Bride in Training. Gail Martin Gaymer

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      When she sat, she still clutched the paper sack in her hand. She set the package on the table and sipped the tea. The condensation wetted her fingers, and she wiped them on her jeans, then placed the glass on a coaster and gazed toward Nessie across the yard. “You have no flowers.” The thought shot from her mouth.

      He looked up, peering at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What?”

      Uneasy with her bluntness, she sank deeper into the chair cushion. “Your yard. It’s beautiful, but…”

      His eyes searched hers, and a prickling sensation ran down her arms.

      “Maybe it’s a woman’s thing.” He gazed across the lawn. “My mom always had flowers in the yard.”

      His mom. The impact of his statement was unexpected. She’d never had anyone in her life she wanted to call Mom. Sometimes the word mother even clung to her tongue. Her hand trembled as she looked at Martin and thought of his home. She shouldn’t be sitting here like a friend. This wasn’t her world, and if she loved it too much, she—

      “Is that for Nessie?”

      His voice tugged her from her thoughts. When she looked up, his finger aimed at the sack. She lowered her hands to her lap, willing them to steady and begging her heart to stop pounding. “It’s for both of you, really.” Her voice sounded breathy. She sucked in air. “You can open it.”

      Martin unwound the top of the bag and looked inside, emptying out a raw hide, a squeaky toy, and tug rope. He squeezed the plastic hotdog, releasing its high-pitched squeal. “Thank you so much.” He grinned. “I didn’t buy a thing for her.” He raised on one hip and slipped his hand into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, his face so tender her knees weakened.

      Panic filled her as Emily shook her head. “No. It’s a gift.” Her heart pummeled her chest as she rose. “Nessie needs a spot to call her own, too. Everyone needs a place…” She dragged in some air. “A place to call home.” She stepped back from the table, overwhelmed by her feelings of sadness and fear.

      Martin frowned and leaned forward, his wallet still clutched in his hand. “What are you doing?”

      She backed away. “I have to leave. I’m sorry.”

      “But what about—”

      “I’m sorry.” She rushed to the patio door. “Thank you for the tea.” She dashed through the house and onto the porch, as if midnight had struck and she had to make her getaway.

      Chapter Three

      Martin stood in the floral shop eyeing the bouquets, but his mind remained on Emily. Since she walked out three days earlier, he’d been baffled about what he’d done. They were talking and she was fine until she jumped up and ran off. Racking his brain, he couldn’t think of what he’d done that might have offended her. He’d been stirred by her thoughtful gift. She didn’t have money for dog toys. Anyone who lived in a studio apartment likely couldn’t afford much. He’d only tried to pay her for her thoughtfulness.

      He could hear the toy hotdog squeal in his head. Nessie loved it, and Martin admired Emily’s kindness.

      The toys for Nessie triggered another thought. When he had gone to throw the bag in the trash, he felt something else inside, a small clicker of some kind. It certainly didn’t look like a toy. Glad he found it, Martin had tucked it away. He needed to call Emily about it. He closed his eyes, giving his idea a second thought. Having no clue what happened that day, Martin didn’t want to get his head chewed…like a rawhide. Maybe asking Steph about it was a better idea.

      The scent of flowers drew his mind back to the floral display. He focused on the bouquets. Roses? Carnations? He wanted something cheerful for his mother. When he spotted the mixed bouquet of spring flowers, he decided that was it. Bright, cheery and full of hope. Spring always left him with expectations—rebirth of nature and hopefully his own rebirth as he worked to alter his attitude and his life. Hopeful, yes, but sometimes that job seemed hopeless. Emily’s race from the yard had sparked that thought.

      With the bouquet wrapped and paid for, Martin slipped into his car and headed for Waltonwoods to visit his mother. Although she’d resisted moving to an assisted living residence after her stroke, she’d given in and now was adjusting well to residing in the independent living facility. Martin’s guilt had subsided. He turned onto Walton Boulevard and pulled into the visitor parking. Grabbing the bouquet, he headed inside, signed in and took the elevator to his mother’s apartment. A small placard next to the door read Julia Davis. The Julia was printed in a large font. Identity. Everyone needed it, especially those who’d lived a full life and sometimes struggled to find a purpose.

      When his mother opened the door, her eyes twinkled as he remembered from childhood—except those times he’d done something wrong, when he had seen hurt in her eyes. Martin kissed his mother’s cheek and placed the bouquet in her arms. His chest tightened seeing pleasure on her face.

      She buried her nose in the blossoms. “They’re lovely, Martin. And they smell so sweet.” She cradled the bouquet as if it were a baby and motioned him inside.

      The sting of fleeting years pricked Martin’s senses as he strode across the room and sank onto the sofa. He didn’t envision the joy of holding his own offspring. He’d remained single since his divorce, ashamed that he’d been abandoned by his wife. Her reason had left him staggering: he wasn’t a good husband. That’s what she’d said. He’d spent his days working to make a home and hopefully to provide well for a family, but Denise had walked out without giving him a chance and with no desire to make it work.

      He’d married for better or worse, never expecting he would be the worse for Denise. Nick encouraged him to get over it, but Nick hadn’t fared much better with his first fiancé walking away before the wedding. But Nick had found love again, lessening Martin’s bitterness. Nick and Steph made a great couple, and now there was a baby on the way. The knife twisted deeper.

      “Is something wrong?”

      Martin jerked his head upward, sorry he’d let his mind wander. “Not a thing. In fact, I have some good news.”

      Her face brightened. “Really? Is it someone new in your life?”

      Martin squirmed as a vision of Emily filled his mind. “She’s a cairn terrier named Nessie. A bundle of fur.” He rose to evade the disappointment on her face and grasped the flowers. “Do you have a vase for these, Mom?” Rather than looking at her, he scanned her small apartment for a container, the kitchen taking a corner of her living room with a bedroom and bath beyond. “Martin.”

      He glanced her way.

      “Look on top of the cabinet there.” She pointed. “Use that crystal one. Your father brought that home for me once filled with roses.”

      He reached above the cabinet and lowered the vase, recalling how often he’d seen it filled with flowers in their home when he was a teen. Flowers. The memory of Emily in his yard slipped through his mind until he refocused. “Dad was a good man.” He found the courage to face her.

      A sweet smile curved her mouth. “I didn’t know if you boys realized that. He was strict and not always there for you when you needed him.”

      A void rushed through him and he remembered his yearnings to have his СКАЧАТЬ