Small-Town Hearts (13 page)

“D
anny intends to help you?” Adam Russo waved toward the apartment above them once Danny had said good-night. “Even though he's the competition?”

Meg glanced around her small store, a mock-sage expression teasing her father. “Looking for insider secrets, no doubt.”

“It's not that I'm concerned,” Adam began. “But I don't want you hurt. Again.”

“Life doesn't come with guarantees, Adam.”

Adam directed a steady gaze toward Karen. “I know that.”

“And remember how we felt when we learned about Ben's condition?”

His face softened. “Yes.”

“And other than his current stint of willfulness, that came out just fine. We've made great friends we'd never have met otherwise, we've raised him to be as self-sufficient as we could and he's possibly about to start a whole new adventure in life.”

Meg kept her voice soft, knowing Ben might overhear. “Such as?”

“In His Care, the adult-care facility just outside of Wellsville has a job opening.”

Meg frowned, not understanding.

“They need an evening dishwasher. Since Ben's at The Edge five days a week for lunches, this would give him additional work hours, more money and keep him busy in an independent setting.”

“How's that?”

Karen slipped into the chair alongside Meg and sighed. “He'd be living there.”

“Really?” Meg didn't try to minimize the joy in her voice. “Mom. You caved?”

“Not yet, but she will.” Adam settled into the chair on Karen's other side and grasped her hand. “It's less than fifteen minutes from us, he'd have his own one-bedroom suite, access to the dining area whenever he wanted or he can cook simple things in his kitchenette.”

“And he's fully capable of that,” Meg noted.

“Their van is available to take him back and forth to The Edge, he'd be a participating and independent member of an adult community and they provide transportation to the stores in Wellsville twice a week so residents can shop, see a movie, go out to eat.”

“It sounds ideal.”

“Theoretically.” Karen drew a deep breath and whooshed it out. “We've got a few days to make the decision, but Dad and I talked with the social worker, and she told us what we already knew. Ben's mature, he's a little bored and he needs to feel like he's an integral part of society while following society's rules.”

“And if it doesn't work out, he can always come home,” Adam added with a squeeze to Karen's hand. “But if we don't allow his independence soon, we might miss the window of opportunity because Ben sticks his feet in the mud easily.”

“A quality he gets from you, dear.” Karen returned Adam's
squeeze with a shoulder nudge. “In any case, I'm praying about it, but I agree, it's probably for the best and we can always change the decision. We're going to have Ben tour the facility, meet people, see the kitchen and the apartment. Gauge his reaction.”

“That's a great idea.”

Karen's gaze sharpened. “You're exhausted.”

“No, I'm—”

Karen stood, drew Adam up beside her and raised a hand. “I've been your mother long enough to know the signs, Megan Marie. We're leaving. You go to sleep. And if you miss the Fourth of July services tomorrow, we'll let Reverend Hannity know why.”

“Thank you.” Earlier Meg hadn't felt too bad, but right now a mix of fatigue and dull, throbbing pain worked its way from her arm to her head.

“You're all right? Really?” Her mother's gaze meant
are you all right
in every way possible under the sun; the arm, the head, the cute guy next door…

Meg nodded and shrugged. “I'm fine. Just beat.”

“Okay.” Karen hugged her carefully. “We love you, honey. And we'll muster up man hours to help with whatever needs doing. You know that.”

Meg did know that, but her parents both worked full-time jobs. It was a rough economy out there, where no one in their right mind took time off unless absolutely necessary, and they had a special-needs son facing a monumental change. “Between Hannah, Crystal, you guys and Danny, we'll do just fine.”

“We will.” Adam leaned down and kissed her brow, his fatherly affection enough to mist Meg's eyes. Adam Russo was a great man, the kind of guy every girl should find at some point. Strong, gentle, funny, faithful.

Was her mother just lucky or had there been a clue years back, something that told her Adam was the right choice?

Meg was too tired and sore to ferret out an answer. She thought the pain in her arm and head would keep her awake, but it didn't. She fell asleep once her head touched the pillow, and she didn't awaken for over seven hours.

Her head felt better, her arm didn't, but her brain seemed sharper than the previous night, which meant the reality of facing the next few weeks of busy festival time with a broken arm broadsided her.

But Danny would be there to help.

Anticipation trumped pain, and Meg didn't make light of that. Thoughts of seeing him, working with him, laughing with him…

She'd missed the promised kiss last night, her family out-staying her cute tenant, but she hoped to make up for it today. Too much caution could be as bad as too little. They had four weeks together, a decent amount of time to test the waters.

People drown in those waters, Meg.

Meg shushed the voice. She was old enough and smart enough to make her own decisions, forge her own path.

So she'd made mistakes. Who didn't? She refused to listen to her inner doubts anymore. She'd learned her lesson the hard way. She looked forward to spending the time with Danny.

With his smile, his look, the sweet, funny, strong spirit within him.

Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. “Hello.”

“Are you ready for church?”

Meg glanced down at her robe. “Five minutes?”

Danny laughed. “Which means you're not even close. Do you feel up to going?”

She did, actually. “Yes.”

“Then I'll drive us. No sense tiring you out before a long day.”

“Not so long,” she told him. “The store's closed for the Fourth of July, and the girls are doing the cookie and fudge booths at the festival.”

“I meant for the fireworks tonight. I hear they're spectacular.”

Meg knew a guy like Danny had probably enjoyed fireworks all around the world. “They're really nice.”

“I'll be over in ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

She headed to the closet, examined the options and sighed.

Buttons. Zippers. Pullovers with small necks not meant for easing over a splinted arm.

Tears pricked. She tamped them down, determined to figure this out. Hanger by hanger she recognized the inconveniences she'd face for the next six weeks, but it wasn't the end of the world. She settled on a gray floral wraparound skirt with a white wrap ruched top that tied at the side.

She slipped a barrette into one side of her hair. The humid temperatures added a layer of frizz to her curls.

Wonderful.

She was late, sweaty, with no time for makeup, and her hair resembled a badly trimmed bush. What normal, great-looking All-American guy wouldn't fall for that? She swung the lower door open with her left arm and found Danny, hand raised, ready to ring the bell. “I'm ready.”

His grin disarmed her as appreciation lit his eyes. Suddenly she knew the clothes and hair didn't matter.

“You look wonderful.”

She flushed, but refused to argue the point. “Thank you. Can you tie this for me, please?” She held out the white cotton ribbon. “I tried but couldn't even manage a decent square knot.”

“Got it.” He bent slightly and tied a halfway decent bow, his big fingers surprisingly nimble. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He leaned down and met her mouth with his, a soft kiss that stirred Meg's heart. He paused, sighed,
dropped his forehead to hers and breathed deep. “That's the kiss we missed last night. You owed me.”

She smiled, loving the moment, the words, the teasing note in his voice. Yes, she could welcome being teased by that voice for decades to come, a thought that inspired hope and fear.

Do not be afraid for I am with you.
Sure, she'd messed up before. She knew that. But she'd survived and proved she could withstand whatever came her way. Life offered chances, some good, some bad. Her parents proved that in their lives, their love, their acceptance of Ben as their child and God's child. She swallowed a sweet sigh of contentment and angled a smile up at Danny. “So…am I marked paid in full?”

He grinned, tapped her nose and reached for her left hand as he started down the walk. “Not even close.”

“You're walking too fast.”

“You're walking too slow. It's your arm that's hurt, not your legs, and we're late. Hurry up.”

“You—”

He turned, swept the car door open with a chauffeurlike flourish, ignored her playful, scathing look and rounded the hood in record time once she was in. “If I speed through the village…”

“Which you won't because the sheriff's office sends Blair Carmichael to direct traffic in and out of the church circle when there are services.”

“It might be worth the ticket to get to church on time.”

Meg swept him a scolding look. “Nothing's worth a ticket, Danny. Waste not, want not. Take care of the pennies, the dollars will come.”

“My grandmother says the same thing. She got it from her mother.”

“Smart women.”

“Which is why you fit so nicely, Megs.” He parked the car along the edge of the church drive, the lot overflowing with
Independence Day churchgoers, a sweet ritual intrinsic to Jamison no matter what day the Fourth fell on.

“Because I remind you of your grandmother? I'm not exactly sure how to take that.”

He jogged around the car to help with her door. “In the best way possible. Sit with me today, okay?”

“You won't pester me?”

He grinned. “I can't promise that.”

“Then, no.”

“Megs.”

“Promise.” She tilted her head back and met his gaze, keeping her look adamant. “There's no messing around in church. Eyes forward. Prayerful. Attentive. Got it?”

“Oh, yeah. I've got it.” He clasped her hand, ran his thumb across the soft, freckled skin along the back and squeezed lightly. “I'll behave.”

“Then yes, I'll sit with you, especially since they're already singing and we're conspicuous. Pick a back pew. Please.”

He led the way in, slipped into a pew toward the back, and opened a hymnbook for her. Her grateful smile made him feel bigger, stronger, all for holding a praise book politely.

He joined in the song, groping for the occasional word, his gaze forward, eyeing the congregation. Red, white and blue dominated the whitewashed room, the village of Jamison unafraid to bear the country's colors with pride. He skimmed Meg's gray and white with a wondering glance before realization struck. He'd had a rough time getting in and out of clothes with his broken arm back in high school, and men didn't have the complicated clothes that women grappled with. And Meg had no one around to help tie, adjust or zip, easing her arm through sleeves.

The tiny smudge of softness grew within him once again, warmth stealing a larger part of his heart, the need to cherish her an awakening. He sat alongside her, listening to Reverend
Hannity speak of God's love among the sinners, the lost, the least, the lonely, and he reached for Meg's good hand.

She looked up, surprised and pleased.

He'd traveled Europe and parts of the Middle East. He'd gone to Africa on cacao bean inspections with cocoa buyers, investigating where to get the best Fair Trade chocolate to use for Grandma Mary's. He'd set up shops in cities great and small, and kept apartments in a couple of them. He'd dated, he'd laughed, he'd danced, he'd cried, but nothing he'd experienced in his thirty-four years felt as good and right as this simple act of holding Meg's hand in church, surrounded by sweet country folk who openly loved God and country. He'd found the heartland, right here in the Southern Tier of New York, and no matter what happened, he wasn't about to give it up.

Which meant marrying the girl. Having babies, raising children.

Would they have her curls, her fair skin, those golden-brown eyes that tugged him in? His stare drew her attention. She quirked a brow, tapped the book and sent him a look of censure, the expression reminding him he'd promised to face forward.

He would, but first he slipped his arm around her shoulder and dropped a gentle kiss to her hair, wanting her to feel what he felt, tenderness stealing into crevices left wanting for too many years.

She ducked her head against his chest for just a moment, the move saying she understood as they stood to sing a song.

The warmth stole deeper, further, trickles of light and faith tempting him to embrace a new day.

Nesting finches caroled just beyond the window, their well-built home tucked into the corner of the frame, their song vibrant with the coming day, the moment at hand.

Danny couldn't agree more.

 

After church, Danny handed Meg a maple twist roll, took a bite of his and nodded in excessive appreciation for Miriam Schultz's Amish brilliance. “This is fantastic. When do we get breakfast?”

Meg raised her sweet roll. “You're eating it.”

“Real breakfast, Megs. Ham. Eggs. Toast. Coffee.”

“Seriously? This won't do it for you?” She eyed the twist, then the guy, and shrugged. “Okay, I get it. You need guy food. Do you have food in your apartment?”

“That would require equipment and preparation knowledge, neither of which I have.”

“You eat out constantly?” The idea of that seemed downright wrong and maybe totally fun. A life without cooking, without thinking of what to buy, what to eat, what to prepare?