The Sweet Spot (28 page)

She hurried down the hallway. “Anyone who shows up unannounced gets the scare they
deserve.” Rounding the corner of the mudroom, she saw Jimmy’s profile through the
back door window.
Why is he here so early?
His face appeared above her café curtains.

Scrunching the neck of the robe in her fist, she opened the door a crack. “Jimmy,
is everything all right? Bella’s ceremony isn’t until three.”

He stood, dress hat in hand, cheeks smooth and pink from a recent shave, comb tracks
pristine in his damp hair. “I was ready early, so I thought I’d visit with Ben while
I waited for you.”

“Oh. He’s not here. He’s spending the day with Junior.” Her hand tightened on the
knob. What was she going to do with him while she was getting ready? Jimmy stood there,
fingering the brim of his hat, looking like he was prepared to stand on the back porch
all afternoon if he needed to.

She put a hand to her work-in-progress hairdo.
Well, he’s already seen the worst anyway.
His grin broadened as she stood back to let him in.

“I’ll wait in the kitchen. You take your time, Char.”

As he stepped around her, his familiar cologne filled her head. She’d bought it for
him their first Christmas together. He’d never worn another. On Jimmy, it blended
with his own scent to something stronger. Something deadly. She filled her lungs with
it, abruptly aware that she was naked under the flimsy barrier of the robe. The terry-cloth
nubs rubbed her suddenly too-sensitive skin.

She noted his broad shoulders and long legs as he strode to the kitchen. Jimmy’d always
looked great in a suit, though it took a wedding or a funeral to get him into one.
He opened the cupboard above the stove and rummaged through it, setting the pottery
clinking. Standing on tiptoe, his head disappeared behind the cabinet door. She opened
her mouth to ask, but before she could, he emerged with a grin and his old coffee
cup in hand: a huge white mug advertising Purina Cow Chow.

He poured from the eternal pot of coffee on the stove. “You do what you need to do,
Char, I’ll be fine out here.”

Yeah, like I’m going to relax with you in the house.
She hustled past him, head down.

“Oh, Char?”

She turned to see him, one hand in the pocket of his dress slacks, coffee cup in the
other, looking like a model from a Western wear catalog.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you run across my championship baseball cap?”

Her fist tightened in the material at her neck. “Not lately.” Cheeks flaming, she
scurried for the hall.

Standing in front of the mirror once more, she forced herself to take a deep breath.
The butterflies living in her stomach seemed to like it, so she took another.
I’m not going to rush. If he shows up unannounced, he deserves to cool his heels.
She picked up the next roller and wound it in her shortened hair. She had her doubts
about them going together to Bella and Russ’s vow renewal. It felt too much like a
date.

Hair cooking, she retrieved her liquid makeup from the medicine cabinet. Last year
she’d had to switch from the powder she’d used all her life when it began to settle
into the tiny cracks under her eyes. She dabbed it on a facial sponge, then patted
her face. Besides, the liquid better hid those darker spots. She backed up for an
overall view. Better.

But to a guy who’s used to looking at a taut coed?
Old.

Disgusted, she grabbed the blush, applying it with quick jerks.
You’ve got nothing he hasn’t seen from every possible angle.
True. The almost two years since he’d been up close and personal had not been kind
to her forty-year-old skin. She snapped out the wand and brushed mascara on her thinning
eyelashes.
Is this how
it happens? The juices dry up and everything darkens, slows, or sags.

Raising her arm, she slid up the sleeve of her robe and did a bicep curl. She pinched
the skin beneath, gratified to note that the underside of her arm didn’t hang. “At
least I don’t feel like a half-thawed chicken anymore.” She forced a smile. Better.
She reached in the cabinet for the eye shadow.

Twenty minutes later, primped, plumped, and potentially pretty, she stepped out of
the bedroom, dressy shawl over her arm, and closed the door behind her. She smoothed
her hand over the bodice of her new dress to calm the butterflies, but they weren’t
buying it. Down the hall, light spilled from the doorway that hadn’t been opened in
months. Alarmed, she forced her feet forward.

Jimmy looked huge, perched on the edge of the child-size bed. Unaware of her, he looked
down at the toy he turned in his big hands: a stuffed bull, missing one eye, with
bare patches where the fur had been loved off.

She gripped the door frame to keep from snatching his arm and dragging him from the
room. Jimmy closed his eyes, stark pain etched on his hard face as he lifted the toy,
buried his nose in it, and inhaled.

A tender bubble of sorrow swelled her chest, closing her throat. She remembered the
little badges, lined up on the grave marker. The two of them had made her child together.
She didn’t have a corner on grief. Clearing the anger from her throat, she took a
deep breath.

Jimmy lowered the toy and looked up with pensive eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time
to clean out this room, Little Bit?”

An arrow slipped past her defenses to find her clenched
heart. She gritted her teeth and pushed past outrage to the unexplored emotion beyond
it. When she could speak again, she choked out the truth. “I can’t even force myself
to open the door.”

Jimmy laid the bull gently on the bed’s pillow and stood. “You don’t have to do everything
alone, Charla. You let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll help.” His wary eyes scanned
her face. “If you want.”

She sniffed and caught a tear on her finger. She rubbed her palms together and pushed
off from the door frame. “We should go.”

He stood, and as he passed, she touched his arm. “Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll think about
what you said.”

He nodded, settled his hat on his head, and walked on.

On her way through the kitchen, she noted Jimmy’s mug, washed, sitting on the drain
board. She unraveled the shawl to put it on, but Jimmy took it from her and settled
it over her shoulders. With his hand at the small of her back, they left the house.
His hand had always rested there. She stiffened to keep from arching into it, like
a cat reaching to be petted.

He’d washed his truck for the occasion. It sat sparkling in the sun of the yard. Jimmy
pulled the back door closed behind him, rattling the knob to be sure it was locked.

He touched the small of her back again, but she didn’t move. “Um.”

“What?”

She hated the heat that flooded her face, making her feel like a debutante at her
first dance. “We can’t take the truck.” She smoothed a hand over her shiny silk pencil
skirt. She’d fallen for the dress the minute she’d spied it in the Posy Shop’s window.
Electric blue, the blousy top
broadened her shoulders, and the tight skirt did good things for her rear end, but
she now realized it wasn’t very practical. There’s no way she could lift her leg high
enough to reach the running board of the F250.

Jimmy looked confused for a second, then broke into a grin. “No problem, Charla Rae.”
He held out a hand. She put hers in it, then concentrated on not wobbling as she crossed
the yard in the thin, too-high heels. She should have known better than to take Bella
shopping with her. At least she’d drawn the line at Bella’s first choice of footwear:
glittery silver stripper sandals.

Jimmy escorted her around the truck and opened the door, then bent and, before she
could think, lifted her neatly onto the high seat.

Flustered, she tugged at the hem of her skirt, conscious of his vantage point. “Thanks.”
When she reached to pull the door closed, it wouldn’t budge. She forced herself to
look to where he stood, holding the door.

He whistled soft and low, staring at her legs with a look she hadn’t seen on his face
in years. “You are one good-looking woman, Charla Rae Denny.”

Before she could react, he closed the door and strolled around the front of the truck.

On the way to the Donovans’, the air in the truck seemed close, crowded with memories
and potential. When she slid the window open a crack, clean air whistled in.

“I had an idea, Jimmy. What do you think of Bodacious’s line? Do you think it would
blend with Tricks’s bloodlines?” She rushed on. “His sons are about the right size
and proven buckers. He’s also passing on a good rack of horns. I read that horned
bulls score higher, just because they look scary.”

Jimmy glanced from the road. “They don’t just look scary. Don’t you remember that
time in Killeen, when that bull chased me down? Threw me butt over teakettle. I didn’t
realize until I got behind the chutes that his horn tore my jeans, and my butt was
entertaining the crowd.”

Char chuckled. “It may be funny now, but I about had a heart attack then.” She took
a deep breath of cleared air. “Remember that last trip to the finals, when you won
everything? You walked right to the stands, picked me up, and carried me over to accept
your buckle. I’ve never been so embarrassed.” Jimmy glanced from the road. Their eyes
locked. “Or proud.” She turned her head to look out the window, surprised she’d said
it out loud.

“Bella and Russell, have you come here freely and without reservation, to give yourselves
to each other in marriage?” The cassocked priest stood, Bible in hand, before the
French door to the patio in the Donovans’ great room.

Bella’s alabaster skin glowed in the unfiltered sunlight, a stark contrast to the
black curls framing her face. Everyday beautiful, today her friend had vaulted to
goddess status. The dove gray satin Grecian-style dress flowed like liquid metal over
her curves to a fluted, asymmetrical hemline. Bella could have modeled for the cover
of
Couture
magazine, except for the heavy silver Gypsy earrings. Char glanced down. And the
glittery stripper sandals that Bella snatched up when Char passed on them.

Russ’s florid complexion made it look as though his tie was strangling him, but there
was no mistaking the look in his eye: solemn, proud, and smitten.

Char tuned out the priest and looked across the wedding couple to Jimmy, who seemed
absorbed by the
proceedings. The weight loss showed most in his face, erasing the bloated, self-satisfied
man she remembered.
Leaving what?
She squinted, blurring the details. He looked more like the nineteen-year-old she’d
married all those years ago than the stranger he’d grown to be.

Her parents had wanted to throw a large wedding for their only child, but Char knew
money had been tight. Besides, big and showy wasn’t her style, even back then. They’d
opted instead for an intimate ceremony in the church she’d been christened in and
a reception in her own backyard. At nineteen, Jimmy had been trying to make his name
on the rodeo circuit, so they’d combined their honeymoon with a competition rodeo
in Austin.

A first-class Hawaiian cruise couldn’t have been more fun. They drove to the Holiday
Inn near the arena straight from the reception. They laughed the whole way, giddy
with the knowledge that sex was now not only sanctioned but encouraged. They took
full advantage too, splurging on room service so they wouldn’t waste time dressing
to go out. Taking her time, exploring his body, she’d discovered as much about her
own. That his look could make her nipples harden. That his finger trailing her hip
could make her wet. That she held a woman’s power, poised over his prone body. A new
world opened in that generic hotel room, spinning the cocoon of physical emotion they
shared in bed for the next twenty years. So intent were they that Jimmy almost missed
his event. They arrived rushing and laughing, just in time for him to warm up before
getting on his bull.

The weekend had been magical. Jimmy won the event, along with a belt buckle and enough
money to buy their first bucking bull. Flushed with sex and success, they
returned home on Monday, as sure of each other as they were their charmed future.

Char traveled from the memory to Jimmy’s assessing gaze. Was he remembering their
wedding? She flushed and shifted her focus to the droning priest. If she’d have known
then how it would all turn out, would she do it again? The answer came to her, immediate
and true. Even the pain that had almost taken her under couldn’t eclipse the joy she’d
found in being a mother. And in being Jimmy’s wife. After all, that had been more
than enough, before Benje. Surprise blossomed in her mind. Blissfully ignorant of
any other possibility, she’d taken his love for granted.

Watching him from beneath lowered lashes, the empty spot in her chest reminded her
of what she’d forgotten, that she’d mourned more than the loss of her son this past
year.

Russ slipped the rings on Bella’s finger, where they belonged.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.” The end came so quickly, none of them moved, until
the priest closed his Bible and said with a smug smile, “You can kiss your bride now,
Russ.”

Russ’s large hands encircled Bella’s upper arms gently, as if she’d break under them.
He leaned over and touched his lips to hers. A simple kiss, but one made precious
by the identical tear that ran down both their cheeks.

Russ straightened. “Whew. I thought up till the last, she’d leave me at the altar
this time.” The solemn moment was shattered by laughter.

A few hours and a few celebratory glasses of champagne later, Char read the hungry
gazes of the newlyweds
and rubbed her ear. Jimmy caught their old time-to-leave signal and, quicker than
she’d have thought possible, they were walking for the truck. “Do you think they were
in a hurry to get rid of us?” Char eyed the uneven sidewalk she could barely see in
the dark beyond the porch light.

Jimmy took her elbow, his deep chuckle coming from behind her shoulder. “I’m not surprised.
You and I were halfway to the car when your mom chased us down to remind us we hadn’t
cut the cake.”