“Or a little sister.” He squeezed Bonnie to his chest. “I’m driving to St. Paul today. I have quite a few clients to meet with, so I doubt I’ll make it home before six or seven.”
“Mr. Sykes?”
“Yes?”
“Drive safely and come home to me.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Sykes.” John bent his head to kiss Bonnie again.
After what seemed to Bonnie a selfishly long kiss, she grasped her husband’s hand and led him around the sheet and under the clothesline to where they could see their son. John had to duck to clear the thin ropes. He was looking at the back of Bonnie’s neck and the edge of her skirt brushed cool and damp against his face. They approached their son holding hands. Johnny stood to face his daddy, leaving the cowboys and Indians in the dirt. John swept him off his feet and spun him around in a great flying circle. Johnny laughed, the sound carrying deep into the woods around their house, the bright and clear ring of a child’s joy.
Bonnie and Johnny stood at the head of the driveway, waving to John as he left them for another long day. Such was the lot of the sales rep’s wife.
Movement overhead caught Bonnie’s eye and she looked up, shielding her eyes from the sunlight coming over the roof of the barn. A red tailed hawk glided above them. “Look,” she said, and lifted Johnny to her hip. She pointed at the sky. “Hawk.”
A man came out from behind the barn. He hesitated and looked over his shoulder, anxiously scanning the perimeter of the property before starting toward Bonnie again. Johnny saw him first, having already lost track of the hawk in the bright field of blue overhead. He put his small hand at the base of his mother’s throat and tilted his head into her, laying his ear against her shoulder.
Bonnie glanced down at the top of his head and that’s when she noticed the man. Her body went rigid and she tensed her mouth, looking down the long driveway to Haug Lane. John was already gone, and this stranger knew it, too. “What are you after?” she called before he was too near.
The man stopped. His unkempt beard was mostly gray, the whiskers rising high on his cheeks and low on his neck, though there was not more than a few weeks growth. He wore jeans that were torn in the knees and looked two sizes too big for him, a military shirt, and a John Deere cap. He lifted his hand and Bonnie stepped away. The man paused, perhaps sensing her fear, before gripping the bill of his cap and taking it off his head. “Bonnie,” he said, “it’s me.”
Bonnie stepped toward him now to get a better look. He had light brown hair that hung to the bottom of his chin and gray eyes that looked sad beyond their years. If she was to recognize him, surely it would be by the eyes, but… She let her gaze sweep over him top to bottom to top again. Military boots. Military shirt. Over the breast pockets were sewn those ticker tape patches, “Copeland” and “US Army.” Bonnie gasped. “Is it you? Carl?”
“Oh boy, Bonnie, are you a sight for sore eyes.” Carl came toward her and she backed away. “I’m sorry.” He looked at the ground, then over his shoulder before looking at Bonnie again. “Fine looking boy you have there.”
“Carl, what happened to you? Why are you here?”
“Oh boy! What happened to me?” His voice rose with each word. “That is a good question, Bonnie. A good one!” He put a hand to his head to scratch at his scalp. “Well, let’s see now. I went to Nam. Yep. That about sums it up. I went to Nam.”
He didn’t seem able to look her in the eyes. The more she held his face in her gaze, the more his gaze seemed to dart all over the place. Eventually, his eyes steadied and Bonnie felt him looking at her feet.
“Your fellow didn’t go over, did he? College boy, I bet. What’s your name now?”
“Sykes. My name is Sykes now.”
“Bonnie Sykes.” He glanced at her face, a flicker of his old self appearing in his smile. “Pleased to meet you, Bonnie Sykes. Say, isn’t that what I said to you? That first time in Mrs. Johansen’s algebra class. Pleased to meet you. Pleased to meet you…”
“Carl? Is there something you need? Or is this just a visit…for old times sake?” Johnny began to kick his feet so Bonnie set him down. “Go get your cowboys,” she told him and patted his rump to send him in the direction of his toys.
“Gosh, it’s good to see you, Bonnie. You look just the same. You know that? Prettiest red hair I have ever seen.”
“Carl.” Bonnie wished she had kept a hand on her son now, but he was fine, playing under that clump of birch trees.
“I could use a few bucks, Bonnie. And maybe a cup of coffee if you got one.”
Bonnie scowled, but could not find it in her heart to turn away an old friend. Of course, Carl had been more than an old friend, which made matters tricky. Some things, she thought, are best left in the past. Still, here was Carl Copeland come to her looking so…she didn’t know what…broken and wanting for something. Bonnie unfolded her arms, unaware that she’d crossed them over her chest, and sighed. “I think I have a cup of coffee, but it’s not fresh anymore.”
“That’s all right,” Carl said, brightening.
“You wait out here in the yard. I’ll bring it out.” Carl nodded and she called Johnny to her.
In the kitchen, Bonnie fretted. What would John say if he knew Carl had turned up at their home looking for handouts? He would not like it one bit. Not one bit. All the same, she wouldn’t want him missing any appointments on account of an old acquaintance passing through town. She shook her head at how bad Carl looked. She had heard from her folks he’d made it home in one piece. She thought that meant he was fine. No one had told her…no one had prepared her for this. But how could they? You can tell when someone lost a leg over there. What do you say about that look in the eyes? Or that someone might come sneaking out from behind your barn? Bonnie shook her head again at all that trouble. She just didn’t know what to do with it, so she took a few dollars out of her purse and told Johnny to stay in the kitchen and draw at the big old table. He sat on his stool, a box of crayons and pad of paper in front of him. “Mum-mum-mum-mum,” he babbled as he picked up a yellow crayon. Bonnie kissed the top of his head and carried the coffee outside, her son’s sweet voice following her through the house.
“Here you go,” she said.
Carl came closer to her and the house. He held out his hand for the coffee cup, and something in his posture reminded Bonnie of a dog begging for scraps. When she had known him, he was strong and ambitious, but that seemed like a million years ago now.
“Mind if I sit?” Carl said. “I could just sit on the bottom step there.” He eased onto the step and blew on the coffee, though Bonnie had told him it wasn’t fresh.
She remained standing in the yard, facing him, unconsciously folding her arms across her chest. “Carl, how’ve you been?”
Carl shook his head and whistled through his teeth. “Oh man, Bonnie, ain’t that a question now? The short answer is I’ve been bad.” He laughed a dry rasping sound that led into a cough. “I’ve been bad in more ways than one. It’s unbelievable what you see over there in the jungle. Only thing worse than what you see is what you do.” Carl lifted his gaze to meet Bonnie’s and when their eyes connected, she couldn’t help shrinking away from him. He looked at the ground again and took a swig of coffee. “This is good coffee, Bonnie.” He stood up and drank the coffee down before handing her back the cup. “I should get going.”
As Carl walked past her to the drive, Bonnie put her hand out and touched his arm. He jumped near out of his skin. “I’m sorry,” she said, breathless with surprise. “I have a few dollars for you.”
He held out his hand. Dirt had become embedded all around the nails and ragged cuticles. Bonnie had the fleeting urge to stick his hands under her kitchen faucet and take a nail brush to them. She pulled the money from her pocket and set it on his palm. “Thank you,” Carl said. She watched him walk away from her as far as the barn, then went inside and locked the door behind her. Bonnie forgot about the laundry basket sitting outside under the clothesline and Joh
nny’s cowboys and Indians under the birch trees. They spent the rest of the day inside and Bonnie, unnerved from the encounter, let Johnny watch both Sesame Street and Clancy and Company.
Bonnie heard the car in the drive and ran out to greet John. She flew off the porch and threw her arms around his neck before he’d had a chance to walk around his Ford Maverick. “Now that’s how a man likes to be greeted.” He hugged Bonnie and returned her kisses. “But what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing really. I just missed you.”
“All that and you just missed me?” John let her go and stooped to get his cases from the front seat.
“I had a thought that something horrible might happen today. It was only a silly notion, but you know how my mind fixes on something and then I have one idea after another.” Bonnie held the door open for John when they reached the house.
“I’m glad it was only an idea.” He put his cases in the music room, which he used as his office, and when he came back out Johnny was running to him, a bib smeared in applesauce flapping against his chest. “Daddy! Daddy!” John bent and put out his arms to catch the toddler and swing him up into a hug. They growled at each other like wild bears until Johnny lost himself in a fit of giggles. “What is that smell?” John asked Bonnie.
“I have my macaroni and cheese in the oven.”
“With the garlic?”
“Mm-hm.”
Bonnie took her son’s bib and returned to the kitchen. John carried Johnny into the living room, calling after her, “Where are his cowboys and Indians?”
“Oh, John, I’m sorry. I think we left them outside with the laundry.”
“I’ll get them.”
“Do you have to? It’ll wait until morning, won’t it?”
“Are you afraid a tree’s going to fall on me?” he teased with a chuckle.
“All right, you.” Bonnie left her men to themselves and went to set the table.
When supper was ready, she found them lying on the rug with the cowboys and Indians in a shoot out. Bonnie put her hands on her hips, preparing to scold them for playing at killing each other, but John spoke first.
“We couldn’t find one of the cowboys, Bonnie. I wish you had gathered them up right away.”
“I’m sorry, honey. We forgot is all.”
“You’re acting awfully funny tonight. Maybe you do have a bun in there!” John leapt up from the rug and grabbed Bonnie. He pulled up her shirtfront and kissed her belly all over until she couldn’t control her laughter.
“Johnny, help Mommy. Help!”
Johnny ran to her and, at his father’s prompting, tickled her. They laughed and were silly until they fell into a heap on the floor. “Now listen, you two,” Bonnie said. “Supper is on the table. Getting cold. Go and wash up.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sykes.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sykes,” Johnny said, parroting his father.
John poured them some wine at the sideboard while Bonnie tied a fresh bib on Johnny. She helped him get a couple noodles on his fork before picking up her glass of wine. “Mmm. This is nice tonight.”
John bowed his head, the gallant knight at her service.
“How was work today, dear?”
“It was the same as always.” John drove from one drug store to another, meeting with managers to show them a line of quality incidental merchandise, from greeting cards to novelty gifts. He always said the best part of his job was the driving. “I have some news for you, Bonnie.”
“You do?” She helped Johnny with his fork, whispering to him while listening to John.
“I got the mail on the way in and I read one of the letters right there at the box. It was from the Van Hauser company.”
Bonnie looked up from their son.
“I got an interview.”
“John, that’s wonderful! How could you wait all this time to tell me?”
“It’s only an interview. I don’t have the job yet. I have to call in the morning and set the appointment. It’s all the way over in Madison. Depending on the time of the appointment, I might have to spend a night.”
“That’s all right, honey.”
“Van Hauser is a company with some history, you know? And menswear is so much better than stupid little cards and trinkets. And this is a company where I could grow. From sales rep to sales manager. Maybe one day regional vice president.”
Bonnie raised her wineglass to her husband. “To your new job, and the future regional vice president.”
“I don’t have it yet.”
“You will.” She clinked her glass with his. “I can feel it.”
Chapter Nine
Strings of lights set the Water Wheel Café aglow. Fresh white table cloths covered all the tables, and candles glowed warmly in their glass holders. Jess put a spatula in her pan of spanakopita and surveyed the food tables. She had also brought artichoke dip and olive tapenade, bags of pita bread and crackers and breadsticks. And since the party was her idea, she had split the liquor cost with Tyler, which he happily supplied at his cost. Jess had made an invitation and delivered it to the business owners of Skoghall. She had billed the party as a launch of the new River Road season. Once Memorial Day hit, the village would be swamped with traffic Thursday through Monday and it was time, the invitation announced, to celebrate the end of winter and beginning of a new season of prosperity.
This party was all that had kept her sane over the last week. She couldn’t leave Shakti alone for a moment. The puppy was always under her feet, tripping her up, or crying incessantly if Jess left the room. Every time she put the cowboy somewhere she didn’t have to look at it, it reappeared on top of her roll top desk. The front of her bedroom was unnaturally cold, and she was having bad dreams. Every time she tried to contact Chandra, she either mysteriously forgot or her technology failed. It was too bad, because Chandra loved a party. Tyler hadn’t been available most of the week, what with preparing for the tourist season, making sure he had staff to cover the increase in business, all his supplies stocked, his menu printed, and whatever else went into running a café in a tourist town. When Jess wasn’t trying—and failing—to write, she was happily planning this party.
Tyler had spent last night at Jess’s house and she rode into town with him in the morning. They spent the day together at the café, making final preparations for the new kids’ big splash onto the Skoghall social scene.
Tyler came out of the kitchen and eyed his dining room. “It looks nice, Jess.”
“Just nice?”
“Really nice.” He put his arms around her waist. “I might leave the lights up after the party.”
“Good.” She kissed his cheek. She had worn a summery dress and sandals. Most people would probably wear shorts and t-shirts, but she couldn’t resist the floral sundress. Working from home and meant she was dressed down ninety-nine percent of the time. Tyler’s hands slid from her waist to her hips as he admired her figure, then slipped around the back to flirt with her ass. “People could arrive any second,” she reminded him as she pushed her hips out.
“And they’ll see me holding your ass?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Let them be jealous.”
Jess laughed and pulled away playfully just as the screen door opened. She had hand-delivered the invitations, giving her a chance to meet most of the business people on Main Street, and now she hoped she could keep the names and faces straight. Lora Zabrowski carried a bowl of pasta salad into the dining room. She owned the antique store between the café and the inn. Jess greeted her and showed her where to put the pasta as Dave came in, carrying a bag of chips and tub of dip. Tyler greeted Dave with a firm handshake. And so their hosting duties went as the café filled with their guests.
Beckett was among the last to arrive, carrying a ceramic fondue pot in oven mitts with a bag over his shoulder. Jess ushered him to the food table and rearranged things so he could set down the pot. “Did you make this?”
“I did a line of fondue pots a couple years ago whe
n fondue parties got trendy.” He took a metal holder and tin of gelled fuel out of his shoulder bag as he spoke.
“I had no idea you’re so commercial,” Jess teased. She unloaded the rest of his bag, pulling out bamboo skewers and containers of strawberries, dried fruit, lady finger cookies, pretzels… “Geez, Beckett, you went all out. Nobody’s going to leave the fondue with this set up.”
He stirred the chocolate mixture and shrugged. His longish blond hair had a ski bum quality about it. Jess would have been dismissive of him in other circumstances, but Beckett didn’t seem to care one way or another about people’s opinions, which helped him wear the look. Jess suspected he would get away with any look between his cool demeanor and those damn blue eyes.
“Hey, Beckett.” Tyler slid in next to Jess. “Can I grab you a drink?”
“Sure. Red wine tonight, I think.”
Tyler withdrew his hand from Jess’s waist and stepped over to the drinks table to pour Beckett’s glass of wine.
“I love that pot. Do you have any more?” Jess asked.
“Not for a while now, but I can make you one.” He tapped his spoon against the side of the fondue pot, satisfied the chocolate was smooth and ready to eat.
“That would be great.”
“What would?” Tyler reappeared at Jess’s side and held a glass of wine toward Beckett.
“Beckett’s going to make me a fondue pot.” Jess smiled at Tyler, her excitement shining in her eyes. Tyler did not return the smile, and Jess’s faded as he again put a hand on her waist.
“There’s Lora,” Beckett said. “I’ll introduce you two.”
Beckett crossed the room, weaving between people, pausing to say hello, shaking hands and clapping shoulders. Jess and Tyler trailed him, smiling at their guests, the guests they did not really know. Jess counted faces, ticking off names in her head, promising herself she would talk to everyone before the night was out. Tyler’s hand on her elbow was like a weight she had in tow.
“Lora,” Beckett said. She lifted her eyebrows and made an O of her mouth when she saw Beckett, wagging her finger at him. Whatever she was about to say, he cut it off. “I want you to meet Jessica Vernon.”
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