Nearest Thing to Heaven (Maverick Junction)

by Austin, Lynnette

  Bubba slid his beer down the bar, and Ty took a healthy drink.

  “Here you go.” The bartender plopped chips and salsa in front of him. “Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  “Holler if you need another.” He tipped his head at the beer.

  “Thanks, but one’s good.”

  Munching chips, Ty pulled a small bag out of his shirt pocket and removed the small trinket. A tiny ornament. The fairy from Peter Pan. Tinker Bell. He’d spotted it at one of the shops they’d gone into. He flicked it with his finger and watched it twirl at the end of the green satin ribbon.

  His chest ached. If nothing else, Tink had uncovered a part of him that had been missing for years now.

  He supposed he should be happy about that.

  Yeah. And maybe he would be. Someday. But not tonight.

  Tonight it hurt.

  Crossing the dance floor where a couple Texas two-stepped, he dug some quarters from his pocket. Plugging them into the shiny chrome Wurlitzer, he punched in the buttons—twice—for “The Keeper of the Stars”. When it played, he remembered dancing across this very floor with Sophie snuggled up close.

  “Sure you don’t want another beer?” Bubba called. “You’re empty.”

  “Yeah, hit me again.” He might as well, because he sure wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. He hadn’t felt like this since—never. He’d never felt quite like this before.

  But after this drink, he was done. Two was his limit. The boys would be up early tomorrow whether he’d been to bed or not.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Everybody Ty ran into at Sadler’s was in a chatty mood, from Mrs. Sandburg, his second-grade teacher, to the shelf-stocker. They asked about his boys and commented on the weather. Then, invariably, the conversation turned to Sophie, as if he and Sophie were an item or something. They weren’t. Damn meddlers. How was he supposed to get her out of his system if they kept throwing her in his face?

  Gritting his teeth against the saccharine-sweet “Holly Jolly Christmas” that played over the store’s speakers, he focused on his list.

  “Hey, Ty.”

  His head jerked up, and he silently groaned.

  Bubba stood in front of the meat counter, one foot perched on a cart’s rung. “Decided I’d better pick up some more ground beef before the lunch crowd hits after church. Almost sold out last night, and my delivery won’t be in till tomorrow.”

  Ty grunted in response.

  “How you doing today?”

  “I’ve got a headache if you really want to know,” Ty snarled.

  Bubba made a disgusted sound. “You used to be able to handle more than a couple beers.”

  “Yeah, and I used to smack people around when they pissed me off.”

  “No, you didn’t. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

  Ty, who’d already pushed away, whipped back to look at Bubba. He swore when the quick movement sent another shot of pain through his already abused head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You. You weren’t like some of the other kids. You never bullied the ones who didn’t quite fit in. You took time for them. Helped them out.”

  “Now you’re seriously pissing me off, Bubba. You’re making me sound like a damn pansy.”

  Bubba’s brow quirked, and he pulled thoughtfully at his bottom lip. “Nope. Definitely not a pansy. You could whip anybody’s ass when they had it coming. But you didn’t go looking for it, and you didn’t dump it on someone who already had their plate full.”

  Bubba met his gaze. “We go way back, Ty. You’re a hell of a nice guy. Your own plate’s been pretty damn full lately, and you’re handling it with class. But—” He scratched his head. “I gotta say I think you’re blowing it when it comes to a certain pretty little blonde from up north.”

  “Screw yourself, Bubba. Nothing’s going on between Sophie and me.”

  “Now ain’t that a damn shame.”

  “Here you go, Bubba.” The butcher handed him his package of meat. He dropped it into his cart and walked away, leaving Ty mad as a hornet and with no one to take it out on.

  His parents had stopped by on the way to church while he was wrestling the boys into clean but un-ironed outfits for Sunday school. His mom had helped, right after she’d slid a casserole of beef stew into his fridge. Since nobody made beef stew like his mom, he was grateful. They’d have it for dinner tonight.

  At the deli he grabbed a loaf of French bread to go with it. In the produce section, he tossed a bag of salad in his cart. And there you go. A well-balanced meal.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he muttered.

  “Talking to yourself?”

  Ty turned and saw Mel behind him. “What’s up? Is the entire population of Maverick Junction shopping today?”

  “Don’t know about everybody else, but I have to get it done on my day off.”

  “Yeah, well, consider yourself lucky to have one. In the ranching business, there is no such thing.”

  “True enough. Heard you hit Bubba’s last night. Why didn’t you give me a call? I’d have met you there.”

  “Oh, for— Does the town set off some warning signal when I step out of the house without my kids?”

  Mel shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Then how the hell did you know where I was last night?”

  “Ran into Bubba in the candy section while I was debating between Peppermint Patties and Three Musketeers. He told me to watch out, that you were on the loose and baited for bear.”

  Frustrated, Ty sighed and tossed two gallons of milk in his buggy. “I’m fine.” Seeing the look of concern on his friend’s face, he added, “Really.”

  “Okay. But if this is about Sophie—”

  “It’s not about Sophie.”

  Mel’s brows shot up.

  “Okay. It is. But I don’t need any help.”

  “Talk to her. Whatever went wrong, just talk to her. And take her flowers. Tell her you’re sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For whatever you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “I’ve got to go, Mel.” He headed to the checkout.

  Why did everyone assume he did something? Why couldn’t Sophie be in the wrong? Hell, Sophie was in the wrong. She was the one who’d called things off. Not that they’d had a thing.

  As he carried his groceries to the truck, he thought about what Mel had said. Maybe he and Sophie should talk. They weren’t right for each other. Not long-term. That was a given. But he hated like heck to have her go back to Chicago with this thing hanging in the air between them. Upset with each other.

  He turned the key in the ignition, and the radio blared “Joy to the World.” Rather than put the truck in drive, he simply sat there, truck running, in the middle of the parking lot.

  He needed to sort this out in his mind before he descended on her.

  Bottom line? She’d rained on his parade, and he was having a heck of a time forgiving her. He’d looked forward to their night out more than he probably should have. He’d had a better time than he probably should have. He’d liked kissing her. Way more than he should have.

  And today? He really ought to be on top of the world. He wasn’t. Because she’d been honest with him. Told him she needed to end it.

  The upshot of it all, though? He’d broken through some kind of barrier, one he hadn’t realized existed. A huge chunk of him had died and been buried with Julia.

  Now, life stirred again in him.

  It felt wonderful.

  It hurt.

  Guilt, heavy as a full-grown steer, settled over him.

  Throwing his truck in reverse, he backed out of his space. This thing, whatever it was, could wait until tomorrow. He’d give both of them some breathing room. Today, he and Sonny and a couple of the other guys planned to shore up the south pasture fencing. He’d take the boys along, and they could play while the
men worked.

  The fresh air would do them all good. Then they’d head back to a home-cooked meal.

  What could be better?

  He and his boys were doing just fine.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sophie’s bed looked like a couple of rhinos had spent the night in it. Covers tumbled to the floor, a pillow lay halfway across the room, and the sheets had been pulled out.

  She sighed. Monday morning. The beginning of a new week, and she was still miserable. She’d dragged through yesterday as though waiting for the executioner’s ax and prayed she’d wake today feeling lighter. Feeling okay.

  She didn’t.

  Grabbing the sheet, she set about trying to restore order to the bed, since she wasn’t having much luck doing the same to her life. She ran a hand over Lilybelle’s back. The cat had decided to help by standing smack-dab in the middle of everything, making progress nearly impossible. Sophie solved the problem by carrying the cat to the window seat. Happy in the warm sunshine, Lilybelle curled up in a tight ball and purred contentedly, her tail twitching occasionally.

  Once she’d put the bed to rights, Sophie fixed a cup of tea. Standing at the door, soothed by the tea, the cat winding around her legs, she spotted Dottie in her garden.

  In her robe and slippers, Sophie stepped out onto the landing. “Need help?”

  “I wouldn’t say no. We’ve got a cold snap coming, so I need to get these roses mulched.”

  “Give me a minute.” Hurrying inside, she threw on a faded pair of jeans and her Cubs sweatshirt. Then she dragged a brush through her tousled hair and ran down the steps, Lilybelle close behind.

  It felt good to be outside. To be physically busy. She and Dottie chatted as they worked. A pale sun shone on the roses and the other late-blooming flowers.

  Dottie straightened suddenly. “Goldie. Hello.”

  Sophie’s hands stilled on the upended bag of mulch. Oh, boy.

  “Sophie, you remember Goldie Taylor, don’t you? I believe you met at the wedding. She’s Matt’s mother.”

  And Julia’s mom.

  “Yes. We shared Thanksgiving at Babs’s,” Sophie managed.

  “Oh, of course. I forgot you were all going there,” Dottie said.

  Dread settled in Sophie’s stomach. At Thanksgiving, she hadn’t yet spent the better part of Saturday night with this woman’s dead daughter’s husband. Hadn’t kissed him. Hadn’t wished for more. Oh, boy in triplicate!

  Mrs. Taylor couldn’t possibly know, though. There was no way. Still, Goldie’s warm smile, rather than the reprimanding glare her guilt expected, surprised Sophie.

  “It’s good to see you again, Sophie. Have you heard from Cash and Annie?”

  Safe territory. She grabbed on to it. “I talked to Annie on Friday. They’re having a wonderful time and expect to be home later this week.” Her mind raced, searching for more conversation that didn’t involve Ty.

  Before she could come up with anything, Goldie said, “I was on my way to the post office. When I saw you and Dottie working out here, I wondered if we might talk.”

  Sophie’s mouth went dry as she forced a nod. Had Goldie heard about her date with Ty? But she was smiling, wasn’t she? A real smile or fake? Times like this, Sophie cursed her overactive imagination.

  Well, if Goldie asked, Sophie’d confess that she and Ty had gone out, but she’d make it perfectly clear it had been a fluke. The two of them weren’t seeing each other anymore. They’d ended it Saturday night. Whatever it was. Pain sliced through her heart.

  Oh, she wanted Ty’s kisses, his warm body next to hers, inside her. She wanted so much. Too much. Because of that, she’d said good-bye.

  How long until one of those other women Maggie’d mentioned warmed his bed? Won his heart? The pain in her own intensified till she could barely breathe. Suck it up. You’ll get over it. Over him.

  Ty was country and liked living on the prairie surrounded by cows with long, pointed horns. His arms filled with three beautiful sons.

  Dottie brushed mulch off her knees and tossed her gardening gloves onto an upturned pot. “Why don’t I give you two a little privacy? I tried out a new cookie recipe this morning. I’ll go plate some for us, along with a fresh pot of coffee.”

  “That would be wonderful, Dottie. Thank you.” Goldie sat on a wooden bench and motioned for Sophie to join her.

  Watching Dottie’s retreating back, Sophie understood what a passenger who’d fallen from a cruise ship must feel like as he watched the vessel sail away. Slowly, she removed her borrowed gloves and walked to the bench. Sitting down, she stared at the toes of her worn sneakers.

  “You’re good for him.”

  Sophie’s head snapped up at the quietly spoken words. “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  She tilted her head. “We are talking about Ty, aren’t we?”

  Goldie smiled. “We are.” She took Sophie’s cold hands in her own warm ones. “There’s life in Ty’s eyes again, a life that left when Julia died. It’s come back.”

  The older woman raised one hand and placed it on the side of Sophie’s face. “My husband and I want that. We really do. We love Ty. Through everything, despite everything, he loved our little girl and was devoted to her. When…when her condition deteriorated, he took such good care of her. He never left her side.” Tears swam in her eyes. “Bill and I watched them both die that day at the hospital, helpless to do anything.”

  Sophie’s brows pulled together, questioningly. Her throat burned.

  A single tear trailed down Goldie’s cheek. “We buried one, and for over four years now, we’ve watched Ty wander through life with a hole in him that’s so huge, it’s left him crippled. In those first months, that first year, his pain was nearly unbearable to see.”

  Goldie swiped at the tear.

  “Oh, he loves those boys. Don’t get me wrong. But a big part of him seemed to have disappeared. We were afraid it was gone forever.” She squeezed Sophie’s hand. “You’ve given it back to him, and we’re happy.”

  “I was afraid—”

  “We’d see you as an interloper?” She shook her head. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my heart was heavy for just a moment when I first saw that spark rekindle in Ty’s eyes. But, it’s time we all moved on. Especially Ty. Our grandbabies need that. They’ve never known Ty as he was before. Those boys need to see him happy. They deserve it.

  Sophie bit her lip and nodded.

  “We don’t begrudge his interest in you, Sophie. We welcome it. I wanted to be sure you understand that.”

  “Ty’s the one who can’t accept it,” Sophie murmured.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We broke up.” She grimaced. She hadn’t meant to say that. But her conscience couldn’t let this woman hold false hope. “Well, we didn’t actually break up,” she stammered. “I mean, how can you break up with someone you’re not really—” She circled her hand. “I don’t know how to describe what we had.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’m the one who actually ended it.” She met Goldie’s eyes. “I can’t be with him. I’m afraid if I let myself, I’d…I’m sorry. He loved your daughter very much. He still does, and he’s closed himself off. I have to protect myself.”

  “I guess that explains why he was at Bubba’s late Saturday night.”

  Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “He was?”

  “Our neighbor saw him there.”

  “Small towns,” Sophie muttered.

  “Yes.” Goldie smiled sadly. “We knew, too, beforehand, he was taking you out to dinner.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened, and Goldie laughed. “Not much goes on in Maverick Junction that’s a secret. Which can be good or bad. Depending. But when Ray told us Ty’d been at the bar putting down the drafts and listening to ‘The Keeper of the Stars,’ I wondered.”

  “‘The Keeper of the Stars’?”

  Goldie nodded.

  “That’s the fi
rst song we danced to. At Bubba’s.”

  “I’m going to take that as a very good sign, sweetheart. Please do this old woman a favor and don’t pack your bags yet.”

  “I don’t plan to. I’m actually working here right now.”

  Goldie looked past Sophie. “Ah, here’s Dottie with refreshments.” She gave Sophie’s hand another little squeeze. “If you need me, all you have to do is call. Bill and I will do whatever we can.”

  Leaning closer, she said, “And that includes watching those precious little boys if the two of you need a night alone.”

  Heat flared in Sophie’s cheeks. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Dottie, these look wonderful.” Goldie rose and took the tray from her friend, placing it on the flat top of the little rock wall. “What a pleasant way to start the day. Friends, sunshine, and cookies.”

  *

  Sophie liked Ty’s mother-in-law. The woman had a heart the size of Texas. She’d lost her child. There could be nothing more devastating. Yet here she was playing matchmaker for her daughter’s widower.

  It tore Sophie apart. But as badly as she felt for Julia’s parents, self-preservation was stronger and demanded she stay far, far away from Ty Rawlins. With one touch, one smile, she’d be running straight into his arms…and heartache.

  On her drawing pad, she added a few more bluebonnets to the card design. Even as her fingers created with clear, quick strokes, her mind wandered to all the wonderful people she’d met in Maverick Junction and how much they’d come to mean to her.

  Glancing up, she caught a glimpse through the window of Dottie moving around in her peony pink kitchen. Strange how reassuring that was.

  The garden, so peaceful, felt like home. But it wasn’t. Chicago was home.

  Go, Cubs!

  When she left, Dottie would run an ad in the Maverick Junction Daily, and someone else would move into Annelise’s Tiffany blue apartment. They’d probably repaint it no-color white. They might even get rid of Cash’s grandpa’s old, comfy couch and replace it with some modern piece of chrome and leather.

  That was reality. Things changed.

  She had to remember that for all she loved this town and its people, she wasn’t a part of it, of them. Her apartment, her beautiful apartment, so close to Wrigley Field, would feel empty after her time here, though.