by Linda Ford
"Hang on a minute." Holly pulled a foil-covered bundle from the basket and unwrapped it to reveal a plant covered in pink flowers.
Steele's jaw tightened even more. He couldn't tear his gaze from the pink as a churn of emotions flooded through him, staining every thought, burning away everything but the taste of anger. He hated pink flowers. He didn't realize he'd spoken the words aloud until he felt three people stare at him in surprise.
"Boy," Pops said. "That's downright rude of you. Holly, they're beautiful."
Steele closed his eyes and tried to blot from his mind the sight of those flowers. He sucked in sanity. Glanced at Holly. Her eager expression no longer existed. Instead, she looked hurt, offended. She blinked rapidly as if the wind had blown something into her eyes. His insides gave another vicious twist. "It's nothing personal, Holly. I'm sorry I said anything."
Holly nodded, but her smile seemed stiff and unnatural. "Apology accepted." She ducked her head and refused to look at him.
He could hardly blame her. Even though it wasn't anything to do with her, he understood he'd managed to attack something near and dear to her. He hadn't meant to hurt her and didn't care for the way it made him feel all prune-like inside. Somehow he had to make it up to her.
He headed her direction intending to—
Pops pulled Jean to his side. "Now take our picture."
Holly turned on her camera and took a couple of exposures.
Steele stopped, filled with confusion at the sight of Pops and Jean with their arms around each other, smiling into each other's faces with such—
Steele shook his head. They were old friends, enjoying memories of the past. There could be nothing more. They'd both married others, raised families, lived whole lives without once seeing each other. No way could they fall in love so easily. Unless they were desperate. Which was not a good way to be around love.
And Holly smiling and encouraging them? He wanted to put an end to this whole scene. No. He wanted to be part of it instead of outside it. How could he want such differing things at the same time? What was going on inside his head? Whatever it was felt unfamiliar and scary. He needed to eat before his brain grew any fuzzier. But everyone else seemed more interested in pictures.
"This one is perfect." Holly handed the camera to Jean.
Jean blushed to the roots of her hair. "I look like a star struck kid."
"You're beautiful when you blush," Pops said. "I remember that about you."
"Oh you." She fluttered her hands and turned to Holly. "Now you and Steele."
All Steele's efforts to get his thoughts squared away failed. He backed up. He could not be part of this...this...
Holly shook her head. "Un uh. This is your picnic."
"Come on, boy. Get over here," Pops roared.
No way did Steele want to pose behind that bunch of pretty pink flowers. Steele looked at Holly, saw a reflection of his horror. He blinked. What did she have to be so antagonistic about? Apart from the pink-flower comment, he'd been nothing but charming. She must have a problem of some sort that had nothing to do with him.
Her resistance made him change his mind. He could handle this. It was only a posed picture. It meant nothing. "Sure, why not?" He took a step toward the table, focused on the pink flowers and paused.
"Oh give it up." Holly plucked the plant off the table and set it on the ground. "Just for this picture then it goes back."
She showed Jean how to use the camera then joined him behind the table.
Pops groaned. "Show a little affection. Put your arm around her. Stop looking like you've got a toothache. Come on, Holly. Show him how much you care."
Holly laughed. "Yes, Henry." And she put her arm around Steele's waist and pinched him.
He jumped. "Hey." He glowered down at her.
She smiled up as sweet as honey on morning toast. "Smile, Steele." She dropped her voice to a low whisper. "Even if it kills you or I'll pinch you again. You are not going to ruin Nan's special day with hating pink flowers and grumbling about everything nice."
He bared his teeth. "How's this."
"Most attractive." She smiled toward her grandmother.
"All done," Jean announced. "Want to see?"
Holly glanced at the picture so quickly he knew she couldn't have seen it.
He did the same. "Can we eat now? I'm starved."
"I'll get right at it." She put the flowers back on the table and opened the cooler.
He wasn't fooled by the false cheerfulness of her voice. Beneath the polite words he heard anger. Well, he was doing his best. She should at least give him credit for trying.
She pulled out a tray of finger food—tiny cubes of cheese on toothpicks, grape-sized tomatoes, slices of cucumber, baby carrots and coils of deli meat.
His hunger grabbed at his gut. He could clean off that whole tray and not fill a quarter of his empty stomach. He waited for the good stuff.
Out came a plastic covered silver plate with tiny little sandwiches—crusts cut off, cookie-cutter, fancy shapes.
There had to be more to eat than that or he would starve.
Another plate. This one piled high with a tower of little tarts with some sort of yellowish brown filling. "What are those?" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh but he was desperately hungry.
"Individual quiches." She shot him a venomous look. "And don't bother telling me real men don't eat quiche."
"Never crossed my mind." He wondered what she'd say if he ate the entire stack. He watched and waited for her to pull out more food—the good stuff. The real stuff.
She waved at the grandparents who had gone to look at some of the flowers.
That was it? He looked longingly toward the street knowing fast food was only a few blocks away. Knowing if he went for it Pops would skin him alive and nail his hide to the outside of his barn. Pops had threatened to do so many times in the past. Steele had never doubted he could do it. He no longer thought he would but a wise man never played with fire.
He hid a sudden grin. He could imagine Pops reaction to this fine fare. "A man has to eat something substantial if he expects to handle a good day of work." Maybe Pops would end the meal with a trip to one of the fast food places. Steele considered which ones were closest. His vehicle was back at the church. He could jog back for it and return in less than fifteen minutes. Right now he didn't care where they went so long as he got some real food.
Pops and Jean sat side-by-side leaving Steele to sit beside Holly. Pops held out his hands. "Let's pray."
Steele bowed his head and concentrated on Pops’s big work-rough hand on one side and tried not to think of how Holly's small, cool hand on the other side sent a queer mingling of anger and longing through him. If he wasn't starving he'd be able to think better. He wouldn't have this confusion. He never heard a word of his grandfather’s grace and only realized "amen" had been said when Pops dropped his hand.
He forced himself to release Holly's hand when she tugged.
"I wish I could have done something this special that first day," Pops said, as he checked out the picnic fare.
Yeah, right. They would have starved to death and then he, Steele, would have a different grandfather. Or maybe never been born.
Nan chuckled. "I don't remember caring what we ate. It was just nice to have someone to share a day off with." She helped herself to the finger food as Holly passed it.
"I know Nan had a job as a nanny but what brought you to Missoula?" Holly asked Pops as she shuffled the trays his direction.
Steele restrained himself from grabbing the food and stuffing his mouth. When the trays finally reached him, he took half of what was left knowing he'd still be hungry when it was gone. He wrapped cucumber and tomatoes in the meat as Pops answered Holly's question.
"I grew up on a ranch an hour away. A struggling, dirt-poor ranch where a man—or a boy—could work from daylight to dark and never catch up. Where about all you got as reward for the hard labor was more of the same. My father and I had
words. I came to Missoula to earn some money and gain some freedom. I was pretty good with motors and found a job in a garage. I thought I had it made."
His mouth full of food, Steele stared at Pops. A dirt-poor ranch? He chewed enough to get the vegetables down. "The ranch isn't poor."
"Not now. I've put in fifty years getting it where it is. But back then—" He shrugged.
"What took you back to the ranch?" Holly asked.
Steele watched Jean, her fork poised half way to her mouth. He got the feeling she wanted to know Pops's answer more than Holly.
"My father was injured. I knew if I didn't go back home the ranch would be gone."
Jean lowered her fork to her plate. "I always wondered what happened. Why didn't you tell me?"
Pops toyed with the food before him. "I couldn't face you again. I had nothing to offer you."
"Don't you think I should have had a chance to decide that?"
Pops sent Steele and Holly an apologetic look then turned to take Jean's hands. "Jean, you had such big dreams. You planned to get a nanny job in Europe and see the world. I faced nothing but hard work and poor wages."
Nan patted Pops's cheek. "I was hurt that you left without a word. I always figured you'd found someone you preferred and didn't know how to tell me."
"Nothing like that."
The four of them turned back to the food. Steele ate half a dozen of the little sandwiches, found them full of some sort of tasty filling. He didn't dare ask what it was. And the quiches? Whoever said real men didn't eat quiche had not tasted Holly's. After Jean and Pops had both declined any more, Steele eyed the remaining stack.
"Help yourself," Holly invited, correctly interpreting his hungry look.
Eight quiches later he discovered the hollowness of hunger had disappeared.
She reached into the cooler and pulled out a tray of fresh fruit, more cheese and a plate stacked with muffins. Then she pulled thermos bottles of coffee from the picnic basket.
"Nan, did you meet grandfather after Henry left?" Holly asked.
"No dear. I actually went home a few weeks later." She smiled gently at Pops. "It just wasn't the same any more." She turned back to Holly. "Your grandfather was an old friend. We just seemed to fit together after that. He was good to me. I've missed him these past twenty years."
Holly turned to Henry. "And your wife? How did you meet her?"
"She came to care for an elderly lady in the community. At the time I was kind of a mess. Fighting hard to satisfy my father, trying to keep the ranch from disaster. Alma was sweet and kind and understanding. She pointed me back to trusting God."
Steele figured it was time they all stop flirting with the allure of this whole set up and get back to trusting God before Pops ended up in another emotional mess. But right now he was too busy enjoying his coffee and the satisfaction of a good feed to think of how to express his thoughts without inviting further wrath from the old man.
6
Holly sighed her satisfaction that both Nan and Henry had enjoyed their long years of marriage. Sighed again at the sorrow of their lost first love.
Nan seemed to read her thoughts and reached over to pat her hand. "We were just kids. I don't suppose either of us knew what we wanted."
Henry nodded. "I felt obligated to help my father. I knew the ranch was at risk. Didn't see how I could possibly ask a woman to give up her dreams to share nothing and that's all I had."
"I know what I want." Holly was a few years older than Nan would have been at the time but her dreams of a magical love to last forever hadn't changed since she was a small child.
Nan smiled gently. "You might discover your wants change when you're faced with reality. I know mine did. All my fine dreams of travel didn't mean a thing when I was so lonely my heart hurt."
"I'm glad you found someone to fill that loneliness." Henry pushed to his feet. "Shall we clean up and then wander around a bit?"
Holly waved them away. "You show Nan the sights while Steele and I put stuff away."
"We'll do that." Henry took Nan's arm and they headed toward the carousel.
Steele grunted and stared after them.
"I think they've found love again," Holly said.
"Or maybe they're so lonely they'll jump at any chance to share their lives with someone."
"No. I think they loved each other when they were kids. They lost that or maybe walked away from it. They've spent most of their lives loving someone else but now they've found each other again and rediscovered the love of their youth." One look at his face and she knew he didn't believe it. "And if it's simply loneliness what would be so wrong with that?"
"Nothing as long as they both understand the game rules." He pointed at the remains of the picnic. "Either way, isn't this romantic set up just a little too blatant?"
"What's with you and pink flowers?"
"I just don't like them."
"So you said. Why?"
"Does there have to be a reason?"
"It seems odd to hate them just because they're pink."
He stared at the flowers and shuddered.
She'd guess he didn't know how his eyes had grown stark. Something had caused this reaction to the flowers even if he didn't care to admit it. She'd be willing to put his dislike of romantic 'trappings' down to the same cause. "Maybe you should get counseling."
He bolted to his feet. "If that isn't the stupidest thing I've heard in a long time. Just because I don't like pink flowers you think I'm crazy."
She shrugged. "No one said you were crazy but you have to admit it's a weird hang-up. And closely connected to your fear of romantic things, I'm guessing."
"Wow. No need for me to see a shrink. I'll just consult Miss Holly Hopes-for-the-Best. Funny you don't see any association between the divorces I see in my office and my caution about candlelight and flowers. You want to see a long lasting marriage, you give me a couple who have common interests, shared ideals, even a business arrangement."
She nodded occasionally as she piled up the used dishes and stowed everything away. She wrapped the pink flowers in foil and put them in the basket. "They're gone. Do you feel better?"
"No. Yes."
She laughed, earning her a black look from the confused lawyer. "Steele, I think our grandparents are going to prove you wrong about romantic love." She turned to watch them. Henry bent and plucked a flower and tucked it behind Nan's ear. "Isn't that sweet?"
She didn't have to look at Steele to know his face would be thunderous.
"What my grandfather didn't tell you—" Steele's voice grated with disapproval. "He turned into an angry, bitter young man after he left Missoula. I don't know how many times I heard him credit my grandmother with saving him from destruction. He gave her flowers for every special occasion and for no reason whatsoever. My mom always said it was a waste of good money. She figured he could have had a fortune to invest by the end of each year with what he spent on them."
"This is your mother—your father's business partner?" She dripped sarcasm from every word. No doubt he could have reached out and scooped up handfuls of it. Of course, all sorts of marriages worked but his parents' sounded cold as the inside of a fridge.
"Yes. And I might point out they've been married almost thirty-two years. Happily."
"That's nice. It's no doubt where you learned romance has no place in a relationship."
"I'm sure it's nothing to do with what I see in my office."
"Oh wait. There was something about a sibling, wasn't there?"
He grabbed the tablecloth and folded it precisely. He handed it to her to put in the basket. "Any coffee left?"
"Subject closed. Got it. A pink flower phobia and a taboo subject. Interesting dynamics going on here." She refilled his cup with some of her fine Arabica coffee, poured a little more into her own and sat down.
He glowered at her a minute than sat beside her. "Everything seems to be in order for the banquet."
"Yup. Looking good. Unless something com
es up, we don't have anything to do until that weekend. I've put up a poster for helpers to set up."
"Lots of takers I suppose. Like the hoards that wanted to serve on the planning committee."
His wry humor tickled her. She laughed and placed a playful punch on his shoulder. "You and I did fine together, didn't we?"
The look he gave her made her laugh again.
"Surprised, aren't you?"
He blinked, and then laughed. "Yeah, I guess I am at that. We not only did fine, it was kind of fun. At times."
"Ohh." She pressed her palm to her chest in mock gratitude. "Faint praise from the practical lawyer. I can't believe it."
He shifted his gaze away then returned it to her, his eyes light green, a slightly embarrassed look pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I'm having trouble believing it myself."
She looked at him with eyes that saw him with new insight, to a hurting heart, a doubting mind and other things too fragile and new to name. She felt him studying her with the same intensity, wondered what he saw as his gaze probed past the outside layer she presented to the public. His eyes darkened, his gaze reached toward her soul. She held her breath, waited for his approval, waited...
A tune intruded. She blinked and turned to locate her cell phone in the basket. "It's Mom. I better take the call. Sorry." She hit the talk button. Sorry to lose the moment before she knew his response, disappointed because she'd hoped for his approval. She knew there was something wrong with that thought but before she could examine it, she said, "Hello, Mom."
"Hi. What are you doing?"
"Mom, you wouldn’t believe it. I just had a picnic with Nan and a man she knew fifty years ago. It's so romantic." She turned her back to Steele so she didn't have to bear with the desperate way he rolled his eyes and pretended to gag. She told her mother all about it, enjoyed her mother's excited response. "How are you guys doing?"
"Great. We have a honeymoon couple coming tonight and a famous actor on Monday."
"Oh fun. Where's Dad?"
"Making sure the flowers and lawn are perfect."
