A Promise of Forever (14 page)

But privacy—at least, her kind—should be shared. A husband, a few dogs, and a couple of kids would be a great start. Maybe six months before retirement, she could ask her parents to start looking for some property, something with water—a creek, a little bit of Tall Grass Lake shoreline. She and her husband could build a log cabin, a cottage, or a simple farmhouse with a broad porch and high ceilings and fill it with antiques like GrandMir’s.

Where had all these thoughts of marriage and kids come from? Sure, it was something she’d always wanted and expected, but she hadn’t fixated on it.

Until she’d met Ben.

The man least likely to ever move away with her.

“I liked your parents,” he said. His right arm rested on the door, his hand dangling outside, buffeted by the wind as they drove. “I’m pretty sure I met them when George died, but I met a
lot
of people.”

Avi spared him a glance. “Mom had mentioned something went wrong with the notification. What happened?”

Ben’s sigh was barely audible over the road noise. “Patricia was in Walmart when one of her neighbors called on her cell and told her two officers in dress uniforms were at her door.”

“Damn,” Avi whispered.

“She collapsed. Jessy, one of the margarita girls, was there, and even though they’d never met, she got Patricia home, called me, and stayed with her until Lucy could get there.” He sighed again before facing her. “I didn’t talk to Patricia when Jessy called. I didn’t plan on coming here at all. I didn’t know George. Hell, I hardly knew her. She hadn’t even told us they were back in Oklahoma.”

There was regret for his response in his voice, but Avi couldn’t hold his actions against him. After his mother had abandoned his family twenty years earlier, no one had the right to expect him to drop everything and rush to her side when suddenly she needed him.

“What changed your mind?”

“Lucy. She asked me to do it for me, not Patricia. She said if I showed compassion to Patricia, it would mean something to me later. So I came.”

“You’re a good son.” In spite of the emotional distance between them, Avi was sure Patricia had drawn comfort from his presence.

“Eh. I’m working on that.” After a moment, he glanced around. “Where are we going?”

“Tall Grass Lake,” she replied even as the sign appeared in the headlights.

“Did GrandMir and Popi bring you here?”

“At least once a week. It’s the kind of place every person should have in his childhood memories.”

“Keystone for me,” he said. “Occasionally Skiatook Lake.”

She turned onto a narrow road that wound through the heavy growth of trees. If it were daylight, they’d be able to catch glimpses of the lake through the woods, but tonight she didn’t see water until she pulled off into a grassy area a half mile or so from the nearest picnic and camping spaces. They had the field to themselves with no distractions but the moonlight reflecting on the still surface of the lake.

After turning around so the back of the truck faced the lake, she cut off the engine and opened the door. The grass hadn’t been mowed recently and poked up, sharp and prickly, around her calves, making for careful walking in her flip-flops.

“You know it’s still warm enough for copperheads,” Ben warned.

She stilled an automatic shudder. She hated snakes. “I wasn’t planning on a stroll in the dark,” she told him over the side walls of the truck bed. Lifting her feet high, she circled to the back, lowered the tailgate, and boosted herself onto it. It wasn’t nearly as much a stretch for Ben, who kicked off his sandals before bumping his bare leg against hers.

“Lucy says everyone in the state should have sex in a pickup at least once,” he said dryly.

“She’s right. I was seventeen the first time.”

A faint, wicked smile curved his lips. “Me, too. Wonder if this will be the truck’s first time.”

“It will. My dad bought it brand new.”

“So? Who’s to say they didn’t come out here for a little mom-and-pop sex?”

“Ew!” She slugged his shoulder. “I don’t talk about your parents having sex. I sure don’t want to talk about mine doing it.”

“Hey, your dad’s only twenty years older than me. I intend to be doing it in twenty years.”

“Yes, but you’re not my father.”
Thank you, God.
Rising, she went to the tool box mounted behind the extended cab, unlocked it, and pulled out a huge zippered bag. She removed the comforter inside, gave it a good shake, then spread it across the bed liner. “Mom’s emergency kit,” she explained as she lowered herself to sit, then stretched out on her back. “She makes him carry a tool kit, a first aid kit, bottled water, granola bars, one of those tools that punches out windows, and a wind-up flashlight.”

“A tool that punches out windows isn’t much help if you have to get out of the vehicle to get it.”

“I know. He’s supposed to carry the kit in the floorboard behind the driver’s seat, but he considers it clutter. He tells her that if he ever goes soaring off the road into water, he’ll have the time and the good sense to roll his window down ASAP.”

Ben lay down beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She sighed happily. “I love looking at the sky at night.”

“Do you know the constellations?”

“Only the Big Dipper. I was always more interested in wishing on them than learning about them.” She’d made a lot of wishes, and a lot of them had come true. Granted, they’d been backed up by prayers. Whatever the star-wishing fairies couldn’t take care of, God could. If He would.

“What would you wish for tonight?”

His voice was low and made her tingle in unmentionable places. She pretended to think about the question a moment before answering, “Nothing. Right this minute, I’m perfectly, totally content.”

And for that very minute, it was true. But almost immediately, she felt a twinge of loss. That was the sad thing about minutes: They didn’t last. Sixty seconds of wonderful, then remembering that this wasn’t her regular life. In three weeks she would go to Georgia. She might come back for Thanksgiving and get to see Ben for a few days. She might join the Christmas exodus from Fort Gordon for a few more days, shared with family. He might even spend a weekend with her in Augusta. But a few days here and a few days there was no way to have a relationship. Someday she would e-mail  him, and he would take two or three days to respond. He would call, and she would let it go to voice mail. He would meet someone else, someone whose roots were sunk as deep here as his own, and probably, hopefully she would meet someone else, too, and everything that was between them would end.

Except for the memories. She would have the sweetest memories of a wonderful time with a wonderful man, and they would stay with her forever. What more could a woman wish for?

“You ever considered taking up running?”

Lucy wasn’t at her best early in the morning, the only time the heat—and Joe—allowed her to walk any significant distance, so it took her a while Sunday morning to figure out what he meant. When it did register, she gave him the driest look she was capable of, considering that she was drenched with sweat. “Run? You mean as in jogging? Feet pounding on pavement, sending jolts of shock up through my shins and femurs and into my spine? Doing potential untold damage to my ankles and knees?”

“Burning almost twice as many calories in the same time?”

She admitted, she did like to watch people run. There was a blonde who passed her house every morning as Lucy was leaving for work—size nothing, long, lean legs, impressive muscles, ponytail bouncing, pert boobs restrained in an adorable sports bra, matched with tiny little spandex shorts that barely covered the essentials. She looked so pretty and graceful, like a gazelle.

But Lucy wasn’t a size nothing. She was five foot three, and her legs were short and chubby. She had few muscles, the last time her boobs had vaguely resembled pert was about the time Mike died, and
graceful
wasn’t in her vocabulary.

The burning-double-the-calories tempted her, but truthfully, she’d rather walk double the distance. She liked her ankles, shins, and knees. They did a fine job of getting her where she wanted to go. She didn’t want to hurt them.

“If I tripped or fell, you would have a heck of a time getting me home.”

“I’d carry you.” When she snorted, he grinned that boyish grin that brightened even the most tired Lucy. “You’d be surprised how much I can lift.”

No, she really wouldn’t, she thought with a look his way. He was just under six feet. He ate healthy, except when she tempted him with her cooking. He worked out every day; it was part of his job, and on top of that, he honestly liked exercise. He came from an exceptional gene pool—she’d met his mom and dad when they’d visited and seen pictures of his siblings—and
muscles
was his middle name.

He was awfully darn cute, too, with that blond hair always in need of a trim, the perpetual tan, the scruffy bristle of beard on his jaw, and amazing blue-sky eyes.

Lucy had tried to set him up with several friends, but he’d shown no interest. She’d thought Ben’s sister Brianne was just his type, but that hadn’t gone anywhere, either, though they still ran occasional 5Ks together.

“Do you like women?” she asked as they approached the fire station that marked their turnaround point. Swiping at the sweat running down her forehead, it took a moment for her to realize that he’d stopped walking. She turned to face his scowl, and she quickly assured him. “It’s okay if you don’t. It doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m just wondering if the people I’m setting you up with are the wrong type. You know, gender.”

Joe placed his hands on his hips, drawing his stretched-out T-shirt snug over his broad chest and flat belly. His biceps and triceps bulged, drawing her gaze downward to his fisted hands. “Yes, I like women. No, I’m not gay. No, the women you’ve pushed at me aren’t my type. Not my
type
, Lucy.
Not
the wrong gender.”

Even frowning like that, he was so darn cute. If she was a few years younger, she just might take up jogging and chase him until she caught him.

Then the sensible woman in her gave a shake of her head. What would she do with him if she caught him? Sure, he was sex-kisses-passion happily-ever-after material, but not for
her
. He was her best friend. Like a little brother without so much of the pestyness. She was like his big sister, without the great gene pool.

If she were a different person, not just a younger one,
then
she might chase him. That was what she’d meant to say. If she was the type to be drawn to a cute, funny, young football coach.

But she wasn’t. She loved Joe dearly. He was the best guy friend she’d ever had besides Mike. But she was looking for someone to fall
in
love with. Someone smart and funny and sexy and sweet and grown-up and not best friend–like. Someone not Joe.

The unsensible woman in her head regretfully sighed. He
was
awfully hot damn cute.

Saturday had been the halfway mark on Avi’s leave. She’d acknowledged the milestone, then chosen not to think about it anymore. The past two weeks had been the best of her life. She would let the next two weeks be good, too. Alone in Augusta would be soon enough to face the end of her romance.

On Monday, Labor Day, she slept until nine, such a luxury, then padded into the kitchen for coffee and a warm-from-the-oven cinnamon roll. She was heading for the kitchen table when her mom stuck her head in the back door. “We’re out here. Come sit with us.”

Obediently Avi shifted directions, climbed over Sundance, who was stretched out in front of the door, then sat down at the glass-topped table with her parents on either side. “How long have you guys been up?”

“We’re always up by six,” her father said without glancing up from the newspaper he was reading on his Kindle. Preferring to avoid newspapers herself, she wondered what he found so fascinating about the news in other cities, states, and countries. Did Los Angeles really have a different take on today’s violence or politics from New York?

“We put in our three miles, showered, dressed, and I baked the rolls.”

Dismissing her pajamas—gray Army PT shirt and black shorts—Avi took a large bite of the roll. “Mm, Mom, these aren’t from a can,” she said around the yeasty goodness.

“No, Lucy shared her recipe with me. Sadly, they don’t last long.”

“No kidding. I plan to eat at least four of them.”

“I mean, they don’t have preservatives in them like store-bought, so they don’t stay fresh as long.” Thinking that no one was watching her, Beth pinched off a bit of the roll on her own plate and dropped it to the ground. Sundance pounced on it in an instant.

Avi would have snorted if she wasn’t afraid a bit of her own precious food would go down the wrong pipe.

Still acting casually, Beth smiled at her. “So tell us about you and Ben.”

Avi smiled back just as casually. “I met him on my first day home, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“What do you mean by ‘together’? Dating? Building a relationship? Exploring the future? Or just having sex?”

Finally Neil looked up from the news. “My daughter doesn’t have sex. She’s a thirty-year-old virgin.”

“Thank you for pretending to believe that, Dad.”

He acknowledged her with a nod and a wink, then went back to his Kindle.

“I’ve seen the way you two are with each other. I don’t need nosy Maureen across the street to know you’re having sex.” Beth shook her finger. “I was young and horny myself once.”

“Ew, Mom, please. If you ever want grandchildren from me, do
not
talk to me about your own sexual experiences.” She abruptly added, “Or mine. Some things just aren’t meant to be shared.”

Beth rolled her eyes but changed the subject at least somewhat. “You and Patricia’s son, George’s stepson. You hear about best friends wanting their kids to grow up and marry each other. I never gave any thought to that, especially since we’d never met Patricia’s son. Besides, what if the kids divorce? Do you lose your best friend, too? But now that we’ve met Ben…He’s a doctor. He’s handsome. He’s her son.” She sighed wistfully. “Now I understand the appeal.”