Forever Friday (20 page)

“A yummy idea.” Huck headed toward the mailbox. “I’m too excited to cook.”

“I’m going to run tell our soon-to-be-disappointed landlord the news,” Gabe said, then winked. “I’ll bet there’s mail.”

“Whatever could it be?” Huck replied as he scampered toward Mr. Blane’s back door.

The mailbox was out at the curb, so she removed her shoes to feel the cool grass beneath her feet. What a day it had been. First she’d finally written her mother—a major relief—and then the unexpected shopping adventure. She laughed. It was a bit paradoxical that she’d apologized to Annise and then bought
pants
of all things. But to find the perfect home complete with Anacacho orchids? Her new address would be 3315 Glen View Lane. Because of the orchids, it might as well have been 3315
Secret Glen
View Lane.

Thoughts of Mister Jack had flooded Huck’s mind ever since she saw the bush. Had he somehow been involved? She’d mentioned it to Gabe, who said he wouldn’t discount the idea completely, but it had probably just been a coincidence. Oh well, he was
her
guardian angel, not
his
. It would be nice, but they couldn’t share everything.

She reached the mailbox and removed the contents. It was almost dark, but she could see the anticipated postcard, which she’d wait to
read inside with the proper light. There were also a couple of bills and a letter. She wondered who the letter was from. Mother might have written, but it wasn’t her typical envelope. And her siblings mainly corresponded around the Christmas holidays. Of course it could be a letter for Gabe, but—

And then she recognized the handwriting, transforming her former joy into a cold shiver.

The letter was from Clark.

July 1926

Houston, Texas

A polished brass teakettle steamed a happy song as Huck dried and put away the breakfast dishes. The modern three-bedroom design of her new home was exactly what she and Gabe had wanted, complete with a fireplace, formal sitting and dining rooms, large kitchen, and cozy breakfast nook. They slept in a four-poster bed in the largest bedroom and transformed the two smaller ones into a study and their own private parlor … a candlelit room containing
fresh-cut flowers, favorite books, a rose-colored love seat, and, of course, the postcards.

Huck smiled.

The parlor idea had entered her brain when she was sixteen, the same afternoon her secret glen had been bulldozed. Undaunted by the din of the powerful dozer, she vowed to one day create a special place for herself and her future husband. It would be a beautiful room, secluded, off-limits to most visitors. And she’d die before seeing
it
destroyed.

Remembering the glen made her think of Huntsville and the apology letter she’d written to her mother, who’d responded in kind. They’d both corresponded a couple of times since, finally fine-tuning their differences into a bona fide truce.

Clark’s letter was another matter. Huck’s smile vanished because she’d not yet told Gabe. When they’d bared their souls on the night of their first date, they’d vowed to never keep secrets. But with the excitement and bustle of moving, she’d kept putting it off. Clark was a sore subject, one that Gabe would rather not discuss. Was he jealous of her former beau? Yes. He’d be livid if he knew there was a letter she’d not told him about.

Huck thoroughly dried the silverware, then inspected it for water spots. After reading the letter carefully, she realized that Clark had apologized and even asked for her forgiveness in his own proud way. He told her he’d married a girl in Chicago whom he swore was “his unexpected pot of gold at the end of fate’s rainbow.” She thought it an odd statement, if not a little spiteful, but was relieved Clark had finally shifted his romantic focus.

Last weekend, she’d intended on casually mentioning the letter after breakfast. But her intentions were thwarted when the beautiful
love seat they’d ordered for the parlor was delivered. So they’d brewed more coffee and spent the rest of the morning lounging on it. She hadn’t wanted to ruin the fun.

“This parlor thing is downright antisocial genius,” Gabe had joked. “No guest room, no weekend guests.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.” Huck pinched his cheek. “Weekends are our time. And besides, I don’t see you offering up your study to the visiting relative pool.”

Gabe laughed. “Touché! And that
is
a compliment.”

Returning to the task at hand, Huck dried a delicate cup and saucer. Two weeks of serving meals on the fine china she’d stored in her hope chest was so … satisfying. Even more was the way Gabe looked at her when he sat at their maple breakfast set each morning, his smooth face bright with appreciation. But most satisfying of all were his lingering good-bye kisses, communicating she was the one person in his world who mattered most. Their kisses were a kind of “lip linguistics”: a romantic language without words.

Warm anticipation transformed Huck’s mouth back into a smile. This was Gabe’s last day of work at Cecil’s. Beginning tomorrow, they’d share fifteen summer days of total freedom before he started his job with Gulf. To celebrate, she’d planned two surprises.

The first had occurred last evening, a casual supper at Benny’s Diner with Gabe’s closest friends. She’d wanted to hostess the event in their new home, but the breakfast set, bed, and love seat were their only furniture. Except for two sentimental lamp tables and some bookshelves, they’d sold everything from the garage apartment to a secondhand dealer, deciding to invest in higher quality. “Better craftsmanship means we can only buy a piece of furniture every few months,” Gabe
had emphasized more than once, “but it will outlast us both. Besides, it would be embarrassing if our bed collapsed under the strain of heavy passion.”

Huck dried a silver serving spoon, inspecting it for tarnish.
Heated
defined their bedroom activities much better than
heavy
. After rubbing a water spot, she studied the spoon again. Her reflection was upside down. She laughed. Gabe had certainly turned her world topsy-turvy.

Putting away the last bit of china and silverware, Huck pitched the dishcloth into a pile of soiled table linens, then spooned ground coffee into a small drip-style pot before adding boiling water. While the coffee brewed, she retrieved a large mixing bowl and wooden spoon. Gathering eggs, flour, and baking soda, she recalled the fun she’d had last night eating supper with Gabe’s friends.

Benny, who reminded her of a grizzled chuck-wagon cook, had called her “a pretty little heifer—pretty ornery.” Cecil exuded the pleasant kindness of a southern gentleman, but with sad eyes. His wife, Norma, was “under the weather” and sent her apologies. And Charlie? Funny, opinionated, spinning one joke after another. Some were slightly off-color. Wife Chloe would roar with laughter, then suddenly gasp, slapping her hand over Charlie’s mouth.

Huck shook her head at the memory of Gabe’s diverse friends, then lit the gas range. Part of her second surprise was baking Café Chocolate Cake, Gabe’s favorite. The recipe had been handed down through his south Texas roots, and to her husband’s delight, she’d made it the first week they were married. Cocoa was a prime ingredient, but this cake also called for one cup of strong coffee, cinnamon, and brown sugar. The icing boasted the same rich flavors and was decorated with toasted pecan halves.

With a wooden spoon, Huck creamed butter and brown sugar, stirred in the dry ingredients, then added coffee and eggs. As a child, she’d learned the secret to a moist cake was beating each egg into the batter separately. It took a lot more work, but the final result was worth the extra effort.

As the cake baked, Huck grabbed a pencil and a secret to-do list hidden in her recipe box. Sitting at the table, she checked off final preparations for her second surprise:

Cake: Check.

Food and water: Check.

Bedding: Check.

Swimsuit: Check.

Ever since their interurban journey to Splash Day, when they’d discussed a real sailing adventure, she’d dreamed of exploring the jetties and coves around Galveston Bay with her soul mate. And when they’d bought a house with a sailboat, it was serendipity, something one must never ignore. So she’d planned their trip to last an entire week. Daylight hours would be spent gliding silently across the calm waters. At night, they’d build a fire on the beach and hold each other under the clear Texas stars.

Huck smiled and returned to her list:

Sailboat: Check.

Without Gabe’s knowledge, she’d hired a boatman to inspect the hull, rudder, lines, and sail. The little sloop passed with ease. And as part of the deal, he’d promised to trailer it to the bayside town of Seabrook. The only things not already stowed in the boat were the cake and a few personal items.

Releasing a satisfied sigh, Huck checked “Sailboat to Seabrook.” As
planned, the boatman had arrived that morning only moments after Gabe sped away in Blue Norther. All she had left to do was pack the rest of their clothes.

“Running away to join the navy?” Gabe joked later that afternoon. He’d raced home after his final day at Cecil’s to find Huck sitting atop the front porch steps, smiling and holding a cake tin.

He whistled.

The girl of his dreams was dressed in the white duck pants and pink sailor blouse. She had never looked more appealing. “Perhaps you’re posing for a fashion magazine?”

“With a cake in my lap?”

“Guess not.” Gabe removed his hat, sat next to Huck, and lit a Lucky.

“Aren’t you going to ask what kind of cake I baked?”

“Don’t have to. Here, hold my cigarette.” He handed it to Huck and grabbed the tin.

“Give that back. It has to do with a surprise.”

“Another one … for me?”

“You don’t change jobs every day. And this surprise, you’ll
really
like.”

“It’ll be hard to beat the dinner at Benny’s last night.” He grinned and studied the cake tin. “Can I at least smell what’s inside?”

“One brief smell. But barely open it.”

Prying the lid up a crack, Gabe sniffed. “Mmm. Just what I hoped … Café Chocolate. So when do I get to know the rest of your plans?”

“Right now.” She handed back the cigarette. “You and I are going on an adventure.” Huck giggled.

“Big game hunting?”

“In this outfit?”

“How about deep sea diving?”

“Gabe. Be serious.”

Leaning close, he kissed the top of her head. Something about being outdoors, the way she was dressed, the fresh scent of her hair … made him crazy. “A man can’t think properly in the presence of a beautiful woman wearing duck pants,” he whispered, “especially during his first hour of jobless freedom when all he wants to do is celebrate.”

“Oh, Gabe darling,” Huck snuggled close. “It is your first hour of freedom. And since you picked out this blouse and said I’m beautiful …” She paused, planting a breathy kiss at the base of his neck. “I suppose we could go inside and celebrate by having a little, you know …” She paused again, nibbling his ear lobe.

“I think we both know,” Gabe whispered.

“Then you’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” He snuffed out his smoke.

“Good.” She giggled. “We’ll have a little cake. Open the tin.”

Pooching out his bottom lip, Gabe sat up straight and lifted the lid. A paper sailboat sailed atop an ocean of chocolate icing and toasted pecans. Lettered across the stern was the name
Cleopatra
.

“Now would you look at that.” Gabe chuckled. “I’d completely forgotten. On our first date, we talked of a swashbuckling adventure someday on a boat named
Cleopatra
.”

“Someday.” Huck smiled and nodded.

Gabe paused, studied the cake, then stood and pointed toward their garage. “You mean, today? In our new boat?”