A Chance of a Lifetime (29 page)

She recalled the angry scene when they'd first come upon Diez in the Sweet driveway, how volatile Calvin had been. Had it been because the kid saved his life when he'd wanted to die—dear God, even thinking that made her hurt—or because he didn't trust Diez to keep his mouth shut about it?

“Your parents know.”
This is the boy that helped you out,
Justice had said that day before welcoming Diez into their house and hearts.

“Mom and Dad. Gran.” Calvin gazed across the pond to the chairs on the other side. “Dane Clark. Jessy knows part of it.”

Her mouth dropped open in automatic protest. He'd confided his secret in Dane, whom he'd met all of two times, and Jessy Lawrence, while not admitting a hint of it to Bennie?

Then common sense clamped her jaw shut again. Dane was a soldier, too, whose injuries in Afghanistan had put an end to his career. He would understand in ways she couldn't.

But Jessy?

As if reading her mind, Calvin gestured toward Nita. “The shelter. It's part of my therapy. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know what happened in Tacoma, but all the patients in the program have PTSD. She couldn't have told you anything even if she wanted.”

“Of course she couldn't.” Being a nurse's aide, Bennie understood the concept of patient confidentiality all too well.

“I suspect Mama knows, too. She hasn't said anything, but…” He shrugged. “Have you ever known Gran to keep a secret from her best friend?”

“No.” The idea would be laughable if Bennie could laugh. Mama and Gran told each other
everything
, and neither of them had ever broken a confidence in forty-plus years. The CIA and NSA could learn lessons from them.

After walking another quarter of the distance around the pond, Calvin glanced her way. “So that's it, Bennie. That's what's going on with me. I'm working to get past it, but no one knows what'll happen, whether I'm ever gonna be normal again or—or if I'll do something stupid again. I take my meds, and I talk to the doctors and the therapists and the guys who have been there and gotten better, and most days I feel hopeful, but some days…I just don't know. And you have a right to know that. You had a right to know it before we spent any time at all together, but I was ashamed. I'm working on that, too. I didn't want you to look at me and worry or wonder. I just wanted to feel like…like maybe I can be the one that gets over it.”

Dear God, she hoped he could be one of the lucky ones to get over it. If he couldn't, if he tried again, if he succeeded…

With a lump in her throat and her eyes growing damp again, she searched deep inside herself for words. He was stealing looks at her, waiting for her to say something, to do something, and she wanted to, but she desperately needed it to be the
right
thing. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him so tight that he could never get free. She wanted to smack him on the back of the head, give him a good shake, and demand to know what in sweet heaven had he been thinking. She wanted to assure him that it didn't make a difference, that he would be okay, that they would be okay. But there was so much shock, so much fear, and so damn much hurt—for him. For herself and her dreams. For J'Myel.

They reached the dock again, and Calvin stopped, releasing her hand, turning to face her. She forced herself to meet his gaze, to study his familiar brown eyes, as if she could find something there, hope or a promise she could believe in. All she saw was misery and pain.

“Calvin…” Her voice quavered, and she took a swipe at her eyes while waiting for magic words to pop into her mind. When they didn't come, she turned onto the dock and sat in one of the chairs. After a moment, he sat in the other, and Nita immediately climbed into his lap. He had certainly formed a bond with the puppy, and she with him. Two lost souls connecting in a way that might save each other's lives.

A sob rose inside her, struggling to find its voice. Why hadn't Miss Elizabeth told her this, or Gran or Mama, so she could prepare herself? Why hadn't she realized on her own that something was wrong? Why hadn't she pressed him for answers about Diez and how they'd met and why the boy coming to Tallgrass had made him so angry?

Because she'd been falling in love. She'd been opening up her heart for the first time since J'Myel and loving that giddy feeling, the flush of sexual attraction, the possibility that being a well-loved wife and mom was once again within her reach.

Was still within her reach.

If she could deal with this news.

“I don't know what to say, Calvin,” she managed at last. “I never imagined…” She was having trouble with it even now. Suicide was a sacrilege, life far too precious to waste like that.

But he'd had reasons she couldn't begin to understand for the actions he'd taken. It wasn't a decision he'd come to lightly. He'd felt he had no other option.

And that broke her heart.

D
espite Bennie's silence and her obvious distress, Calvin felt something very much like relief seeping through him. He'd done it. It hadn't been pretty or elegant, but he'd bared his secrets to her. What happened next was entirely up to her.

He didn't beg her to understand. How could he when he hardly understood himself? He didn't push her for more of a response. When Bennie had something to say, she said it. Right now, he imagined, she'd told the absolute truth: She didn't know what to say. He'd hit her with a lot. Of course she was stunned. Of course she needed time.

Time to make some decisions. Would she want to spend the rest of her life with someone like him, always looking for chinks in his recovery, always evaluating?
Is this normal behavior? Is he having trouble coping? Does this outburst mean a relapse?
How could he blame her when she did wonder, since his own doubts could be overwhelming?

Would she want to marry someone like him, have children with someone like him, knowing there would never be a promise that he would always be there, calm and capable and rational and able to act as a husband and father?

Or would she reject anything but friendship from him, nothing more complicated, no way he could break her heart? Would she break his heart?

He understood if she didn't want to be with him because he didn't want to
be
him.

Nita trembled in his lap, a tiny whimper escaping her, and he laid his hand gently over her rib cage. Her legs twitched a time or two, along with another whimper, then she stilled again, her deep breathing resuming. When she'd first come to the shelter, she hadn't wanted anyone to touch her. Now she slept like a baby on his legs. She didn't hold his mistakes against him.

The knowledge sparked a bit of a smile. He might still be finding his way. His future might be one giant blank. The woman he loved might decide life was better without him. But Nita was on his side.

The breeze picked up, rustling leaves still clinging to the mostly bare branches. The grass out here was already dormant for the winter, but the flowers—pansies, his mother's favorite in part because they tolerated cold—would hold on to their color. Before long, she wouldn't be able to sit out here for Bible study. She would complain about the lower temperatures and the wind that seemed to blow straight in from the North Pole and the sun that hid behind the clouds. Then one day buds would appear, bits of green here and there, blossoms on the redbuds and dogwoods and Bartlett pears, and Elizabeth's mood would turn sunny again.

Sunny
was too girly a word to use to describe himself, but he would be happy to see spring again.

Bennie shivered, hugging her arms across her chest. “What time do you need to get Nita back to the shelter?”

He swallowed hard, wishing her question had been something more personal or hadn't been a question at all but something to give him a hint of what she was thinking or feeling. “Meredith and Angela will be feeding the animals and getting them settled for the night between five and seven.”

“You should see about adopting—” She broke off, her gaze flickering away, and she shifted in the chair as if she was anxious to get up and move.

What had stopped her from completing the suggestion? Did she wonder whether he was fit to adopt a puppy? The possibility stirred an ache in his gut. She
knew
him…

But he'd changed.

Abruptly she pushed to her feet, gathered the leftovers into the basket, and gave the quilt a shake. “We should probably go,” she said, trying to fold the quilt neatly into quarters, failing, and trying again. Her hands trembled, and so did her voice when she went on. “I imagine the sooner they have all their fur babies accounted for, the sooner they can get home.”

Calvin shook Nita awake, set her on the dock, and looped her leash around a chair leg, then went to Bennie, tugging at the quilt, intending to fold it for her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around both her and the cover. With a soft, strangled cry, she buried her face against his chest, her hands clenched so tightly that he felt the tension all through her body, shudders rocketing like little earthquakes.

Wishing he had comfort to give her, he held her, stroking her back, breathing deeply of the scent of her hair, her clothes, her perfume. He wanted to say,
We'll work this out,
because one way or another, they would. It just might not be the way either of them wanted. Because he couldn't face the possibility of losing her again right now, he settled for a less personal assurance.

“It'll work out, Shorty,” he murmured.

She freed one arm to punch him in the shoulder for the nickname, but there was no force behind it. “I know that. It's just hard.” Her voice broke on the last word, and a fresh wave of tears started.

Yeah, he recognized
hard
. He'd lived with it so damn long that he'd thought there was no other option for him.

But he'd just finished the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, besides dealing with J'Myel's death, and he was okay. Worried. Hurting for Bennie. Scared. But not despairing. Not thinking that whatever life might have to offer couldn't possibly be better than the nothingness of death.

He was making progress.

Finally Bennie swiped her eyes before giving him a weak smile. “We should go.”

He glanced at Nita, listened to the breeze, looked at the sun, which wasn't far from setting. It had been a lot of years since he'd watched the sun set over the pond, back when they'd had folding lawn chairs and a fire pit and thought roasted wieners on cold buns and s'mores were the perfect meal.

A glance at his watch showed that he still had plenty of time to get to the shelter. “Why don't you head on back, and Nita and I will—”

The expression that darted across her face, surprise tinged with panic, cut off the words in his throat. He knew that look. He'd seen it to different degrees on other faces the past few months. She was afraid to leave him here alone. She didn't trust that if she walked out of the woods by herself, he would soon follow.

Feeling about two feet tall, he smiled at her. “Never mind. I'll take you home.”

Relief flooded her eyes even as her caramel-toned skin took on a reddish tinge. “I'm sorry, Calvin.”

“It's okay.” He didn't like that her natural response was to worry about his mental health, but he had taken the actions; he had to live with the consequences.

They walked silently back to the car. She offered to walk home, and he reminded her that her car was at the bakery. That trip passed quietly, too. Before opening the car door, she faced him. “Will you be at Sunday dinner?”

“Will you worry if I'm not?”

“I've worried about you for the better part of my life, Calvin. Worried you and J'Myel would get me in trouble as kids, worried about you both every single day you were gone. I don't think the worrying is ever gonna go away.”

He took her hand. “I'll be there.”

“Good.” Then she did the thing that gave him the most hope. She leaned across the seat and kissed him, not as long and hard as he would have liked but not just a brush of mouths, either.

She got out, closed the door, and bent to look through the open window as Nita jumped into the seat she'd just vacated. “Miss Nita, it's been a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure we're gonna be seeing a whole lot more of each other, though, so you should get used to that backseat.”

The dog stretched and turned her back on Bennie.

“Queen Bitch-in-Training,” Bennie murmured before shifting her gaze to Calvin. “Thank you,” she said solemnly. “For the picnic, the company, the talk. For trusting me. For giving me some time.”

He acknowledged her with a nod, shifting into reverse as she took a few steps away. Abruptly, she came back. “I've always loved you, Calvin. I always will.” With an emphatic nod, she spun around and went to her own car.

There were all kinds of love. Though Gran said a person could never have too much, this was one time he might disagree with her. Bennie had always loved him like a best friend, like a brother. After she untangled all the thoughts in her head, that might be the only way she could continue to love him.

God help him, he wanted so damn much more than that.

It was a short drive to the shelter. The only car in the parking lot belonged to Angela. Calvin figured Meredith had ridden with her—they lived together, after all—but when he went inside, he found just the shelter manager.

She greeted him with a smile, then crouched to Nita's level. “How'd you do on your picnic, sweetie?”

Nita sat down beside Calvin and eyed Angela, not suspiciously, just without any real interest. Angela laughed and stood again, directing her question to him.

“She was great. No aggression, no running wild. She played a bit, walked a bit, slept a bit.”

“How was she with your girlfriend?”

The last word twinged inside him—would Bennie still be his girlfriend tomorrow or next week?—but he grinned at the memory of Nita claiming the front seat in the car at the bakery before reluctantly surrendering it to Bennie. “They're not best friends forever, but neither of them snapped or snarled at the other, so that's good. Where's Meredith?”

“She had an emergency at the clinic. If we both get done in time, we have a date in Tulsa. We're going to dinner, then to a new club in Midtown.”

He followed her back into the kennel, where he unleashed Nita into a small crate. “I bet every heart in the room breaks when you two walk into a club and people realize you're together.”

Angela smiled. “Depends on the club. There are a few we wouldn't dare walk into. Not everyone is as accepting as we'd like.”

Acceptance was a big thing, he acknowledged as they began dishing up food. He'd had it most of the time, had had friends of every ethnicity both here in Tallgrass and in the Army. J'Myel hadn't rejected him because of his race or sexual orientation but his ambition. Bennie didn't care about race and shared his ambition, but she might not accept his psychiatric issues.

 Life was never easy, but the struggle, Gran claimed, made it all the sweeter.

Given the struggle, his life should be sweeter than honey melting over ice cream, but he'd settle for Bennie's kisses.

If she ever gave him another one.

Lucy gazed out the passenger window of Joe's car, the day a pretty accurate reflection of her mood. The Sunday afternoon sun kept slipping behind clouds that darkened the sky, and rain would spit just long enough to require the wipers, then stop again. While the sun shone, it looked like a perfectly lovely day, but when the clouds took over, the temperature dropped thirty degrees, at least in her mind.

She and Joe had dropped her mom off at the airport in Tulsa and were on their way back to Tallgrass. She was happy that life was going to start getting back to normal, but it always made her homesick to say good-bye to someone she loved.

“You okay?”

She glanced at Joe. “I'm a little relieved she's gone. Does that make me a bad daughter?”

“Of course not. Admitting it, though…”

Her mouth dropped open before she saw his grin. “Don't tease me, Joe. I'm fragile. I had an event.”

He snorted, the same way they both had in the hospital when they'd realized the event the staff was referring to was her heart attack. “They make it sound like some high-class party or something. Can't they just say
heart attack
like the rest of the world?”

“Maybe they get paid more for handling events rather than heart attacks. It does sound a little more complicated. Thank heavens I've got great insurance.”
Thank Mike.
As a widow who hadn't remarried, she was still eligible for care through the military health system—a huge relief when her hospitalization and upcoming rehabilitation could easily cost more than her house was worth.

They passed the Tallgrass city limits sign two miles before they reached the turnoff to Fort Murphy's main gate. A little flutter of homecoming flitted through Lucy. She'd lived her first eighteen years in California, but Tallgrass was top of the list for the title of home. She'd never dreamed when she'd come here with Mike that she would lose him here, that she would live alone in their little house and make a place for herself here, that she would start a business here, but it had happened. She couldn't imagine trading the love and support and roots of this place for anywhere else.

Wait, that wasn't quite true…Her gaze slipped sideways to catch a glimpse of Joe, sunglasses hiding his eyes, his attention on the street ahead as traffic picked up. A young football coach with big aspirations and a winning record was always being lured from one school to another. Joe had already been approached a couple of times, and there was no doubt more recruiters would come knocking on his door. Love of a man had brought her to Tallgrass. Could love of a man take her away again?

Of course, she knew the answer without even considering it. Given the choice between being with Joe in a new town or being lonely in Tallgrass…that was no choice at all.

At the intersection of Main and First, Joe turned north. Warmth bubbled inside her because she knew where he was going, even though she hadn't asked. Her mom had made it clear from the day of her arrival that she thought Lucy had taken on much too big a challenge, which was probably the reason for the heart attack. To Robbie, it had been a foregone conclusion that Lucy would get rid of the shop and thereby lessen the stress in her life.

Her mom had been too worried to understand that getting rid of it now, before it had even had a chance to bloom, would break Lucy's heart.

When Joe turned into the parking lot, shut off the engine, and walked around to open her door, she was grinning. “Oh, Prairie Harts, I've missed you.” She let him help her from the car—because she liked the chivalry and the physical contact, not because she needed help—then followed him to the front door, where she briefly laid her hand flat against the grimy plate glass before walking inside. “I should finish rehab just in time to get this place all fixed up for spring.”