Linny's Sweet Dream List (22 page)

“I can't wait.” Dottie beamed, and popped a hushpuppy in her mouth.

“When are you going to add to the grandbaby count, Linny?” Ruby asked.

Good grief.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled in annoyance. She hated that question. Why did people even think they could ask it? She took a long draught of beer, buying time before she responded, when a tall, loose-limbed man ambled around the corner of the house. Spruce in khaki shorts and a golf shirt, Jack Avery walked up to the party, looking more handsome than any grown man should be allowed to look. Linny's palms went clammy and her heart pounded against her chest.

Forcing herself to take what she hoped was a surreptitious deep breath, she ducked and slumped behind Ruby, but not before she saw it was too late. He'd spotted her, and was heading toward her table. Realizing she'd been holding her breath, Linny exhaled and shot a quick glance behind him to try to spot the trailing nymphet, but didn't see her anywhere. Her stomach began a slow spin cycle, and she felt as shy as a sixth grader at her first school dance. Awkwardly she threw a hand up and waved.

But Kate and Jerry spotted him too, and called him over to their table next door, hailing him like a hero. “Glad you could make it,” Jerry said, slapping him on the shoulder.

Jack flashed a smile, as he stuck out his hand to Jerry and patted Kate on the shoulder. “Congratulations. You two must be excited.”

“Oh, we are,” her sister burbled and introduced him to friends seated at the tables. “Everybody, this is Jack Avery. He's an excellent vet, and a very nice man.”

Jack nodded at the group, and looked embarrassed. “Hey, folks.”

Catching Linny's eye, Kate gently pushed Jack in the direction of her table and stood behind him, mouthing, “He's so cute.” She held the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

His eyes found Linny's, and he held her gaze.

Linny groaned inwardly at the effect he had on her, and couldn't make herself look away. Her stomach prickled and she felt the high-voltage electricity between them.

The three pink-ish heads abruptly stopped their conversation, put down their forks, and swiveled their bright-eyes from Linny to Jack and back to Linny, avid as diehard fans watching a volley at Wimbledon.

Her visceral reaction to him had rendered her speechless. After a long quiet moment, she choked out, “Welcome.” Linny flushed, realizing she was using a voice that belonged to a museum docent greeting a tour group. “How are you, Jack?”

“I'm well.” He ducked his head, looking as open-faced and boyishly unsure of himself as a young Jimmy Stewart.

Dear Lord, he was darling. Linny's heart melted.

Ruby, who'd been a looker when she was in her salad days, touched the puff of curls above her ear, and asked archly, “Aren't you going to introduce us, sweetheart?”

In a wooden voice, Linny did, and Jack gave a gentle handshake to each of the ladies.

Dottie tsked. “Where are your manners, Linny? Go get the man a bite to eat.”

As she turned and led him toward the serving table, Linny felt a jolt of determination, and decided to put a damper on this troubling flare up of a wildfire. With no segue, she offered, “I met your Dr. Nelson the other day and she seems very nice.”

Looking slightly puzzled, he jammed his hands into his pockets and nodded. “We like her.”

Linny felt a burn of irritation. Grimly, she remembered one post-Andy blind date with an egotistical man who referred of himself in the third person, as in “Jim decided to start his own brokerage house” and “Jim would like another Glenlivit.”

Catching her sharp look, his brows knit and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He added lamely, “She's fitting in well.”

She glowered at him. “Why didn't you bring her?” she asked tartly.

Jack blinked, and looked baffled. “Because she's at home with her husband?” He held out his plate while Lester spooned on barbecue.

Breathing slowly, Linny tried to quell the surge of outrage she felt at the casual way he admitted infidelity. Looking away, she tried to compose herself, but her gaze rested on her mother—another woman badly damaged by a careless man. Her hands clenched, she asked hotly, “What is it with you people? Do the vows of marriage mean nothing to you?”

“Whoa, Linny.” He held up a hand, furrowing his brow. “Slow down, now.”

Ignoring him, Linny spun around to face him, her fists now on her hips. “And what is it with you older men and these much younger women? It's pathetic, if you ask me.”

Lester's eyes widened, and he gaped as he dished the coleslaw.

Jack put his plate down. “Let's go somewhere quieter to talk,” he suggested, taking her by the arm.

Linny shook him off, but glancing at the caterer's bug-eyed expression, she blushed. She would not ruin this party. Clenching her teeth, she stalked behind Jack as he led her to a group of chairs on the edge of the yard.

“I think you've got a bad set of facts, Linny,” he said mildly. “Sit.” He patted a seat on the glider and folded himself into a chair beside it.

After a moment of wary standoff, Linny reluctantly slid onto the warm metal, and crossed her arms. Dully, she wondered what load of bull he was going to shovel at her, and if this was the tone he used with biting dogs and clawing cats.

Crossing his long legs with bony grace, he turned to her. “First of all, Jodie is young enough to be my daughter. I'd never date someone that young.”

Linny raised an eyebrow, and gave him a
yeah, right
look.

“Secondly, she's my baby cousin. My aunt and uncle's surprise change of life baby,” he said with a wry smile. “I kept it quiet at work so people wouldn't think I hired her because of nepotism. I hired her because she was top of her class.”

Linny snorted. The story was as preposterous as Buck's explanation for the pair of crotchless panties she'd once found in the pocket of his sports coat. But as she glanced at Jack through narrowed eyes, her anger began to deflate. With the younger vet's dark-fringed eyes and even features, the reason she had looked familiar was because she looked like Jack.

Groaning, Linny covered her face with her hands. How could she have been so stupid—misjudging Jack every step of the way? Rubbing her eyes with her fingers, she slumped and gave a defeated sigh. “I jumped to conclusions.”

“You did jump,” he said mildly, and gave her a crooked smile. “Never been accused of being a ladies' man before; I kind of like it. Growing up, I was a 4-H, science-fair kind of guy.” Jack smoothed his hair back in an exaggerated, cool cat manner. “That's probably hard to believe when you see the debonair man that I am today.”

Offering a weak smile, Linny shook her head and was quiet a moment. She owed him an explanation. “My late husband died while he was in bed with a young woman named Kandi.”

He nodded gravely. “I'm sorry, Linny.” After a moment, he added, “I've had some experience in that department.” He gave a cough and looked out over the last of the tobacco in the fields. “A year and a half ago, my wife left me for a guy named Chaz—one of my oldest friends from when I was a kid. He was best man at my wedding. We divorced, and they married in March.”

Linny gasped quietly as she considered that betrayal, and public nature of the humiliation. “I'm so sorry,” she said quietly.

“Besides wanting Chaz, Vera wanted . . . a different lifestyle than I could give her. She loves the country club do's, the charity balls, first-class travel.” He grimaced. “Not my idea of fun, even if I could afford it.”

This fit with what she'd gathered about Jack, and about Vera. “What does Chaz do for a living?”

“He's an attorney, and a big time investor. Has a fund he manages for all his buddies, and does real well.” Jack's face clouded, and he looked off into the distance.

Linny watched his jaw muscle working. He sounded admiring of his friend, and hurt. “How did all this play out with your son?” she asked quietly, knowing this had to be a sensitive topic.

“Rough, but getting smoother.” He gave a wan smile. “We share custody, but Vera's been keeping him more because she's not working outside the home.” Jack's face tightened. “But I've had him for most of this summer break, and it's been great. I miss him, and he wants to see me more, so I'm working on that.”

Linny shuddered inwardly, remembering custody war stories she'd heard from Mary Catherine. Cocking her head, she asked cautiously, “You making headway?”

“Not really.” He took a swallow of his beer, and said in a flat voice, “This week, I broached the subject of changing to a fifty-fifty schedule. Vera went ballistic. Said there was no way I'd be keeping him more.”

“Yikes.” Linny's dislike for Malibu Barbie was growing exponentially, but she found herself recoiling from the dirty details. Still, she persisted. “If you have joint legal custody, why does she think she can call the shots?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Because I've been letting her, probably because I felt bad about the divorce.”

Linny looked at him questioningly. “But, why? She left you, right?”

He shook his head. “In a divorce, no matter who had the greatest fault, you think you failed—like if you'd tried harder, you could have made the marriage work.”

Linny cringed inwardly, remembering crash diets and sex tip books she'd read in a desperate bid to keep Buck's interest. “I understand.” Linny examined Jack, seeing for the first time that his eyes were under slung with purple circles. “Well, you've had quite a week.”

He nodded. “Things will settle out. Chaz is good at making her see reason.”

“Good.” She picked an imaginary piece of lint off her shorts, and gave him a half smile. “I heard you thought I was skipping town.”

Rubbing his chin, he looked chagrined. “I did.”

“So you jumped to conclusions too,” she said primly.

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I jumped.”

With a sideways glance, she saw the planes of his face, the honey gold of his skin, and those intense green eyes. Her pulse quickened. Trying for a light tone, she asked, “And it bothered you I might be leaving?”

“It did,” he admitted, peeling the label off his beer bottle. His eyes fixed on hers, dark and intense. “I like you, Linny. A lot. I want to get to know you.”

Trying helplessly to break eye contact, Linny spluttered, “I . . . uh . . . I . . .”

Jack's mouth twitched. “You're not often tongue-tied.” In one fluid motion, he rose from his seat and sat beside her.

Heat washed over her as she felt the bulk and warmth of him next to her and she sighed. How she'd missed this. He leaned closer, softly brushed her cheek with his finger, and pulled Linny to him.

She drew in a shuddering breath, frozen and reeling with emotions she had been afraid she might never feel again. When her eyes locked with his, she leaned toward him.

Jack's mouth covered hers, and almost languidly, he tasted her lips. She responded hungrily, reaching her arms around his neck. After a long moment, Jack lifted his head, gazed into her eyes and traced her lips with a rough thumb. Sweet Lord, she was in trouble. Her breathing was ragged, and her limbs weak.

At the sound of catcalls and clapping, she pulled back and blushed furiously as she saw Kate, Jerry, and several guests grinning in their direction. “Oh, Lord,” she murmured. “We'll never live this down.”

Jack gave the spectators a wave, but his eyes were dark and his voice was husky. “I'm not sure I want to.” With a look of regret, he glanced at his watch. “But I need to go pick up Neal from his mama's. Walk me to the truck?”

As they walked to the driveway, he looped an arm around her neck. Linny stiffened, remembering Buck's arm draped around her shoulder and the chemistry she'd felt for him at the beginning of that debacle. Her stomach clutching, she fought a sense of panic. What in the world was she getting herself into?

He gave her a slow smile. “Something on your mind? You look worried.”

“I am,” Linny said in a voice that trembled. “We can't just jump into this, just because there's all this connection . . .” She waved a hand at the charged air between them.

Jack regarded her, unsmiling. “I won't hurt you.”

Raising one shoulder, she drew a shaky breath. “People don't intend to hurt other people, but they do it all the time. I'm not getting into one more relationship that's ill-fated. Not one.” She paused, watching him to gauge his reaction. “I need to be sure that it's right and going to last. Can we take our time and get to know one another?” She barely breathed while she waited for his answer.

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “We can take as much time as you need.” Leaning down, he brushed her mouth in a tender kiss. Swinging up into the truck, he lowered the window. “I'll call you in the morning.”

When he turned over the motor, the commentator's voice blared from the speakers. “Here at Bristol Motor Speedway, it's the world's fastest half-mile, and tonight's race . . .”

She raised an eyebrow. “You like opera
and
NASCAR?”

Turning it down, he said in a tone of exaggerated patience, “Linny, Linny, Linny. I have a range.”

She grinned. Still tingling from his kiss, she waved as he drove off. She floated back to the party.

Within an hour, that euphoria faded and she realized she'd lost her mind.

E
arly the next morning, Linny stopped deluding herself that she'd ever get to sleep and hauled herself out of bed. Slouching into the bathroom, she groaned as she glanced in the mirror. Last night's tossing and turning had left her hair matted and her eyes bloodshot. Averting her gaze, she scrubbed at her face too hard with a washcloth, scraped her hair into a ponytail, and threw on shorts and a T-shirt.

On the steps of the trailer, she brooded as she watched Roy sniff around the side yard. Picking up the scent of Margaret's chickens, she'd bet. Rubbing her face with her hands, she pictured for the hundredth time the smoldering kiss with Jack Avery. What was she thinking, starting to get involved with another man? Her breathing shallow, Linny realized she was very close to the edge of a spell of heart-pounding panic. Jumping to her feet, she forced herself to deepen her breathing. Hard labor or exercise that made her sweat were the only ways to stave off the terrifying feelings.

Glancing around wildly, she spied the weed-choked garden, and scurried to the shed to gather tools. A moment later, with the handle of the mattock smooth in her hands, she swung hard at the weeds and roots embedded in red clay. Jerking out a handful, she tossed them into a bushel basket. Her arcing swings grew more rhythmic, and as the morning mist burned off and the sun shone strong, she felt sweat trickle between her shoulder blades. Her panic receded.

She yanked at more weeds, and yelped as she grasped a bushy bunch.
Dang
. She examined her throbbing palm and rubbed it on her shorts. Looking more closely at the flowery yellow weed, Linny saw the hidden nettles. With a shovel, she dug under the base of the clump, pitched the mound into the basket, and thought more about what was scaring her so.

Jack seemed like a kind man, but Buck had seemed kind at the get-go, when he was all shiny and new. Only later did she discover the wandering eye, the story telling, and their financial house of cards. She gave a weed a vicious jerk.

The solid thwack of the mattock hitting the earth felt good. Her thoughts circled back to Jack. He seemed more like an Andy than a Buck, and that scared her even more. She shuddered inwardly. If he was as solid and loving as Andy, she'd fall more and more in love with him each day, until he'd suddenly die of a one in a million kind of deadly cancer or a virulent illness that would blossom in the middle of their first date. Yet again, she'd have to slip on that black dress that came with the matching black limousine.

Linny wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, and thought about the lovely Vera. How much of a problem would his ex-wife be? She flashed on a memory of a friend from work who was ten years post-divorce, and still engaged in heated disputes with her ex-husband, ostensibly about the kids. The woman had pulled an unsuspecting new husband along for that bumpy ride, and that second marriage had ended in divorce as well.

Shaking her head, she carried the brimming basket to the woods to dump it.

Another thought entered her brain, unbidden. At a cookout at Mary Catherine and Mike's house a few years ago, a woman Linny had just met drained a glass of wine, turned to her with fierce eyes and, without preamble, hissed, “Don't ever be a stepmother. You'll always be the outsider, and no matter how hard you try, the kids will always resent you.” Raising her empty glass at Linny in a joyless toast, she'd drifted away.

But she had several friends who'd become stepmothers and were in love with the job. They felt like they'd been given a gift when they married their husbands. It could go either way. She'd probably be the stepmother that Neal talked about in therapy for years to come. Jack would stoically bear his disappointment in her.

A fingernail broke, and Linny ignored it, pulling with both hands on a stubborn bunch of grass that finally gave. With a grim smile of triumph, she tossed it in with the rest and resumed her pick-axing. Her energy flagging, Linny glanced at her grimy, sweaty arms and legs, and thought she must look like one of the hard-scrabble Appalachian women in the Depression-era photos. Really, those pictures were a too-close-for-comfort depiction of her life right now. She was a poor woman fallen on hard times, eking out an existence. Her breathing labored, she dropped to her knees to yank more weeds, and felt a clutch of fear. What good man would want her if he knew the truth about her? She was no prize—a real-life Black Widow. Any normal man would see her as damaged—maybe cursed—and run the other way. Trying to shake off the thought, she ripped harder at the weeds.

After filling and emptying another basket, Linny stopped for a break, and went inside for water. As she sipped an icy glass, Roy sat beside her on the porch step, his haunch warm beside hers. She stroked his head, and murmured, “Do I need another man in my life beside you, Roy? No, thank you.”

The puppy gave her a soulful look, and started to lick his bottom. From the porch floor where she'd left it, her phone rang. She turned and recoiled from it like it was a copperhead. Tentatively leaning closer, she saw a familiar number. Blowing out a sigh of relief, she picked it up.

Kate caroled, “Good morn . . .” The phone went quiet, but the reception returned. “. . . orry, sweets. This connection . . . bad. Oh, wait. We hit a clear stretch of road. We're in the mountains. Jerry surprised me by booking us at a lodge in the Blue Ridge Parkway for a few days.”

After no romantic getaways in years, these two were making up for lost time. Linny could hear the smile in her sister's voice and grinned. “Tell Lance Romance I said good work.”

“I will. Wasn't the party perfect?” She added in a coy tone, “Oops, am I interrupting you with company?”

Linny snorted, “Of course not.”

“I saw you kissing that delicious Jack Avery last night.” Her sister gave a dreamy sigh. “He's such a handsome man.”

“Well, he's not my handsome man, and I'm about to put this boat in reverse.”

“Why?” her sister cried. “Why would you do that? Jack Avery is super nice and a decent man. Why in the world would you run him off?”

Eyes pricking with tears, Linny's throat closed up. “I'm just . . . not ready.”

Kate's voice softened. “You're scared.”

She just nodded, for a moment, unable to speak.

“You there, Linny?” Kate asked.

“Yeah.” With a finger, she wiped a lone tear that trickled down her cheek.

Kate was quiet for a moment. “You can take things slowly and protect your heart.” Her sister's voice was quiet but urgent. “But don't give up on love. Give the guy a chance.”

As she smoothed the leg of her grubby shorts and mulled it over, Jerry's voice came through in the background of the call. “Yeah, Linny. Give the guy a chance. Don't make me turn this truck around.”

Reluctantly, Linny grinned. “I'll think about it.”

Kate's voice went up a happy octave. “I'm so glad, because . . .” The line crackled. “Shoot. We're climbing Mount Pisgah . . . and . . . might lose you.” The cell went quiet.

“Hello? Kate?” Linny asked, but the call was dead. Pushing in her sister's number, she got a fast busy signal, and slipped the phone back on the floor. Her back ached, and she lay down on the floor to try to stretch out the kinks.

When the phone rang again, she picked up, and asked in a teasing tone, “Why are you so glad?”

After a pause, Jack Avery said, “Uh . . . because I'm talking to you?”

She fumbled with the phone, almost dropping it. With alarm bells and whooping sirens going off in her head, she sat up straight and used her museum docent voice. “Good morning.”

“Hey, you,” he said in a rich, warm tone.

His
hey, you
sounded like an endearment, and Linny felt something inside her give way. “Jack, that kiss was a big mistake . . .”

“I thought you might have a case of kisser's remorse,” he said in a measured tone. “I've got to stop by Margaret's late this afternoon to check on one of her chickens that's looking puny. How about I swing by afterward and we can talk?”

After a frantic moment of weighing pros and cons and scrambling for an excuse to bail on this budding romance, she could hear what Kate had told her, ‘You can take things slowly and protect your heart. Give the man a chance.' The silence spun out, and Jack cleared his throat. In a thin voice, she muttered, “Fine.”

His tone was matter of fact. “Good. See you around six.”

 

Linny kept her nervousness at bay with a lawn-and-garden-care palooza. She could manage this man, she decided, sitting on the metal seat of the surprisingly peppy lawn tractor, zipping around the overgrown lawn in ever-smaller circles. She'd tell the whole truth about herself and, in the unlikely event that that didn't scare him off, she'd insist that they start out as friends for a year or two. Later, if he underwent an extensive physical and his financial records checked out, they'd progress to a slow pace of dating. This was the power of positive thinking that her old friend, Indigo, preached about. She nodded her head to encourage herself.

But later, all Linny's good intentions flew away when she opened the door to the beautiful cowboy. With a stubble of beard, faded Levis, and scuffed boots, Jack's green eyes sparkled as he gave her a crooked grin. “Evening, Linny.”

She drew in her breath sharply as she met his eyes and caught his scent—some heady mix of hay, horses, and Dial soap. Her attraction to him made her weak-kneed and apparently, mute. She opened her mouth and closed it again. She groaned to herself. This was not good. Drawing herself up taller, she sighed, and offered ungraciously, “You might as well come in.”

Roy skidded around the corner, a pair of Linny's rattiest underwear in his mouth, and launched himself at Jack. Gasping, she snatched the panties from the dog and stuffed them in the pocket of her shorts. Feeling her face flame, she mumbled, “His latest trick is stealing clothes from the laundry basket.”

Jack grinned, and stooped to scratch the dog. Roy twisted in delight, and gazed at him adoringly. Linny shook her head, thinking of the similarities between herself and Roy. All it took was a little affection, and Jack was the puppy's new best friend.

Jack opened his palms. “What's going on, Linny? Talk to me.”

“You'd better sit down,” she said flatly, as she waved him to the couch—the seat closest to the door in case he decided to bolt out during her telling of the tale. Eying him warily, Linny drew in a breath and hit the high points of two dead husbands, debt, and no real job. After she'd finished, she watched him, her stomach knotting and her shoulders high. But Jack didn't run, and didn't even seem particularly shocked.

“I have one important question.” He gave her a level gaze.

She braced herself.

Looking grave, he leaned forward. “Are you really part owner of a Camaro? Man, I love those cars.”

Linny shook her head, breaking into a grin. “That's all you've got to say?”

He opened his palms. “Linny, by this age, everybody's had some failures, disappointments, or tragedies. I told you about mine, and you didn't run for the hills . . .”

As what he'd said sank in, she felt weak with relief. “So you're not running for the hills?”

“Nope.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Any negotiating room on that rule about two years of friendship before we consider dating?”

Linny smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “Maybe.” Feeling a wave of elation, she shook her head in wonder.

Jack's phone rang, and he sent her an apologetic look as he picked it up. “I'm on call,” he explained.

But Linny's heart thudded as she watched his face go pale, and heard his tone grow curt. She knew all about tragedy calls.

“When? Any word from him? What did the note say?” He shot out questions like bullets. “What about the police? Can they issue an AMBER Alert?”

Her mouth went dry and her heart thudded. She gazed at him anxiously as he ended the call. “What is it?”

His eyes were hollow, and his face bleached white as he rose and dug the truck keys from his pocket. “Neal's run away.”

On her feet at once, Linny crossed her arms and hugged herself to stop the trembling that had started.

In a flat voice, Jack continued, “He's been gone all afternoon. He told his mother he was going down the street to play video games at his friend Tyler's house, and that he'd be home by five thirty.” He looked grim. “When he didn't show up on time, Vera called Tyler's mother. He'd never been there.” Jack rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “In his room, Vera found a note saying he was running away. His bike is missing.”

Linny wanted to touch his arm but didn't, sensing how hard he was working to maintain control. “What's the plan?” She tried to sound calm.

“They've contacted law enforcement, and they are going to start to comb the streets in the Fairmont neighborhood where they live, and fan out.”

“What about an AMBER Alert?”

“Chaz says that's only when abduction is suspected, and thank God we don't have that scenario,” Jack said grimly. “He's filed a missing persons report and the police will be on the lookout. I'm going out and try to find him.”

Linny's heart ached for him. No way she'd let him go this alone. “I'm coming with you.”

“Linny, you don't need to . . .”

She held up her hand. “I'm coming.”

“Let's get the lay if the land,” he said brusquely, staring at his phone as his fingers flew.

Nodding hurriedly, she watched him pull up a mapping program.