Autumn Blue (25 page)

She glanced at his profile. His eyes were so blue, set into a pleasant face with an easy grin. He was not a head-turner, not
until you got to know him. But she was not the only woman drawn to him. It was a miracle that he had made it to thirty-two
without being snatched up. She liked to think it was because of her. Maybe he compared other women but they just couldn’t
measure up. Then again, maybe God had put an invisible fence around him to save him for when Sidney came to her senses. He
had been meant for her all along.

An unsettling sound permeated her reverie. A noisy car laboring up the hill. Her heart went cold. Dodge? Oh, please, not today.
Not any day. She had hoped that his vow to move back to Ham Bone to be a “family man” was as empty of true intention as all
his other promises, but there had been something in his tone. She was afraid he meant this one. Well, he was not welcome in
this house. She glanced at Jack, wondering if he could take her ex-husband. He was buff, but a bit of a teddy bear. He’d probably
invite Dodge in, sit him down, and proceed to update him on all the plays he had missed.

Sidney sighed as the unfamiliar car rattled by without stopping.

Jack placed his hand on her knee, leaning into her. “I have something to show you at halftime.”

She perked up in anticipation. “What is it?”

His eyes were suddenly riveted back on the game. He leaned forward as a blue uniform pushed its way down the field, and then
leaned back with a disappointed sigh as the player was crushed and buried beneath an avalanche of bodies. “You’ll see,” he
mumbled as if he had that quickly forgotten about her.

“How much math did you get done yesterday, Tyson?” Millard asked.

Ty shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of cream cheese pinwheel. “Nothing. I had to work all day. I put in almost eight
hours.” He reached for a handful of carrots. “Got the ramp almost done. We’re forming up concrete next week.” Sidney noted
the pride in his voice.

“I’ve got some tools if you need them. I poured my walkway years ago and haven’t used them since.” Millard’s brows drew together
in thought. “I think I’ve got an old tool belt out in the garage that you could use, too.”

Ty nodded. “Yeah. That would be great. I won’t have to stand around waiting so much if I have my own stuff.” He spun a coaster
around and around on the top of a pen. Ty’s hands were usually busy doing something—anything. “My history assignment is so
stupid. I hate history.”

Millard scoffed indignantly. “No, you don’t. You don’t even know what history is.”

Ty reached under the coffee table and grabbed his history textbook from the lower tier. He opened it at random and started
reading. “On July 12, 1812, General Hull’s forces crossed into Canada at Sandwich. The invasion was quickly stopped and American
forces were forced to withdraw. By August 16, Hull surrendered Detroit.” He snapped the book closed as if confident that he
had made his point. “Boring. The only interesting thing is the sandwich.”

“That’s history as I remember it,” Jack added. “Boring with a capital
B
.” Sidney elbowed him and he grimaced apologetically.

“Ah, the War of 1812,” Millard said. “That was between the United States and Great Britain—ended in a stalemate.” He tapped
his large foot on the floor. Sidney hadn’t realized they made Velcro-closing shoes for adults. “Does anyone here know how
Ham Bone got its name?”

“No,” Sidney said. “I’ve always wondered that.”

Jack peeled his eyes away from the game, slathered mustard on a cracker laden with two slices of sausage, and leaned toward
the old man.

“Back in 1879 there wasn’t much more than trees here. It was just miles and miles of wilderness spreading from Winger Valley
up and over these mountains and beyond. A man named Bill Dangle heard there was gold up this way—everyone called him Silver
because his hair went pale gray when he was twenty-one. He came upriver by canoe and started sluicing over there on Wolf Creek.
He did okay, but it turned out that the trees were his gold mine. He bought land and timber rights and started his own logging
business, cutting down native cedars as big around as school buses. I imagine that when they dropped, the ground shook like
buses were falling out of the sky.” Millard stared off at the crack in the ceiling, bushy brows drawn together in thought,
his watery eyes as blue as the sea off a desert island. “Silver built himself a sawmill and then a house. His sawmill provided
railroad ties to the rail line, which brought more and more people up this way. Silver Dangle, being the businessman that
he was, built the Silver Dangle Hotel and Saloon—you may have heard of that—and then a general store. In the meantime, other
houses and businesses were popping up all around him.”

Sissy and Rebecca had been lying on their stomachs on the dining room floor and playing a board game. Rebecca rolled onto
one elbow, regarding Millard with interest. Duke rested near the sofa, enjoying a back massage from his young master’s feet.
The second quarter of the Seahawks game had ended but nobody moved.

“Well,” Millard went on, “old Silver Dangle had just about everything, but he was lonely. His friends kept telling him he
should find himself a wife, but there were no unmarried women to speak of around here at that time.” He raised his brows.
“No
good
women anyway, if you know what I mean. So he got himself a dog, a big, multicolored mutt that turned out to be useless for
hunting and did nothing but sprawl out on the board porch between the store and the saloon all day. He wasn’t good company
either from what I hear. The only person he’d wag his scraggly tail for was Sara Jenkins, the cook at the saloon who tossed
him a bone every now and then.”

“Were you there?” Sissy asked.

Ty snickered. “That was back in the old days. He’d have to be about 150 or something.”

“No, I wasn’t there, but I got all this from a good source.”

“Was Silver Dangle still lonely?” Rebecca asked.

Millard nodded his head with a sad frown. “Terribly. You know what he finally did? He sent away for what they called a mail-order
bride.”

“I know what that is,” Rebecca said.

“Yeah,” Jack laughed, “a blind date that never ends.”

“Exactly. In Silver’s case it was the blind date from hell. Actually she came from West Virginia. A little bit of a spinster
woman named Victoria, all decked out in ruffles and ribbons and curls. Silver was immediately smitten but Victoria made no
attempt to hide her contempt. It seemed that she had assumed a man who owned as much real estate and business holdings as
William Dangle would greet her in proper businessman’s attire instead of worn canvas pants and a plaid shirt with red suspenders.”
Millard leaned toward the girls dramatically. “And those were his Sunday best.” He shook his head as if the whole thing was
a shame, and Sissy mimicked him, the same concerned expression on her face. “I guess Silver hadn’t sent a photo with his ad,
because Victoria was shocked by his long white hair and mustache. She accused him of lying about his age in the newspaper
ad that said he was only thirty-six, which he swore was true. She never did believe him, though. She wouldn’t call him Silver
like everyone else, either. Mr. Dangle, it was, even after they were married.”

“What does this have to do with Ham Bone?” Ty asked with his arms folded warily across his chest.

“Oh. Well, with the population of the village growing the way it was, it came time to set up a post office. But he had to
give his little town a name. Dangle seemed right to him, especially since he was the founder. But Victoria was fit to be tied.
Dangle, she said, was a silly name with no beauty or sophistication to it at all. Victoria, on the other hand, was regal.
She insisted that the town be named after her. The woman went so far as to sneak into Silver’s desk one night and scratch
the name Dangle from the petition to the postal service and fill in her own. Then she sealed up the envelope.”

Rebecca gasped. Sidney and Jack exchanged amused glances.

“But when the permit arrived from the government—it came through a post office in a neighboring town—everyone was shocked
to learn that the official name of their new town was Ham Bone. Ham Bone, Washington.”

“Why?”

“It seems Silver opened the envelope to the Postal Service just to make sure before he sent it off. Ham Bone was the name
of Silver Dangle’s mangy old dog.”

There were titters of laughter around the room. Ty smirked.

“Apparently the dog was better company than she was,” Jack said.

Millard sat back, placing his arms squarely on the arms of his chair. “Now that’s history,” he said, looking squarely at Ty.

“Do you know any more histories?” Sissy had crawled up to the foot of Millard’s chair.

He laughed. “Honey, I’m a walking, talking history book. I’ve lived through the Great Depression; my father saw three men
murdered during the lumber industry strike in the mid-1930s. I can tell you stories about presidents and politics and war.
I fought in the Korean War. Have you studied about that?”

“He flew an F-86 Sabre,” Ty added. “Tell about shooting down those MiGs.”

Jack pulled Sidney to her feet. “Come outside with me.”

Sidney followed him outside, down the front steps to the back of his Suburban. He opened the hatch to reveal an antique oak
chest. “A little present for you.”

“Oh, Jack. Where did you get it?”

He clicked his tongue. “Off the side of the road with a Free sign on it. It’s not perfect, but with a little sanding and some
wood glue, I think you could paint it up to look pretty good.”

There was no doubt in her mind. And she already knew exactly what she would do with it. “Is that why you were late?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t maneuver the thing in there by myself. I had to call Petrie to come help.”

A stiff breeze blew from the north, causing the golden arms of Millard’s trees across the street to wave triumphantly, strewing
leaves into the air. It felt like a celebration, confetti and all. Sidney’s hair whipped wildly around her face. She pulled
it back so that she could see Jack’s grin. This was good. Life was good. She beamed back at him. “You’re so sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s what they say. I’m just a
sweet
guy.”

She smirked at his sarcasm. “Okay, how about cool? Rad? What would be appropriate here?”

“Sexy.” He posed with an inflated chest and hands on his hips.

She put on a thoughtful expression, chin in hand. “Hmmm.” She studied him up and down, acknowledging to herself that the description
fit. He wasn’t tall, and he had thick, stubby hands, broad shoulders, and a buzzed head that resembled a mailbox, but the
whole package somehow worked together quite well. “Well, okay. I can see where you might get that.”

He winked, brushing a wild strand of hair from her forehead. “Come on. Let’s get back in there before the third-quarter kickoff.”

Micki’s SUV pulled into the gravel drive, Dennis at the wheel. They jumped out along with their son, Andy. “Hey, we came to
get our beautifully painted buffet!” Micki said. “Dennis always falls asleep after the game, so we decided to get it at halftime.”

Dennis scowled. “
You
decided to get it at halftime.” He put on a friendly face, reintroducing himself to Jack. They had met only briefly when
Jack and Sidney dated before.

Jack shook his hand. “Hey, let’s make a deal. I’ll help you get yours loaded and you help me unload mine.”

They agreed, starting with the chest in Jack’s vehicle. “Do those duffel bags go in, too?” Dennis asked as they slid the furniture
toward them.

“Oh, that’s my laundry.”

Sidney peered in. Both canvas bags were stuffed to overflowing. She wondered how long it took for one man to dirty that many
clothes. “Jack, do you need help with your laundry?”

He raised his brows. “Are you offering?”

“Well, yes. I didn’t realize you don’t have laundry facilities in your apartment. I don’t mind at all.” Her subconscious feelings
didn’t form words in her mind. There was just something about having his socks and underwear churning in her machine that
seemed right. She couldn’t get it all done today, of course. He would have to come back for it. “Why don’t you put the chest
on the back porch so that I can paint it even if it rains? You can toss the laundry bags just inside the door.”

The men disappeared around the corner of the house with their burden. Micki leaned against the vehicle, arms locked across
her chest, scrutinizing Sidney as she pushed the back hatch closed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Micki shook her head. “What are you doing, Sid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Offering to do his laundry.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. It seems a little early for all that. You’re barely even dating the guy. I suppose you’re going to string it
all out on the clothesline so that Jack can enjoy the fresh scent of mountain breezes on his skivvies.”

Sidney was perplexed by her friend’s disapproval. “I might if it wasn’t so darn windy and cold. I could get whipped to death
by a gang of frozen T-shirts.” Sidney thought that was funny but Micki, for once, didn’t even smile.

“Something just feels wrong here. You already do laundry for four. There’s only one of him and he has a lot more time on his
hands than you do.” She sighed. “I think you’re trying too hard. Trying to please.”

“Last time I checked, being nice was an attribute, not a crime.”

Micki grabbed Sidney by the sleeve, pulling her toward the front of the car. She took Sidney’s head in her hands, forcing
Sidney to look into the side-view mirror. “Take a good look, girlfriend. What do you see?”

“Ooh. Fine lines around my eyes.”

“Okay, so back up a couple of inches.” Sidney complied. “That’s Sidney Walker. Beautiful, intelligent, kind Sidney Walker.
She is not desperate. She does not need to take in a man’s laundry or eat ground round to win his approval.”

Sidney stared into her own green eyes. She knew what Micki said about her was true. She was pretty enough, not a genius but
well read, and able to carry on a keen conversation. Micki was just being analytical again. Overly analytical. Sidney knew
she was not desperate and she didn’t need to be told as much. Nor would she ever take up eating hamburger.