To Love Again

Laura bit her lip. “If you’re sure it won’t be putting you out…”

“We’re sure.” Cindy started dialing almost before the words were out of her mouth.

As the kids shyly passed through and headed upstairs, Laura noticed that Gregg had piled a few extra cookies on top of his books. Oh well, looked like dinner might be late anyway.

It seemed only moments passed before the women began to assemble. And they brought chocolates, brownies and cookies with them. Annie carried in two of her signature pies.

“Chocolate and sugar for fuel,” Emma explained. “Only the bare necessities.”

Again, laughter filled the old house along with the treble of women’s chatter as they went up and down the stairs, unloading boxes, finding places for most everything.

Grace smiled, a mixture of sweetness and mischief. “This way you’ll have to stay in touch with us—if you want to find anything.”

Laura imagined that wouldn’t be a hardship. “I never expected this much…help.”

“I came from the city, too. I wasn’t used to how neighborly people here are. And I wasn’t comfortable with it, at first.” She raised her scarred hand. “But it wound up helping me heal…inside.”

It seemed this woman could see right through her.

“Laura, would you rather have these in the dining room or living room?” Leah held out a pair of slender brass candlesticks, turning them so the afternoon sun hit the aged patina.

“Um…dining room, I think.”

Katherine was right behind her with a doll older than Laura herself. “For display, I’m guessing?”

“Yes. She was my grandmother’s.”

Katherine ran her fingers gently over the faded porcelain face. “I love things with history and sentiment. My house looks like I put it together from a jumble sale.” One hand flew to cover her mouth. “Not that yours does—just the opposite, you have really stylish furniture.”

“It’s not my style, though,” Laura confessed, shrugging off the unintentional slight. “My husband was the contemporary fan. I prefer the furnishings at Annie’s.”

“Like Cindy and Flynn,” Katherine mused. “She loves Victorian and he likes ultramodern. They compromised by turning her house into a children’s refuge center. Still, it always takes me aback when I see how the new one’s furnished.”

“And Cindy doesn’t mind?” Laura wouldn’t have thought the independent woman would capitulate so completely.

“She’s so nuts over Flynn she said she could live in a cave and be happy.”

No. Cindy and Flynn weren’t anything like she and Jerry had been.

Grace touched Laura’s arm. “I hope we’re not upsetting you, talking about spouses.”

“No. It’s okay.”

“If it ever does, will you tell us?”

Laura knew it wouldn’t be a worry. “Okay. If you’ll agree to tell me something.”

“Sure.”

“How did you get comfortable with the neighborly help?”

Grinning, Grace clapped her hands. “It’s a long, long story. Which I’ll be glad to tell you when we meet for lunch.”

Laura found herself smiling, as well. “Lunch?”

“As soon as we can set it up.”

Her smile grew. Jerry had frowned on anything she had done that took her away from the house. It had been difficult even to schedule her volunteer work. He had given in on that only because his mother encouraged Laura’s efforts. But even casual lunches with Donna used to set him off. Now, her sense of freedom soared.

Chapter Four

Paul continued deliberating about his decision to allow Laura into the office. She was clinging like glue. And carrying home books on finance to study. She was there early every day, leaving just in time to meet her children after school. She took copious notes and asked so many questions, he couldn’t doubt her dedication. But he worried that she might be neglecting the kids for her tutoring. He needed another opinion, so he headed over to see his parents.

The tallest trees in Rosewood were in the yard of the Russell family home. At least Paul thought so. Ever since he was a kid and his father had pushed him in the tire swing beneath the widest oak, Paul had believed that particular tree had reached all the way to the sky. And in the dusk it still looked that way.

No one was in the house, but he knew where to look.

They sat out back on the porch that stretched from one end of the house to the other. Although he’d had new lighting installed, they hadn’t turned it on. Instead, an oil lamp flickered on the table and he guessed they held hands as they sat side by side in the ancient swing.

As long as he could remember, once he and his younger brothers and sisters had been put to bed for the night, his parents would slip out back to sit together. He used to wonder what they would talk about in their hushed voices. There had been worry, which he’d instinctively shared. He’d known his mother was happy, though. They’d all been. Because his dad had come back from the war—albeit injured. But even though he’d just been a kid, Paul had known they were lucky. His dad was an Air Force pilot and most of them hadn’t made it back from Vietnam.

When he saw his parents, he questioned whether a love like theirs was even possible nowadays. Take that unpredictable Laura Manning. Jerry had probably thought she was a sweet, caring girl when he married her. He couldn’t imagine his friend marrying someone so set on the bottom line, her chin practically dragging the ground because she wanted more. Had she changed so much? Or had she just fooled him?

“Hello, honey,” his mother, Elizabeth, greeted him.

“It’s quiet out here. No rugrats visiting?” His nieces and nephews were the delight of everyone in the family.

“Not tonight. How about some tea?” She started to rise.

“I can get it.”

“You sound tired, son.” Charles was close to all the siblings, but he’d always been particularly attuned to him.

This was the place Paul could always bring his troubles, always find understanding. He had already told them about Laura when Jerry had passed away, his concern for their children and her abrupt arrival in Rosewood. “It’s the Manning family. I’m worried about the kids. I hate to think about what kind of mess they must be living in.”

Charles leaned forward. “Haven’t you gone over there yet?”

“You think I should?”

“How else are you going to know exactly what the conditions are?”

Elizabeth patted his arm. “It may not be as bad as you’re guessing.”

“I’d like to think not, but Dad’s right, I have to see for myself. I’ve been putting it off because I’m not real sure what I’m going to do when I come face-to-face with it.”

“You’ll work that out, son.” Charles rubbed his chin. “Jerry put his trust in you with good reason.”

“And you can count on us to help,” his mother added. “Maybe the boy would like story time at the library. I could watch out for him then.” Elizabeth’s job as a part-time librarian had helped the family through lean times, and she had been able to adjust her schedule around the continuing surgeries Charles had to go through year after year.