Heroes In Uniform (148 page)

“Kendra? Kendra isn’t – ” Meg snapped her mouth shut as she realized Kendra
was,
and her triumph evaporated.

She pushed back her chair, but before she could do more, Ellyn quietly reminded her, “You need to ask to be excused, and clear your place.”

“May I
please
be excused,” she enunciated with bitter emphasis.

“Yes, you may. And don’t forget – ”

“I know, I know.”

Meg snatched up her plate and perched her glass at a precarious angle on top. Ellyn bit her lip to keep from issuing a warning. If there was an accident, Meg would have to deal with the consequences, but Ellyn had vowed from the time she knew she was pregnant that she would not be a mother who issued a constant stream of dire warnings and potential failings.

She kept the glass in place despite exaggerated flouncing as she went into the kitchen then returned, passing them without deigning to look at them.

“May I please be excused?”

“Yes, Ben.”

After Ben cleared his place and disappeared toward his room, a silence fell.

Grif looked at her. “Sorry. That was childish with Meg.”

“I can’t blame you. She has been impossible, and you’ve been very patient. Besides, it’s good for her to know she can push you only so far. Otherwise, my dear daughter will keep pushing.”

He insisted on helping her clean up. In companionable silence, she washed and he dried the dishes. When she’d finished at the sink, she gathered the silverware to put away, sorting it into the drawer...in exactly the same place and pattern as in their home near Washington. Just as Grif had observed.

Had she brought other things with her across country without knowing it?

After sliding the drawer closed with her hip, she turned for more items to dry, and ran hard into Grif. Her hands instinctively spread against his solid chest, and one foot shifted forward to help her balance. Except that movement brought her thigh high and snug between his legs, and that did nothing for her balance. He’d automatically caught her, a strong hand behind each of her shoulders, steadying her, keeping her from stumbling or toppling over.

A sudden fire burned in her chest, turning her throat to ashes. The slightest pressure against her back would bring them chest to chest, a drop of his chin and a lifting of hers would bring them mouth to mouth.

Without thought or intent, she raised her face. His legs seemed to tighten on either side of hers.

His eyes were closed. His lips pressed tight against each other. His expression impenetrable.

Then his lips moved, and she watched the motion so carefully that at first she didn’t absorb the meaning of the words they produced.

“Do you ride?”

She cleared her throat trying to brush away the ashes. “What?”

“Since you’ve been back here, do you go riding?”

What path could his thoughts have taken to reach that destination? Not the same path hers had been following, that was for sure.

“No.” She stepped back, careful not to look at him. Gaining oxygen with a near hiccuping sigh. “I...I haven’t had time.”

“That’s a shame. You were so good.”

“No better than any of the rest.”

“Yes, you were. It was like ... like the horses wanted to carry you instead of it being a chore for them.” That surprised a chuckle from her. “Didn’t you notice you were always the first to catch your horse?”

“Not
always
– ”

He shook his head. “Every time. Because the horse
wanted
to get caught. They’d all get up there and vie to be the one you were going to ride, and when you picked one the others would deflate.”

She felt oddly flattered and flustered by this ridiculous notion. She laughed. “I didn’t know you could be so fanciful, Grif.”

“It’s not fanciful, it’s the truth. I never said it then because it was part of how things were. And later...riding wasn’t part of later.”

“We had some great rides, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did.”

His deep voice mellowed, drawing her. She risked a glance, then didn’t look away.

His eyes were focused on her, a faint softening around them not quite qualifying as a smile, a steady, familiar glow in them. A glow that brought such warmth. The comfortable, caring warmth of their past.

Maybe they
could
rebuild. Maybe the past fifteen months wouldn’t matter.

And then a flare flickered across, around, through the warmth. For an instant. Before Grif blinked, and looked away.

Or perhaps she’d imagined that instant, because there was nothing like that as he said good-night and headed out. Imagining such things about Grif was not good. Definitely not good.

* * *

Ellyn’s heart sank as Meg shuffled into the kitchen in her robe and slippers at 8:05 Saturday morning.

Ellyn had awakened her forty-five minutes ago, plenty of time for her to dress and have breakfast. But as she had that first night when Grif took them to dinner, Meg appeared to be unwilling to act on the assumption that he’d arrive as promised.

“Meg, you better get ready, or you’ll be late for Grif.”

“How do I know he’s really coming?”

Because he told you he would
.

If Ellyn gave that answer, her daughter would be justified in pointing out how many times Dale had promised, sworn, pledged – and had failed to follow through. Always with plenty of excuses of how it couldn’t have been avoided and how it most certainly was not his fault.

If Ellyn said Grif was different, she’d be holding him up as a paragon in comparison to Dale. That wouldn’t be fair to Grif. Or to Meg. Maybe not even to Dale.

“I can’t tell you that, honey. Trusting that Grif will come because he said he would is something that has to come from inside you. Only you can decide if you believe he’s coming.”

Meg chewed on her bottom lip. She caught Ellyn watching her, gave her mother a faintly defiant look, then pulled an often-folded napkin from the robe pocket. Spreading it out, she lifted the phone receiver and punched in the numbers.

The phone must have rung enough times that Meg had started to believe, because she seemed to relax. That ended abruptly, her expression darkening. After a moment came a flash of relief, then a jumbled mix with uncertainty the dominant note.

Without having said a word, Meg hung up the phone. Ellyn bit her lip to keep from demanding what had happened.

“Grif left a message,” Meg said at last. “For me.” The bemusement of those last two words was fragile. “How’d he know I’d call?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to ask him.”

Meg looked at her, doubts and hopes swirling in her eyes, then spun around and could be heard clattering up the stairs.

Ellyn stared at the telephone. She withstood temptation for another full minute, then lifted the receiver and hit redial. After four rings, a voice answered at the other end – Grif’s voice, but without a key element of vibrancy, telling her immediately that this was a recording.

“You’ve reached the quarters of Colonel John Griffin Junior. I am not here, Meg, because I left at 7:50 a.m. to keep our appointment. If you – or anyone else – would like to leave a message, please wait for the beep.”

* * *

Whoever said silence was golden had never sat beside a ten-year-old girl who’d once adored you and now looked at you like she suspected you plucked the wings off butterflies for fun – when she bothered to look at you at all.

Not a word, the entire thirty-five-minute drive.

There
had
been plenty of sidelong staring. The kid was going to get eyestrain trying to study his profile without turning toward him.

He knew he didn’t deserve her adoration – never had. Though it had done strange things to him that from babyhood on, Meg would break into a smile and launch herself into his arms at his every arrival. That was gone, but he wasn’t sure he deserved her distrust, either. Except...

He’d walked into an apparent crisis this morning, with Ben anxiously telling his mother he
had
to go to practice, even as she said thank you anyway to someone on the telephone, and hung it up with a shake of her head.

“That was our last hope, Ben. I can take you, but I’ll be working when practice ends, and there’s nobody to get you to the library.”

“I’ll walk.”

“That’s too far for you to walk alone.” Ellyn had explained to Grif, “Ben’s ride had to cancel because his friend’s little sister is sick – maybe chicken pox.”

“But I
have
to go ...”

“I’m sorry, Ben, but – ”

“What time?” Grif had asked. And in minutes it was worked out that Grif and Meg would be back from their trip in time to pick up Ben at baseball practice. They might even catch the last half hour or so – a prospect that added an extra few watts to Ben’s already dazzling smile as he dashed off to get dressed.

Ellyn had given him a smile, less dazzling, but extremely satisfying, and a bag with ham sandwiches for the trip and a surprise.

She’d looked up at him almost sternly, and said in a faintly scolding tone, “You’re a good man, John Griffin Junior. The best.”

And then she’d kissed him on the cheek.

What might have complicated matters was that the next time he’d looked up, Meg was standing in the doorway staring at him.

Had she seen Ellyn’s gesture of affection and misinterpreted it?

He hadn’t misinterpreted it, and it still had complicated matters for him. It had complicated reminding his body that Ellyn was a friend when it responded so strongly to her nearness, her scent and – the feel of her lips against his skin.

He knew why she’d done it. He’d understood completely. She wanted to make sure they both knew that what had happened the night before hadn’t meant anything.

An accidental tangle of one body with the other. Could have happened between two strangers in a crowded hallway. Except it hadn’t been a stranger, it had been Ellyn. If her leg had advanced another inch, if she’d swayed another millimeter closer, she would have known that
friendship
was a lie.

* * *

Grif spotted Ellyn behind the
Banner
’s display table as soon as he walked in the library door, with Meg on one side and Ben on the other.

Fran Sinclair entered his field of vision as she leaned over to say something into Ellyn’s ear. He thought he heard “nice picture,” but that seemed unlikely to make Ellyn glare at Fran that way, so he figured he misheard.

Ellyn had pinned her curly hair back into the semblance of a bun at her nape. On her it looked anything but staid. Especially since ringlet strands kept escaping. One rested against her cheek. In another second, trying as always to tame the curls, she’d tuck the strand behind her ear.

“Grif!” Fran moved to meet him, taking his offered hand in both of hers, then pulling him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you. But it’s past time you came for a visit.”

“You’re right, Mrs. Sinclair, that I should – ”

“Mrs. Sinclair?” protested Fran. “You’ll call me Fran, like everyone else, except these two scalawags.”

“Okay, thank you.” That would take some getting used to; she’d been Mrs. Sinclair all his childhood. But he’d noticed Ellyn called her Fran. Besides,
Mrs. Sinclair
still applied to Ellyn. He didn’t like the taste of that reminder.

Kendra, Daniel and Matthew Delligatti came up just then, saying hello to the newcomers.

“Well, I’ll take my grandchildren off for lunch now, if it’s all right with you, Ellyn.”

“Thanks, Fran. That would be great.“ She made sure the kids each thanked Grif politely for the rides, then sent them off.

His reason for being here had ended, but he felt no inclination to leave. He picked up a copy of the supplement that promised an in-depth look at the history of Far Hills, Wyoming.

“Hey, Bub, you read, you pay,” Kendra teased.

“I don’t want to deplete your stock before your afternoon rush. I’ll get mine later.” And he’d buy them out if need be to make this a success for Ellyn. It was one way to help Ellyn that she couldn’t refuse.

“I hope there is an afternoon rush. It is awfully quiet,”

“I think most people are at lunch,” said Ellyn, “I sent Marti for a break, too.”

“And she sent me back here with drinks,” announced Luke Chandler, walking up with a cardboard tray with cups of sodas and water, which were gratefully accepted.

“If the afternoon’s as busy as this morning, we can all use the break,” Kendra said. Her grin evaporated as she looked over Grif’s shoulder. “Speaking of give-me-a-break.”

That was the only warning he had before he was clutched on either side by a pair of unfamiliar hands.

“It’s so good to see you!” and “How wonderful to see you!” came from opposite sides of him simultaneously. He looked down into two totally unfamiliar late middle-aged faces.

Ellyn provided a lifeline. “Grif, you remember Helen Solsong and Barb Sandy, don’t you?” She nodded first to the woman on his right, then his left.

“It would be better if you were in uniform,” said Barb Sandy, with an assessing look that would have made a side of beef squirm. “But at least your haircut is neat.”

“Yes, and such good posture. And manners,” Helen Solsong agreed with an icy look toward Luke.

“It’s so nice to see a young man who’s grown up in this country choose to serve.” Barb laid her hand on Grif’s arm and leaned close, although her voice didn’t lower. “Makes one feel
safe
, you know. That’s why we were so disappointed that we already had plans when Marti invited us to your welcome-home tonight.”

“Our calendars are just too full to accommodate last-minute invitations. Even now, we can’t be dawdling.” Helen made the announcement with great importance. “We have a meeting for the committee reviewing use of the church for all those mothers who leave their children all day.”

“It’s a baby-sitting cooperative, in which parents participate extensively.” The steel in Ellyn’s voice surprised Grif. But it didn’t seem to surprise anyone else, including the two older women. Unfortunately it didn’t cow them, either.

“Whatever you call it, it’s brought a lot of noise and dirt to the church.”