Sunflower Lane (21 page)

“Who’s that coming down the drive? I don’t recognize that truck.”

Diana Hartigan peered out the kitchen window as the sun slowly melted into a luscious pink and gold sky. She’d been too full from all the food at the shower to eat more than a tuna sandwich for supper, but she’d served her mother and Doug a cucumber and tomato salad and the spaghetti and meatballs left over from the previous night.

“Let me take a look.” Doug hurried to the front door and opened it, just as the truck in question parked at the head of the drive.

An older man sprang out with the vigor of someone Doug’s age—or maybe even younger—and strode up the walk, sweeping off his cowboy hat as he approached the house.

“Evening, sir. I’m looking for Ava Louise.”

Doug stepped onto the porch. “And you would be?”

“Ben Adkins. I’m an old friend.”

Good Lord.
Gazing out the edge of the kitchen window, Ava froze.

His voice was deeper, raspier, but it was the same one she remembered from the days of her youth. Despite his age he’d fairly sauntered up the walkway toward the porch with vigor and a zest for life that rang a bell in her head. His hair was all gray—a deep, steel gray—but it was still thick and he looked broad and energetic and as handsome as ever, in jeans and a flannel shirt and a wide smile on his ruddy face.

What in the world is he doing here?
Ava quickly stepped back from the window, her thoughts flying about in confusion. Which was most unusual for her.

She’d been to town a few times since Dorothy and Martha told her Ben was back, but she hadn’t seen him even once. Half the town was talking about him, though, speculating about why he’d returned, where he was staying, when he’d show up again. She’d heard he was looking at property—there were rumors he was going to open a new headquarters for his company.

Why here? Why now?

“Mom, are you all right?” Diana’s voice broke into her thoughts. Diana had come to stand beside her. “Do you know that man?”

“We . . . went to school together. We were friends. He’s been away for many years.”

Ava straightened her shoulders and pulled herself together. He’d startled her, but now she was coming back to herself, and was curious to see why in the world he’d shown up at her door. Years ago, her parents would have thought nothing of seeing Ben or any other young man at her door. She’d had more suitors than she could count on both hands.

But after she’d met Clyde, she’d never taken an interest in any other man.

Doug Hartigan reappeared in the kitchen doorway. “Ben Adkins?” He looked questioningly at Ava. “You know him?
He says you’re old friends. I invited him in—hope that’s okay.”

“Yes, of course.” Ava ignored her daughter’s surprised expression and tried to look nonchalant. Straightening her back, she swept toward the living room. “Come meet him. I’ll introduce you both.”

Moments later, she was seated on the chintz sofa in the long, rectangular living room, opposite her onetime best friend, and the boy who’d kissed her at the bottom of a school-yard slide.

Ben stood, his Stetson in hand, as she, Diana, and Doug entered. After the introductions were finished, and after Ben asked with concern about her cast, they all made simple chitchat. For once Ava was impatient with the pleasantries. Ben handled it all with ease, but she noticed his keen brown gaze kept straying to her.

And why not?
she told herself. She’d been the belle of this town long ago. Her father had left the Good Luck Ranch to her in his will—it was one of the largest properties in the state. And her beauty, wealth, and horsemanship had been widely known throughout the region.

She liked to think she still possessed a modicum of charm, even for a man as worldly as Ben must be now, if the rumors she’d heard of him held a kernel of truth.

It wasn’t long before Diana offered to put up coffee, and excused herself. Doug followed her into the kitchen.

Hmm. Alone with Ben Adkins.
Ava’s heart wasn’t fluttering like a girl’s, but it did speed up a beat or two.
Don’t be foolish,
she told herself.
He’s only a man
.

A good-looking, vigorous man, whose eyes still held a vibrant spark—as she liked to think her own did. A man who wore his simple country clothes easily and well.

Time to get to the crux of the matter.

“So, what brings you back to Lonesome Way after all these years?”

“Ava,” he said with a slow smile, “I’m not exactly sure how to answer that.”

“Meaning?”

A hearty laugh broke from him, filling the room with warmth. “You always were the most frank and honest girl in town. No game playing, not from you.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I like honesty. Respect it. Don’t take much to folks who go around in circles, when all they have to do is tell the truth.”

Something flickered in his face. “Yes, the truth.” Leaning back against the chintz love seat, he almost dwarfed it with his burly size and frame. “I’m not sure where to begin. But let me start with your first question and I’ll get to the rest eventually.”

“Working up to something?” she asked, a hint of tartness in her tone.

“Maybe I am.” He studied her from beneath shaggy eyebrows. “You’re still the same, Ava. Still the same girl I remember. Sweet and tart all rolled into one. So let me tell you—and apart from my Realtor, you’re the first to know—I’m here hunting for a vacation property for my family. I’ve got three sons, a daughter, seven grandchildren, and so far, three great-grandchildren. None of ’em have ever been to Montana, much less to Lonesome Way. They grew up on the East Coast. They’ve heard my stories about home and always wanted to come here and see where I grew up. Well, there’s no hotel or resort property in Lonesome Way, so I’m thinking about building a large vacation home where we can all hang out together when the grandkids have vacation from school, or if any of my children or grandchildren and their spouses want a getaway.”

Her gaze shifted to his left hand. He wore no ring, but that didn’t mean anything.

“And for you and your wife,” she said. “How is Margie?”

He didn’t flush, look embarrassed, or react in any way
that reflected shame. He shook his head, shifted his cowboy hat from his hands, and set it on the love seat beside him.

“Margie and I divorced after six months of marriage. I remarried sometime later—my second wife’s name was Sandra Laughlin. She was a business associate, sharp as a needle, kept me on my toes. Sort of the way you did. She reminded me of you in a way, and we caught each other’s eyes. But sad to say, Sandra died seven years ago. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” Ava said at once. “I didn’t mean to bring up a difficult time in your life.”

“Don’t get me wrong. Sandra and I had a good life together, and raised some fantastic kids, but I’ve grown used to being alone in many ways. Of course, I would have loved her to see this town, but . . . Sandra never wanted to come to Montana. She was a San Francisco girl through and through. Didn’t want to venture into the boonies, as she called it.”

“Some folks feel that way. Of course, they’ve never been lucky enough to see what we have here,” Ava said softly.

“That’s it exactly.” Smiling at her, Ben’s still-sharp brown eyes crinkled with warmth. He leaned forward on the love seat and held her gaze with his. “I’ll tell you, Ava. It’s sure good to see you again. You haven’t changed.”

“Are you blind, Ben?”

He grinned. “You might look a little bit different—we both do; that’s for damn certain. But you’re the same as I remember. Beautiful, dignified, spirited. And to the point. You always had a special spark about you. A kind of wisdom that went beyond your years. I was crazy in love with you for the longest time.”

“Nonsense. You were not.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Since grade school.” The words sounded sincere, but Ava wasn’t buying it.

“Oh, that.” She shrugged, her gaze fixed steadily on him. “That day at the slide? We were children.”

“Not exactly children. What we felt was not childlike. I never forgot that particular kiss.”

Despite her armor, warmth flooded her and she hoped her cheeks hadn’t turned pink. She hadn’t forgotten that kiss, either.

“We had others,” she reminded him, sitting a little straighter in her seat.

“I’m hoping there might be more in the future.”

He said the words so calmly, she almost thought she misheard him. Ava smiled sweetly. “You’re one of those infernal optimists, I see.”

“I didn’t get where I am by being a pessimist. I go after the things I want.”

Another woman might have blushed, but Ava wouldn’t allow herself to do that. “Yes, I’ve heard you’ve been quite successful in business. Everyone in town is talking.”

“I don’t gauge success by business accomplishments alone. I count my family, friends I care about, my values. What about you?”

Ava was surprised by his answer and didn’t speak for a minute. Finally she nodded. “The same.”

For a moment they just gazed at each other. “Perhaps you haven’t changed—in the ways that count,” she murmured. “But still . . .”

“Still what?”

Ava could stand it no longer. Despite all her efforts, a blaze of emotion shot through her. She remembered the night he swore he loved her, and how only days later he was gone. She managed to keep her tone cool and even.

“You left town in a big hurry way back then.”

Something flashed in those keen brown eyes. Possibly regret, she thought, but it was impossible to be sure.

“One of my biggest mistakes. I acted impetuously when I was eighteen. Out of panic and . . . anger.” He cleared his
throat. “I’m sure you heard all the rumors about me and Margie. I know I hurt you back then, Ava. For that, believe me, I’m truly sorry.”

“If you did hurt me, and I’m not saying it’s so, I recovered just fine. You can see that for yourself.” She lifted her chin. In her eyes there shone a world of wisdom and life knowledge as well as pride. “But an explanation between old friends after all these years would still be nice.”

She knew in that moment he was seeing the same things in his mind as she saw in hers. That sweet kiss at the bottom of the slide in seventh grade.

And that magical starlit night in the barn when they were in high school.

The way they’d touched each other in the hayloft. The way they’d caressed and held each other in the dark. It was only one night in a hayloft, but the words he’d said to her—the way he’d touched her, spoken to her—had stayed in her mind.

Even to this day . . .

Of course, they’d been so young. And witless with passion . . .

Come have an adventure with me, Ava. Let’s leave everything behind and explore what’s out there in the big wide world. I want you to come with me. I won’t leave without
you.

But the next day, after the night they’d held each other in the barn, she told him her answer in no uncertain terms—
no.
She wouldn’t leave Lonesome Way.

Looking back now, she couldn’t deny that she’d been willful. And spoiled. And more headstrong than any of her father’s spirited horses, the ones she rode with such confidence.

Now, with the wisdom of years, she could admit that streak of pride and stubbornness in her young self, and her need for wanting everything her own way.

Flickers of regret twisted through her.

“Ava, something wrong?”

“No. Not in the least.” But her stomach dropped as she realized how proud and foolish she’d been when she was young. How stubborn.

“Well, honey, I’d like to tell you the truth.” Ben took a deep breath. “It’s time we cleared the air.”

“We never did talk things out the way we should have back then,” she acknowledged with a nod.

He leaned forward. “We were both young fools. Our emotions ran us, not our brains. But let me start by reminding you that you never wanted to go steady with me back then. I asked you and you said no. Flat-out no. I talked about a future with you, a future for us—away from Lonesome Way—and you said no.”

When she merely looked coolly at him, refusing to either counter or agree with his recollection, Ben shook his head. “Damn, but you were beautiful. And you loved being pursued by every boy in town. It was hard for me to watch that, Ava.”

Regret flickered in his eyes. “I was a hothead. I never planned on what happened with me and Margie. I’m aware that’s no excuse but . . .” He drew a breath.

“You remember the night Fred Macintyre had that party? His parents had gone to Butte for a family reunion—it was during the time when Frank Kerney and Bob Lewiston were both courting you and you were mad at me for wanting to go to college far away. I was jealous as all get-out of Frank and Bob. You and I had words a week before the party—a very angry fight—you said you’d see as many boys as you wanted to—and I stopped coming around.”

Ava nodded. “I didn’t go to the party that night. I went to the movies with Frank Kerney.”

“I remember.” Ben grimaced. “Margie was there, though, and we got to talking—and drinking. Hell,” he added, leaning back and running a hand through his hair as the memories flooded back. “Margie sat on my lap all evening at Fred’s house. The liquor was flowing, and she and I drank
far too much. Matter of fact, I drank myself stupid. Real stupid.”