On Love's Own Terms

ON LOVE’S OWN TERMS

Fran Baker/Cathlyn McCoy

Chapter 1

Odd that a wedding should reunite them. Her younger sister and his little brother... who’d have ever dreamed Luke and she would wind up shirttail relatives?

Bonnie Ford clenched her hands into tight fists and shoved them into the pockets of her white cotton chinos as she stamped across the meadow. She didn’t
want
to feel this way—torn between family loyalty and her own anxieties about seeing her ex-husband after seven years. For her sister’s sake she was trying to divide past from present, to separate bitter from sweet and share the nuptial excitement with a smile.

But it wasn’t easy. Since Bonnie’s arrival from New York last night, her sister had lionized Luke as if he were a candidate for sainthood and Santa Claus combined:

“Luke had a Waterford chandelier shipped from Ireland for our new house in Atlanta. Wait til you see it! And he promised he’d be our first dinner guest, too, once we’re settled.

“Luke says I’m the best thing that ever happened to his family. He always wanted a sister, you know.

“Luke insisted we use his vacation home in the Bahamas for our honeymoon. While we’re away, he’s going to install a sunken marble tub in our bathroom.

“Luke just called from the gas station on the highway. He’ll be here
any minute!”

It was that last statement which had driven Bonnie out of the house. She hadn’t excused herself or explained her rude reaction to
Saint
Luke’s impending arrival. She’d simply escaped through the nearest exit

Macaroni spine! Bonnie berated herself, fully aware that she was merely postponing the inevitable.

Her sister had decided to hold the wedding in their childhood home, forty miles northwest of Atlanta. With both sets of parents deceased, Bonnie and Luke were doing double duty—standing as maid of honor and best man during their younger siblings’ ceremony, then cohosting the small reception afterwards.

Triple damn! Didn’t anyone back in that hectic marriage mill realize how awkward she felt about spending an entire week in his company? Especially after the horrible way they’d parted!

A chill trickled along her spine, and she tipped her face to the sun, seeking its warmth as she walked in yesterday’s shadows. She’d vowed to work civilly with Luke, and she would, for her sister’s sake. No one ever need know that the pain of their marriage still tormented her soul.

At the far edge of the meadow where she and Luke had laughed and played as children, Bonnie paused and drew a deep breath. Tiger lilies and doily-shaped Queen Anne’s lace had overgrown their old baseball diamond. The waterfall over west had whittled a steeper slope into their favorite sliding rock, but the pool at ride’s end still looked icy. From what she’d seen of it so far, Rebel’s Ridge hadn’t changed all that much since she’d fled it seven years ago.

But she had. The change was more than physical, though she’d certainly fulfilled the promise of beauty that had been hers as an adolescent. Bonnie’s wide amber eyes reflected compassion as readily as they sparkled with amusement, because she’d seen her share of sorrow. A generous smile remedied her slightly crooked front teeth; a Limoges complexion made one overlook the few stubborn freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her slender nose. Her hair had deepened in color to spun autumn honey and was cut to softly frame her face. Lithe and leggy, she collected clothes and wore them with the flair befitting a successful New York City caterer.

While her southern drawl was less pronounced these days, Bonnie’s voice retained a slow-molasses warmth which charmed her numerous clients and utterly frustrated her dates when she bid them a friendly but firm good night at the front door.

Luke had introduced her to love; his rejection, coupled with her body’s own betrayal, had shattered her sense of self-worth as a woman. Since their divorce, she’d built a prosperous business from scratch but she’d avoided emotional investments with a once-burned determination that bordered on obsessive.

“Bonnie!” Her sister stood on the back porch, calling her home.

Luke was probably waiting there now to discuss the remaining details that needed attention before Saturday. Her stomach fluttered, and she knew she wasn’t ready to face him just yet. Besides, she’d certainly done her fair share of waiting around for him during their pretense of a marriage.

Let him sit and stew awhile,
she decided, turning instinctively to climb the wooded hill where she and Luke had loved away that incredibly innocent spring before their elopement. Inside the tree-shaded circle, Bonnie leaned against a hickory trunk and felt the bark scraping her back as it had when they’d first embraced. Like an old friend who hasn’t forgotten, the peach-blossom breeze sighed a welcome.

“Bonnie!”
Her sister’s voice reached her ears easily, but she ignored it and closed her eyes, recapturing those stolen moments of her youth.

Luke Ford had been her idol long before he’d become her lover. Five years older than she, he’d spent endless summer hours improving her batting stance, instructing her in the sneaky art of the spitball, stealing her heart even as he’d taught her to steal second base. It was Luke who’d shown her how to noodle catfish along the banks of Tucker’s Creek; who’d helped her through algebra; who’d sampled her mudpies, then later eaten every bite of her burnt mistakes when she was first learning to cook.

During her senior year in high school, their relationship took a dramatic turn. When his father died, Luke dropped out of college a semester before graduation and hired on at the nearby marble quarry. Bonnie had been the first to recognize how much he hated the dead-end labor, how disappointed he was that he hadn’t found work in the construction field. He hadn’t complained; she’d simply sensed it.

Because Luke’s salary went toward helping his mother and little brother, and because he was too proud to let Bonnie finance their weekend fun from her allowance, dating became a test of their young and healthy imaginations.

In January and February, rather than attending the picture show in town, they had roasted popcorn in her parents’ fireplace and watched old movies on television. Hamburgers on the grill in March and April had tasted much better than anything served at the local drive-in. Warm weather had enticed them outdoors for leisurely walks in the woods behind Bonnie’s house, for home-packed picnics in what had become their circle.

It happened as naturally as rivers flow downstream, as gently as the meadowlark’s fluting lullaby. Having carried a man’s load all winter, Luke needed a woman. Having adored him all her life, Bonnie found a remarkable satisfaction in learning his loving ways. She knew for certain that she was pregnant a week before she turned eighteen, and they eloped the morning after her birthday.

“Bonnie!”
Her sister’s voice held an urgency that escaped her, because she was trapped in another time.

She’d lost the baby early into her fourth month; he lost his job the following month when the quarry declared bankruptcy. From there, it was a downhill slide to divorce court

Depressed about her miscarriage, bored with “playing house,” Bonnie spent all her time in the kitchen testing new recipes and preparing elaborate meals that her meat-and-potatoes man refused to eat. Unable to find another job, Luke stopped coming home at the end of the day and began hanging out until all hours with his similarly unemployed buddies.

Their arguments escalated in both frequency and volume; even their bedroom became a battleground. One night, she had followed him to the local bar and caught him dancing with a flaming redhead who’d wrapped herself around him like a sweet potato vine. Cut to the quick, Bonnie had yanked off the ring Luke had slipped on her finger in a preacher’s study, flung the plain gold band in his surprised face, then driven straight to her parents’ house.

He had not contested the divorce or appeared in court. And Bonnie had been left to mourn the loss of their baby and the death of their marriage, blaming herself for both as if it were her due. A week after the judge dissolved their vows, Bonnie received a check in the mail for half their meager mutual property. She’d promptly cashed it and caught the first northbound bus. Luke’s tomboy had cried a woman’s tears all the way to New York City, the farthest she could run and still afford the cooking classes which would launch her career.

The leaves rustled in his wake as Luke stepped out of her past from the heavy hickory limbs and bending pine boughs shading the circle they’d once considered sacred.

“Who says you can’t come home again?” he quipped.

“Pigeons do it all the time.”

For a split second, Bonnie was tempted to run once more. She didn’t
want
to see him again! But renewing her resolve to get through this week as graciously as possible, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. “Hello, Luke.”

He was every inch the man she’d foreseen in her first and only lover. Crinkles fanned from the corners of his brown eyes toward his temples. Time had darkened the wind-blown hair framing his roughly cut features. His chest was wider, his shoulders broader, yet his masculine physique was as taut and lean as ever. Overall, maturity fit him as neatly as the faded jeans defining his long, muscular legs.

“Darlene and Dave were about ready to turn the bloodhounds loose on your trail.” That lopsided grin, so endearing in the boy, was dazzling in the man. “I told them I had a hunch I could find you.”

Bonnie stiffened defensively. It was foolish to feel caught, but she did. Her escape plan had backfired. Or had it? By climbing the hill rather than heading home, hadn’t she practically invited Luke to follow?

Too flustered to reason it out right now, she averted her head to hide her confusion and shrugged indifferently. “I took a walk, thinking you might appreciate a few minutes alone with the kids.”

“Hell, they’re not interested in anything but each other these days.” His understanding laugh flowed as richly and warmly as buttered rum. “Outside of ‘Hi, Luke; Bonnie went out the back door,’ they hardly noticed me.”

“I know what you mean.” Smiling indulgently, she dared a glance in his direction. Maybe she’d worried unnecessarily about this meeting. “I’ve felt a bit like excess baggage myself since I arrived.”

He took a cigarette and a monogrammed gold lighter from the pocket of his chambray shirt “I’m sure the only reason that Darlene started hollering for you to come home was so I’d quit taking Dave’s attention away from her.”

Their friendly remarks paved the way for a congenial discussion about the wedding. Amazed by their affability after the bitterness that had marred their marriage, Bonnie relaxed somewhat as they talked. In a short period of time, they’d efficiently divided the remaining duties, settling the question of who was in charge of what.

“Enough about Dave and Darlene,” Luke decreed, leaning against the tree trunk opposite her as if he intended to stay for a while. “Tell me about Bonnie.”

She tensed again. With their present alliance still so tenuous, it hardly made sense to rehash those awful days and lonely nights she’d spent restructuring her life.
Keep it light,
she decided, forcing a smile that didn’t feel the least bit natural. “There isn’t much to tell, frankly. It’s your typical small-town-girl-makes-good kind of story—grade-B movie material all the way.”

“I’ve probably got most of it memorized,” he admitted. “Darlene corners anybody who’ll stand still long enough to listen while she brags about her big sister.” He chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was part magpie.”

“Thanks a bunch!” Bonnie faked a huffy tone. “For your information, buster, she sounds like a broken record when she talks about you.”

“How so?” he prompted.

She smiled, this time genuinely. “Every week or ten days she seems compelled to call—collect, mind you— and regale me with the details of each new project your construction firm has landed.”

“Remind me to give her a raise,” he drawled, “retroactive to her first bout of boasting.”

“What about my phone bills?” she teased.

With a sudden, disturbing intensity his gaze raked from her stylish leather sandals, over her chic silk tunic, to her neat, fashionably cut hair. “I’m sure you can afford an occasional telephone call.”

Unnerved by his cynical observation, Bonnie realized they’d lingered long enough. The fact that she could obviously provide for herself was probably an insult to his manhood, especially in light of the way they’d struggled to make ends meet before their divorce. She glanced at her slim gold watch, dropping a subtle hint.

“We whipped some pretty improbable odds for a pair of poor ‘crackers,’ didn’t we?” he challenged curtly.

“I suppose so.” Standing proudly, she returned his regard. She’d botched marriage and motherhood. Damned if she’d apologize for making a go of her career! “Luke and Bonnie, the proverbial long shots, hit pay dirt.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “The good life,” he mocked. “It sure beats the stuffing out of that shanty-town existence we led back when, doesn’t it?”