13

 

I refuse to be an old lady who says, “If I had my life to live over I would do such-and-such.”

 

The following morning, Lanae rose early, feeling like she moved in a dream, she was so sleep deprived. And achy. But she fought going there, recalling the way she used to wake up. When she rose, she’d search for signs of jaundice in her mirrored image. Often her pinkish eyelids looked as though she’d brushed on shadow.

“Why are you going there, woman? Think about the cowboy all alone on his acreage,” she admonished herself in the empty bathroom.

Oh yeah, it had felt so right to be held close by Sage, with all those muscles and his masculine strength surrounding her. Filling her up with how things could be.

If I don’t live my life to the fullest, there is no one else to live it for me. And I want to share my life with Sage.

But he was still in love—even though she was gone.

Daydreaming about Sage, Lanae soaped her underarms. She set aside the shaving gel and grabbed her shaver. Rinsing off, left arm upraised, she jerked and fast came out of her dream state. The bristles jabbed. “What in the world?”

She burst out laughing, and snatched her shaver off the rim of the tub again. So preoccupied with thoughts of Sage, she didn’t know what she was doing. She soaped up but hadn’t shaved. “It’s come to this? Not only talking to myself, but pulling off Geneva antics?”

Geneva once had Lanae rolling with laughter when she’d described creaming up one smooth leg only to discover she had forgotten to shave the other. All because she’d been thinking about Rainn.

Lanae removed the plastic cover from her shaver, a newly established safety precaution with Mia around, and attended to the business of hair removal.

A short time later, she spoke to her baking utensils as she gathered cheesecake ingredients. “I love you, Sage. I know you don’t want me to.”

She was in the mood to bake. The cakes lasted in the freezer nicely until needed in Frivolities.

She could hear Sage answer something like, “That’s right. You had your love in Keith. I’ve loved Becca. I still love Becca.”

Would he be that honest?

Would she be brave enough to mail the letter?

At the sight of her baking chocolates lined up in a row—white, dark, milk—she decided to use two-tone chocolate for curls. Sage claimed to love dark chocolate.

She got all fluttery inside at the recollection of savoring his tasty kisses, the way she’d melted like chocolate in his embrace.

She had no idea which flavors she’d end up with, so she also set out chocolate chips, along with nuts and a variety of flavorings. She grabbed a can of pumpkin pie mix and added the peanut butter jar. She wasn’t in the mood for fruit or berries today. Lanae danced around her kitchenette and pictured the long counter in Sage’s home. “Now, that’s the place to do some serious baking.”

Just that fast, inert, she bowed her head.

Thank You, Lord. Thank You for giving me the energy to cook. For so long I couldn’t think of or even taste and appreciate food. Thanks for giving me restored health.

Lanae opened her eyes and turned on her mixer, singing, “Jesus Loves Me.”

The beaters churned and rhyming words flitted through her mind: burn, churn, fern, learn, stern, yearn.

Next, Lanae thought of Katherine. Rather, Kate Rawlins, and the impact Kate’s written yearning for her Teddy had on Lanae’s own emotions.

No doubt about it, Lanae yearned for Sage. And she could love Sage with every fiber of her being if he would open up and let her in.

“Is that what you want, Lord? I can’t help but think Sage and I wouldn’t have met if You didn’t want us to be together.”

And I could live in the country again, where I belong.

She went through the rest of the day wondering how Kate fared. By the time Frivolities was locked up for the night, Lanae had determined to take half a cheesecake to Kate.

“Not that we could be friends or anything, but I can’t help but feel sorry for her,” she told Geneva when they bid one another goodnight. “I want to check up on her.”

She also didn’t want to confess to her sister that she was drawn to Sage through the letters. Somehow she empathized with Kate’s loneliness through her own yearning for Sage.

Lanae was so churned up inside that she imagined herself unraveling, one stitch at a time, like the loops of a life-long crocheted scarf.

 

****

 

Sage thumped the heel of his right hand into the palm of his left, tried to focus on the words booming from his fifty-inch flat-screen downstairs. Then he yanked the remote control off the cedar chest he used for a coffee table. “Me, me, me. This world is not all about the likes of you!”

The talking head kept on smiling and yakking after he muted the talk show guest. “Can’t these people find something worthwhile to talk about besides their shallow lives and their stupid secrets?”

Disgusted with himself for even sitting there in the middle of the day, he hit the power button on the remote. All day he’d been out of sorts, especially inside the house. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

He stormed upstairs and circled the kitchen, grabbed his outer wear, and almost ran through the garage.

On his way to the barn, the chilly humidity hit him with a harsh reminder that winter was closing in. He had to check on those Florida condo-on-the-beach reservations. A lot of ocean sun should warm the achy Nebraska chill from his bones.

It’d be a nice night for cuddlin’.

That thought stopped him in his tracks.

Only one woman came to mind with the idea of cuddling. Lanae Petersen. She could be opinionated. She sure was stubborn, going after the mystery behind the letters, but he had to admire her as well. She was a survivor, and went after what she wanted from life.

Could she want him?

Sage recalled their first real kiss. Lanae had tasted just as he had supposed. He remembered the way her sweetness lingered, as though he were a horse drawn to the delicacy of sweet spring grasses.

Somewhere along the line, he’d left his intention behind. He’d wanted Lanae to focus on him instead of her search for Ted. She’d hooked him instead. Ever since he kissed her, he’d replaced talking to Becca with a preoccupation of holding lively Lanae.

He studied his surroundings. The air had the damp, crisp feel of snow, and the sky was white with clouds. He remembered how Lanae, in her skinny jeans, had fit right in on his land.

Sage strode on.

He didn’t want Lanae to want him, yet he couldn’t stomach the idea of her wanting any other man.

Even if he wanted her in return, no way could he waste his time on another woman with an illness. He lacked that kind of tough hide.

When he slid open the barn door, soft horse nickers greeted him.

“How-do, everybody. I got a little lonely all by myself and figured you could use some company, too, so I came out to say hello.”

He swept the jacket hood off his cap, readjusted the bill. Lonely. He’d actually said it out loud.

Suddenly, a sharp reminder of the Christmas story came to mind. Mary and Joseph must have been greeted by the same kind of animal warmth long ago on that historic Bethlehem night.

Why did God have to bring Jesus into the picture of his turmoil? He liked being alone.

Didn’t he?

“I gave my heart once, God. And you took my Becca. I don’t want Lanae or any other woman getting in there again. Especially a woman with a history of being sick.”

I’ll be fine with Lezlie and Jaxson, thanks anyway.

Sage stroked Freckles between the eyes, slapped his hand gently down the length of the soft neck, and tickled with his fingers under the large, warm belly.

And he remembered watching Lanae do the same thing.

At the time, he’d had a gut reaction as though he were the recipient of those talented fingers. Wherever Lanae’s hands had brushed the horse, Sage had felt his own skin quiver with the imagined impression of her touch on his skin.

Right now Sage felt like a horse trotted along the trail of his insides, kicking up gravel and slinging all kinds of debris.

He’d been perfectly fine with his life the way it was. Before that woman punched his phone number and changed his life.

Now that he’d met her, how could he survive leaving Nebraska knowing he’d be leaving Lanae behind?

 

****

 

Lanae’s sedan tires spun some as she rooted for traction after putting the car in Drive. By the time she parked next to Kate’s little house, she knew she’d better have her ice scraper handy before driving back to the loft. The air was heavy with cold crystals of moisture. The moon wouldn’t show its face anytime soon.

She had yet to consider the loft as “home.” Platteville was home. Geneva’s two-story frame house with the front porch, swing and all, she had considered home. But for some reason when she thought of the loft, it still belonged to Moselle. Eric’s skilled carpentry had lovingly prepared the loft as an extension of Frivolities, an expression of his love for Moselle.

Sage hadn’t been on his acreage long—five years, if she remembered right. Did he consider it home? Probably. Yet Becca was there with him.

Shake it off.

Kate Rawlins lived at the opposite end of Platteville from Geneva. Her one-story bungalow appeared on the shabby side, even after sundown. Lanae eased herself out of the sedan and reached back in for the plate of cheesecake she had covered and topped off with a Christmas bow.

The woman looked eighty when she answered Lanae’s knock. Kate’s eyes appeared sunken, lacking the light of life.

“Hi, Kate.” Lanae smiled in greeting. “I brought you some peppermint cheesecake and wanted to make sure you were doing all right after your shock yesterday.”

“Oh, how thoughtful.” Kate stood there after her remark as though she didn’t know what to do next.

“May I take it to your kitchen?”

“How thoughtless of me. Of course. Please. Come in.” Kate stepped aside and slowly shut the door once Lanae walked through.

Lanae waited but received no more direction from Kate. When she was a vibrant Katherine, Lanae imagined the spark of youth, of love, had shone from Kate’s eyes.

Now Kate wore a lackluster look, like the spark of life had abandoned her. Her usual red lipstick was missing. Her skin looked gray in the dim front-room light.

“I’ll just take this on back, then.” Lanae strode through the small room, careful not to trip on a corner of the ragged rug rolled up on the kitchen side of the threshold.

A fluorescent light over the sink revealed spotless counters. No cooking smells spiced the stale, dead-scented air.

“Kate, have you eaten yet tonight?”

Lanae glanced back to see Kate Rawlins, unmoving, next to the front door. Her heavy gray sweater listed off one sagging shoulder.

“Uh, no. I’ve been resting most of the day.”

“I’ve done that myself. Not healthy for anyone. I’ll guess you haven’t eaten since morning. Do you have a can of soup? Or would you rather I fix you a sandwich?”

“Please, don’t bother—”

“No bother whatsoever. I miss having someone to fuss over.”

Lanae set to work. First, she opened the refrigerator and set the cheesecake inside, noting bare essentials like milk, butter, bread, cheese, and bruised fruit in a crisper drawer. She grabbed what she needed, including a wrinkled apple. Next, she opened cupboard doors and transferred necessities for grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Once she got busy with the light meal preparation, she observed Kate.

Kate shuffled a step closer to the kitchen, and Lanae caught glimmers of the single life of an elderly woman. No shine to it. But without Frivolities, or crocheting for the babies in hospitals and shelters, that single life may not have been that far ahead in Lanae’s future.

By the time Kate sank onto a kitchen chair, tailbone rigid, Lanae resolved to never end up this way. No music. Muted television. Rumpled cover over sunken couch cushions. Few comforts were evident, other than two more throws and three family photographs on the wall. Only a Bible and water-stained coaster sat isolated on the junky antique coffee table.

Lanae served Kate the simple meal. Then she put water on to heat for tea before taking a seat at the small table covered in the only colorful spot in the kitchen. The faded red poinsettias on the tablecloth were the lone sign of Christmas Lanae noted in Kate’s home.

“Would it help to talk more about Ted and your letters to him, Kate?”

“My manners are normally better.” Kate’s chest rose with a quivery sigh. “Thank you, Lanae, for your kindness. Are you sure you want nothing to eat?”

“I’m fine.” Lanae smiled, watching Kate test the heat of the soup, then daintily slurp two spoonfuls.

The kettle whistled. Lanae went about the makings of tea for them both; and by the time she sat back down, Kate wore rosy cheeks. She scootched to the back of the chair and chewed her last bite of sandwich.

“I’ve done enough thinking about Teddy to last three old-maid lifetimes. I talked enough about him yesterday to make you depressed. Your coming here has revived me more than I can say.”

Lanae stroked the older woman’s forearm where it rested on the table. “How about some cheesecake to go with that tea?”

“Oh, I’ll enjoy that later. I’m used to eating small meals. Thank you so much for your kindness.” They sipped tea in silence before Kate surprised Lanae.

“Now, I want you to tell me about your Sage. Isn’t that his name? The fellow who carried me like Rhett carried Scarlett?”

Lanae wondered if her cheeks reached the color scarlet. “Yes, his name is Sage. I haven’t known him very long but I consider him almost as dear to me in the short time I have known him as your Ted was to you.”

“Tell me why you say that. I’m all ears, and I have the rest of my life to listen to someone else in love.”

Lanae’s hand shook. The tea scalded her lips so she set it back in the saucer. “In love?”

“I can feel these things.” Kate gave a soft chuckle. “Tell me all about him.”

Lanae did. How they met because of the vanity ad. Lezlie and Jaxson. His acreage. His horses. She even mentioned the pictures of Becca, and was surprised when she peeked at her watch to see that more than an hour had passed.

The women cleared and washed the dishes together, setting them in a drain Kate pulled from underneath the sink.

Lanae shrugged into her coat and after pulling on her gloves, was taken aback when Kate hugged her.

“You’ll never know how much your visit means to me.”

Lanae hugged her back. “I believe when the Lord brings another person to mind, and that person doesn’t leave your thoughts, we’re supposed to do something more than pray.”

“Here, let me turn the light on for you,” Kate said before opening the door. “And one more thing. You and Sage have a uniquely personal connection. You’ve each survived a spouse’s death. You’ve both grieved. You’ve both been lonely. God will use that.”

She and Sage were both used to sleeping single in a double bed, as the old country song went.