The Husband She Can't Forget

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, Frannie?” Tom fussed at his wife as he handed her a glass of ice water. “When was the last time you had something to drink or eat?”

“Right now,” she answered, dutifully gulping some water and then digging into the food Luke placed in front of her.

Once Tom and Luke were sure she was eating, they glanced around the table. Luke gave a start when his gaze met Carly’s.

“Oh, hi.” He inclined his head. “Didn’t see you here.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” Carly answered. Since she’d had a minute to steel herself, she was able to give them a genuine smile. “It’s the real start of summer and the food—” she moved her fork in a circular motion “—is incredible.”

Frances looked from Carly to Luke then smiled. “Thank you, dear. I have to say what we’ve prepared has only been enhanced by your fresh produce. Your suggestion of grilled zucchini spiced with red pepper was inspired. Everyone seems to love it.”

“I know my people. Around here, spicy always sells. Having alternative zucchini recipes helps me sell the overabundance, which has only increased with all the rain we’ve been having. And then there’s the fact that my squash plants don’t know a thing about birth control.”

Frances and Tom laughed and Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned at her.

This isn’t too bad, Carly thought. She could do this, no problem. She could sit and chat with this lovely couple and her own ex-husband, make small talk while stuffing her face. She took a bite of the cauliflower salad, savoring the tang of the Parmesan cheese.

There were two other people at the table, Roland and Becky Hall, whom she had known all her life. They were certainly aware of her long-ago marriage to Luke, but they wouldn’t bring it up.

Becky looked at Frances and said, “Thank you so much for inviting us. We haven’t been able to come in previous years, but we’re so glad we could make it this time. I love getting to know people. Where are you and your husband from originally, and how did you meet?”

“She’s a born romantic,” Roland contributed. “She loves this kind of stuff.”

“We’re from a small town about fifty miles from Houston,” Tom answered. “So we’re transplanted Texans.”

“We always knew each other growing up,” Frances added. “Although Tom is far, far older than I am.”

“Two years!” he objected, drawing a laugh from everyone.

Frances put down her fork and reached over to take her husband’s hand. “He’d been asking me out for a year...”

“And she always turned me down. I think I scared her.” Tom shook his head as if he was still mystified by that.

“You definitely scared me. You were so serious. Until prom. I thought that would be a safe date, not too awkward, lots of other people around. I could hide out in the girls’ restroom with my friends if need be... And then the staircase happened.”

“The staircase?” Luke, who obviously hadn’t heard this story before, looked from his aunt to his uncle.

“The prom was held at a beautiful ballroom a couple of towns over from ours. It had a big, sweeping staircase and all of us had to give our tickets to someone at the top of the stairs, have our picture taken together, or with our friends, and then go down to the ballroom.”

Frances paused for effect and sipped her water, her eyes laughing over the rim.

“And?” Carly prompted when she couldn’t stand the suspense. “What happened?”

“I was wearing my first pair of real high heels.”

Carly and Becky groaned.

“For days, I had practiced walking and dancing in those four-inch nightmares. I paid my little brother to be my dance partner. But it never occurred to me to practice going up and down stairs. After we got our picture taken, we turned to start down the steps.” Frances winced. “My heel caught on the carpet, my foot came right out of the shoe and I pitched forward.” Frances made tumbling motions with her hands. “I somersaulted all the way to the bottom without stopping—”

“While I rushed along trying to catch her, but she was moving too fast.”

The breathless audience stared as Luke asked, “Aunt Frances, were you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” she answered on a sigh. “I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to get my breath back, and this man—” she gave Tom a loving look “—this man whipped a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and said, ‘You win the bet, Frances. I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to prove you’re head over heels for me.’”

Everyone broke into laughter and applause.

“I was the belle of the ball,” she concluded. “And I was so sore the next few days I could hardly move. I learned my lesson, though. I haven’t worn four-inch heels since.”

“Best twenty bucks I ever spent,” Tom said smugly. “We got married six years later.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, who happily kissed him back.

“I’m only glad I wasn’t the cause of you taking that tumble,” he went on. “I was so awkward and nervous, I’m surprised it wasn’t my feet you tripped over. You never would have gone out with me again.”

“Absolutely true,” Frances said.

Carly’s gaze flew to Luke. He was looking at his relatives with pride and humor, but he must have felt her attention on him because he turned his eyes to meet hers. A shadow passed over his features and he twisted away.

She and Luke certainly didn’t have a story like that, full of drama, but also sweetness. Theirs had consisted of overwhelming attraction, pain and recriminations.

Suddenly desperate to get away, Carly began gathering her silverware and stacking it on top of her two empty plates. “If you’ll excuse me, everyone, I know Frances’s chocolate cake is over on the dessert table and it’s eager to be my new best friend. I think I’ll take a piece into a dark corner and show it some appreciation.”

Becky smiled as she asked, “Cake, too? Sounds wonderful. I wish I could eat like that.”

“You might have to work as hard as Carly does,” Luke said. “She owns Joslin Gardens and does most of the work herself.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Becky said, giving a small wave of her hand as if to shoo away her previous error. “I knew that. And you refinish furniture, too, right? I’ve been looking for a small table and a couple of chairs for my breakfast nook. The one I’ve got is too big and too modern-looking for my house. I like retro.”

Even though she wanted to get away, Carly couldn’t resist an opportunity to talk about her other business. “As a matter of fact, I do. I recently completed a rebuild of a little gateleg table with two chairs. I painted it pale yellow. It looks like something straight out of the 1950s.”

“Sounds perfect,” Becky said. “When can I see it?”

They arranged a time for her to come out to Joslin Gardens and Carly was at last able to stand and begin making her escape, but she stopped when Tom asked, “You’re going to open a shop in town, right? To sell your furniture and other pieces?”

“That’s right, although I haven’t settled on a space yet. I’m calling it Upcycle because everything will be reclaimed and repurposed.”

“Excellent,” Becky said. “I’ll probably be a regular customer.” Her husband squawked an objection and she gave him a playful punch on the arm. She turned her smile on Luke. “And what about you? Will you be going back to Dallas after the holiday?”

He sat back, stretched out his legs and looked at Carly as he said, “I’ll be around for a few days, then back to Dallas. I am buying property in this area, though.”

Carly’s face felt as frozen as a Siberian lake in winter. Her heart pounded and a wave of distress swept over her. She hoped that didn’t mean he planned to buy a house nearby. If he did, she might run into him anytime.

* * *

DISMAYED, LUKE WATCHED as Carly gave everyone at the table a bright smile. “It’s always nice to have more people in Reston,” she said before she hurried away. The Halls followed a few minutes later, heading toward the dessert table, as well.

He hadn’t meant to spring it on her like that. He’d only decided today, when he’d received the reports from the engineers, that Reston would be the perfect place for his project.

“Well, that wasn’t as awkward as it could have been,” Frances said, her sympathetic gaze following Carly.

“It was awkward enough, and I suppose I could have told her before I made a general announcement.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” his uncle said. “Carly’s so busy, you’ll probably never see her.” Tom paused. “I’m glad you’re going to be here for a while. How long will your project take?”

“Dad’s given me nine months—”

“Because he thinks you can’t do it in that length of time, and then you’ll come back to Dallas with your tail between your legs.” Tom shook his head. “My brother still thinks a vacancy is going to occur and he’ll be king of the world.”

Luke nodded and gave an ironic twist of his lips. “True, but that’s another reason I’m glad I can buy the property I need from you.” He paused. “The location, though...” He ran his hand over his chin.

“It has everything you need, Luke. The right layers of shale, privacy—”

“A crummy road to keep people out,” Frances added.

“Although it will have to be graded so we can get the equipment in and out,” Luke answered.

“And you won’t have a fight over the mineral rights.” Tom grimaced. “Or the ones on the adjoining property.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“I know, but you don’t have time to look for another place, not with my brother breathing down your neck.” Tom held out his scarred rancher’s hands, palms up. “I don’t see what else you can do.”

“Me neither,” Luke answered in a dull voice.

All three brooded over the situation for a moment before Frances stood and said, “I think it’s time for me to start making the rounds and charming people out of their money.” She smiled when she spied her daughter-in-law carrying her baby son across the patio. “Good. Max is up from his nap. I’ll take our grandson along as my sidekick.”

As she swept away in a swirl of brightly colored skirt, Tom watched her go and said, “Marrying her was the smartest thing I ever did.”

Glad for the change of subject, Luke nodded. “I agree.” He fell silent, mulling over the fact that so many of his family members had happy marriages, successful relationships. His parents had been happy, even though they were completely different people—his mother had been sweet and easy-going, his dad was...well, tough. All indications were that his Omi, Wendolin, had been happy with her husband, Harry, who had died when Luke was twelve. The rest of the family seemed happy, too. Not only Tom and Frances, but their son, Trent, and his wife, Mia, their lives even more complete now that they had Max.

He fought a surge of envy, knowing that he and Carly and their disastrous marriage, as well as the loss of their baby, were the exception that proved the rule in his family.

He also knew that he was slipping very close to feeling sorry for himself. Standing, he went to snag a piece of Aunt Frances’s cake before it was all gone.

* * *

THIS WAS THE perfect time. He wiggled under the barbed-wire fence and reached back for the bucket whose handle he’d wrapped with cloth so it wouldn’t make noise if it fell. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t drop the bucket itself, especially not after he filled it with what he needed.

Bent at the waist and keeping his head low, he scuttled down the rows of spring onions, carrots and beets. He wasn’t interested in those. He stopped at the blueberry bushes and carefully opened the wood-and-chicken-wire lid of the first protective cage built to keep the animals from eating the berries.

No one had expected a two-legged animal to show up and help himself, he thought, and grinned in the light of the full moon. He wasn’t being greedy, he assured himself. They had plenty and he planned to take only a few from each bush. That way, there would be enough left for tomorrow night. Working quickly, he filled his bucket, closed the cages and disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER THREE

THE NEXT MORNING, Carly stood on the lane that sloped north to south across her fields and watched her employees as they picked and loaded produce. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion this morning. Probably due to the Memorial Day holiday. Any kind of break in the routine seemed to throw her teenage helpers off their stride. The delivery to the Mustang Supermarket would be late today, but she’d called to tell the manager about the delay. Now she needed to not stress over it.

She couldn’t blame the holiday weekend for her sleepless night or the edginess that had awakened her with the first light of dawn and sent her roaming the fields for peace. She couldn’t stop thinking about Luke and the fact that he was going to be around Reston. She didn’t know how long he would be staying—although his mention of buying property certainly suggested a lengthy stay—or when she would see him again, but she dreaded it.

Turning back toward her equipment shed, she took a deep breath and worked to quell the anxious flutter that had started in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about Luke, and she hated being late or appearing unreliable. That was why she had resisted Lisa and Gemma’s efforts to get her to open a shop in which to sell her recycled goods. Keeping up the stock, finding old pieces to transform into new ones, having regular shop hours had all seemed overwhelming until her friends had convinced her to at least give it a try. If it was too much or if the shop was unsuccessful, they’d argued, she could go back to posting her pieces online and either shipping them or having the new owners pick them up.

She didn’t like the idea of quitting if her shop didn’t succeed. Giving up wasn’t in her nature. She had only ever given up on one thing in her life—marriage to Luke—and that wasn’t a decision she’d made alone.

For the new shop, Lisa had helped her find a couple of reliable employees and Carly had hired more help for her gardens to free her up for the shop. She only hoped her newest commercial enterprise didn’t turn out to be a huge mistake.

For some reason she’d been feeling restless lately, ready to take on something new but not sure what that would be. Her two best friends thought she was a little crazy to work so hard when she was finally in a position to hire more employees, but she’d developed the habit when she’d returned to Reston after she and Luke had broken up. She had recovered from her double heartbreak by spending days in the fields or the greenhouse and evenings refinishing furniture. All that labor had consumed her time and thoughts, and exhausted her so much that she’d fallen into dreamless sleep every night. Now those habits were so ingrained she couldn’t change.

She walked up to the front of the shed as Jay and Sheena arrived, driving four-wheeled utility vehicles pulling garden carts full of vegetables. They began loading the produce into the big plastic bins she used for deliveries and stacking them carefully in the back of her truck while Carly hurried inside to brush her hair into a ponytail, slather on sunscreen and plop a wide-brimmed hat onto her head.

As she passed through the living room, she gave Wendolin’s trunk a yearning glance. She was eager to open it and begin going through the contents. It would bring her closer to the sweet woman she had known, and it might help her put parts of her long-ago marriage to Luke into perspective. Even after all this time, she still didn’t fully understand some of the things that had happened. Tonight, she promised herself. She would open it tonight.

By the time she returned to the shed, the kids had the produce loaded and Jay was ready to go. Watching them work as she hurried from the house, Carly thought again how lucky she was to have these two working for her. There were two other occasional employees who operated her produce stand, but they didn’t have the work ethic of Sheena and Jay.

Sheena Blake was the oldest of five children of a single mom and needed to earn money to help out at home. She was pretty in a quiet and earnest way, and willing to work.

Jay Morton was the son of the mayor of Reston, and he’d been raised to be a hard worker. She knew he liked video games and electronic devices. A couple of times she had caught him playing games on his phone when he should have been sorting and packing produce but, for the most part, he was a good employee.

Carly smiled as she handed Sheena the clipboard with the paperwork Jay would need. He was eager to get going, finish this job and go on to the next one, while Sheena was fixated on double-checking everything. Carly feared that her own meticulous habits were beginning to affect the girl.

“Don’t drive too fast,” she said to Jay. “I don’t know where all the extra people have come from, but traffic in town seems heavier than usual.”

“I know, Carly. I just came from town,” he said, nodding toward the motorcycle he rode everywhere. He shook his head and exchanged looks with Sheena as if he thought their persnickety boss was losing her mind. Sheena smiled back as color rushed into her face.

“Oh, of course.” Carly gave him the keys.

As he pulled out, she and Sheena went back to work, picking the remainder of the vegetables they needed to deliver today and getting them ready to go. Carly was grateful for the manual labor that left her too busy to think about yesterday’s encounters with Luke.

When they took a break, Sheena took a long drink of water from one of the bottles Carly always kept in a cooler in the shed, then poured some into her hand and splashed it on her face. Once she was cooled off, she turned troubled eyes to Carly. “Have you seen Mrs. Salyer lately?”

Carly paused, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her elderly neighbor. “No, not in a few weeks. Why?”

“My mom stopped to see her yesterday and she said Mrs. Salyer was in bed. In the middle of the day.”

“Era wasn’t sewing or gardening or...putting a new roof on her house?”

“No. Mom said it looks like Mrs. Salyer didn’t even put in a garden this year.”

“Is she sick?”

“She said she’s just tired. At least, that’s what she told Mom.”

“I’d better check on her.” Hearing that Era Salyer was napping instead of working was like learning the sun had decided not to rise one morning. It simply didn’t happen. “Can you finish up here?”

“Sure.”

Carly scooped her cell phone out of her pocket and called Era, but there was no answer. She grabbed a basket and filled it with fresh produce.

Carly hurried to one of the four-wheelers and rode down the highway, being careful to keep her slower vehicle at the edge of the pavement.

At the mailbox marked Salyer, she turned in and made her way over the rutted lane, which wasn’t in much better shape than her own. She stopped in front of Era’s small house, noting the unaccustomed sight of dry and drooping roses and hydrangeas. At the side of the house, the plot that usually held Era’s lush vegetable garden was choked with weeds.

Carly hurried to the front door. A scuffling noise followed her knock and, after a pause, Era called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Carly Joslin, Mrs. Salyer. I haven’t seen you in a while so I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Instead of opening the door wide as was her custom and embracing her, Era opened it only as far as the guard chain would allow and peeped out.

“Oh, hi, Carly. How are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Carly tried to look past the older lady, but could see nothing in the dim room—a room whose windows had always been open to light and air. She brought her attention back to Era, noting that her face seemed thinner.

“I’m fine. Nothing wrong with me, honey. Just a little tired.”

Carly held up the basket. “I brought you some vegetables and some berries.”

Era frowned. “Berries? Oh, I thought you already left me some...”

When her voice trailed off, Carly asked, “Thought I left you what?”

“Oh, oh, nothing. I...don’t know what I was going to say.” She looked up and smiled. “Thank you, honey. Just leave it on the porch. I don’t want to open the door because... I might have a cold and I don’t want to get you sick, too.”

Carly blinked and did as the older lady asked, setting down the basket as she said, “Era, please let me know if you need anything. Really, anything at all.”

“I will, hon. Thank you.”

Before Carly could say another thing, Era closed the door. The dead bolt clicked into place.

Puzzled, Carly walked slowly to her four-wheeler.

“This is so strange,” she whispered. She couldn’t recall a single time when Era had behaved this way. A widow for many years, she had lost her only son to an oilfield accident a few years ago. In spite of those hardships, she had always seemed content with her life. She was hardworking and independent and had been friendly and welcoming to her neighbors.

Carly couldn’t think of anything that would have caused such a change in her, unless she really was sick.

She glanced over her shoulder to see that Era was holding back one of the living room curtains to give a reassuring wave and a smile.

It was as if she didn’t want Carly around but didn’t want her to worry, either.

Deciding to call again in a few days, or to send someone, Carly drove home and reported the visit to Sheena, who said she would tell her mom about it.

Jay returned from town with the truck and the three of them were finished by noon. Since Sheena lived on the outskirts of Reston, less than three miles away, she rode home on her bicycle, leaving Carly and Jay to load the last delivery onto the truck.

When they were done, she said, “Jay, I can take this to the restaurant. I’ve got to go into Toncaville, anyway.”

He grinned. “Did your favorite secondhand store get a new delivery of beat-up furniture?”

Teasingly, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’ve been working for me too long. You know me too well.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m pretty sure I deserve a raise.”

She only laughed and waved him off as he mounted his motorcycle, but he paused before putting on his helmet. “Um, Carly, did you pick any of the blueberries yet?”

“Only a few to take to Mrs. Salyer. She loves my berries. Why?”

“I don’t know, just seems like there aren’t as many on the bushes as there were a few days ago.” He rubbed his chin, where he was attempting to grow his scraggly few whiskers into a beard. “’Course, it might be rabbits, skunks, squirrels.”

“Animals that can open the protective chicken-wire cages?” Carly asked.

“Nah, I guess not. Besides, I didn’t see any tracks.” With a shrug, Jay put on his helmet, started the engine and roared away.

Carly smiled as she watched him go. A raise was in the near future, but she wasn’t quite sure when it would happen. He was a good employee and she was going to miss him when he went to college in the fall of next year. In the meantime, she would take a look at the blueberry bushes, as soon as she got the chance.

After making sure the produce was shielded from the sun beneath a damp cloth, Carly rushed inside to shower and change for the trip into town.

When she opened her closet, she didn’t grab shorts to go with the turquoise tank top she’d pulled over her head, but instead took out a dark purple peasant skirt with an asymmetrical hem that fell to midcalf.

She held it up and admired the beautiful color. Lisa had dragged her to Tulsa on a shopping spree, insisting that Carly needed to wear something besides work clothes and boots. Carly had argued she had nowhere to wear skirts like this. Lisa, who worked in real estate and dressed up every day, insisted she could invent a reason.

“Invent a reason?” Carly had asked.

Looking at the beautiful skirt now, Carly thought there was no reason to wear it. She would only be dropping vegetables off at a restaurant, then making a quick stop at The Classy Junque Trunk to look for items she could freshen up and resell at Upcycle—once she actually decided on a space.