A Promise of Forever (12 page)

Noodles dangling from his fork, he considered it. “I was disappointed rather than hurt. She’s nice and funny and kind of reins me in when I get too resentful about things, and I was hoping that she’d be…” He looked at her. “You know. The one. The marriage and kids and happily-ever-after one. But…”

“There was no sizzle.”

He shook his head.

But they’d had affection and fondness and respect, and that could grow into sizzle, couldn’t it? Avi had heard countless stories about great friends becoming lovers, becoming happily-ever-afters. But neither Ben nor Lucy seemed to think that was a possibility for them, and who was Avi to argue?

“Is it weird that we’re talking about my last girlfriend who’s your new friend?”

She shook her head. “Not as long as it’s over between you. If you still had feelings for her—sexual, not friendly—that would be a different matter.”

“So in that case, you’d be jealous,” Ben teased.

She snorted rudely as he returned his attention to his food, but when she used chopsticks to dip a slice of seared ahi into a lime/soy sauce, she wondered. She wouldn’t be thrilled to hear that Ben still had romantic feelings for Lucy, but she wouldn’t be jealous. She just didn’t do jealousy. Did she?

Apparently deciding she wasn’t going to get a treat, Sundance retreated to the living room, jumped on the couch, and curled up, chin on the padded arm, watching them with soulful eyes.
No dog on the furniture,
one of her mom’s notes read.
Your dad ignores me, but you don’t get to.
“She’ll get down if you tell her to.”

Ben glanced at her as he assembled another mu shu pork pancake. “Sundance, down,” he said, and the puppy obeyed, jumping to the floor, sitting, and waiting expectantly. When no further commands and no cookies were forthcoming, she jumped back up, stretched, and lay down again.

Ben gave Avi a skeptical look, and she shrugged. “I said she would get down. I didn’t say she’d stay. I don’t think Dad’s gotten that far in his training.”

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like your mom’s probably the one teaching her rules.”

“Yeah, Dad’s not really the disciplinarian sort. He gave me suggestions when I was little. Mom gave orders.” Leaning back in her chair, she chided Ben’s
yeah, right
look. “Hey, you had two siblings, so your chores were probably divided by three. I was an only child, so
every
night was my night to set the table, help with the dishes, and take out the trash.”

“Poor baby, you had it so tough.”

“I hope you’re more sympathetic to your patients.”

One brow raised, silently asking if she was finished eating, he took the plate she pushed his way, stacked it with his, and carried it to the sink. “Most of them. I have some who are just whiny. They don’t want to go to physical therapy, they don’t want surgery, they don’t want any restrictions on their activities. They just want pain medication, the stronger, the better, so they don’t have to actually do anything to help their condition heal.”

Avi drew her feet onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I bet you’re stingy with narcotics.”

“Whatever their problem is, I’ve seen it hundreds of times before. I know what the level of pain is and how much medication is needed to reduce it. When patients want more pills or stronger ones, I send them to our pain management specialist, who won’t give them anything I won’t. So they’re still whiny, but they’re his problem, not mine.”

After putting the leftovers in the refrigerator, he came back to the table, took her hand, and pulled her from the chair. “What do you want to do? Snuggle with Sundance and see what’s on TV or come back to the bedroom, snuggle with me, and forget about TV?”

Such a question didn’t even deserve an answer, she decided as she began tugging him into the direction of the bedroom.

Ben was somewhere between semi-awake and asleep, his eyes heavy, his thoughts scattered and unformed. Soft noises sounded beside him, kind of a whimper, kind of a wail, underscored by a reassuring hum. He pushed back the sleep, forced his eyes open—one of them, at least—and saw that it was dark in the room except for the light from the living room. Something warm pressed against his back. Avi, he thought and, smiling sleepily, he reached back to pat her hip.

He found a hip, all right, but it wasn’t Avi’s. It was covered with silky fur, and its owner apparently appreciated the touch, because she licked his fingers with a long, raspy tongue. “No dogs on the bed,” he muttered, drying his fingers on the sheet.

“The baby needs to go out.” Avi’s voice was the reassuring hum from a moment ago. She was moving around, no doubt putting back on the clothes he’d had such fun taking off. “I’m going to take her for a short walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t need to. We’ll only be gone ten minutes.”

“It’s dark.”

“We’re not afraid of the dark.”

“I’m sure you’re not. I don’t know about Sundance.” He forced himself to sit up and swing his legs to the floor. Stumbling to the dresser, he took out a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, dressed awkwardly, and shoved his feet into sandals. A glimpse in the mirror showed his hair was standing on end, but he let it be.

He was slow to start moving. By the time he left the bedroom, Avi and Sundance were standing at the door, the puppy panting with excitement. They hustled down the stairs and out the door, where she paused long enough to stick her nose in the air and sniff, then turned left.

“Have a nice nap?”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I’m always tired after a day of surgery. All those people waiting on me, staff handing instruments to me…”

“Cutting people open and seeing them bleed would wear me out.”

“Aw, you’ve spent five years in combat zones. I don’t think the sight of blood would faze you.” And she’d probably seen things that would make him sick.

He wouldn’t make the mistake of implying that she shouldn’t stay in a job that required those sacrifices of her. Though he’d never given any real thought to the idea of women in combat, beyond their conversation the night before, the idea of
Avi
being there…that bothered him. She’d given enough of her time, taken enough risks. Surely the Army needed a Signal instructor more than they did another body to deploy.

“I’ve seen more blood than a legion of vampires,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to see one drop more, not even my own from a nick on my leg while shaving.”

When Sundance tugged hard on the leash, pulling it from her hand, Ben grabbed it, then slipped the loop around his own wrist. “You lost a lot of friends,” he said hesitantly.

They’d covered thirty feet before she nodded. “Too many. People I went through basic training with, people I went through Signal school with, people I met over there and became solid friends with. And George…”

She gave him a sidelong look. “I wish you could have known him. Not as the man your mother left your father for, but just as a person. He was kind and gentle and generous. He was the only CO I ever had who was admired by officers and enlisted alike. He was fair and honest and honorable, and he treated everyone like they mattered. His troops respected him. They would have died for him.”

Ben realized the muscles in his jaw had clenched, and he forcibly relaxed them. One time, exasperated with his refusal to give up the anger he bore toward Patricia and George, Lucy had smacked him hard on the arm and muttered,
Oh, for God’s sake, let it go!

He’d rubbed his arm ruefully and said with what, looking back, must have been a pretty good pout,
I don’t want to let it go.

What are you? Six?
she’d asked scathingly.

Sara and Brianne had set their resentment aside and thought he should, too. They’d been younger, he told himself. They hadn’t seen the full impact of Patricia’s betrayal on their father. Their lives hadn’t undergone as much upheaval as his had.

Maybe they were just more mature. More forgiving. Nothing could bring their dad back. Nothing could put their parents back together. Wasn’t it better to have a mother than no parents at all?

“You loved him a lot,” he said quietly, slowing his steps so Sundance could sniff around a tree.

“Oh, yeah. He was like an uncle, a father figure, a counselor, a mentor. I was lucky to know him.”

For a moment Ben envied her. For thirty years she’d had a father and a father figure, while his father, for all practical purposes, left when Patricia did. He could have had a relationship with George if he hadn’t been so stubborn and pissed off. If he or the girls had given any hint that they wanted Patricia and George in their lives, he was pretty sure their mother would have acted on it. But he hadn’t, so the girls hadn’t, so Patricia hadn’t, and now that chance was gone forever.

“Don’t you think you would have felt different if it had been
your
mother who ran off and left you and your dad for him?”

Avi slipped her hand into his. “Yeah. It would have made a big difference. But all I can say is, he was the sort of guy who would have been worth forgiving. He was that special.”

Special and gone, like Ben’s dad. Patricia, though, was still here.

Finally, after sniffing the tree this way and that, Sundance did her business. Avi tugged a plastic bag from her pocket and crouched to clean up.

“You know, at some point that becomes fertilizer.”

“It can fertilize Mom and Dad’s yard. Anywhere else, it’s got to be scooped.” She zipped the bag shut, jogged a few yards ahead to toss it into a garbage can, then came back and caught his arm, pulling him and Sundance into a 180-degree arc, back toward the loft.

Above them, lightning flashed, so quick that he would have blamed it on search lights or headlights if he hadn’t seen the sky for the instant it lit up. Avi noticed it, too. In a none-too-bad voice, she sang, “‘Ooh, and I wish it would rain down.’”

He chose a different tune for his baritone. “‘Here comes the rain again.’”

“‘It’s raining men. Hallelujah!’”

Unable to think of any other rain song at the moment, he used a childhood rhyme instead. “Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.”

She swatted him, pretending to be scandalized. “No born-and-bred Oklahoman ever wishes rain away.”

“Nah, Mother Nature’s just teasing us. She’ll give us a little lightning, maybe even some thunder. She might even blow that sweet smell our way, but in the end, it’s just another false promise.”

Avi heaved a great sigh. “I’m walking down the street with a pessimist.”

“Nope. Just someone who will believe it’s going to rain when he feels it on his head.” Luck chose just that moment to plop large drops on both of them. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in the next instant, and a breeze stirred along the street, scuffing a foam cup over to the curb. Stepping aside a few feet, Ben scooped it up to toss in the next trash can.

“I love walking in the rain,” Avi said as it gathered strength, “but my mom impressed on me every time I asked for a pet that dogs stink and wet dogs stink even more. Unless you can teach the baby to stay before we go back to bed, I’d suggest we make a run for it.”

“Good idea.”

Sundance thought it was a good idea, too, her giant ears flopping one way, her tail wagging the other. She ran right past the door, skidded when he tugged the leash, and came back with her tongue hanging out. As soon as he opened the door, she lunged inside, yanking the leash from his hand, gave herself a mighty shake, then headed up the stairs, leash trailing behind.

Two hours later, he rolled over in his sleep and found her stretched out on his side of the bed, her head on his pillow. He pulled it so he had more of it, but she just scooted closer to reclaim her share.

With the length of Avi’s body warm and soft behind him, he eyed the dog in the dim light. “Get down,” he whispered.

Sundance yawned and snuggled in deeper.

“Come on. No dogs on the bed.”

She gave him no response beyond a solemn blink.

He sighed, knowing when he’d lost. Reaching across Avi, he grabbed the extra pillow, folded it in half so there wasn’t enough for Sundance to share, and settled in again.

“Okay, you can stay,” he whispered. “But only because I like your sister.”

Liked her way more than was healthy. They’d known each other a little more than seventy-two hours, and he was pretty impressed. If she was in Tallgrass to stay, if she wasn’t leaving the state again in less than four weeks, he might even be thinking she could be The One.

But she was leaving, and there was no chance that she could be that one.

No damn chance at all.

Ben came to Tallgrass after work on Friday evening, and he and Avi went to Luca’s for Italian. She’d expected the restaurant to be busy—Friday night was date night, after all—but they didn’t have to wait and had their choice of courtyard tables. When she glanced around quizzically at the empty tables, their waitress smiled and said the magic words. “High school football. It’s just a scrimmage, but people still want to see how the team looks.”

Avi grinned at Ben as she unfolded her napkin. Teasing him about this one issue was so darn easy. “We should have gone. Maybe I finally could have met Joe.”

The waitress’s eyes lit up as she handed out menus. “Coach Joe is the best. He’s young to be head coach—he’s only thirty-one—but he knows what he’s doing. The team loves him. So do their sisters, their mothers, all the women in town. He’s awfully cute.”

Ben scowled down at his menu, which made Avi’s smile even brighter. “We’ve got mutual friends. I’m gonna beg for an introduction.” In fact, that introduction was scheduled for the next evening. Dinner at Patricia’s. Mom, Dad, and Ben, Lucy, and Joe. Oh, boy.

After giving their drink orders, she tore a roll in half and dipped one edge in the soft butter nestled into the bread basket. “Okay, Doc, so tell me what it is you don’t like about Coach Joe.”

“You know sometimes, how you meet someone and you just know that no matter what, you’re never gonna be best buds?” He shrugged as if that was the only answer there was. “That’s the way it was with Cadore when we met.”