Читать книгу Getting Married Again - Melinda Curtis - Страница 10

“LOOK OUT!”

The screen door banged open, jerking Lexie awake just in time to see a large, brown streak bounding toward her. Rufus leaped at Lexie’s feet, narrowly missing Marmy, who scampered away down the hallway with the brown pursuer hot on her heels.

“Rufus, no!” Jackson yelled, as he and Heidi followed the Lab into the living room. “Sorry, Lex. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Lexie took a deep breath and rubbed her tummy, which had clenched tight at the prospect of forty-five pounds of dog landing in her lap. Her heart was racing. The baby kicked her ribs once. And again. Then started a drumroll.

Jackson gave Lexie a once-over, which did nothing to slow her pulse.

“Sorry about that, Lex. He wormed his way past us.”

“I’m fine, really.” She’d feel better once he quit looking at her. Lexie rubbed the numb spot that the baby was pounding.

“Mom, look at all this stuff we bought.” Heidi sank to the floor near Lexie, sharing her treasures, the drama of their entrance already fading. “I promised Dad I wouldn’t wear any of it until school.”

Heidi shook out three blouses in rapid succession. Lexie barely had time to look at them before her daughter brought out another shopping bag.

“And new jeans.”

“Blue jeans,” Lexie said wistfully, almost able to feel the thick denim on her legs. What she wouldn’t give to be able to pull on a pair of pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband. “Did you spend all of your father’s money?”

“Almost. We spent what was in my wallet, anyway.” Jackson shouldered open the door, carrying an oblong box that looked suspiciously like stereo equipment. The box effectively distracted Lexie from gazing too long at Jackson’s muscular arms.

Rufus returned, shoving his nose repeatedly under Lexie’s arm until she petted him. He gave her a pink-tongued grin.

“Who’s that for?” Lexie asked, keeping her eyes on the box as Jackson set it on the floor. Her pulse had finally decided to return to something close to normal and the baby was peaceful once more.

Heidi folded her loot. “Dad bought a DVD player and he got five free movies, too. Isn’t it great? Now we can watch movies again.”

“All our movies are on video,” Lexie said, trying to catch Jackson’s eye. Between the electronics and the clothes, Jackson easily could have spent three hundred dollars or more.

That was just like Jackson. He never approached a problem head-on. He always worked his way in the back door. If he thought she was taking him back and returning to the same lifestyle—worrying about him nine months out of the year, sleeping solo in their king-size bed—he had another thing coming.

“Birdie rents DVDs at her grocery store,” Heidi pointed out. “Oh, and I forgot we picked up a pizza on the way back into town.” She shot out the door.

Jackson continued unpacking the box. “Heidi mentioned the VCR was broken, and you know it costs just as much to fix one as to buy one.”

“A VCR, sure. But not a DVD. Those are more expensive.”

“It’ll last a long time.” He began pulling out cords from behind the television as if he had every right to be rearranging her wires.

Heidi returned with the pizza and placed the box on the coffee table. “I’ll get you some milk, Mom, and napkins. Then can we watch a movie?”

Lexie sighed, giving in. “I suppose.” Eventually, she was going to have to learn to be in the same room as Jackson without letting herself long for his touch. For Heidi’s sake.

But eventually seemed a long time away.

“And you’ll be leaving after the movie,” Lexie added, when their daughter had disappeared into the kitchen.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Jackson said from behind the television, his denim-clad buns in clear view, just as toned and tight as ever.

“No, you can’t.” It was a mere twenty feet from the couch to their—her—bedroom. They used to joke about that. Twenty paces was not nearly enough distance between Lexie and temptation. If it weren’t for Heidi, she’d send him on his way right now.

“How’ve you been feeling?” Jackson turned his head and smiled at her.

She told herself it was the same smile he’d always had, but something about him seemed tired and drained.

“I’ve been better.” The bleeding had been scary the first few times it happened several months ago, but she’d become used to it. And the nausea had returned a few weeks ago, which was unpleasant. Yet, all of this hardship was bearable when she compared it to shutting Jackson out of her life. That’s how she measured this pregnancy—against the void in her heart. Asking her husband to leave and sticking to her decision had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Everything else—even this difficult pregnancy—was easy by comparison.

“Are you getting all the rest you need?” he asked.

“What did Heidi tell you?” Lexie glanced back toward the kitchen, then sighed. Jackson needed to know about the health of this child. He deserved to know about the child they’d lost, too, but she wasn’t ready to tell him that yet. “I’ve had to take it easy since my fourth month.” It seemed like forever. But then, it seemed like forever since she’d sat with Jackson and talked.

“I’m sorry about the things I said earlier.” He stood up straight and turned to face her, green eyes bright. “You caught me off guard.”

He really knew how to work her. She could feel her resolve softening “I suppose anybody would be upset to come home and find this—” she pointed at her belly “—waiting for them.”

His eyes bore into hers. “Are you sorry? About the baby, I mean.”

Lexie shook her head.

“Me, neither. It’s a gift, Lex.”

Speechless, Lexie cradled her belly with both hands.

Jackson ran his fingers through his long hair before admitting, “No matter how much I loved you, I couldn’t give you another baby. I knew that was hard on you.”

This was the real Jackson, the man he rarely showed to anyone else—sincere, open—nothing like the man he’d become when she’d asked him to leave—annoyingly upbeat.

“Is Heidi happy about the baby?”

“She’s excited.” This was the man she’d fallen in love with. The man her heart longed for. The walls around her heart weakened. “You know, she always wanted a brother or a sister. Growing up, I did, too.” Until she’d realized how messed up her life was. Welfare, social workers, humiliation, a father who hadn’t loved her enough to hang around. She’d contented herself with the stingy, conditional love her mother offered. Until she found Jackson and realized there were other kinds of love.

Only later did Lexie learn that even Jackson’s love was fragile and fleeting.

Heidi entered the living room, carrying a tray with three glasses. “I got everyone water. We’re out of milk.” This last was said somewhat testily, as if it was Lexie’s fault that they’d drunk the last of the milk.

Lexie experienced a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t been able to keep as much food in the house since she’d gone on public assistance.

“Start a movie, Dad,” Heidi commanded, sinking to the floor.

“And then your dad needs to leave. I’m sure he has lots to do,” Lexie said firmly.

Jackson stared at Lexie with such a haunted expression in his eyes that Lexie had to look away. She’d barred Jackson from her life for a reason. He’d buried the man she’d fallen in love with underneath a veneer of confidence and easygoing charm.

She just had to work harder to remember that what she was seeing now was only a rare glimpse of the man he’d once been.

THE TWITCHES CAUGHT LEXIE’S ATTENTION.

Propped against the couch at Lexie’s feet, Jackson had fallen asleep soon after the movie started. The twitching had begun about twenty minutes later. Still, he seemed fine, until the movie’s credits started to roll.

“Don’t. No.” Jackson muttered and turned his head from side to side. “Come back.”

“Is he having a bad dream?” Heidi asked.

“Don’t! Alek, no!” Sweat covered Jackson’s brow. His leg bucked, as if fighting to move.

“Mom?” Heidi scooted closer to Lexie.

“It’s just a dream.” Lexie put her arm around Heidi’s shoulders. She raised her voice. “Jackson, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

“The fire! Alek!” Jackson’s face scrunched up as if he were in pain.

The hair rose on the back of Lexie’s neck. Without thinking, she knelt next to Jackson, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Jackson.” She shook him gently. “You’re dreaming.”

“Don’t!” He sat bolt upright and gripped her arms above her elbows. Glazed eyes stared into hers.

“You’re fine. Everything’s fine. It was a bad dream,” Lexie said soothingly.

A violent shudder rippled through Jackson. He drew a deep breath. Then he seemed to return to wakefulness. At least his eyes blinked. His grip was starting to numb Lexie’s arms.

“Dad, you’re scaring me,” Heidi said in a small voice.

“Jackson.” Lexie pulled back slowly until his hands fell away.

Jackson washed a hand over his face. As quickly as he had snapped to awareness, he was gone.

Before she realized what she was doing, Lexie had pushed herself up off the floor and was following Jackson out the door. If he left like this, he’d never get to sleep later.

Jackson was opening the door to his truck when she reached the porch.

“Wait.”

The sun had gone down and the blue sky had given way to purple, casting Jackson’s face in shadow when he turned to face her.

“Wait,” she repeated, hurrying over to him.

Jackson stood outside his truck, watching her ungainly approach. “You shouldn’t move so quickly.”

“Then, don’t run out like that.” Lexie panted from the exertion it took to make her body move that fast. “Who’s Alek? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. No one.” He wouldn’t look at her.

Of course he’d say that. Lexie sighed. Why did she expect him to open up to her when he hadn’t done so in years? “I don’t know why I followed you out here. I guess I was worried. Never mind. Some things never change.”

Jackson stepped after her and caught her hand when she would have returned to the house. Against her better judgment, Lexie found herself facing him in the deepening shadows.

He clasped her other hand.

“Jackson—” Lexie warned, even as she felt her heart beat faster at his touch.

“I’ve missed you, Lex.”

Uh-oh. This was how she’d gotten into trouble the day they’d signed the divorce papers. “I should go inside.”

“We’re friends, right? Talk to me.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. He was turning on the charm, turning the attention from his problems to something he wanted to talk about. For some unexplained reason, Lexie’s voice and motor skills were conspicuously absent. She could only stand and listen.

“Two hearts destined to be together,” Jackson lowered his voice, quoting a phrase that had been part of their wedding vows.

The intimacy of the night, the feel of his hands clasped around hers, standing facing each other as they had on their wedding day… Lexie’s eyes filled with tears of regret. She wished the porch light were on so that she could break the spell between them.

She took a shuddering breath and tried to pull back, but Jackson held on to her.

Jackson searched the sky above them. “The first stars are beginning to shine, Lex. Tell me, what’s your dream?”

Lexie’s breath caught in her throat. It was a silly game they’d indulged in when they were younger—wishing on the first star of the evening. She’d wished for another baby, and later, when they learned a second child wasn’t in their future…

“Do you still wish for a business of your own?” Jackson completed her thought.

“How can you remember my dreams and not remember the important stuff?” Like Heidi’s birthday or their anniversary.

“I’ve always told you your dreams are important. Everyone says you should sell those marinades you make—”

“And call them Hot Shot Sauces. I haven’t forgotten.” She’d given up on making her people-pleasing spicy marinades a paying reality. His dream had always been to be a Hot Shot, like his father. His dream was a reality.

He cupped her cheek. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Me, neither.” It felt too good standing here in the darkness with her hands in his. Lexie knew that tomorrow the sun would come up and he’d still be the man who wouldn’t open up to her. She’d give herself sixty seconds more of the fantasy that Jackson was perfect for her, and then she’d gather her strength and return to the house.

As if sensing he’d pushed some limit, Jackson said, “You’ll remind me tomorrow why we can’t be together, won’t you?” His words were tangled with bitterness. “Damn it, Lex.”

“Don’t.” She placed her fingers over his lips. His warm breath wafted across her skin. She’d done her duty. She’d soothed whatever had unsettled him inside so that he had a better chance of getting some sleep. “I’m going inside now.”

Lexie felt his lips tighten as if in a frown. She pulled her fingers back and rested her hand on her belly.

He released her other hand.

“Before you go, can you…can you tell me about Deb?”

Lexie had to close her eyes against the tears. Deb was Lexie’s best friend, and had been since high school. “You heard she’s dying.” Leaving behind two beautiful, nine-year-old twin girls. Lexie stroked the baby in her tummy.

“Logan wouldn’t tell me much.”

“She’s got an inoperable brain tumor. By the time they diagnosed her, it was too late for chemo.” Lexie swallowed against the dryness in her throat, and tried to lighten her tone. “You should see her. She’s so strong and brave about it, it makes you feel guilty when you feel like crying in front of her.”

He leaned back against the truck. “And the girls?”

“They’re scared, but I don’t think they believe she’s really going to die. They still believe their mom is invincible. Logan’s the one who treats her like glass. I don’t talk with him much about Deb.”

He mulled that over for a bit. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.” Lexie turned back to the house. She’d survived that encounter well. They hadn’t hugged or kissed. She hadn’t ended up in a motel room with him. They seemed to be almost on friendly terms. Lexie thought she could handle their relationship turning into friendship.

“Lex?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder.

“Will you marry me?”

“SHE’S NOT TAKING ME BACK.” Jackson leaned against the door frame of his mother’s office in the Painted Pony, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The Hot Shot in him felt as if he should act like he didn’t care—be strong, be a man—while the rest of him felt bruised, spent and in need of a rest. Lexie and Heidi had just witnessed a display of his weakness.

He could still hear Heidi’s voice. “Dad, you’re scaring me.”

And then to limit himself to holding Lexie’s hands in the darkness, trying to draw her back emotionally into the past where their love had been strong, only to have her put a friendly distance between them. Reclaiming their love seemed hopeless.

He doubted his mother would be able to put a bandage on his heart, kiss his brow and make him feel better. She couldn’t fix a broken heart or give him back his courage. He didn’t care, as long as he could get some rest and perhaps a bit of her advice.

His mother looked at him over the top of her reading glasses. Bills, invoices and receipts were scattered across her desk. An old calculator was perched at her elbow. Jackson recognized the distracted look in her eyes. She was focused on something and didn’t want to be disturbed.

“She told you she’s not taking you back?” his mom asked.

“Several times.” It was easier to talk about his failed marriage than his grim future. With a sigh, Jackson walked over to the kitchen cupboard and took out two fluorescent light bulbs. “The light isn’t strong enough in here for you to be reading that fine print.”

As he replaced the burned-out bulbs in the ceiling above her, Jackson felt his mother’s scrutiny. Any time now, she’d tell him what she thought he should do. When he was finished, he stood next to her desk. Only, she’d returned her attention to her work.

“I was chugging along until you came in. I’ve got a bridge game tonight, you know.” His mother focused on the stacks of paper in front of her.

Jackson sank into a chair next to the desk. Waiting. She’d start lecturing him any time now.

His mother added up a stack of invoices. She jotted the figure down on a yellow pad, then slipped the papers into a folder. Jackson drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“I’m about to become a father for the second time. And I’m not sure what to do about it.”

Without acknowledging him, his mother began to add up a pile of receipts.

Jackson leaned forward. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

She stared at him over the top of her glasses again. “About what?”

“About me. About my life and how I screwed it up.”

“We’ve had that discussion. More than once. We disagreed, as I recall.” She straightened the pile of receipts and began to add them up a second time.

“Let’s have it again.”

“Jackson, I don’t have time for this.”

“She’s not going to take me back.” His voice sounded weak and pitiful. He pushed himself out of the chair, telling himself that at thirty a man shouldn’t need his mother’s advice. “Never mind.”

“Jackson—”

“I know you said I couldn’t stay with you, but I really need a place to bed down until I get back on my feet. I’ll bring a sleeping bag out of the garage so you won’t have to wash any sheets.” He started down the hall.

“Of course you can stay with me. You’re always welcome home. I was joking earlier.”

“My home is on Lone Pine Road.” There was that defeated tone of voice again. He walked quickly toward the back door, away from people he knew in the Pony’s dining room, as if he could escape the fact that he’d lost his family for good. Never mind that he’d already lost the guts to fight fires.

“Jackson, you don’t need a sleeping bag. You can sleep in your old room. How you’ll fit into that single bed is beyond me. Although I know you and Lexie spent some time there in your youth.”

He hesitated, head hung at the reminder of the love he once had. His mom laid her hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.” She chuckled once. “Well, maybe just a little. I do need to finish the monthly expenses before I go to Birdie’s. And it was the only way I could stop myself from giving you advice.”

The pressure that had built on Jackson’s chest eased a bit. There had been two constants in his life after his father died—Lexie and his mother. “You know I always listen to what you say.”

She chuckled again. “You may listen, but I know you don’t hear me.”

Jackson spun around, reached for his mom and squeezed her tight. She knew him too well—it was true, he hadn’t listened to her advice in the past. If he had, he wouldn’t have gotten Lexie pregnant, wouldn’t have married her so young, and would have crawled back to her on his hands and knees when she asked for a divorce.

After a moment, Jackson released his mom. “Is your advice in abridged form or a long-winded version?”

“Need you ask?”

“We better sit down.” Jackson led his mother back to the office.

“I need a cup of coffee first,” she said, detouring into the kitchen. His mother was a coffee fanatic. “Want one?”

“Sure.” If he could, he’d load up on caffeine and never sleep—or dream—again.

A few minutes later, when his mom was settled in her chair, Jackson raised one eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’m not sure where to begin.”

That didn’t sound encouraging. Needing something to do with his hands, Jackson sipped his coffee.

“Why on earth would Lexie take you back? I wouldn’t take you back if I were her.”

Jackson very nearly sprayed coffee all over his mother. “This is your advice?” he asked when he could manage to speak.

“I love you, dear, but sometimes I don’t understand you.”

With deliberate movements, he set the coffee cup on the desk. “So you think I should just give up?”

“Not at all.”

Closing his eyes, Jackson sank back into the chair.

“I know that you love Lexie. She’s wonderful. She did everything around the house. She cooked. She cleaned. She even mowed the lawn. You didn’t have a care in the world.”

It was the same argument Lexie always made. Jackson used his standard defense. “I bring home a steady paycheck. I don’t drink too much, and I don’t beat my wife. Why does it always comes back to how much she did around the house? My job takes me away.” A job he was giving up. But Lexie still wasn’t going to give him a second chance.

Jackson slumped farther into the chair. “Besides, you do everything around the Pony and the house.”

“Yes, but I took on all those responsibilities after your father died because they wouldn’t have got done if I hadn’t. I see now that Theresa and I pampered you far too much.” Jackson’s father had died fighting a fire when Jackson was twelve, leaving Jackson as the man of a house where he was outnumbered by two females more than happy to take care of him.

“I’m lazy. Is that it? She left me because I’m lazy?” This was the last thing he wanted to hear from his mother. His mother was supposed to be his strongest supporter. Suddenly Jackson couldn’t sit still any longer.

“Well—” she began.

“I’m a deadbeat Dad, like you see on those afternoon TV shows. That’s what you mean.”

“That’s not—”

“I’ve had enough advice for one night, Mom. See you in the morning.” Jackson ignored his mother’s pleas to return and raced out to the parking lot.

“WE THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T COMING,” Marguerite announced upon opening the door to Birdie’s house, wearing a plunging, lacy dress Mary considered more appropriate for Madonna than for a plump, widowed retiree.

“It’s not even eight-thirty.” Mary tried to keep her tone even as she stepped inside, although she longed to snap at someone. It wasn’t Marguerite’s fault that Mary was late to the group’s weekly bridge game.

Mary wasn’t upset at Jackson for delaying her, although he hadn’t wanted to listen to the rest of what she had to say about his relationship with Lexie. Mary’s mood had more to do with her anxiety about her own love life. She had recently made a decision to return to dating.

For nearly twenty years, Mary had avoided thinking about men as anything other than friends. She’d warmed her toes at night with her grandmother’s hot-water bottle while she kept her mind busy worrying about her kids and the business she’d started with Jeremy’s life insurance money. She had the Painted Pony to run, gray hair she’d earned every right not to color and an occasional whisker she plucked off her chin. She thought men, romance and sex were a thing of the past.

That all changed a few months ago when Sirus Socrath, Jackson’s former Hot Shot superintendent, stopped to help Mary change a flat tire alongside the road. She’d been driving into Boise to pick up supplies, when a tire blew. While she was struggling to loosen the last lug nut, Sirus had pulled up.

“Having trouble?”

“I think this one lug is rusted on.” Mary gaped at Sirus’s long, lanky frame. From that angle, he looked like the cock-of-the-walk, as her mother used to say. Mary blinked, unused to thinking of Sirus as anything other than a hardworking man of the community and her friend. In that moment, she saw him for the first time as M-A-N as if she were W-O-M-A-N. Mary shook her head and dismissed the odd feeling. She was a grandmother, for heaven’s sake.

Sirus knelt next to her on the road’s dirt shoulder and loosened the lug nut with ease. His hands were as long as the rest of him, his arms strong from years of fighting fires.

“Not rusted. It just needed a man’s touch, you know?” Sirus’s faded blue eyes gazed directly into Mary’s and his lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners.

Was Sirus Socrath flirting with her? Mary reminded herself that she was fifty-five, and Sirus was sixty if he was a day, and twice divorced to boot. But that didn’t stop her heart from pounding as it hadn’t for years.

A few days after the flat tire incident, Sirus showed up at Birdie’s on bridge night even though he’d never been there before. He claimed to have come to replace Smiley, who could barely see the cards anymore, although Mary imagined Sirus joined them to spend more time with her. Still, nothing changed between them. Sirus didn’t seek Mary out or call her, try to hold her hand or kiss her. Sirus never gave Mary any reason to think he wanted her to be anything more than a friend. Yet, Mary was sure he did want more.

Either that or she was going insane.

Perhaps she’d swallowed too much river water, or maybe she was finally completing menopause. It didn’t matter what the cause was. Once Sirus lit the dormant spark within her, Mary couldn’t seem to put it out.

The seed had been planted—she’d been alone too long.

Mary stepped inside Birdie’s house, feet thumping on the hardwood floor as loudly as her heart pounded now in her ears. She could feel Sirus’s eyes upon her. He had kind eyes. Patient eyes. Eyes that let her know he’d wait for Mary to decide when she was ready for him.

Ready for him? She’d been alone for nearly two decades. She could take care of the house, her car and her business. But she’d forgotten how to take care of a man.

Mary had promised herself she’d work up the courage to ask Sirus back to her house for coffee tonight, the same as she’d been promising herself every Sunday night for the past month. They’d sit on the couch and talk. She’d ask him how he’d come by that scar on his forehead. Later, when she’d drunk some coffee that she planned to lace with a little confidence-building whiskey, maybe she’d work up the courage to kiss Sirus.

Mary couldn’t look at Sirus now, for fear she was suffering from an overactive imagination and Sirus would be looking at her as just a friend. If he’d awakened these longings accidentally, Mary wasn’t sure what she’d do.

There were snacks on the green felt-covered card table and mints in a crystal bowl that Birdie insisted was from France, though Mary had seen bowls just like it at the dollar store in Boise. The television blared. Someone, probably Sirus, had scooted Birdie’s brocade wing chair up close to the set and Smiley perched on it, leaning so close to the screen that Mary thought the old barber might fall into it.

Sirus and Smiley had been sharing Sirus’s small cabin since Smiley drove off the road two years ago and nearly killed himself. They weren’t related, although Smiley was old enough to be Sirus’s father. But neither of them had any family close by. It was just the way of the community to take care of its own.

Sirus gazed up at Mary from his seat at the card table and sent her a smile that warmed her to her toes.

Would you like to come over to my house later for coffee?

The question remained unvoiced.

She was such a coward. She couldn’t even risk a little rejection from an old friend.

Mary slid into a metal folding chair across from Sirus. She’d found true love once, over thirty years ago with Jeremy Garrett, a Hot Shot, and had been blessed with that love for more than a decade. Then, eighteen years ago, Jeremy died while fighting a wildland fire. It had very nearly broken her heart when Jackson followed in his father’s footsteps. Every time Jackson went out on a fire, Mary smiled bravely and prayed for his safe return.

“How are you this evening, Mary?” Sirus asked, bringing her thoughts back to the present.

The blender whirred in the kitchen. Marguerite and Birdie were making the strawberry daiquiris they loved so much. A quick glance at Smiley showed him engrossed in a television reality show. This was about as private as the evening was going to get.

“Jackson came home today.” Mary tried to send Sirus a smile, but smiling at Sirus had become a self-conscious act for Mary, as if she were a teenager with an unrequited crush.

“Yeah, he stopped at the office. I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him.” No longer able to keep up with the younger firefighters, yet still a prime physical specimen, Sirus now worked at the National Interagency Fire Center as an incident commander. He coordinated fire attack crews in the field. That meant working nontraditional hours and days. It wasn’t unusual for NIFC to be staffed round the clock during fire season.

Sirus kept his warm brown gaze on Mary, while his large hands shuffled the deck of cards. His face was as long and narrow as the rest of him, but not sharp. Nothing about Sirus was sharp, not even the faint scar along his temple. Carrying himself tall and proud, he was a handsome man in his own way. Mary liked looking at him. He was a sturdy man, too, in both stature and personality. You could rely on a man like Sirus.

“Jackson’s staying at my house.” She’d known Sirus for years without so much as a stray spark of interest flaring between them. Why now? She was happy with her life the way it was. Wasn’t she?

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s…” Mary frowned, struggling for the right word. Her son was still heartbroken over Lexie, but there was something else about his demeanor that didn’t seem right, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I don’t know. He’s quiet. You know Jackson, he’s always got something to say.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m probably just imagining things.”

Sirus considered her words for a moment. “Does he seem—”

“Look at this, Sirus,” Smiley interrupted loudly, pointing at the television screen. “This fool’s going to eat raw snake eggs.”

Sirus shrugged apologetically and obliged Smiley by acknowledging the grossness of the stunt.

In the meantime, Mary’s mind wandered. What if Mary kissed Sirus and liked it? Or worse, what if she were brave enough to take off her clothes and climb into bed with him someday? What if the sex was great? Her smile would give it away. Everyone in Silver Bend would know she was Sirus’s love toy.

And if their lovemaking fell short of greatness…

Disaster.

Sirus was her bridge partner. If she began a relationship with him and it failed, she’d have to look across the table and see his disappointment on a weekly basis. Men were always dissatisfied when it came to sex. They didn’t get it enough. They didn’t get it with someone young enough. They didn’t get it wild enough. And Mary didn’t even want to think about the extra pounds and wrinkles she’d accumulated since the last time she’d been with a man. Sirus was bound to be disappointed with her. She’d never be able to play bridge again.

The television segment finished and Sirus’s eyes drifted down to Mary’s hands and then back up to her face. “You must be happy that Jackson’s home.”

The temperature in the room rocketed up five degrees. “Words cannot describe how I’m feeling right now.” Guilt. Disappointment. Lust.

Lust? Mary had to be imagining Sirus’s interest, even if she wasn’t imagining her own.

In the kitchen, the blender ground to a halt.

“Why don’t you shuffle?” Sirus set the cards in the middle of the table. “Your hands move with such grace, it’s a pleasure to watch.”

Mary could picture her hands moving, all right. Her cheeks flushed with heat. She let her eyes follow the pearly snaps on Sirus’s worn western shirt down to the edge of the table, wondering about Sirus’s body. Long legs, long arms, long fingers…

She was depraved!

Mary’s eyes snapped up to Sirus’s. He chuckled, and it sent another tingle of awareness through her. Mary coughed, trying to break this spell he had over her.

“Here come the refreshments,” Marguerite said as she brought in a tray full of the icy pink drinks.

“What’s so funny?” Birdie asked, carrying a plate of cocktail wieners and cheese cubes, each speared with a toothpick.

“Jackson came home,” Sirus said.

“Grew a decent beard in Russia,” Smiley nearly shouted, not turning from the television.

“Smiley, turn that down. You’re not deaf,” Birdie instructed, holding her small frame as tight and precise as a bird.

Smiley did as he was told. Most everyone in Silver Bend did what Birdie wanted. She’d been married to the town mayor for years and then taken the position herself after his death.

“Never mind that. Did he see Lexie?” Marguerite sat down next to Mary and leaned her buxom qualities over the table.

“What did he say about the baby?” Birdie probed.

Mary blinked, then shook her head and made a weak attempt at a smile. “I don’t know.” Although Lexie didn’t talk about it much, she had confirmed when asked that the baby was Jackson’s. That knowledge had only made folks in Silver Bend more interested in Jackson’s reaction.

Marguerite settled back in her chair. “He’ll do the right thing.”

“Should come in for a shave,” Smiley added.

“She’ll take him back, of course.” Marguerite took the cards from the middle of the table and began to shuffle. The many rings she wore sparkled in the lamplight.

Mary looked away, not wanting to know if Sirus was fascinated with Marguerite’s hands, too. She’d never noticed his interest in her before. What if she’d never noticed his interest in Marguerite, either?

“It’s none of our business, anyway,” Sirus said.

“Hogswaddle. We care about them. Besides, they were meant for each other. I’ll tell Jackson tomorrow that he should send flowers.” Birdie’s words rang with authority.

“Flowers. That’s so sweet,” Marguerite crooned. “Maybe I’ll stop by later in the week to see how they’re doing.”

“Let’s just mind our own affairs and play cards.” Sirus didn’t sound happy.

It was all Mary could do not to look at Sirus. He was right, of course. But that wasn’t the way it was in the tight-knit, small community of Silver Bend. If Mary wanted to explore these unsettling feelings Sirus had aroused in her, she’d receive just as much advice and meddling as Lexie and Jackson were about to get.

She was too old for this.