Dakota Love (53 page)

“The first day I walked through that door”—Lil looked past him to the back entry—“I’d have never pegged you for a romantic.” Lil revealed a shy smile.

Walt shrugged. “If doing something nice for you, Lil, is being a romantic, then I guess I am.”

When Lil’s eyes locked on his, Walt’s heart hitch-stepped. A trace of sorrow filtered through the shine coming from her eyes.

“What is it, Lil?”

She cleared her throat. “Nothing, Walt. Our pizza’s getting cold. Let’s eat our dinner.”

They chewed for a few silent moments.

“Walt, you did use your walker to set the table, didn’t you?” Lil lifted her glass.

“Yes.” Was that what was worrying her? “I learned my lesson this afternoon.” He went to take a drink.

“Don’t drink that yet.” Lil pursed her lips like Walt could read her mind. “I’d like to make a toast.”

She sure can go from shy to bossy fast
.
Walt grinned at his thought
.

“What?” Lil’s gaze bored into him.

“Nothing. I’m just having a good time.”

Lil grinned. “Me, too. To health and happiness.” She moved her glass toward his, the tinkling sound dancing through the kitchen.

“This is real crystal. I’d know that sound anywhere.” Lil sipped her ginger ale.

“My mother had expensive taste and she entertained a lot. My father was a doctor. Mom’s occupation was community service organizations. What did your parents do?”

“Dad drove a gravel truck. Mom ran the household and took care of Lily and me.”

Walt served them each another slice of pizza. “Lil, what’s your real name?”

She pursed her lips and stared down at her plate.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Well, suffice it to say, I never liked my name the way Lily liked hers. Although there was a short time in the sixties when I liked it because it fit in with the peace move—”

Lil stopped short then filled her mouth with pizza like she was trying to hold her words in.

Walt’s glasses slipped down his nose a little as he scrunched his face. “The make-love-not-war peace movement?” He snorted. “Surely Lil can’t be short for Sunshine or Rainbow.”

Sheepishness crossed over Lil’s features as she took a sip of soda. After swallowing, she cleared her throat. “Close.”

Walt leveled a look at her.

“Okay, I’ll tell you. My grandma, the one that made the quilts, was named Daisy. My mother’s name was Iris. My sister’s name is Lily. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Lil raised her eyebrows.

“You’re named after a flower? But lily is the only flower that starts out with l-i-l.”

“No, lily is the only flower that uses the short vowel sound. I’m named after the flower that uses the long vowel sound.”

Walt scowled as he racked his brain, searching for flower names that began with l-i-l.

Lil lifted her empty plate. “You were mistaken the other day, Walt. I don’t have a lilac quilt because I
like
lilacs. I have a lilac quilt because my grandmother made us quilts that represented our names.”

“Your name is Lilac?” Walt was immediately sorry for the disbelief he heard in his voice.

Hands in pockets, Lil pulled her jacket close in an attempt to seal out the chilly night air. She should have buttoned it, but it’d been a long day and she just wanted out of Walt’s house. She wanted out of the close proximity that stirred up both of their feelings. She wanted out of this assignment. No,
needed
out of this assignment.

Why hadn’t she called Tiffany back? She sighed as she unlocked the camper door. She liked spending time with Walt. In two short weeks they’d begun stitching together the snippets of their lives, time and events overlapping and being appliquéd into their hearts, just like the small fabric pieces that created the pattern of her Rose of Sharon quilt.

She knew now it was time for love to awaken. She didn’t believe in coincidence. That replica flour sack material and Mark’s knowing about the Lily of the Field quilt—they were God-given incidences.

But surely God didn’t want Lil and Walt together. A war protestor and a soldier? A traveler and a homebody? A loner and a socialite?

Well, maybe Walt couldn’t be classified as a socialite, but he was active in his community, something that she’d shied away from all these years.

Entering the camper, she secured the door and lifted the walkie-talkie from the counter. A flick of the knob gave a static hello. She pressed the button.

“Walt.”

“Lilac.”

She shivered at the husky way her name rolled from Walt’s lips through the air waves. It sounded pretty when he said it. Made her feel special.

“I’m in the camper, safe and sound. Good night.”

“The pain reliever’s working. My hip stopped throbbing.”

Lil collapsed on her sofa. “I’m glad. Now get some rest.”

“I really enjoyed our evening together.”

Could the man not take a hint? She needed time alone. Time to think things through.

The
beep-pop
of her walkie-talkie cut through the silence of her camper. “Lil, are you there?”

“Yes.” She released the button and lowered the device. The man needed a cell phone.

“You have very soft hands.”

She closed her eyes as a soft tingle started where Walt’s able lips touched her palm, the tickle of his coarse mustache adding to the pleasure.

Lifting the walkie-talkie to her mouth, she pressed the button. “Thank you, Walt. For everything. I can’t imagine a better first date.”

Lil dropped the walkie-talkie in her lap then rested her elbow on the sofa arm and rubbed her temples, knowing the conversation wasn’t close to being over. Her heart skittered at the thought; her head, not so much.

“When I get rid of this walker, I’m taking you out on the town, a real dinner date and maybe a movie. Or we could take in a museum. Sioux Falls has some interesting ones, and end the day with a nice intimate dinner. Would you like that, Lil?”

Yes!
Her heart screamed its response. Luckily it didn’t have control of her vocal cords.

When Walt got rid of his walker, a yellow pickup with a fifth wheel would be tearing down the interstate to Texas.

“Lil?”

She couldn’t dash the hope in his voice. She lifted the walkie-talkie and pushed in the button to talk. “Both of those sound very nice.”

“Good…” Static blared, cutting off some of Walt’s words.

“Walt, something’s interfering.”

“I said we can talk about it tomorrow or the day after that. Make some concrete plans.”

“Okay. Walt, you’d better get some rest tonight if you want to get rid of the walker.”

“Sorry, Lil. Guess I’m kind of wound up.”

Car lights flashed past the camper. Lil lifted her blinds and watched a caravan of vehicles parade by.

“Walt, your guests are here. Just warning you in case you hear noises. Don’t get up to investigate.”

“Okay. They promised not to bother me unless it was an emergency.”

The noise after Walt’s statement sounded suspiciously like a yawn, his nighttime pain reliever finally kicking in.

“You’d better get some rest. I’ll be over early to put the breakfast casserole in the oven.” Lil hoped this would end the conversation.

“I miss you, Lil.”

Walt’s voice, so full of sincerity, melted Lil’s heart. “I miss you, too. Now get some rest.” Lil flicked the button on her walkie-talkie, expecting that to end the conversation.

“Good night, Lil.” Walt’s voice was thick and groggy as he started dropping off to sleep. “Your name might be Lilac, but you’re my Rose of Sharon.”

R
unning a hotel was harder work than treating life-threatening injuries in the emergency room. Of course, Lil was used to the latter type of work.

The last few days ran together in a blur. Heat up breakfast, put the food out, make coffee, visit, greet the church ladies, make more coffee, start the laundry, fold the laundry and put it away, prepare lunch and dinner. All the while keeping a sharp eye on Walt to make sure that his balance was steady, that he didn’t overdo, and that he used his walker.

Lil flopped down in a chair beside Walt in the laundry room. Today was even more hectic as they tried to get laundry folded before it was time for Walt to get ready for the funeral.

“I really wish you’d come.” Walt smoothed out a towel on the table, halved it, tri-folded it, and flopped it on top of the stack.

“Walt, I didn’t know Sam.”

“I know, but you have met his kids and grandkids. Besides”—Walt sniffed—“I need you there for moral support.”

Lil knew this was hard on Walt. It was their age. Friends or loved ones passing on made you consider your own mortality. Wonder how many years you had left. If you’d beat the odds and live past the projected age of insurance life-expectancy tables.

She snapped a towel through the air, grabbed up the corners, and in one fluid motion folded it to match Walt’s.

Sam’s children were a testament to the kind of man he’d been, a true reflection of kids honoring their father and mother. The only noise they made was when they visited at breakfast. The church ladies couldn’t believe how well they kept their rooms, all amid their grieving.

When the buzzing of a finished cycle on the dryer cut through her thoughts, she rose and removed the warm towels, piling them on the table in front of Walt.

He reached for her hand and laced his fingers in hers. “Please?” Eyes filled with sorrow, Walt searched her face.

Compassion turned her heart into a ball of cotton and overruled her mind’s reasoning. Lil nodded. “I’ll go.”

The two of them had the towels folded in record time. Lil gathered the piles up, the residual warmth from the dryer soaking through the thin knit of her turtleneck.

She found Walt locking the front door of the office.

“All of the businesses are closing down during the time of Sam’s funeral.” He scooted the walker toward the living room. His overalls strap fell off of his shoulder, exposing more of his brown henley shirt. He stopped and pushed the strap back into place with his thumb.

“You’ve been fighting that strap all morning. Why don’t you just tighten it?” Lil worked out the twist in the denim from his last adjustment.

“It’s as tight as it can go.” Walt turned to show Lil. “I’ve lost some weight. Must be from all of that healthy eating we’ve been doing.”

Lil harrumphed and looked down at her own frame. “Men. You’re so lucky. It’s not doing me any good.”

“Well, your body is used to eating that stuff. Besides, you look good just the way you are.”

Walt’s eyes sparked with approval, igniting a brush fire on her cheeks.

“I just hope my uniform fits. We might have to punch a hole in my belt.” Walt continued through the house.

They parted ways at the kitchen door.

“It won’t take me long to change,” Lil called over her shoulder, letting the storm door ease closed on its own.

Twenty minutes later, Lil, donned in the only dress she owned, a dark green sheath, stepped back into the kitchen, her black ballet flats slick against the linoleum flooring.

“I’m back. I hope no one notices this was the same dress I wore to church on Sunday.” She hollered the words toward Walt’s closed bedroom door.

“Why are you shouting?”

Lil jumped. Mouth open, ready to chide Walt for coming out of the living room and startling her, she turned toward the living room doorway.

No words came out, but her mouth remained gaping. After seeing Walt in nothing but loose sweatpants or overalls, she had no idea what a nice physique he had.

The dark hat he wore tipped slightly on his head was a contrast to his cropped white hair. His tapered uniform shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. The dark pants with a sharply pressed crease down the center of his legs stopped just above smartly shined shoes.

Her heart hammered in her chest and echoed in her ears. She hadn’t prepared herself for a man in uniform.

“Lil, is something wrong? Did I mess up my tie?” Walt’s fingers fumbled with the collar of his shirt.

“No, Walt. You look handsome.” Lil walked over to him and smoothed her hands over his shoulders, resting them on his biceps.

She felt tears sting her eyes. How had she not been able to see the beauty of a man in uniform, the strength and courage belied in the contoured fit?

Walt stood straight in the rigid fashion of a soldier. He tilted his head up when their gazes locked. Lil felt sure he’d see the shamefulness of the way she’d treated heroes returning home from war and order her from his home.

“Would you help me with my jacket? I don’t trust my balance.”

Lil lifted the jacket from the front bar of the walker. She held it so Walt could slip one arm in, then rounded behind him and helped him insert his other arm. Stopping in front of the walker, she folded down the collar, letting her palms smooth down the stiffly starched fabric.

“Thank you, Lil.” Walt put his hands on her cheeks. The slight movement brushed the metal bar of the walker on her dress.

“For what?” The intense look in Walt’s eyes lured her face closer to his.

Walt’s hard-soled shoes clicked on the vinyl flooring as he took a small step forward.