“The sunset over the estuary is ... breathtaking.” From the bedroom window, Jenny takes a second choosing an appropriate word. Her slender silhouette inside a filmy nightgown framed in rosy-gold and purple.
Wrapped in a towel from his shower, Austin slips his arms around her waist, nuzzles, tastes her with his tongue. “Mmm humm. Correction. … You are.” Close body contact confirms what he suspected. “Hey.” Turning her twice around, “You’ve lost some weight.”
A faint smile, tilt of the head. “I’m not eating for two anymore. My shape has changed.”
“You sure look good to me.” Dropping his towel, he lifts her nightgown over her head.
Lustrous hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes a dusty violet, she moves into him.
Kept in check too long, pent up urges running wild, kisses deep, lusty, urgent. Hands roam over eager bodies, fresh, exciting as the first time they made love.
A raspy growl “Feels so good.”
“Mmmmm.” pleasure sounds. Before passions reach a fever pitch, she takes his hand, leads him to their bed.
Austin came awake the next morning, cartoons floating in his head: swimming sperm, drifting eggs. Zap! Zap! Zap! He opened his eyes. For the first time in months, she slept beside him. “Jenny.” He reached out, a light touch.
“Mmmmm.” She moaned, stirred.
“Jenny.” Gently, he jostled her arm.
“What,” she responded, a sleepy, morning voice.
“Last night was safe ... wasn’t it?”
She drew a breath, turned towards him.
“Mommy ... Mommy.”
Pushing back the covers, she climbed out of bed. “Coming Daniel.”
“Hey! Answer my question, will ya’?”
“Mommy!”
She hesitated, turning one way then the other. “I’ll be back.”
Man. He flopped back on his pillow. Safe? How would he know? Or how would she? She wouldn’t take the pill. The rhythm method she’d worked out with Ted Shipley had seen them through. Sometimes she used foam. Last night things just happened because they’d been apart too long. A kiss, a touch … wild and crazy.
Settled at last in their new apartment—a complex in the Berkeley Hills not far from the UC campus—his nomadic existence ended—he was on a high. For too many weeks she’d found one reason or another to remain in Welborne. Long separations, a continent between them, at last, made her heart grow fonder for California where he was. Danny was weaned, drinking from a cup, doing a passable job of feeding himself. The more independent their son became the more certain Austin was he would get his wife back. Another winning outcome: no more sticky sex.
She walked back into their room. “Bear fell out. He wanted his partner.” Thoughtful a moment on the edge of the bed, she pulled up her legs, lay down beside him.
He stretched his arm around her. They touched noses, a morning kiss.
She snuggled into his shoulder. “This is so right, here with you.”
“Yeah, right.” But was it safe? Reluctant to know, he didn’t repeat the question.
“It would be nice,” cautiously she went on, “to have another baby.”
Alarmed, he drew a sharp breath, ran his hand down his face.
She read his body language. “Too soon?”
“Yeah, bad timing.”
Gently she pushed her point. “Daniel needs to grow up with a brother or a sister.”
He reminded her that Doctor Shipley had advised a two or three year space.
She drew a thoughtful breath. “Daniel will leave us. A girl stays closer to home.”
She wanted a daughter. “That’s not true anymore. Look at us.”
“A girl grows closer to her roots, I think, when she has a family of her own.”
Homesickness setting in. He brushed strands of hair from her forehead, left a kiss there. “Have you?”
“I think about where I came from, and you. How different we are, and how we’ve come together in Daniel.”
They’d strayed off track. “Let’s go back to … why it’s too soon.”
A tilt of her head, listening.
They shifted apart. He got up, walked to the closet, took out his robe. “Our finances will be tight.” They’d lost her income; he didn’t point that out. “Uncle Lyme will stick me with the taxes on the farm again this year, and the legal fees.”
Quiet and thoughtful, she understood finances.
Austin continued. “I’m in a new job here. We need to entertain more.” The inconvenience of new baby implied.
“Mommy!” Right on cue, Danny needed attention.
Austin chuckled. “See what I mean.”
She laughed. “To be continued.” Swinging out of bed, she said, “He wants his breakfast.”
“Mommy! Mommy!”
“Coming Daniel.” She raised up on her toes and kissed him—a brief burst of affection. “Last night was wonderful,” she whispered. Wrapping a robe around, she gave a glance over her shoulder as she left the room. “And safe.”
Before the move from Welborne, John and Meridith had a daughter they named Trisha. From John he heard that Pam had been engaged—her guy a member of New England’s moneyed, Back Bay set. Pam had what she wanted; she’d forget him. He had what he wanted: a new start on the west coast, a company car; he sold the Corvette, bought a sedan for Jenny.
While she’d been packing for the move, he’d made a few suggestions: Give away the work clothes, leave the boots and jeans at Indian Lake. Playing into his intentions, her shape had changed—fuller, more voluptuous. She needed clothes more suitable for the wife of a rising executive. They went shopping at I. Magnum where she tried on dinner suits he and a helpful clerk selected off the rack.
“Madam has a perfect hour-glass figure,” the clerk declared, sweeping Jenny head to toe.
Her complexion flawless, she could wear any color. He liked the ivory. She preferred turquoise. He handed the clerk his credit card, they’d take both.
Jenny turned tags up. “These are so expensive.”
He took her aside. “Clothes are an investment. They’ll pay off, you’ll see.” They bought shoes and handbags, completing the outfits. He’d purchased suits, changed his footwear, the style of his shirts and ties. In the office, entertaining, or out on their own, they’d have an up-scale, California look.
At the complex, they’d found older women who used sitting money to supplement their incomes. Mrs. McCarthy, a widow, cared for Danny in the afternoons before she cared for him the first time they went out for dinner with a group of customers and wives.
Jenny had her hair done in a French twist he suggested; she wore the ivory dinner suit. While she put on the finishing touches, he let the sitter into the apartment, spent several minutes engaged in small talk. When she hadn’t come out of the bedroom, he went looking, found her standing at the dresser. Her expression in the mirror, anything but pleased.
Wow! The perfect corporate wife. She’d be put-off by an over-the-top superlative. “You look … great!”
She didn’t take her eyes from the image in the mirror. “That isn’t me,” she murmured in a voice that wasn’t hers. Turning away, she left the room.
On the way to the restaurant, he drove over the Bay Bridge into San Francisco. A vacant expression, she gazed out the window; his attempts to draw her out met with short responses. Sulking wouldn’t make a good impression. Struck by her comment, ‘that isn’t me,’ her feelings bruised; he was the culprit.
Pulling into the parking lot, he found an open space, turned off the ignition. Jenny didn’t move, he sat silent a moment planning his approach. “Before we go inside,” he began, looking across the seat, “we have to clear the air.”
She didn’t move a muscle.
“We’re in a new place. I’m in a new job,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I’m concerned about us fitting in … that’s all.”
No response.
“I guess I should apologize. You always look good to me.”
She drew a breath, turned to focus on his face; emotions on her face he couldn’t read.
“Are we okay?” he questioned, in his most appealing tone.
She took a moment sorting things out. “We’re fine.”
The look she gave him said he’d been forgiven.
Austin’s work life on the west coast was as he’d hoped : an established customer base, several six figure orders in progress; inquiries coming in on a daily basis. California people he’d found laid-back, understanding of the few stumbles he made. He traveled less than when he worked out of the Welborne office, where he was always scrambling to meet quotas. The only cloud on the horizon: rumors of a merger.
On the home front, things were touchy for the first few months. Jenny missed her work, the lake, the family; she felt ‘out of place.’ Lita came to visit when he had to travel. She’d arrive when he was leaving, returning to San Diego before he got home. It was tense for him when Lita was around. Her mom’s visits were good for Jenny.
One week in October, Lita came to stay with Danny while he and Jenny drove down the coast to Carmel, a romantic getaway. And they talked.
Complicated, marriage. He knew what he wanted in a wife. He loved her. He could give a little; he’d gone overboard transforming Jenny. Too much, too fast had shaken her confidence. She did come around, agreeing to some changes in her look. And he agreed with the results. People seemed to like her just the way she was.
Their closest neighbors in the complex were the Lees, Joyce and Brian, a quiet couple of Chinese decent. Brian taught mathematics at UC; Joyce stayed home to mother Terry—a few months older than Danny, the boys were natural playmates. As the weeks passed and they got to know each other, Joyce and Jenny became good friends.
The Lees had ties to Chinatown where Joyce and Jenny shopped, or spent time with Joyce and Brian’s families. He’d never been a fan of Chinese cooking. He learned to like the stir fries she whipped up for evening suppers. She checked out stacks of books from the local library, and played mahjongg with a group of women from the complex.
Late one afternoon while he was making sales calls up the coast, checking with his office he learned his morning meeting had been canceled. Since he hadn’t booked a room, he decided to drive home. When he stopped to grab a sandwich he couldn’t get through to Jenny. A phone call didn’t matter; she’d be home with Danny.
Female voices speaking English in the Chinese chime heard around the Bay, a greeting as he climbed the stairs to his apartment; the voices coming from the Lees’ across the hall. Checking out an intruder, all eyes turned from tables where mahjongg tiles where stacked.
“H … hello, ladies,” Austin stammered, scanning the group in search of his wife, he gave a wave. Swinging his bag through the doorway of his own apartment, he closed the door, went to check on Danny—curled up with Bear, sleeping.
In their bedroom, he sorted contents of his travel bag when Jenny came in; she hadn’t expected him tonight. He’d tried to call; circuits busy. Did he have dinner? All he wanted.
She sat quietly on the bed watching him unpack, gathering his laundry into a stack.
“You didn’t have to leave the game. Go back.”
Her head tipped side to side.
He pulled the zipper closed, stowed his bag in the closet. Kinks from a long drive, he drew a breath, stretched full up, his hands clasped over his head. “Sooooo.” He relaxed, let the breath go. “That’s what you’re up to when I’m not around.”
“Harmless.” She took his comment in stride.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Those ladies looked pretty ferocious.”
“We take care of each other here.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” When he’d rented the apartment, he was told the place was safe.
She smiled. “The ladies sent me home to be with you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
“I would have stayed to finish the game. She went into her chiming-Chinese impression. “They said, ’go ‘ome to the ‘usband.’”
Amused, he asked. “Okay, what did they have in mind?”
Head tilting side to side. “Man ... woman ... love making.”
“So that’s what you ladies talk about—sex.” A surge of energy replaced travel ache.
“Making love is good for the soul.”
“I’ll second that.” He pulled her up, lifting her into his arms, a little rough, the way she liked it. “Hey, wife. Let’s start with my welcome home kiss.”
Jenny had true affection for the Orientals who lived around them. He found books around the house on Chinese culture and philosophy. To a great degree Americanized, a China-Town way of life remained foreign to him.
San Francisco Bay, the cities’ landmarks, the most photographed places on earth. Every other human walked the streets camera dangling; tourist a lifeblood and a plague. Stuck in traffic on the roads and bridges, Austin missed a slower pace, rural flavor, familiar customs Twin Springs County offered; the Bay, a crazy, unfamiliar mix of flavors. Comfortable with engineers and managers he encountered in his work, his work place kept him grounded in a city crawling with long-hairs, besieged by visitors from every corner of the world, too often erupting in protests.
Back in the Berkeley Hills, Jenny took lots of photos, sent out to family so the families could keep up with Danny’s growth. That summer they got a call from Austin’s mother. She and Barney planned a visit to the Bay. Time, she said for her to meet her grandson. Austin had mixed feelings. Past time, he thought, for her to play the grandma role.
The Bluestones booked a local, up-scale bed and breakfast. He took vacation time to chauffeur them around; Jenny served up family dinners. He and Barney played a round of golf. Mostly, they all hung out with Danny.
One evening after dinner, Jenny put Danny to bed, before she and Barney went out for a walk through the neighborhood. Austin and his mother sat in the living room window enjoying a view of the estuary as the sun went down.
“This has been a good move for you, dear,” Marjorie observed.
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Jenny and Danny seem content.”
“They’ve adjusted,” Austin proffered.
“He’s so like you as a toddler,” she observed with obvious delight. “You had a bear, a replica of Danny’s partner. That bear went everywhere with you,” his mother related, “Until it came up missing.”
The way she said ‘missing’ nudged Austin’s curiosity. “Missing?”
“You couldn’t say your T’s. You called your bear, Eddy. We all did.” Avoiding, her eyes focused out the window.
“Eddy?” Austin repeated, searching for a recollection. “You say Eddy came up missing?”
Brilliant pink and purple filled the room. “What a perfectly lovely sunset.”
Austin knew his mother’s patterns of avoidance. He couldn’t let this mystery go. “Mother,” he said, demanding her attention. “What happened to that bear?”
She gave him a long look. “Lyman.” Saying his uncle’s name, her mouth twisted as though she tasted something bitter. She looked away. “I’ve always believed Lyman … disposed of Eddy.
“Disposed of Eddy?” Austin prodded.
“I know he did it.” Always composed, she flew into a sudden fury. “He denied everything, of course, as he always did.”
“Why?” Austin questioned, perplexed. The mere mention of Lyman seemed to set her off.
“I don’t like to talk about that time, dear. You know Lyman ... shifty.” She gave a dismissive wave.
Their conversation ended when Jenny and Barney came into the room.
His mother’s revelation on that visit remained a dark place in his mind—more she couldn’t, or wouldn’t reveal, secrets she had kept from him. What was there in a mother’s past she couldn’t tell her son?
On the drive to Lita’s house in San Diego where they would spend Thanksgiving, curiosity led him to question Jenny’s mother’s past. “Will some of Lita’s friends be joining us?”
Danny was napping, his head in Jenny’s lap. Smoothing Danny’s forehead, she mulled his question. “Clay will be there,” she said softly.
“Clay?” Traffic noises muted his reaction.
She held her comment until a eighteen-wheeler passed. “Clay and Mom have been friends ... more than friends … a long time”
Austin did a double take. “You’re mother lives with someone?”
She glanced across the seat, a finger to her lips. “They don’t live together. Not all the time.”
He took his eyes off the road a second. She’d be guarded how she told him about Clay. He toned it down. “Does Clay have a last name? And when were you going to tell me about him?”
“Hawkins,” she responded. A pensive sigh before she went on. “This isn’t easy to explain.”
“Is he married?” His eyes fixed on holiday traffic.
“He was married. Clay’s ... ex … I should say estranged wife, is a teacher in Welborne. They have kids. Grown kids now.”
Austin put the pieces together. “An ugly separation.”
“Not really. They separated years ago. For the kid’s sake and her own, she didn’t want it known. There were religious reasons.”
“Humm.” Austin couldn’t recall ever hearing the name Clay Hawkins. After a moment, he picked up the threads. “How did Lita meet him?”
“He taught in Welborne ... the high school. Clay and Grandpa Boyce were friends. When Clay took the job at Cal Tech, he and Mom got together.”
More comfortable talking about her mother’s love interest, he ventured, “Soooo, he didn’t take your dad’s place.”
She focused on his face, “No one could do that. Not with me. Especially not with Mom.”
Wishful thinking? “What do you think of Clay?”
“He’s a friend. He’s always treated me as if I were a grown up.”
Austin took a moment digesting Clay and Lita. “The family sure has kept this quiet.”
She gave him a knowing smile. “Now you know our secret, you’re part of our conspiracy.”
Meaning: keep it quiet. Nothing more was said about the mystery man. Later in the day when he met Clay, they hit it off. An administrator at UCLA, Clay was intelligent, dignified, several years older than Lita, he thought. From what he saw and heard that day, Clay and Lita were a couple, and exclusive. He never would have guessed the Hamlins had a family secret; something no one talked about, though he’d always suspected there had to be man in Lita’s life.
February, the following year, Boyce Hamlin died. Austin had been traveling, a short trip up the coast. Arriving at his apartment, travel bags sat in the entry—Lita’s and Jenny’s. From Danny’s room, a hushed tone in their voices alerted Austin. He stood in the doorway until Jenny noticed him.
“Austin, I didn’t hear you come in.” She wiped tears away, shock and sadness on her face.
“Is Danny okay?”
Blue eyes fixed on Austin. A look of recognition, he ran into his dad’s arms.
“Hey, Kid.” He picked the boy up, looking from Jenny to Lita. “Someone want to tell me what’s goin’ on?”
“Pa,” Lita responded, her voice breaking. “He’s gone.”
“Man!” Stunned, he shook his head, set Danny on his feet. “What happened?”
“Pneumonia. The doctors couldn’t save him.”
“Pneumonia. I’m so sorry.” Images of Boyce, alive and well, flashed into his mind. “
In tears and trembling, Jenny hugged Danny close.
Lita regained her composure. “We have reservations. Our flight leaves at seven.”
Again he looked from one long face into the other. “All of you are going?”
Lita answered, “Yes.” Jenny nodded.
The weather was awful—rain and thick fog in the Bay. Strong winds, snow and sleet back east. “Let’s think this through,” Austin cautioned. Afraid for them, he made a snap decision. “My wife and son aren’t going.”
Lita shot him a hard look.
Jenny protested. “I want to be there.”
He lifted Danny out of her arms. “You’re not taking my son,” adamant, he stated. “And you’re not going.”
Lita studied him, her eyes narrowed. Except for Danny’s babbling, no one spoke. A standoff between him and Lita lasting what seemed endless minutes.
She broke. “It’s your call.” Checking her watch, she left the room. “I’ll call a cab.”
Silently, Jenny wept. Holding Danny against his chest, he stretched an arm around her. “I feel bad about Boyce,” he said. “But do we need another family tragedy?”
She shook her head side to side.
He took Danny to the rocker, holding him there while Jenny composed. After a moment, she left the room to say her good byes to Lita.
Watching from the window as Lita’s cab pulled away, she murmured, “I hate being so far away.”
Before Lita returned from Boyce’s funeral, Danny got the sniffles and a fever. He came down with chicken pox, as did the Lees’ boy, Terry. At their doctor’s insistence, Austin called his mother. She reported that he’d had the chicken pox when he was seven.
Lita’s flight was, in her words, “the worst.” Turbulence, delayed for hours in Chicago; her return, diverted to an alternate destination. She was relieved that Jenny and her grandson hadn’t made the trip. The way things turned out, Austin got credit for clairvoyance. Lita made emotional decisions; his based on knowledge and experience. And though he wouldn’t say as much aloud, he wouldn’t have her make decisions for his wife and son. Still, that standoff left a wider rift.
Later in the month, Austin paced his office waiting for a call to be returned; from his office window, a clear view of the bay and a marina. Danny’s pox were fading; Jenny’s sadness stayed. His thoughts wandered back to Welborne and the life Boyce Hamlin led. People said he would be missed, family, friends in mourning. Despite a crippling disability, Boyce had persevered. That’s courage, everyday grit. A good man. An inspiring life story. He’d moved Jenny out to California with high expectations, no plan to deal with family crisis—hers or his. Uncle Lyme, the crazy old coot, couldn’t live forever, Austin his only kin.
Below in the bay, a small boat came into view; a man rowing, a boy sat in the bow. Memories from his childhood, fragments at first, then shifting into moving pictures: the lake that day he nearly drowned. He was in the bow with Eddy; Uncle Lyme was rowing when a wave swamped their boat; his uncle panicked, tossing gear and Eddy overboard. Eddy floated, bobbing helpless on the currents, a stone’s throw out, and over the side. He reached, toppled over, grabbed hold of the bear’s arm; soaked and sinking, dark and cold, a weight dragging them under, panic, gasping … no more Eddy.
The next thing he remembered was Dad calling his name. A gush of water upchucked from his belly or his lungs. Dad wrapped him in his jacket for the drive to Welborne Memorial.
Eddy wasn’t missing. His mother didn’t know what happened in that boat. He’d blocked it out, but now he knew.
“Austin ... Austin.”
He turned from the scene below. “Yeah.”
Kate, his secretary, stood in the doorway. “Bill Price returning your call.”
“Right.” He took a measured step, his thoughts as yet unfocused.
“Are you okay?” Kate inquired.
“Lost in thought.”
“Do you want to call Bill back?”
“No, no, I’ll take the call.”
More persistent as the months passed, rumors of a merger. Customers and colleagues pumped Austin expecting inside information. He played it cool. What did he know anyway? AJ wasn’t sharing his plans with anyone, except John, he assumed. Inside the company, there had been signs that AJ was giving up control. The men could always go to him. He alone made large and small decisions pertaining to the business. The last few months, had seen a sea change.
Growing pains, Austin decided. The sheer volume of business Welborne had been booking made one man rule a thing of the past. It bothered him to see that go. On the other hand, bigger was better, or so went the current wisdom.
In July, a week after the fourth, Austin made a trip to Welborne for the annual business meeting and a round of golf. Welborne Industries had reaped outstanding profits; the grapevine saw a company primed for merger. Rumors spread around a company town with the speed of turbines built in plant one. Austin saw a merger from two sides: Beneficial for all concerned, or a bold move leading to disaster for the work force.
Speaking at the annual meeting of employees, AJ confirmed negotiations with several different entities. He asked for patience, gave no indication which way he was leaning. The future of the company and the town left balanced on the shoulders of one man.
In the locker room at Pines’ Woods before his round of golf, Cork shook Austin’s hand, asking after Jenny and their son. He made no mention of the merger, though Austin was certain Cork had misgivings. The whole town seemed to be on edge.
Cork did confirm a story he’d heard elsewhere: Dennis Donnelly, his partner, had left the firm, entering a seminary in preparation for the priesthood. Cork was looking for a bright, young attorney willing to settle in “an out-of-the-way corner like Twin Springs County”. No takers yet. Lockers slammed, cleats scored the concrete. He and cork moved out onto first tee.
“Young people these days,” Cork lamented. “Like yourself, Austin. The young crave the excitement of big-city life.” His voice trailed off. “But then, if I were young again ...”
Pulling on a glove, Austin allowed that Cork was ageless.
He laughed, his belly jiggling under layers of prosperity. “The spirit is willing. These old bones lost their get up and go.” The foursome teed off.
Walking down the fairway, Austin commented that, stuck in Bay-area traffic, he’d come to appreciate small-town life.
Cork slapped him on the shoulder, urgency coming to his voice. “We should talk about the farm. Give me a call while you’re in town.” Cork hovered above his drive.
Austin moved on to where his drive had stuck. That brief exchange with Cork left him troubled as he played around the course—Tom Scott in his foursome. “Bad form to jump ship in the midst of sea change,” Tom pontificated. Austin valued Tom’s opinion. AJ had been good to him and they were family; loyalty engrained from an early age. At any rate, he had a contract that neither he nor AJ were inclined to break.
Austin dreaded the condolence call he would make to the house on Hamlin Circle. The place where he’d see Boyce, feel his presence in the house and on the grounds. That afternoon, a gracious Ivy made him comfortable in her kitchen with milk and homemade cookies. They talked about Boyce, the family, no mention of the Donnellys. How much Jenny knew, about Dennis or the merger an open question.
Donnelly: why would a man choose celibacy for the rest of his life? He couldn’t have the girl he wanted? Austin knew the Jenny/Dennis friendship had been platonic. They did have feelings for each other. Knowing, brought out his demons.
The following day, before returning to the Bay, he tracked down Corkran at his office. Their brief meeting at the course left him wondering what was on Cork’s mind. His call came right to the point, and so did Cork.
The firm wasn’t in the habit of turning away clients. However, Cork hadn’t heard from Lyman since the day he’d left his office “in a huff.” You know Lyman when he’s thwarted.”
He’d come to see a different Uncle Lyme these past few years.
“In that vein,” Cork continued, “my office sent Lyman a letter informing him the firm could no longer represent the farm. With Dennis leaving, we find it prudent to lighten the work load.”
Cork could pick and choose the most agreeable clients. Lyman didn’t fit the bill. “What does that means for my interests in the farm?”
“You should consult your own attorney. Or, you could take the bull by the horns and confront your uncle.” Amused by the prospect, he snickered.
That old bull more snort than fight, Austin decided. Still, a bad idea. “I’ll call Saul Jacobs.”
Cork wished him well; they signed off.
Before the sun went down, he took the state road out of Welborne. From others he’d heard of the farm’s decline; in his mind’s eye the landscape in his mother’s painting. When he arrived, the view was shocking: dry, weed-infested pond, parched pastures; buildings leveled to the ground. Uncle Lyme had put in infrastructure to support a trailer park. Power lines, telephone poles strung between assorted, rusting wrecks. A thriving family farm, his heritage, gone to ruin. Too disheartened to take the bull by the horns, he drove away.
The farm: He had a special feeling for the place—the land, a way of life his dad intended to pass on to him, and to his son. Somehow, he’d hang on to that land. When he could reach Saul Jacobs he’d know more about that situation.
Two hours in the air, a change in Chicago, he’d put the merger, the farm back there in the distance. When the time was right this weekend, he’d bring up Donnelly and the priesthood. Landing, early afternoon on the west coast, Austin stopped by his office, picking up his mail and messages, returning phone calls. Heading home, he left the office early, avoiding rush-hour traffic. Opening his front door, Danny came running. “Heyyyy, Kid!” He roughened ringlets. “How much did you grow while I was gone?”
Danny giggled, came up on his toes.
“Good man!” He turned his attention to Jenny. “How’s your Mom?”
She smiled, moved into his arms.
Holding her, warmth rose in his groin. “We’re on tonight?” he whispered.
“Ab-so-lutely,” The look she gave him left no doubt.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He gave her a brief, hungry kiss and a pat on the backside. Danny trailing, he carried his bag to the bedroom.
Danny had been excused to play in his room. Over coffee and dessert Austin could no longer keep his curiosity in check. “I heard something in Welborne. I wonder if you knew.”
She looked into his face, a questioning expression.
“Donnelly,” he prompted, cutting a into berry pie.
“Yes, I knew.” She poured cream into her coffee.
The demon raised an ugly head. “He’s been in touch with you?”
She gave him a long look, head wagging side to side. “Grandma Ivy wrote to me.”
He knew she kept up a correspondence with his mother as well as her family. Tasting berry pie, he swallowed. “Caused a big stir in Welborne. Were you surprised?”
Considering a moment, she related. “The Donnellys are devout. Dennis is devout.”
Austin sipped his coffee. “His leaving left Cork in the lurch. He’s looking for a partner.”
They cleared the table. The subject dropped until Danny had been put to bed.
He had the TV turned low, watching baseball from the mid-west, when he heard her in the kitchen. Donnelly: a man walks away from his life, a profession, a good income, never to have a wife and family—a decision Austin couldn’t fathom. Unless…
The kitchen light went out. She came into the room, sat quietly in the corner of the couch beside his chair. A conversation, interrupted, hung there in the air. “I always thought that you and Donnelly had a thing.”
Concern crossed her face. “We were friends.”
Uneasy, he shifted. “That night at the field house haunts me.”
She looked straight into his face. “I wouldn’t trade the life I have with you.”
A life they’d made together. No reason not to trust her. After the week he’d had in Welborne, he could use a boost to his ego.
She read his thoughts. “The moment I met you, I knew you were the one.”
“Ahhh.” He chuckled, a dark mood lifting. “Lit your fire, did I?”
“Wildfire.”
No mistaking the intensity between them.
“You’re my man.” That look of admiration banished demons.
He put his hand out to her. She put her hand in his. He held on tight.
They didn’t talk about the merger or the farm. She had a way of knowing how to treat her man, give him what he needed. Yeah, she was his.
If Dennis had been in love with Jenny, she didn’t feel the same. Demons be gone.