Adele

Ever since their not-so-chance meeting at the café, Adele and Henry had been spending their evenings together. Adele couldn’t deny she loved the company—and she loved having such a voracious eater to cook for.

“I’m still waitin’ to find out about this cookbook, but you’re going to have to help me narrow down my recipes, just in case,” she’d told him the night before.

Henry had shoveled a bite of her down-home meatloaf into his mouth and shaken his head. “I’m not going to be a bit of help to you.”

“Why not?”

“There is no way I can pick a favorite. You’re just too good.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Delicious.”

She smiled at the memory as she put the finishing touches on her fried chicken. She had a feeling Henry was going to lick the plate clean on this meal too.

The knock at the door startled her. She glanced at the clock and saw that time had gotten away from her. Through the door, she saw Henry standing on the front porch, and her mind raced back to simpler times when he’d come to the door of this very same cottage, knock and wait to face her father’s grave stare.

Henry had never been intimidated by her dad, and after a while, he even won the old guy over with a mutual love for the Chicago Cubs and a solid work ethic.

Adele pulled the door open and wiped her hands on the blue-and-white-checkered apron around her waist.

Henry smiled at the sight of her and she noted a strange fluttering in her belly. He handed her a brightly colored bouquet of flowers and stepped inside. Adele brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled. It had been years since anyone had brought her flowers. Henry leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. At the nearness of him, Adele suddenly felt sixteen again.

Henry stepped back and took his coat off. “It smells wonderful in here.”

“You’ve said that every night this week.” She took his coat and hung it in the front closet.

“Then it must be true.”

Adele served their dinner in the dining room, surrounded by a wall of windows. They sat across from each other, the fading light of the sun casting a yellowish hue to the room. Adele dished up the fried chicken and collard greens for Henry and then did the same for herself. When she set the platter down, she met his eyes and found him smiling at her.

“What are you lookin’ at, Mr. Marshall?” she said, stifling a smile of her own.

“A very beautiful woman.”

Adele’s face heated and she imagined how red her cheeks must be. “Stop that now.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I mean it, Adele. You’re every bit as beautiful as I remember.”

“Well, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

As the night waned, she let herself relax, and somewhere along the way realized how very much she enjoyed Henry’s company.

He gave the fried chicken a thumbs-up and told her the cookbook would be incomplete without that in it, which was exactly what he’d said about each of the other meals. For dessert, she served coffee and apple crisp, one that had the perfect balance of apples and crumble. She didn’t much care for a crisp without any crumble.

After they ate, Adele sat while Henry insisted on cleaning up. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”

She had to admit, she’d worn herself out preparing the meal, so she welcomed the rest. How she’d loved having someone to cook for again. Made her feel important, like she mattered to someone. When Henry finished with the dishes, they sat in the living room where the old book with all their memories sat on the coffee table.

“Am I in this?” Henry asked as he picked it up.

“More than once.”

He smiled and started flipping through the pages. When he got to the photo of the two of them outside one of the Sweethaven dances, he held it up with a grin. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

Adele waved him off. “I was just a kid.”

“And you’re every bit as feisty and full of life today as you were then. Millie was a lot like that right up until the end.” Sadness filled his eyes and Adele could see Millie had been to Henry like Teddy had been to her. They’d already had the loves of their lives; wasn’t it selfish to hope to have that again?

“I wish I could’ve met her,” Adele said, her voice quiet.

Henry laughed. “Oh, the two of you together, I can just imagine. I’d be a goner for sure.”

Adele took the book and flipped to the back. “Look at you here.”

Henry’s eyes fell to the image of a boy dressed as a soldier. He stilled.

“Remember you sent that to me from Vietnam. You and your buddies. I bet you got into a lot of trouble over there.”

Henry nodded but didn’t look away from the photo. “This guy, Vince, he was from Brooklyn.” He leaned over and pointed to a dark-headed young man with a wide gap-toothed smile.

“And you were friends?”

“The best.” Henry ran a hand over his whiskered chin.

“Do you still keep in touch? Maybe on Facebook?”

He shook his head. “He died right in front of me. If it had been ten seconds later, it would’ve been me.” He saved my life.

Adele took the book and closed it, then covered his hands with her own. “I’m sorry, Henry.”

“It was a long time ago.” His smile had lost its luster.

“How is it that you seem to have forgotten all about the way you and I parted?”

Henry lifted his chin and looked her squarely in the eye. “I haven’t forgotten, but I don’t blame you for the way things happened.”

“I should’ve waited.”

Henry wiped a tear from her cheek. “You don’t mean that. Think of the life you wouldn’t have had.”

She took his hand and held it in her own. “I know. And the life you wouldn’t have had.”

“We were so young—it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Adele nodded as their eyes met. She and Henry were mismatched right from the start. So why had this ache in her heart returned at the thought of losing him all over again?

“I’ve been thinking, Adele. We’re not so young anymore.”

She laughed. “That may be in the running for understatement of the year.”

Henry flashed a smile. “Maybe now our timing is good.” He punctuated the sentence with a shrug, a question in his voice.

She folded her hands in her lap and stared at him. “What are you sayin’, Henry?”

“What if we did something crazy? What if you came to see how you like Grand Falls? We could find you a nice little place near mine. Or we could . . .”

She frowned. “We could what?”

His eyes were wide like a boy who’d been caught spying on the girls’ locker room. “Get married?”

“Henry Marshall, as I live and breathe, that’s crazy talk.” She leaned back on the couch and waited for him to start laughing with her.

But he didn’t. Instead, he got down on a knee in front of her and took her hand in his. “I asked you once, Adele, and I know it didn’t work out, but I’d be honored if you spent the rest of your life with me.”

Adele’s jaw went slack and she fumbled over her words. “Henry, I don’t know what to say. Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be talking marriage? You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

He raised a brow. “Do you want me to?”

She blinked, suddenly as unsure as she was the first time he kissed her.

He leaned toward her, eyes intent on hers. When he reached her lips, he closed her eyes and kissed her sweetly. “I never forgot your kisses.”

Everything in her head told her it was crazy. She couldn’t leave Sweethaven. She couldn’t up and move to Grand Falls—not when her family had finally reunited, when she finally had people to cook for on holidays. But then she let herself get a little lost in Henry’s mocha-colored eyes and she knew a part of her had never stopped loving him.

But married?

“Just think about it. I’m here for another day, and maybe you can come visit me in Grand Falls and that will help you decide?”

She nodded but stayed silent.

Henry brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I know it’s all of a sudden, but there was a time you knew me better than anyone. We’re not so different now, are we?”

Adele studied his expression. All those feelings she’d buried or forgotten were still there. She looked away.

Henry squeezed her hand. “Besides, at our age, we can’t afford to date for any length of time.”

Adele smiled. “Oh, Henry, you do make me laugh.”

She saw him out and welcomed another kiss from this man she never thought she’d see again—and she wondered how on earth she’d managed to get herself proposed to. Again.

As she closed the door behind him, Adele waited for the sound of his car driving away before she burst into giggles that would rival any junior high schooler’s. Henry Marshall wanted to marry her.

And while it defied all reason, she thought, as she trudged up the stairs for bed, that she might be inclined to say yes.