and I could see his eyes clearly for the first time. “Doesn’t appear so. Uncle Bob’s ranch was so far from town, and she got so lonely. And ...” He let his sentence drift away. I suspected there was more to their breakup than just the ranch’s isolation—Wade had been known to like booze and the ladies a little too much.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I told Uncle Bob and Mom I needed to get away for a while. Thought I’d fly out and see some old friends. And you.”
“It’s good to see you,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure of those sentiments. But it was obvious he was in real pain and, as is not uncommon to human beings, he’d come back to the place where he’d once been happy and whole. My irritation at him cooled because I understood his desire for the idealized past.
“I won’t hang around long,” he said. “Be on my way in a few days.”
“I’m sure there’s lots of people who’ll be glad to see you again. And you’re in luck—I baked a Yankee Cake for tomorrow. Your favorite.”
“Guess your second sense told you I was coming,” he said, laughing. My heart cracked again at the familiar sound. He and Jack were so much alike. But it had been almost two years since Jack died, and I’d since fallen in love with another man and started a new life. How could these feelings of loss suddenly feel so fresh?
“Let’s go back to the house and see what’s for supper. Guess who came out for Thanksgiving, too? My cousin Emory.”
“That right? That nerdy little kid from Arkansas?”
“Not so nerdy anymore. Or little. I do believe he’s an inch taller than you.”
When we entered the house through the kitchen door, the first sound I heard was Gabe’s rich baritone voice begging Dove for a piece of sweet potato pie. All my aunts and girl cousins were staring at him with the cow-eyed adoring looks I was learning to accept when it came to my husband. When Gabe put his mind to it, he could out charm Mel Gibson.
He stopped when I entered the room and looked down at me, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. Then his eyes snapped up to Wade standing behind me. Their smoky blueness faded to a dark gray, and his face became still.
“Wade Harper.” In those two words he managed to convey all his feelings of contempt and distrust.
Wade dipped his head in an almost imperceptible nod. “Ortiz.”
I said to Gabe, keeping my voice light, “Wade’s visiting for a few days, seeing old friends and such. Isn’t that nice?”
Gabe’s face didn’t budge an inch. “Nice,” he repeated.
Wade glanced around the room at the now silent women, his tanned face coloring at the cheekbones. “Guess supper’s not ready yet. Think I’ll go out and say hey to Ben. Reckon he’s in the barn.”
“We’ll be setting the food on the picnic tables out back in about a half hour,” Dove said. “Fried chicken, fried okra, corn-on-the-cob, and potato salad. Tell the men while you’re out there.”
“Yes, ma‘am,” he said, swinging around and heading out the back door.
When the women resumed their kitchen chores and conversation, Gabe walked across the kitchen to me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the back door.
“Mrs. Ortiz,” he said firmly, though I’d never actually become an official Ortiz, a point that still occasionally rankled his overabundant supply of testosterone. “We need to talk.”
2
“I DIDN’T KNOW he was going to be here,” I said before he spoke. We stood facing each other underneath a seventy-five-year-old oak tree that had witnessed a good many of the important events of my life. The sun, a half orange on the horizon, filtered through the bare branches and etched black line shadows across Gabe’s cheekbones.
“How long is he going to stay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, leaning against the broad trunk. “We didn’t talk long. He showed up unannounced about fifteen minutes ago on Dove’s doorstep, and she said he
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I told Uncle Bob and Mom I needed to get away for a while. Thought I’d fly out and see some old friends. And you.”
“It’s good to see you,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure of those sentiments. But it was obvious he was in real pain and, as is not uncommon to human beings, he’d come back to the place where he’d once been happy and whole. My irritation at him cooled because I understood his desire for the idealized past.
“I won’t hang around long,” he said. “Be on my way in a few days.”
“I’m sure there’s lots of people who’ll be glad to see you again. And you’re in luck—I baked a Yankee Cake for tomorrow. Your favorite.”
“Guess your second sense told you I was coming,” he said, laughing. My heart cracked again at the familiar sound. He and Jack were so much alike. But it had been almost two years since Jack died, and I’d since fallen in love with another man and started a new life. How could these feelings of loss suddenly feel so fresh?
“Let’s go back to the house and see what’s for supper. Guess who came out for Thanksgiving, too? My cousin Emory.”
“That right? That nerdy little kid from Arkansas?”
“Not so nerdy anymore. Or little. I do believe he’s an inch taller than you.”
When we entered the house through the kitchen door, the first sound I heard was Gabe’s rich baritone voice begging Dove for a piece of sweet potato pie. All my aunts and girl cousins were staring at him with the cow-eyed adoring looks I was learning to accept when it came to my husband. When Gabe put his mind to it, he could out charm Mel Gibson.
He stopped when I entered the room and looked down at me, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. Then his eyes snapped up to Wade standing behind me. Their smoky blueness faded to a dark gray, and his face became still.
“Wade Harper.” In those two words he managed to convey all his feelings of contempt and distrust.
Wade dipped his head in an almost imperceptible nod. “Ortiz.”
I said to Gabe, keeping my voice light, “Wade’s visiting for a few days, seeing old friends and such. Isn’t that nice?”
Gabe’s face didn’t budge an inch. “Nice,” he repeated.
Wade glanced around the room at the now silent women, his tanned face coloring at the cheekbones. “Guess supper’s not ready yet. Think I’ll go out and say hey to Ben. Reckon he’s in the barn.”
“We’ll be setting the food on the picnic tables out back in about a half hour,” Dove said. “Fried chicken, fried okra, corn-on-the-cob, and potato salad. Tell the men while you’re out there.”
“Yes, ma‘am,” he said, swinging around and heading out the back door.
When the women resumed their kitchen chores and conversation, Gabe walked across the kitchen to me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the back door.
“Mrs. Ortiz,” he said firmly, though I’d never actually become an official Ortiz, a point that still occasionally rankled his overabundant supply of testosterone. “We need to talk.”
2
“I DIDN’T KNOW he was going to be here,” I said before he spoke. We stood facing each other underneath a seventy-five-year-old oak tree that had witnessed a good many of the important events of my life. The sun, a half orange on the horizon, filtered through the bare branches and etched black line shadows across Gabe’s cheekbones.
“How long is he going to stay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, leaning against the broad trunk. “We didn’t talk long. He showed up unannounced about fifteen minutes ago on Dove’s doorstep, and she said he
Similar Books
