. “Yeah. She did.” Phoebe wanted to hug her. Growing up, she wasn’t the girl that boys would send texts to in class. She was the last to be picked for any team because she couldn’t move fast enough. But her willingness to laugh at her mistakes earned her friends as she grew older.
“Well, I appreciate you coming over today to help me weed.”
Maisy glanced at Phoebe’s cast. “No problem. Diana said maybe I could go to the beach. I’ve got my suit in the car.”
“Of course you can! We’ll go together. You just take that suit into the kitchen.”
By this time Diana was giving eye signals. Phoebe wanted a few moments alone with her friend. “What is it?” Phoebe asked when Maisy had disappeared into the house, the door whapping shut behind her.
“She’s talking about going home.”
“What?”
“Do you believe it? Says she wants to go back to Florida, but of course her mother’s not there.”
“Where is she?”
“Who knows?” Diana threw out her hands. “Either she’s in Florida or out sailing around the Caribbean. Delinda’s not good with details. What if Maisy just takes off one day. Runs away to find Delinda?”
“Poor thing.” Phoebe couldn’t imagine how that uncertainty would feel. “But why? She’s only been here a month or so.”
“She says it’s boring. It’s hot. Nothing’s going on.”
“And Florida’s going to cure all that?”
The conversation ended when Maisy reappeared. Phoebe walked Diana to the car, but they never had a chance to say another word. Giving her friend a supportive hug, Phoebe opened the car door and Diana slid inside.
“Newlyweds should be happy,” Phoebe reminded her friend.
“Right.” Diana threw her a determined smile
. “See you this afternoon, Maisy,” she called out as she backed down the driveway. Maisy had come to stand beside Phoebe. Watching the bright yellow car disappear, the girl looked lost.
An uncomfortable silence fell over them. But Phoebe was having none of that. “Come on, Maisy. Let’s see what I’ve got in the garage to help you.” Phoebe led the way into the earthy, cool darkness. Rooting around, she pulled out a couple of gardening gloves. One was pink and the other was flowered. She waved them in the air. Not alike but still a pair. “Success! At least we have a left and a right.”
“Does that hurt?” Taking the gloves, Maisy was studying the cast.
“Not unless I do something stupid, which is pretty often.”
Maisy burst out laughing, a rusty cackle that sounded like it hadn’t been used much lately. She was pretty when she smiled.
“You have such nice thick hair,” Phoebe said reaching out. But Maisy ducked. A cold hand clutched Phoebe’s heart. She drew back her hand while her mind swirled with suspicion. “Well, will you look at me? Just grabbing anybody’s hair. I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s all right.” But it wasn’t. Phoebe could see that.
Picking up a plastic basket, she handed it to Maisy. “Here you go. Every weed you see, just yank it out and throw it in here.” But her eyes still searched the jumbled shelves. Grabbing a green piece of foam, she handed it to Maisy. “This pad will keep your knees from hurting when you weed.”
Tossing the gloves in the bucket, Maisy stood there, bucket in one hand and pad in the other. Something was missing. “A hat. You’ll need a hat or you’ll get sunburned. Follow me.” And Phoebe headed back to the cottage.
“You don’t have to fuss about me,” Maisy said, bumping along behind her. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” When they reached the back door, Phoebe took the basket and pad from Maisy’s hands and placed them on the stoop. “Follow me.”
