Small-Town Hearts (15 page)

He dropped a light kiss to her hair.

She glanced up, puzzled, but smiling.

He couldn't find words to say what he felt, not right then, but she read his look and her smile deepened.

Then and there he decided he wanted a lifetime of those smiles, despite the challenging logistics of his job and her family. There had to be an intelligent way to work this all out.

Mary Clare's plight came back to him, the breached security in Philadelphia, her concerns about safety. He'd promised his help to her, a promise he'd never break, understanding her fragile and emotional mental state. Grief didn't follow prescribed time lines, and his sister meant the world to him now that he was old enough to appreciate her and not torment her with teasing.

But he'd promised Meg the same thing.

He could only hope and pray the two worlds didn't collide.

Let go and let God…

That didn't seem quite so easy in real life, and Danny was a man of his word. Hopefully, he wouldn't be put to the test anytime soon.

“M
egs, are you crying?” Danny crossed the candy store floor in quick steps a few days later, then crouched by her side, concerned. “Hey.”

Meg frowned and pouted, chagrined to be caught in an emotional meltdown. “I thought you were gone.”

“I was. I'm back. What's wrong? Is it your arm? Does it hurt? It really shouldn't at this point.”

He'd been the first to sign her cranberry-toned cast, positioning his name carefully so every time she glanced down a little heart with ‘DANNY' in it looked back at her. “My arm's fine. It's Ben.”

“Ben?” Danny took a seat beside her, picked up her hand and waited, his gaze concerned. “What's wrong with Ben?”

“My parents took him to see the adult living facility today. They have a job opening there. Ben could work a few nights a week washing dishes in the kitchen, and he'd have his own little apartment.”

“It sounds ideal.”

“To us, maybe,” Meg agreed. “He burst into tears at the very thought of moving there, promised to be good, dropped onto his knees begging my parents not to send him away, and had Mom and Dad in tears alongside him.”

Danny gripped her fingers tighter. “Oh, Meg. I'm sorry.”

She shook her head and withdrew her hand, grabbed a handful of tissues and blew her nose. “It probably sounds dumb—”

“Not in the least.”

She shot him a grateful look. “I don't know if we've sheltered him too much or let him believe he was more capable than we should have. He craves independence but he's scared to take that leap.”

“Were you scared on your first day of kindergarten?”

“Petrified.” She widened her eyes, nodded, and dabbed her face with fresh tissues. “I sobbed as the bus pulled away from our house, and I pressed my face against the window so my parents could see just how unhappy I was.”

Danny grinned. “I'll keep that image with me always. And when you got to school it was okay?”

“After the first hour I'd pretty much forgotten I had a home and joined the league of happy schoolchildren forever-more.”

“And Ben's cognitive level is?”

“About that of a seven-year-old.” She nodded and retook his hand in a move so natural she almost didn't realize she did it. Almost. “I get what you're saying. Once he's there and enjoying his independence, he'll be fine.”

“And if he's not?”

“We can bring him home.”

Danny smoothed loose tendrils of hair away from her chin, her eyes. “It's hard to give people like Ben the wings they need to fly solo. Real hard. But you guys have done it. Now he just needs a little shove out of the nest.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not if we move him in.” Danny hiked a brow of invitation. “You and me, leaving your parents out of the mix. That way they have a degree of separation from the whole thing,
then they can show up and do something with him once he's set without the excessive guilt of the move.”

“You'd do that with me?”

He gave her a look that said she was being ridiculous. “I'd be glad to. And I want to talk to your parents about getting Ben to the Bronx for a Yankees game. Do you think they'd be okay with that?”

His kindness curled around Meg's heart. Offering to take Ben downstate… That meant he'd be around awhile, right?

She worked to push back the blossoming hope his words inspired. “Just Ben?”

He grinned and tapped her lightly on the nose. “I might be able to scrounge a third ticket.”

She sat up straighter. “Really? I haven't been to New York City since my senior year in high school.”

“A lot's changed since then, Megs. We've got motorcars and streetlights now.”

Meg smiled. “Ha-ha.”

He gave the front of the store a measured look. “Aren't we supposed to be doing something?”

Two cars pulled into the parking lot simultaneously. Meg nodded and stood, wishing she had historic clothes to fit with a cast but unwilling to ruin her costume dresses for the next six weeks. By mid-August the cast would be a thing of the past.

The same could be said about Danny, but she refused to linger on that thought. He had said they would take this day by day. A small part of her wondered which Danny offered the advice: the earnest businessman, the big-city-savvy single guy, the funny guy whose humor would get him applause in a comedy club or the sweet guy next door, always willing to lend a hand.

Meg hoped for the last, but she wasn't willing to discount the first three, and with a twenty-five percent chance of being
right, it wasn't nearly good enough to risk her heart again. So why did it
feel
good enough? That was the question of the hour.

 

Who said life in a small town was quiet? Dull?

Danny hadn't slept past 5:00 a.m. in over a week. He'd baked, brewed, honeycombed, jelled and tempered time-honored recipes in Meg's quaint kitchen and loved every minute of it.

And when he'd finished that, he'd closed on Grandma's long-awaited store, lined up a local fine carpenter, Cameron Calhoun, to do the much-needed store makeover and made the McGees very happy with a generous check that would cushion their retirement nicely. Now he was moving furniture into a one-bedroom flat on the first floor of In His Care.

Danny eased his end of Ben's mattress through the bedroom door and helped Ben angle it atop the box spring. “Done.”

“Great.” Meg withdrew clean linens from a box to their left and handed an end to Ben. “After Danny adjusts the egg crate pad, we'll stretch this over it.”

“Meggie, I make my own bed all the time.” Ben sent her a peevish look, his tone disgruntled.

“Would you prefer doing this yourself, Benjamin?”

The scowl deepened before he sighed. “No.”

“Then change your attitude. I think you're going to love it here. You've already met three of your old school friends, and you've been whining about getting a place of your own for two years. Now you've got it and you're going to act like a big baby?”

“I'm not a baby.”

She softened her stance, her tone and her gaze. “I know that, but you need to regain some self-control. You're a man now, not a little boy, and if you want people to treat you like a man, you need to act like one.”

He sighed and bit his lower lip. “I know.”

“Good. Now grab your end and let's get this done. I'm starving.”

“We're h-having meat loaf tonight.” Ben's frown returned. “I don't like meat loaf.”

“Then we'll fix something here.” Meg thrust her good shoulder toward the small kitchenette outside the bedroom door. “You've got food, stuff that's easy to fix. Stop being a pain.”

“Or we could eat out.” Danny threw out the suggestion as he centered the foam mattress topper into place, then reached for the upper corner of the mattress pad. “My treat.”

“Could we? Really?” Ben's face lit up, the grimace erased.

“If it's okay with your sister.” Danny met Meg's gaze and hiked a brow. “What do you think, Megs?”

“I think it's a great idea if Ben stops whining completely.”

“Oh, I will. P-promise, Meggie.”

“Well, good then. We've got a deal, Danny.”

He met her smile across the bed, and Meg had to pinch herself to see if this was real. Danny's help had been invaluable all week, and to be here with her now, moving Ben into his new digs, setting things up, helping Ben transition into a new part of his life? Just plain wonderful.

Danny's ingrained comfort around Ben provided its own blessing. It felt nice to have Ben accepted for who he was, a mentally challenged young man with a heart of gold and an impish streak. But they'd get that streak under control, one way or another. Danny's matter-of-fact assistance helped make that possible.

Danny seized the checklist once the bed was properly made. “Kitchen. Check.”

Ben nodded, proud.

“Living room. Check.”

“B-but we've got to have them get me new shades, Danny, remember?”

Danny raised a hand, nodding. “You're right, big guy. We'll give that half-a-check until we've seen the floor director about contacting maintenance.”

“Th-then we can check it.”

“Absolutely, my man. Bedroom?” Danny glanced around the room, appraising, then turned his attention toward Ben. “Are we missing anything you need? You've got clothes, a hamper, your furniture, the bed's made. And do you remember how to use the washers and dryers, or do you need a refresher course?”

“I'm twenty-four, Danny.”

“Oh. Well. Right.” Danny nodded agreement, hands up, palms out. “Then you're good.”

A light of anticipation brightened Ben's features. “I'm in my own place?”

Meg angled her head, scanned the room and nodded. “So it would seem.”

“Can I have parties?”

“Not loud ones.”

“Quiet ones?”

“With football season coming up? I expect that's a given.” Danny crossed into the living room and tapped the flatscreen TV. “You know how to use your remote?”

“Is it the same as Mom and Dad's?”

“Yes.”

“Then I know how.”

“Good. Then let's eat, gang. I'm famished. We've been at this for hours.” Danny put one arm around Meg and the other around Ben and herded them toward the door. “And your sister had me slaving away in the kitchen all morning, getting ready for the booth at the balloon rally kick-off parade tomorrow. Does she ever sleep, Ben? Because I'm beginning
to think small-town living isn't nearly as peaceful as people make out.”

Meg sent him a smile as Ben checked and rechecked his door, then double-checked his key to make sure it fit the lock before he rechecked the lock one last time.

“We're good?” Danny didn't scoff at Ben's studied carefulness, or try to hurry him along.

“We're good.” Ben nodded and fist-pumped the air, a victory sign of success.

“Then let's get food. And you pick the restaurant, Ben. Your choice tonight.”

Meg thought she could predict Ben's choice because his penchant for chicken nuggets was a family joke, but he surprised her when he turned Danny's way. “Can we go to the Beef Haus? They've got really good fa-fajitas there.”

Dismay peppered the moment for Meg. Ben's hand-to-mouth agility was challenged with loosely wrap sandwiches, but Danny clapped him on the back, nodded and led the way to the car.

She needn't have worried. Ben studied his seasoned steak wrap, then asked the waiter for a sharp knife. Instead of trying to pick up the unwieldy sandwich, he cut it into small pieces, the task laborious for his thick hands, but when all was said and done, Ben ate his dinner like the young gentleman her parents raised him to be, his table manners impeccable.

And when it was time to say goodbye later that evening, she was the one fighting tears, not Ben. An old school friend of Ben's was being dropped off at the same time.

“Ben! Are you living here now?”

“Y-yes.”

“That's good! Me and Brian are on the first floor, by the training room. How about you?”

“Me, too.” Ben slapped a hand to his head and turned Meg's way, dismayed to have forgotten his manners. “Jimmy, this is my sister, Meg, and my friend Danny.”

Meg reached out a hand. “I remember Jim from school. You're looking good.”

Jim flexed his left arm. “I stay in shape here.” He redirected his attention to Ben. “You wanna train together?”

“Sure.”

“Let's go.”

Ben started in before realizing he hadn't said goodbye. He turned from the inside door, waved and yelled, “Goodbye, Meg and Danny! Thanks for supper!”

Meg watched him go, half proud, half irked. “That's it? No lengthy goodbyes? No tearful pleas? Not even a kiss on the cheek?”

“There.” Danny kissed her cheek, tweaked her nose and gave her a gentle shove toward the car. “Get in, what are you, crazy? Do you realize how well that went? Are you seriously trying to tempt fate by lingering out here?”

“Good point.”

“My specialty.” He grinned and eased the car around the drop-off circle, before offering her a thumbs-up. “Well done.”

She made a little face. “It feels weird.”

“Change always does, right until we figure out it was the best thing we could have done and clap ourselves on the back for thinking of it.”

“True.”

“You want ice cream?”

“Absolutely. What made you think of that?”

“Whenever we did something cool with Uncle Jerry we topped it off with ice cream. Ben's got his back there.” He jerked a thumb toward Ben's new home. “And it's not every day a guy gets to buy his best girl an ice cream when she runs an ice cream shop.”

“I'm your best girl?”

“My very best. And you handled Ben perfectly, by the way. Just enough edge, just enough sympathy.”

“It was hard.”

Danny acknowledged that as they joined the throng of people waiting in line at an ice cream stand adjacent to Wellsville's Little League fields. “I saw that, but you manned up. Good job.”

“Thank you.” Meg smiled across the parking lot and waved her left hand. “The McGees are here.”

Danny followed her gaze and smiled a greeting. “Nice folks.”

“They're the best,” Meg declared while scanning the ice cream choices. “I don't know a harder working family in the area. They stick together through thick and thin, helping others, helping the church, helping the town. Just amazing, considering their age and health issues. May I have a caramel-almond cluster in a waffle cone, please?”

“Make that two,” Danny told the counter girl, as the McGees took halting steps toward their car.

The ice cream clerk handed them their cones. Meg licked hers, sighed in appreciation and then frowned. “Jed and Kate are leaving.”