A Soldier's Song

by Irene Onorato

  “Actually, ma’am, I was wondering if I might be able to talk to the major for a minute or two.” Clarifying his motives for seeing Aria could help ease Greco’s mind. He knew the boss well enough to sense a bit of tension in that regard.

  “I’m sorry, but Dave isn’t home right now. He’s gone to his brother Angelo’s to help with a furnace problem.” Waving with an open hand, she invited him toward the sofa.

  Dex took a seat and picked up a picture frame from the end table. In it, Aria stood between two blondes who bore a strong resemblance to Mrs. Greco. “Your daughters, I assume?”

  “Yes, Kayla and Lauren are away at college. I’m hoping they’ll come home for Christmas break, but Kay has a job she really enjoys, and Lauren has a serious boyfriend. I’m not sure they—”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. They’ll be here.” Aria’s voice preceded her into the living room. She came in, stood next to her mother, and smiled at Dex while she put on her coat. “Hi, I’m ready whenever you are.”

  Dex rose from the couch. “Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Greco.”

  “You too. Have fun, guys.”

  At the car, Dex opened the passenger door for Aria then hurried around to the driver’s seat. He started the engine and let it idle. “I hope you don’t mind, but I planned on us having lunch at my grandfather’s house. Pop doesn’t get a lot of company, and he’s been alone since my grandmother passed away last year around the holidays. It seemed to lift his spirit when I suggested asking you to the house.”

  Her smile assured a positive response was on the way. “I’d love to have lunch with the two of you. How sweet of you to think so much of your grandpa.”

  “He’s a good old guy. You’ll like him.” Dex pulled out his smartphone, thumbed Pop’s number, and put the call on speakerphone. “Hey, Pop. Got her. We’re on our way.”

  “Did you let the car heat up real good before you let her in? Wouldn’t want her to freeze her a—”

  “Pop, I’ve got you on speakerphone, and Aria’s sitting right next to me.”

  Aria stifled a giggle with a hand over her mouth.

  “Oops. Hello, Aria. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Hi. Can’t wait to meet you either.”

  “Hey, Jason,” Pop said. “We forgot all about dessert. Would it be too much trouble for you to stop at Middleton’s and pick something up? They’ve got a good tiramisu in their bakery department. You like tiramisu, Aria?”

  “Yes, sir. I love it. Dex and I would be glad to stop and pick it up.”

  “See you in a little while.” Dex ended the call and started down the road. “I appreciate your willingness to spend some time with me and Pop. I’m sure it struck you as a little weird when I first brought it up.”

  “Not at all.” Aria smiled. “Family is everything to me. I’m glad it’s important to you too.”

  Family was indeed important to him. If it weren’t so, the strained relationship with his father wouldn’t be such a huge source of unhappiness.

  * * * *

  Middleton Market’s automatic door swished open as Dex approached with Aria by his side. “The bakery is in the back corner, over there.” He led the way around a candy rack and down a side aisle.

  The lone bakery worker looked up from behind the counter where she stood boxing a half-sheet cake. “Be right with you folks soon as I finish up with this order for these nice people.” She smiled at the elderly couple waiting by the glass display.

  “Thanks, no hurry.” Dex turned to Aria. “Would you mind staying here and ordering the cake while I go grab something to drink with lunch? The sodas are just two aisles over.”

  “Not at all. Go ahead. I’ve got this.”

  Dex stopped at a five-dollar DVD rack on his way to the soft drink section and thumbed through the action and sci-fi offerings for a few minutes. Nothing new. Same as last time he’d looked. He went down the drink aisle, pulled a two-liter Sprite from one shelf, and a bottle of Pop’s favorite root beer from another.

  A squeaky-wheeled shopping cart came up the aisle behind him, and a woman called his name. “Dex, wait up.”

  He stopped and turned. “Jasmine?”

  “Oh, my gosh, it is you! I was reaching for a container of yogurt on the back wall when I caught a glimpse of you turning down the aisle. It’s so good to see you.” She rushed closer and leaned in as if to plant a quick kiss on his lips.

  “Back off, Jasmine.” Dex raised a hand as a barrier. “Don’t even think about kissing me.”

  * * * *

  Aria froze near the turn for the soft drink aisle. The sound of Dex and Jasmine’s voices stopped her in her tracks. A stab of jealousy came as a surprise and kicked her pulse up a notch. Clutching the box of tiramisu to her chest, she took half a step backward. It would be embarrassing to be caught eavesdropping.

  “I’m sorry,” Jasmine said. “You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?”

  “You got that straight.” Bitterness ran through Dex’s words.

  “It’s over between me and Andrew, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know, and I don’t care. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding yourself another fireman. Or maybe you’d prefer a cop this time.”

  “That’s a cruel thing to say. Breaking up with you was a mistake. I realize that now. I miss you, Dex. Maybe we can get together. See if we can work things out?”

  “I’m not interested, and there’s nothing to work out. It’s over and I’ve moved on.”

  “Are you seeing someone?”

  “Yeah, I’ve met someone, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Aria took a deep breath. Dex and Jasmine’s conversation seemed to serve no purpose other than to irritate Dex. Putting on an air of nonchalance, she turned into the aisle. “There you are. I got the cake you wanted, and—oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She feigned as much surprise as she could and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Dex, coat sleeves touching.

  Tall and pretty with long, straight red hair and green eyes, Jasmine could easily pass for a runway model. Skinny jeans hugged her lanky legs, and swanky high-heeled leather boots finished her ensemble. Overkill for a trip to the supermarket, but fashionable nonetheless.

  Dex glanced at the cake box in Aria’s arms. “Good, we’d better get going then.”

  “But, wait.” Jasmine’s pasted-on smile lacked even a hint of warmth. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend before you go?”

  “Actually, no, I’m not. Goodbye, Jasmine.”

  Dex guided Aria around Jasmine, strode toward the front of the store, and put the drinks and tiramisu on the conveyor belt at the nearest cash register. Finally, his tense expression relaxed. “I’m sorry about what happened back there. I don’t know how much you heard from around the corner, but I’m sure I came off as some kind of ogre.”

  Heat rushed to Aria’s head. Surely her cheeks were crimson. “You—you knew I was there?”

  “Yeah, I caught your reflection in a mirror behind the fancy bottled-water rack.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened in on your conversation. That was wrong of me.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m more concerned about—hold on. Let me pay for this stuff and we’ll talk about it in the car.”

  They went to the car and put the purchased items in the back seat. Dex opened the passenger door then corralled Aria between it and the body of the car.

  Nervous tingles shot up her neck to her jaw.

  Dex leaned an elbow on the open doorframe. “I’m sure you’re curious about what just happened. Why I went off on her and acted like a jerk when I could have excused myself and walked away.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but you don’t owe me an explanation. And you didn’t sound like a jerk. You sounded like—never mind. It’s not my place to specul
ate about your personal feelings. After all, I barely know you.”

  “No, please.” A small smile lifted Dex’s lips. “Tell me, if I didn’t sound like a jerk, what did I sound like?”

  Voicing her opinion on the matter didn’t seem proper. It was none of her business.

  “It’s okay to speak freely. I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.”

  “All right then. You sounded like a man who had been hurt by a woman he once cared for. And that doesn’t sound like a jerk at all to me.”

  “Very perceptive, and you’re correct.” Dex stared for a long moment, his gaze probing deep into her eyes. “Is there any way we can pretend that little episode in Middleton’s didn’t happen?”

  “Pretend what little episode in Middleton’s didn’t happen? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Thank you.” Dex’s face split into a big smile. “Let’s get going. I’m sure Pop is wondering what’s taking us so long.”

  Chapter 5

  DEXTER FARMS. Cheery and colorful, the wooden sign at the head of the driveway pictured apples, grapes, and a variety of vegetables. Aria’s seat jiggled as Dex drove across a cattle guard and through an open gate onto the fenced property.

  Dex parked next to an older model pickup then went around and opened her door. “Here we are.”

  A covered porch spanned the front of a Victorian farmhouse. Aria climbed the steps and waited for Dex to open the front door. At his invitation, she entered ahead of him.

  The homey living room invited her in with warmth and the promise of comfort. The blues and tans of the couch, matching recliner, and easy chair reminded her of her own grandparents’ house. In the fireplace on the far wall to her left, wood and tinder lay ready for nothing more than a match to set it ablaze.

  “Pop, we’re here,” Dex called as he closed the front door and shut out the bitter cold. He set his bag on the nearest chair and turned to Aria. “Here, let me take your coat.”

  “Thank you.” Switching the cake box back and forth, she pulled one arm then the other out of her sleeves.

  Whatever reputation Dex had with other women, he’d shown nothing but gentlemanly respect for Aria. He treated her as if she were a princess who deserved to wear a bejeweled tiara. A girl would have to be crazy not to be attracted to him.

  “Pop? Where are you?” Dex took both their coats and hung them in a closet by the door.

  Dex’s grandfather came into the room. “Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I was checking something in the oven when I heard you guys come in.”

  “Aria,” Dex said, “this is my grandfather, Charlie Dexter. Pop, this is Aria.”

  Kind, deep brown eyes complemented Mr. Dexter’s dark, but graying hair. The smile that lifted his cheeks squeezed deep lines into well-etched crow’s feet at his temples. “Hello, Aria.” He shook her hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dexter.”

  “And I’m equally pleased to meet you. Everyone in town calls me Pop. You can too if you’d like. It’s a whole lot less formal than Mr. Dexter.”

  “All right then. Pop it is.” She pulled a big breath through her nose. “Something smells really good in here. I’m thinking Italian. Spaghetti sauce?”

  “Close. Chicken cacciatore. Everything’s ready. Just have to pull the garlic bread out of the oven in a minute or two, and we’ll be all set.”

  “Why don’t you and Aria get acquainted while I take care of that?” Dex patted his grandfather’s shoulder. “Aria, I’ll take the cake to the kitchen and put it in the fridge.”

  She handed over the bakery box, and Dex left the room with it.

  Photos and knickknacks decorated an upright piano that stood against the wall. Dust-free and polished, the lines and swirls of the wood grain caught Aria’s eye. “What a beautiful old piano. Looks like you’ve maintained it well. Do you play?”

  “No, my wife used to. She passed away last year, shortly after our fifty-second anniversary.”

  “I’m so very sorry.” The simple phrase didn’t seem to fully express her condolences for so great a loss. “That had to have been hard on you.”

  “It was. Celia and I had a good, long life together. I’m thankful for that.” The smile that had faded for a few moments reappeared as if flipped on by a switch. “Jason tells me you’re a regular virtuoso. Maybe we can get you to play something for us after lunch?”

  “Sure, I’d love to. Anything in particular you’d like to hear?”

  “I know what I’d like you to play.” Dex leaned cross-armed against the living room doorframe, his sculpted muscles filling the sleeves of his soft pullover. “But for now”—he pushed off the woodwork and motioned toward the kitchen—“let’s eat.”

  Minutes later they sat at the kitchen table with steaming plates of food and small bowls of tossed salad.

  Aria tore a piece of chicken from the bone with her fork and bit into it. Tender, juicy, and spiced to perfection, the cacciatore was the best she’d ever had. She twisted angel hair pasta around her fork, dragged it through some sauce and savored the flavor. “Mmm. Pop, this is awesome. You’re an excellent cook.”

  “Thanks.” Pop smiled. “But I can’t take credit for anything other than boiling the pasta and putting the bread in the oven. Jason got up early, shopped, and cooked everything this morning.”

  “Really? Aw, that’s so sweet.” Incredibly so. It would have been easier for Dex to take her to a restaurant than to go out of his way like he had. “Thank you.”

  Dex met her gaze. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “So tell me. What else are you good at besides cooking and shooting?”

  “Guess you’re going to have to stick around and find out.” He took a big bite of garlic bread and smiled with his eyes.

  * * * *

  “Good meal, Jason. I think you outdid yourself this time.” Wooden chair legs squealed on the tiles as Pop pushed back from the table.

  “Let me get that for you.” Dex rose, took Pop’s plate and utensils, and brought them to the sink. As many times as his grandfather had served Dex throughout his life, it brought him joy to return the favor, even with small things. “Relax. I’ll take care of the dishes and clean up the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. In that case”—Pop got up—“I think I’ll mosey into the living room and kick back in my recliner. Coffee pot’s loaded. Just push the button when you’re ready for it to brew.”

  Aria came to the sink and squeezed out a sponge. “I’ll clean the table and the stove.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll get it.” A guest didn’t need to pitch in to clean up, especially a female he was trying to impress. Not that he minded her company in the kitchen. Far from it. He welcomed her proximity, the smell of her perfumed hair, and her soft curves.

  “It’s no bother, really. Two can get it done in less than half the time.” She flashed a happy smile and wiped the spatter from the stovetop. “That’s an awfully big pot of cacciatore. Were you planning on feeding the whole county?” With a giggle, then an overemphasized grunt, she lifted the pot and moved it from one burner to another to clean under it.

  “No, when it cools, I’m going to divvy the rest into freezer containers for Pop. It’ll give him a few easy meals to heat on the fly.” And hopefully help to keep some meat on his bones. “Last time I was here, I made pot roast and gravy with a couple of sides and did the same. He said he really enjoyed having the convenience.”

  “I’m sure he did. It’s nice of you to do that for him. Do you drop in on him often when you come home to New York?”

  Dex loaded the last plate into the dishwasher and closed the door. “Not exactly. I—”

  Indigo jeans hugged Aria’s nicely proportioned backside as she leaned across the table dragging the sponge back and forth. The sliver of skin showing between her shir
t and pants added nicely to the view. Dex looked away as she straightened and turned toward the sink.

  She rinsed the sponge under running water. “You were saying?”

  “When I come home, this is where I stay. Been doing that since I joined the army. I’ve spent a few weekends here and there at Hank’s house. But mostly, I come here.” No need to tell Aria about the many weekends he’d spent at Jasmine’s during the months they’d been together. Weekends he now regretted. So far, getting involved with her ranked top on the list of his life’s biggest mistakes.

  Aria dried her hands on a dishtowel then hung it on the oven handle. “What about your parents? Do you ever stay with them?”

  “No, not really.” With so many failed attempts under his belt, he doubted he’d ever accept another of his mother’s invitations. It wasn’t worth the hassle. “I always preferred to stay with Pop. And my grandmother, of course, when she was alive. It’s peaceful here.”

  “Are you saying it’s not peaceful at your parents’ house?” She gave her mouth a little slap. “Sorry, it was tacky of me to ask that.”

  “Nothing wrong with asking questions. It’s how people get to know one another. I get along with my mom but not so much with my father. We’ve had a contentious relationship as far back as I can remember.” He’d spare her the unpleasant details. “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s sad. I hope one day you and your father can find a way to make peace.”

  Peace sounded good, but highly unlikely.

  “So, what was it you wanted me to play for you today?” Her smile reflected intuitive knowledge that a change of subject was the best course of action.

  “You had asked me to give my impression of the song you wrote. I think I need another dose of it to stir up my analytical juices. Did you bring the music?”

  “I did. It’s right here.” She patted the area over her heart.

  * * * *