A Promise of Forever (29 page)

Disappointment shadowed her caramel eyes, but she hid it with a smile. “Of course. Maybe next time.”

Calvin listened to the door close behind them, to his father’s heavy tread walking away, and his mother’s earlier words echoed inside his head.
Whatever you want, son, that’s what we’ll do.

The problem was, what did a man do when he didn’t want anything at all? How did he survive? How did he let go? Was there any conceivable destination that made the journey worthwhile? Or was he going to suffer until the day he finally died?

Lifting as many reusable shopping bags from the trunk as her two hands could carry, Benita Ford hurried along the path to the back door of the house she shared with her grandmother. Lights shone through the windows, and the central heat and air system hunkered against the house on the back side was rumbling, meaning it would be warm and cozy inside. Why in the world had she worn a dress, tights, and her new black boots to go shopping today? She’d lost contact with her toes a long time ago, and every time the prairie wind had blown, it seemed the cold had headed straight up her skirt for a
woo-hoo
of the sort she didn’t need. Jeans, wool socks, leather running shoes, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a long-sleeved sweater, and the gorgeous wool coat that reached almost to her ankles—
those
were shopping clothes.

“Brr! At least I know my ice cream didn’t melt on the way home.” Mama Maudene Pickering was waiting in the kitchen, ready to unpack the bags while Bennie went after the rest. The old lady wore black sweatpants that puddled over her shearling-lined house shoes, along with an orange, black, and purple Halloween sweater that was scarier than much else having to do with the day.

“I don’t remember ice cream being on the shopping list,” Bennie teased.

Mama shook a finger at her. “You don’t want to give an old woman palpitations. But if you do, be sure to ask for good-looking firemen when you call 911.”

“And you do the same for me if I ever need it.” Ducking her head, Bennie rushed out into the cold again. She had another six or eight bags, along with four cases of bottled water that she had to haul in or risk finding her trunk covered in icicles the next day.

By the time she made her last dash, she was finally warm, sweating inside her clothes. She took off the cardigan that was a cute match to the dress, tossed it on the back of a chair, and began helping her grandmother.

“See anyone interesting at the store?”

“Just people hoping to get home before they froze.”

“You young kids. In my day, we didn’t have all the nice clothes and gloves and central heat and a grocery store just down the street.”

“No, you had a sandy warm beach just down the street.” Mama had grown up on the barrier islands of South Carolina, soaking in lazy breezes and running barefoot in the sand and living—at least, to hear her tell it—an idyllic life. Bennie knew it hadn’t been all sunshine and roses, especially after her marriage ended in divorce. Still, it had been sweet.

“It got cold there, too, missy. I remember one time it snowed twice in one month. Almost covered the ground both times.” Mama burst into laughter. “I have to admit, if I’d known more about Oklahoma weather, I might have kept on traveling a little farther west. But when I got here, the sun was shining, the air was crisp and clean, and the leaves were the most wonderful shades of yellow, orange, and red. I knew this was where I wanted to be.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “That was in October, too.”

“And this is its evil twin, Octobrrr.” Bennie emptied the last of the canvas bags, rolled each one, and stuck them inside the largest bag to return to her car in the morning. “But warm weather will be back again soon.”

“Most likely. I’ve worn shorts in January and a sweater in June.” Mama shuffled to the refrigerator, arms filled with milk and yogurt. On her way to the small pantry, Bennie opened the door for her. Grocery shopping was a regular Saturday activity for her, and October was always her overstocking time. She’d been forced to trudge to the grocery store once years ago when snow and ice had kept their neighborhood impassable for days. She had learned her lesson. If the streets froze now, they had enough food to feed themselves and the neighbors for a few weeks. If the pipes froze, there was plenty of bottled water, and if the power went off, they had a huge supply of candles and batteries for flashlights, and firewood stretched the length of the house two ricks deep.

Bennie was prepared for anything.

“—reheat the leftover pot roast,” Mama was saying when Bennie stepped back into the kitchen. “Chop everything up, mix it all up with gravy, and serve it with some thick slices of fresh white bread. Hm-
hmm
, that sounds good.”

“It certainly does.” Bennie put away the last of the groceries, then gave her grandmother a hug. “You know, your good cooking is the reason you and I are both on the round side.”

Mama snorted. “I’ve been a size twelve my whole grown-up life. I should know, since I’m the one cutting the size tags out of my old clothes and sewing them into my new ones.” Her hearty laugh emphasized the roundness of her face, filled with lines and haloed by gray hair and as beautiful as a face could be.

Gratitude surged in Bennie, tightening her chest. Her mother might have run off before Bennie saw her fifth birthday, and her father might have died before her tenth. She might have lost her husband, J’Myel, in the war, but she’d always had her grandmother. Mama’s love was boundless and forgiving and warmed a girl’s heart.

“Did you get all your shopping done?” Mama asked as she pulled the leftovers from the refrigerator, then gathered a knife, cutting board, and a large cast-iron pot. Bennie had once given her a much lighter stainless pot, and Mama had proclaimed it just what she needed before putting it away and continuing to use her cast iron, even when picking up a full pan required a grunt of effort.

“I bought a few things,” Bennie replied as she wiped down the oilcloth that covered the kitchen table, then began setting it for dinner.

“I finished my Christmas shopping in July.”

“Braggart.”

“If you’d use the Internet, you could’ve finished yours already, too.”

Bennie rolled her eyes, careful not to let Mama see. When the neighbor kid had shown her grandmother how to get online, Bennie had thought it would be a passing curiosity. Then the first purchase had arrived and proven her wrong. Since then, the UPS and FedEx drivers had become Mama’s newest BFFs.

“Aw, you know me. I like to do my shopping in person. I want to touch stuff, see it, smell it.”

Mama made a dismissive gesture with the knife. “I touch it, see it, and smell it when it gets here, and if I don’t like it, I send it right back for something else.”

Bennie wasn’t an avid shopper, not like her friend Jessy, but she enjoyed the experience, especially when the Christmas decorations were up but the holiday was still far enough off that people weren’t yet frantic. It reminded her of her childhood, of trips to Tulsa for the parade, of driving around the neighborhoods looking at extravagant lighting displays and visiting Santa Claus at Utica Square.

It reminded her of different times—not better, just innocent. She hadn’t known about death and loss then. Yes, her mother had abandoned her, but her father and Mama had filled that void. Back when Christmas was still magical, she hadn’t known her father would die. She’d never dreamed that her two best friends in the entire world would grow so far apart. She’d certainly never guessed that she would marry one of them, then lose him before their second anniversary, or that the other wouldn’t even call her to say he was sorry.

Moisture seeped into her eyes. She could handle thinking about J’Myel or Calvin one at a time, but having them both on her mind saddened her. Them losing their bond still seemed impossible, as unlikely as Bennie deciding she no longer loved Mama. It just couldn’t happen.

But it had.

And she’d been oh, so sorry ever since.

Forcing the thoughts and the loss away, she poured two glasses of iced tea, heavily sweetened the way Mama had taught her to like it, then went to her room to slip out of her boots and into a disreputable pair of loafers. Her toes wiggled in relief, her arches reveling in comfort, after a whole day in the heels. She would put herself through a lot to look good in public, but at home, comfort reigned.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, sleet was spitting against the windows, not much, the sort that said Mother Nature hadn’t decided whether she was just playing with them or intended to give them a storm. Every tropic-loving cell in her body hoped for the former while every realistic one prepared to accept the worst.

Mama had filled two steaming bowls with roasted beef, potatoes, carrots, and celery and placed a loaf of warm bread between them on the table. They joined hands and said grace, a short prayer that had survived at least four generations in the Pickering family, then dug into their food. It tasted even better than it had sounded.

They chatted about nothing: the weather, the gifts she’d bought for her friend Ilena’s baby boy John, the presents they would ship to family back in South Carolina, the Halloween decorations that were waiting a warm spell so they could spookify the house. The room was so cozy, the food so comforting, that Bennie was slowly being lulled into lazy, hazy contentment. Then Mama pushed her empty bowl away, folded her arms on the tabletop, and leaned toward Bennie. “I talked to Emmeline just before you got back.”

So much for contentment. All it took was one mention of Calvin’s family and, poof, the turmoil returned. She tried to hide it, to act casually as she picked up her own empty bowl and carried it, along with Mama’s, to the sink. “How is Miss Emmeline?”

Mama didn’t answer but went straight to the point. “Her grandson’s back in town.”

Joe Cadore stood in front of the refrigerator, bent at the waist, searching for something worth eating for dinner, and had no more luck than the last two times he’d looked. There was yogurt, protein drinks, eggs, fruit, milk, and cheese—all perfectly fine in their place, but their place was not on a dreary, freezing Saturday night. This was a time for comfort foods like his mom’s homemade macaroni and cheese, or Dad’s chili and jalapeño corn bread, or Grandma’s pasta Bolognese.

This was a time for his neighbor Lucy’s home cooking.

He looked out the window over the kitchen sink and watched the ice where it glistened on tree branches and fence wires. Lucy could have plans that didn’t include a self-invited guest. She could even be on a date. Everyone had grown so used to her single status that when she’d started dating the doctor guy from Tulsa last summer, none of them was as shocked as she was, not even Joe. Thank God, the doc had hooked up with Avi Grant and moved out of state with her last month.

Just because the doc was gone, though, didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of other guys out there waiting for their shot at Lucy. She’d be the type to meet cute—someone changing a flat for her, helping her out of a tough spot, or reaching for the same loaf of bread she did—and
boom
.

Joe’s feet had grown cold on the wood floor, and the reflection looking back at him in the window wore a scowl. Grabbing a protein drink and an orange, he returned to the living room, sliding over the back of the couch, landing on the cushions just as his phone rang. What his nieces called his grouchy face disappeared the instant he checked Caller ID, a grin taking its place. “Hey, Luce.”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

He set the fruit and drink on the coffee table. “Nope. I looked in the refrigerator three times, and there was nothing to eat in there.”

“You know, there are times when protein drinks and fruit just don’t make the grade.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She laughed, and he wondered how long ago he had decided it was the best sound in the world. Probably the first time he’d heard it. She hadn’t laughed a lot in the beginning, still mourning her husband, trying to figure out how her perfect life had come to such a screeching halt. But eventually the laughs had come, and the smiles and the grins, and they’d grabbed him and hadn’t let go. Three years they’d been buddies, two years best friends. This past year…well, damn if he hadn’t gotten so comfortable with her that he couldn’t figure out how to move to the next level.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “. . . beef and cabbage stew and a loaf of rustic bread still warm from the oven, if you want to join me.”

His heart rate increased a few beats. He definitely wanted. But he kept his tone casual. “And all I have to do is…What? Persuade Norton to go out in the sleet and do his business?”

“You think I would bribe you with food to take care of our dog?” she asked sweetly. “Besides, you’re from Alaska. This weather is supposed to be like a mild fall evening to you.”

He snorted as he pulled on the socks and shoes he’d left on the floor earlier. “Ice is cold no matter where you’re from, Luce. Do you need anything?”

“I’m from San Diego, land of warm sandy beaches. I always stock up for times like these. So just you and your appetite. See you in five.”

He hung up, put the drink and orange back in the fridge, then headed for the back door, where his heavy coats hung on a rack. After a minute, he turned and went to his room, throwing his T-shirt toward the hamper in one corner, pulling a clean shirt from a hanger and tugging it on.

Back in the kitchen, he slid into a down jacket, a black knit cap bearing the OSU Cowboys logo, gloves, and a scarf, then ducked out the back door. The ice on his patio crunched beneath his feet, taking on a different pitch when he reached the grass separating his house from Lucy’s, then another crunch across her patio. Prisms of welcoming light shone through the fixture over her door, scattered by layers of glass.

Norton’s bark was just as welcoming, a loud
woof
accompanied by frantic scratching. An instant later, Lucy opened the door and Joe gratefully stepped inside.

Her house was laid out just like his, but his never felt like hers. Incredible smells filled the air, there were homey touches everywhere, and he swore the house had a personality all its own. But maybe that was because Lucy had so much personality that it spilled over, filling the space around her.