Somewhere Along the Way (20 page)

The doorbell rang. Both women jumped.

Martha Q frowned. “Now who could that be coming to call before I even get my makeup on?”

“Only one way to find out.” Liz held the swing door open.

They were halfway to the front door when Mrs. Biggs stepped out of the parlor. “That’s Mr. Wright for me,” she said. “He said if the roads were clear enough, he’d come get me in the funeral home’s four-wheeler.”

Martha Q shook her head. “It’s awful cold to be sitting by a grave.”

Mrs. Biggs nodded. “He told me he’d pull the van up close so I could stay inside while he checks on things at the cemetery.” She opened the door.

Tyler looked bundled up and ready to climb Denali in winter. “Morning,” he said to both women as he offered his arm to Mrs. Biggs. “Now don’t you two worry about her. She’ll be fine while I go off with my groundskeeper to check on the damage this storm’s done to our old elms.”

Mrs. Biggs wrapped her scarf around her head and took his arm.

Tyler waved as he took baby steps across the porch. “I’ll have her back by noon.”

Martha Q gripped her robe at the throat and closed the door. When she turned back to Liz, she said, “You got that man’s cell number?”

“I could make a call and get it.”

“Good. Invite that undertaker to dinner. He’s always been nice to me, and I like to watch a man who loves to eat. If he was ten years older, I might consider him for number eight.”

Liz laughed. “Somehow I can’t see shy Tyler Wright with you . . . or me. He’s too . . .”

“Nice.” Martha Q finished her sentence. “You may be almost thirty and I’m—” She hesitated too long before adding, “almost fifty.” The lie was so apparent they both laughed before Martha Q continued, “But you and I, girl, we have one thing in common. We like our men a little rough around the edges. Tyler is the type of man who would always fold his napkin. Polish his shoes. Pull out your chair.”

“Wear pajamas. Return your calls,” Liz added to the list. “And of course ask if tonight would be a convenient time to make love.”

Martha hooted a laugh. “Whereas our kind of men, the ones who make our blood warm, are the kind who already have our clothes off before they remember to turn off the light and close the door.”

Liz hated to admit it, but the old girl was right. The wild ones, the bad boys, the outlaws had always been her type, even when reason convinced her to play it safe. “So, if I’d like Gabriel Leary to be my man, what do I have to do? Give me a little advice.”

Martha Q smiled as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask for years. “I heard a movie star get asked that same question. What does a woman have to do to let you know she’s interested in you? The star said simply, ‘Show up.’ ”

“So, when this snow clears, I should just drive out to his farm and knock on the door?” Liz somehow didn’t think it would be that easy.

Martha Q nodded. “That’s it.” Grabbing a slip of paper, she added, “Now you get to calling people and I’ll go see what we can cook for dinner. I’ve got half a beef in the freezer, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble, and with this snow, no one will have plans even if it is Saturday night.”

“It’s Saturday?” Liz had been so busy, she hadn’t given it much thought.

“You got plans?”

“No, but I almost forgot. It’s Saturday, February ninth. It’s my thirtieth birthday.”

Martha didn’t miss a beat. “No it’s not, dear, it’s your second twenty-ninth and this dinner just turned into a party.” She was halfway upstairs before she shouted down, “Call some people while I get dressed. We’ve no time to waste.”

Liz crawled onto the window seat in the dining room. First she called her brother, who could easily walk over from the fire station, and told him to bring Alex, his fiancée. Then she got Tyler’s cell number from Hank and called him. Tyler seemed delighted, and Liz couldn’t help but wonder if the man ever got invited to anything but funeral meals.

Then she froze. Elizabeth knew almost everyone in town, but she couldn’t think of another person to invite. Her mother, sister, and aunts wouldn’t want to leave the ranch. The few friends she’d kept up with since high school had families, and somehow she doubted Martha Q would welcome toddlers wandering around.

A strange ache gripped her chest as she realized the only person she wished was with her was Gabriel, and she didn’t really know him. Martha Q was wrong about one thing. Liz had thrown herself at him more than once, and he’d always walked away. Even if he did kiss like double heaven covered in chocolate, he still ran. Maybe he thought she’d be turned off by the scar that Martha said ran from his hip to his calf. Maybe he was worried about his limp. She’d mentioned it the second time she’d seen him, and she’d known without asking that the leg gave him pain when he moved, but she’d also touched his body when they’d hugged. He was made of pure muscle.

Liz closed her eyes and remembered how he’d felt pressed against her. They might not have much to say to each other, but everything about him, from his height to the way he smelled, made her want to draw closer.

She opened her eyes and looked out in the direction of the old Leary place. Buildings and trees blocked her view, but Liz still whispered a promise. “I’m coming,” she said. “Like it or not, I’m coming for you, Gabe Leary.”

She had no idea if they’d last one night or a lifetime, but she’d bet the time they spent together would be time she’d remember down to the seconds for the rest of her life.

SATURDAY NIGHT
FEBRUARY 9, 2008
WRIGHT FUNERAL HOME

Sorry I’m so late in writing tonight, Kate. I went to dinner at Winter’s Inn with friends. This bed-and-breakfast wasn’t here when you visited Harmony two years ago during the grass fires. I wish I’d known you were here. I could have given you a tour of my town. I have a feeling most people drive through Harmony and wonder why anyone would want to live here. They don’t see it like I do. They don’t see the beauty of it.

When I think about how we started e-mailing, I wish I’d been honest from the first with you about where I lived and who I was. People don’t do that on the Internet. It’s not safe, but I waited too long to tell you. If you’d known I was in Harmony, you could have called when you came.

I guess there are no “start-overs” in life. If I could wish just one, though, I’d wish it with you.

Tonight we celebrated Liz Matheson turning thirty. She thinks she’s getting old, but she seems so young to me. I remember when I was thirty, I thought everything was a possibility. Now in my forties I find myself now and then afraid to dream. I don’t want to spend my life dreaming.

The snowstorm’s over, but the snow will hang around for a while. Speaking of things hanging around, remember the border collie I told you about? Well, she’s still living with me. When the days are warmer, I’m sure I’ll find her a home. She’s a smart pup. She’s learned to use the kitchen elevator. Goes up and down. If I’m upstairs or in my study, she wants to be right with me. Folks don’t seem to mind. When they come in my study, they often stop to pet her before we plan.

I miss talking to you, Kate. If you ever find the time, let me know you’re out there and doing okay.

I’m still driving over to Quartz Mountain and ordering you a glass of wine on the first Monday of the month. Don’t think of me as sad if you ever read this. Think of me as remembering all the times we e-mailed over dinner. Good memories, even if they don’t grow over the years, are still good memories. I feel like if I gave up on them, I’d be giving up on you and I’m not ready to do that yet.

Until tomorrow,
Ty

TYLER CLICKED SEND AND LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR. He’d had more to drink than his usual one glass of wine tonight. Maybe that’s why he wrote more from the heart than usual, but what did it matter? No one was on the other end anyway.

“Come on, Little Lady,” he said to the border collie. “It’s time we go upstairs.”

FEBRUARY 11, 2008
HARMONY HOSPITAL

UNCLE JEREMIAH PACED REAGAN’S HOSPITAL ROOM, MUMBLING, “The doc says you can go home tomorrow, but I don’t know. I’ve had a bed delivered and set up in the front room, the room you think is yours anyway. It’s got all those windows, so it may not be warm enough. I worry about that. I should stop by the hardware store and pick up one of those little heaters. The nurse here called a home nursing company and they said they’d send someone out every morning to see to you, and I can do the cooking. I know what you like. If you stay here another day or two you’ll be nothing but bones. I never saw so many colors of Jell-O in my life.”

“Uncle.” Reagan tried to stop him. “Uncle!”

He turned. “What is it, kid? You in pain? I can get that nurse in here.”

“No.” She smiled at him. “I’m fine. I don’t need to be pampered. We Trumans are tough, remember. I can get out of bed all by myself and go to the bathroom. I don’t need a babysitter every morning.” She’d already talked him down to a half day, so she doubted she could cut the home nurse much more. The bed he’d ordered would come in handy for a few weeks until she felt like she could manage the stairs.

“Well, I’ve already paid her for a month, so she’s coming.” Jeremiah could be as stubborn as she was.

“All right, then.” She made a show of giving in.

He smiled, obviously loving winning. “The snow’s off the roads, so I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning to get you.”

“I’ll be ready,” she answered. “I can’t wait to get home.”

He nodded his understanding and leaned forward so she could kiss him on the cheek. “Good night, kid,” he said.

“Good night.” She watched him go. He’d been a bear every day at the hospital. He thought the buzzer worthless. When she needed something or it was time for her medicine, he simply went out in the hallway and yelled until one of the nurses came running. More than one nurse had told Reagan that he was the orneriest man they’d ever had in the hospital as visitor or patient.

Reagan just smiled. That was her uncle, and she loved him. Once she made the staff understand that he was simply worried about her because she was all he had, they changed their attitudes.

The chime sounded in the hallway, announcing that visiting hours were over. Reagan dimmed the lights and closed her eyes, picturing the view from the front window at home. Tomorrow she’d be there.

She was busy planning what she would cook as soon as she could get around on one crutch when the door opened and closed.

Reagan rose on her elbows and stared at the shadow. She made out the shape of a tall man, too wide to be Noah. “Who’s there?”

The visitor stepped closer. “I just heard you were in the hospital.”

Reagan relaxed, recognizing the voice. “Brandon Biggs, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” He moved to almost within reach. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re all right.”

“I broke my leg and took a hard hit on the head, but I’m on the mend.” She couldn’t believe he came all the way from Bailee to Harmony to see her. They weren’t even friends, really, but he might not see it that way. Her being one of the few people who liked him well enough to talk to him might count as being a friend in his book. “I’ll be going home to recover tomorrow. Doctor says if I do all right, I can go back to school on crutches next week.”

“Good,” he said. “I got that job with the highway department. Been working two weeks already. I’m waiting for that slice of pie you said you’d buy me to celebrate.”

Reagan smiled, barely remembering the offer. Then she realized she might be the only person Brandon Biggs had to celebrate with. As far as she knew, he had no family to go home to, or friends. “I remember, and we will celebrate. I’m proud of you, Bran. I’ll just bet you’re going to show that old man of yours.”