Thirteen

The ground rose up to slug him square between the eyes, or at least that’s the way Bob felt when he rolled up into a sitting position somewhere just south of the path he thought he knew so well.

He didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until a familiar female stalked into view. “Bliss? What are you doing here?”

“I was praying, Bobby,” she said quite snippily. “And I was enjoying my quiet time until someone stomped on me.”

“Stomped on you? Not hardly, Bliss.”

“Then how do you account for the fact that I’ve got muddy shoe prints on my sweatpants.”

He gave her a sideways glance, taking in her appearance, from the sweatpants and T-shirt and a sweatshirt tied around her waist to the ponytail that danced in the March wind. Indeed, Bliss looked dressed for running, but if that were the case, how could he have stumbled over her—literally? Still, that was the only explanation.

“Easy.” He rubbed the spot where it hurt the most and felt a lump beginning to rise. “I was running along the path like any normal person when you tripped me.”

“Tripped you?” She shook her head, and her mouth went wide. “I was sitting there minding my own business. Why didn’t you announce yourself, Bobby?”

“Because I didn’t expect anyone would have their legs stretched across the path, hidden behind a bush.”

She knelt to massage her calf, and his heart sank. “Bliss, I’m an idiot. Are you all right?” He scooted over beside her. “I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you, haven’t I?”

“Nothing like what I did to you.” She touched his forehead, and a pain shot behind his eyes. “Oh, Bobby, you’re bleeding. Here, let me see if I can help.” Bliss shifted to her knees, untied the pink sweatshirt from her waist, and leaned over to dab at his forehead.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure.”

“It’s blood, Bobby,” she said as she continued ministering to the ache between his eyes. “And the presence of blood generally means it’s something. Just relax and let me work.”

But he couldn’t relax. Not with Bliss so close. It was strange, the way her nearness made him feel. After all, this was Bliss. Sure, he had a thing for her for years, going way back to when they were kids. And sure, their friendship seemed on its way back to being what it had been when they were younger.

However, she’d never given him the time of day. No, Bliss Denison had been crazy about Landon, not him. Might still be for all he knew.

Which made the sudden desire to kiss her all the more odd. And appealing.

“Bliss.” Bob encircled her wrist and pulled her hand away. Their gazes met. He folded the sweatshirt and handed it back to her. “Thank you,” he managed, “but I’m fine now.”

She looked as if she were going to say something. Then, slowly she nodded. “Yes, well, all right.” She rose, but he sat where he was a moment longer. “I need to get back and clean up before it’s time to open the store.”

Bob nodded. “I think I’ll just sit here awhile.”

“Are you sure. . . ? Of course, you’re fine.”

He watched her take a few steps, then realized she was favoring one leg. “Bliss?”

His old friend turned. “Yes?”

“Quit pretending,” he said as he struggled to his feet despite the jackhammers going off in his head.

“I could say the same for you.” Her glare dissolved into a giggle. “You’re not hiding that headache very well.”

Bob gestured toward her left leg. “You’re not exactly disguising that limp, either.” He nodded toward the south. “My house’s a mile or so in that direction, maybe a little less. How about I drive you home?”

She pointed north. “My car’s that way about a half a mile. You help me get there, and I’ll drive you home.”

He grinned and reached out to offer a handshake.

Bliss met him halfway and slipped her hand into his. “Deal,” she said.

Rather than let her know he could have walked all day holding her hand, Bob released his grip. “Ready when you are,” he said casually.

❧

Bliss felt like a first-class idiot. Who in the world falls asleep while praying outdoors? At home in her chair, okay, but here? And wouldn’t you know it would be Bobby who tripped and fell over her?

So much for getting up early to try out her new shoes. From now on she would walk after work and not before.

Picking up her pace despite the throbbing in her calf, Bliss pushed away her humiliation to concentrate on the path ahead. Bobby easily kept up with her, occasionally stepping ahead to clear a limb or move an obstacle.

Not an easy task considering the goose egg on his forehead.

“So, Bliss,” he finally said, “do you sleep outside beside the bayou often?”

Her cheeks flamed. “How did you know I was—”

“I didn’t.” His smile edged up a notch. “Thanks for confirming it.”

“Hey.” Bliss gave him a playful nudge, and then they walked along the bayou in companionable silence until the path turned and headed up an embankment.

Bobby jogged a few steps ahead, then reached down to grasp Bliss’s hand. “Here, let me help you.”

Bliss looked up at Bobby, calculating the odds she would be able to make the climb without his assistance. It didn’t take but a second to realize the truth and grasp onto her old friend’s hand.

Her bad knee complained—and there would certainly be a nasty bruise on her calf—but she hid her pain and planted one foot in front of the other until she was once again on level ground. “Thanks, Bobby,” she said. “I’m glad you were here.”

He gave her a look. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“No, really,” she said as she fell into step beside him. “I don’t think I could have climbed that without your help.”

“And you wouldn’t have had that problem if I had been watching where I was going.” Bobby cringed. “I can’t help but notice you’re limping. I wonder if you might consider getting that looked at.” He let out a long breath. “I just feel like an idiot for stomping on you like that.”

Bliss stopped short and grasped her friend’s hand. “Okay, enough of that. You aren’t the reason I’m limping, okay?”

Bobby shook his head. “But you’re going to have a bruise the size of my foot by bedtime.”

The urge to change the subject or, worse, to agree with her old friend bore down hard on her. “Come with me,” she said before she lost her courage. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He looked skeptical but nonetheless followed her to the overturned tree trunk where she settled, then patted the place beside her. Without a word, she extended her leg and rolled up her sweatpants to reveal the ugly jagged scar, now nearly faded to white.

“I was in an accident. It changed my life.”

She looked up to gauge Bobby’s reaction, only to find him studying her face and not her scar. “I’m so sorry, Bliss.” He reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

To her surprise, she did. “I worked late that night. I generally did in those days. Austin had a blue norther come through, so what passed for comfortable that morning was frozen over by that night. I was tired, and the light was yellow. I sped through it. They tell me the ice was the first thing I hit. All I remember was the railing on the Congress Street bridge coming at me.” With those words came a torrent of others until the story of the accident was told.

All except for the part where the CAT scan showed she had a far more serious problem than the effects of an automobile accident. That nugget of information was best kept to herself, she decided. People tended to act differently when they found out she had the equivalent of a ticking time bomb in her body.

“So, that’s how you ended up back here in Latagnier.” He paused. “And that’s why the ladies at Divine Occasions kept referring to you as. . .”

“As the crippled woman,” she supplied. “Yes, when I first visited them, I was still dependent on my cane and brace. Thanks to physical therapy, I’ve come a long way since then.”

“I can tell.”

She paused. “Believe it or not, I drove into New Iberia and bought these new shoes on Saturday to celebrate the fact that I can actually walk a whole mile now without paying for it later. But today’s actually the first day I got up early to do it.”

Her friend fell silent, and Bliss felt like a fool for pouring out the gory details of her accident and its aftermath to him. She couldn’t abide pity. Better to have remained silent, she decided, although the damage was obviously done.

“Would it be stupid of me to ask what you’re thinking right now?” she finally said.

Bobby stared down at their entwined fingers, then lifted her hand to touch his lips. “What I’m thinking right now is that I wish I could take all of this pain away from you.”

“Yes, well, God could have, but He didn’t.”

Bliss froze. She’d never said that aloud, never really admitted even to herself that she felt anger toward the Lord.

“I wish I had the answers,” Bobby said gently, “but I don’t. There are so many things I don’t understand.”

“Me, too,” she said. “It’s so hard not to get stuck asking why.”

Bobby nodded and held her hand against his chest. “Sometimes asking why is what God wants, Bliss.” When she gave him a confused look, he continued. “Not why it happened, but why God allowed it to happen. Asking Him why He saved us and not someone else. . .” He shrugged. “That’s when it’s okay to ask why. At least I think so.”

Bliss looked down at the scar. Did God save her for a reason? He must have. She lifted her gaze to the heavens. Someday, Lord, I’d just like to know why.

“Sometimes, Bliss, God saves us not from the bad things in this world, but from ourselves.” Bobby released her hand and cupped her chin, turning her face in his direction. “Could that be the reason? Did God need to save you from yourself?”

She peered at Bobby through a shimmer of tears. The depth of truth in that question stung as much as it soothed. “Yes,” she whispered, “I think maybe He did.”

Bobby wrapped her in an embrace and let her stain his shirt with her tears until she had no more to cry. Then, she lifted her head and stared up into the most incredible eyes.

“Thank you for listening,” she said. “It’s not a story I’m usually comfortable telling.”

“Thank you,” he said as he moved closer, “for trusting me enough”—he moved closer still—“to tell me.”

And then, with exquisite slowness, Bobby fitted his lips over hers and kissed her.

“What just happened?” she whispered a moment later.

“Bliss, don’t you recognize a kiss when you get one?” She pretended to consider the question while Bobby’s smile lit up his face. “I guess I’ll just have to try that again.”

“I guess you will,” she said. “That is, if you want to.”

He closed his eyes as he said, “Oh yes, I want to.” Then, to her surprise, he paused. “Bliss, open your eyes,” he commanded.

She did.

“I want you to know you’re kissing me.” He smiled. “Kissing Bobby Tratelli.”

Her heart thumped, and her mind raced. “No,” she said.

Too soon, it was over. Bliss took a deep breath and let it out slowly while she sorted through her emotions.

“Bliss?” Bobby rose and reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet. “We both have places to be in, oh. . .” He checked his watch. “Half an hour.”

“Oh no, is it that late?” She shook her pants leg back into position.

“Can I ask you something before we go? What just happened here?”

“You kissed me,” Bliss said.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “I know that, but should I apologize?”

“I don’t know. Can I get back to you on that?”

“You know it,” Bobby said. “And in the meantime, I’m going to celebrate the small victories.”

“What do you mean?”

Bobby enveloped her in an embrace. “My friend is back.”

“Yes, that’s true,” she said.

“And I’ve been wanting to kiss you since third grade.” He paused. “I guess that’s a big victory.”

“And the fact I’m back in Latagnier?”

He held up his thumb and forefinger and indicated a miniscule space between them.

“Stop teasing me,” she said as she shared a laugh that faded to a smile as they walked back to her car.

That smile lasted throughout the morning despite the fact that she was late opening the shop and had to turn down three orders for wedding cakes on referrals. “I’ve got an opening in June,” she said, “but only one date, so let me know.”

Bliss hung up the phone and jogged back to the kitchen to silence the buzzer on the top oven. She’d already retrieved the cake and set it on the cooling rack when she realized she’d actually run.

It wasn’t much, a trip measured in feet rather than miles, but it was the first time she’d run anywhere since the accident. She cast aside her oven mitts and tested her knee by flexing it. With only the slightest twinge of complaint, she accomplished the feat, then did it again.

“Thank You, Lord,” she whispered as she went back to work. “Like Bobby said, sometimes we have to celebrate the small victories.”

She flipped on the television and began the process of mixing the frosting for a groom’s cake in the shape of a twelve-point deer. It was an interesting undertaking, transforming cake batter and cream cheese frosting into a creation fit for a man who planned every event around hunting season.

The morning talk shows dissolved into the noon news by the time Bliss completed the project. “And that’s what you get when you marry a man who had a hunting license before he could ride a bicycle.”

Bliss boxed up the cake and set it aside, tagging it with the order form and bill before moving on to the next item on the list: a two-tiered wedding cake covered in sugar hearts and topped with a mascarpone copy of the Volkswagen that caused the couple to meet.

She stacked the layers, anchoring them with frosting, then set about spreading the buttercream frosting. Just as a breaking news item about a shopping center fire came on the television, her phone rang. Bliss clicked the mute button and reached for her order pad. This time the caller was looking for a trio of cakes for a party taking place the first weekend in April.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, “there’s no more availability. I’ve got one slot the week before Palm Sunday, but only for a standard cake. I can’t do anything more complicated than that. For three cakes, I would have to block out an entire day. Would you like me to see when I can do that?” After hearing a yes from the caller, Bliss paused to check. “May 15 is the soonest.”

The woman hung up with a promise to call back when she had a new date for the party. Bliss hit the mute button as the jingle from a grocery store commercial came on. A second jingle, one from the front door, pulled Bliss from the kitchen in time for her to see Neecie coming through the door.

“Hey, welcome back,” she said.

Neecie looked tired, and Bliss bit her tongue to keep from telling her so. “Come on back here and have some coffee. I think I’ve still got some pralines, too. Or would you rather have tea?”

Her friend didn’t say a word. Instead, she mutely followed Bliss into the kitchen, then dropped into the nearest chair. Bliss poured two cups of hot tea and set them on the table. Before Bliss knew what was happening, Neecie began to cry.

“Everyone in town thinks. . . Oh, Bliss, it’s such a mess. I just want to keep things going the way they are because that’s the easy way—I’ll admit that—but I don’t think the Lord will let me do it.”

Bliss kept silent despite the questions swirling about in her mind. Instead, she reached for her napkin and dabbed at the tears streaming down Neecie’s face. “You’re not exactly making sense, honey.”

“So when he called me to tell me, I said nothing,” Neecie continued, “and did nothing. And now he’s back, and I’m in a fix.” She lifted tear-filled eyes to meet Bliss’s gaze. “I don’t know what to tell him. Worse, what do I tell the kids? Did you know I pulled out everything I had in savings and bought him a one-way ticket out of here? Anything to rid myself of a problem I honestly don’t know if I mind having.”

“Honey,” Bliss said slowly, “didn’t you hear me? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“She’s talking about me.”

Bliss nearly fell out of her chair when she looked up in the direction of the masculine voice and saw a stranger standing in the doorway. Obviously she’d been so focused on Neecie that she hadn’t heard the bell ring or noticed the chirp of the alarm when the door opened.

Dark hair was cut close to his scalp and salted with gray, and his square jaw was clean shaven. The leather jacket and faded jeans gave him the look of a bad boy, but something in his expression conveyed the opposite.

“Did you tell her about me, Neecie?”

“Yes,” Neecie said before dissolving into tears. “She knows.”

“Wait.” Bliss rose and set her napkin on the table beside her teacup. “What do I know? Say, you look awfully familiar. Do I know you?”

“I ought to look familiar, Bliss.”

Something about the way the man said her name rang familiar. “How do I know you?”

“Remember the flaming flying bicycle?”

No. He couldn’t be. “Landon?”

The man nodded.

“Landon Gallier? You’re dead.”

“No,” he said. “I was stupid. I assure you I’m quite alive.”

Bliss looked him over once, then turned to stare at Neecie. “You were married to Landon Gallier? How did I not know that?”

Landon shrugged. “It wasn’t like we had a big church wedding or anything. Just a few folks in the pastor’s study was what passed for a wedding for us, but we didn’t care. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Neecie seemed frozen in place. Finally, she nodded.

Bliss frowned. “Still, I can’t believe I was so preoccupied with my career that I completely lost touch with people back home.”

“You were busy,” Neecie offered, “and you did so well for yourself at that hotel. Your mama was forever bragging about you.”

“She was?” Bliss shook her head. “I want you to know that I’m never going to lose touch with where I came from, Neecie. I just won’t let that happen again.” She paused to look from Landon to Neecie. “So,” she said slowly, “you were married to Landon.”