His Only Wife

Like the previous day, heat crept up her neck, all the way to the tips of her ears. Still she stared. “Clean mugs are in the cupboard to the right of the sink,” she said.

“What brings you by this morning?” Grandma Rose asked. “And don’t tell me it’s the smell of brewing coffee.”

She appeared oblivious to Aubrey’s discomfort. The Rain-trees had always been friendly with her grandparents. Fortunately, Aubrey’s and Gage’s impulsive and short-lived marriage hadn’t affected that friendship. Given the two families’ long-standing history together, Gage was probably a frequent visitor to her grandmother’s house.

“I’m here to start work on the handicap renovations.”

“What?” Aubrey and her grandmother said in unison.

“You did advertise for a handyman?” Gage peered at them from over the brim of his mug, then took a sip of coffee. “I saw the notice posted on the bulletin board outside of Cutter’s.”

There were two markets, if one could call them markets, in Blue Ridge. Cutter’s was the larger of the two, not much more than a convenience store with a modest produce bin, while the town’s one and only gas pump could be found at the Stop and Go.

“I did,” Grandma Rose exclaimed. “But surely you can’t be answering the ad. When in the world would you have time, what with working at the ranch and all?”

Gage propped a hip on the edge of the counter in a casual stance that somehow managed to be sexy, too.

“Well, it’s not just me. We’re splitting the job between all of us in the volunteer fire department. I’m building the wheelchair ramp for the front porch. Gus will change out your round doorknobs for lever ones, and Mike’s installing a grab bar in your bathtub. Anything else you need, Kenny Junior will handle.”

“Gage is the captain.” Grandma Rose beamed. “He was promoted after Bob Stintson and his wife moved to Show Low.”

“Really?” So, Aubrey thought, he had stuck with firefighting. No surprise. Gage always had a sense of adventure. He was the one who suggested they elope, after all.

“You know we’re raising money for some new equipment.” Gage directed his statement at Grandma Rose. “We figured this would be a good chance to build the fund and help out a loyal contributor at the same time.”

“Why, I’m….” She placed a hand at her throat. “I’m just thrilled. Thank you, Gage. Thank all the boys for me. Now you swear this won’t be an inconvenience? I heard from Martha Payne yesterday your father has suffered another gout attack.”

“He’s not so bad. I think he’ll be up and around in a couple of days. Hannah can handle things for one morning,” Gage said, referring to his younger sister.

Aubrey thought she noticed a bit of tension in the lines around Gage’s mouth. She remembered Mr. Raintree as being a somewhat hard and inflexible man, on par with her own father. She and Gage always shared that commonality. If Mr. Raintree was laid up, he probably depended on Gage and Hannah to run the ranch. The work was constant and difficult, she knew firsthand from her brief residence there.

“Are you sure?” her grandmother asked. “I don’t want to be the cause of any…discord.”

“Forget it.” He dismissed her worries with a casual shrug. “I’d be here helping even if you hadn’t advertised for a handyman.”

Aubrey believed him. Gage adored her grandmother, and she him. But, as Aubrey watched their exchange, she couldn’t help feeling something was amiss in the Raintree family.

“Dad’s just being his usual grumpy self,” Gage went on.

Her grandmother nodded in understanding. “Gout is no picnic.”

“Probably less painful than a broken hip.” He shifted his weight to his other foot, looking quite at home and in no hurry to start the renovations.

“It’s been tough going so far,” Grandma Rose said, smiling, “but I expect to improve rapidly now that my granddaughter is here. I couldn’t ask for a better nurse.”

Gage toasted Aubrey with his coffee. “Here’s to granddaughters.”

Bringing her mug to her lips, she drained the last bit of coffee. “Grandma, we should probably get a move on.”

Her grandmother’s appointment wasn’t until early afternoon, but Aubrey wanted Gage out of the house. The three of them sitting around the kitchen having a friendly chat reminded her too much of days gone by.

“Where you headed?” he asked, not taking the hint and not moving an inch.

“Physical therapy,” Grandma Rose told him.

“Sounds like fun.”

“It’s hard work,” Aubrey corrected him.

“I don’t doubt it.” Unfazed by her brusque tone, Gage polished off his coffee, rinsed out his mug and placed it in the dishwasher. “And speaking of hard work, I should get cracking.”

Aubrey blew out a huge sigh when she heard the front door shut behind him. How long, she wondered, would it take to build the wheelchair ramp? More importantly, how long until she could comfortably share the same air space with him?

Getting Grandma Rose ready for their trip to Pineville didn’t take long. She obviously wished to be self-sufficient eventually and would do whatever was required of her to achieve that status. Because morale played an important part in the recovery of someone in her grandmother’s condition, Aubrey encouraged her.

Afterward, she helped her grandmother into the recliner so that she could watch her favorite soap opera. During the show, Aubrey showered and dressed. When she finished, they still had a good half hour to kill before they had to leave for the rehabilitation center in Pineville.

“Wheel me out onto the porch, dear,” Grandma Rose said, using the remote to shut off the TV, “so I can see how Gage is doing with the ramp.”

Aubrey tried to come up with a valid argument. “Are you sure? You have a big afternoon ahead of you and don’t want to overdo it.”

“I’d like to know how I can overdo it by just sitting.”

“It’s warm out there.”

“Nonsense.” Grandma Rose leaned forward and braced her hands on the armrests. “I can tolerate a little heat.”

Aubrey reluctantly complied with the request, the wheelchair bumping as it rolled over the threshold and onto the porch. She thought about asking Gage if he could replace the threshold with a flatter one, then caught herself. Asking one of the other guys might be a better approach.

The first sight to greet her as she stepped outside was Gage’s pickup truck parked in the driveway. The emblem on the door, she now noted, was some kind of flame with initials in the center. He’d lowered the tailgate and was using it as a makeshift workbench. The second sight to greet her was Gage. He stood with his back to them, bent over a circular saw and cutting wooden planks. She tried not to notice him, but her eyes kept darting across the yard to where he worked.

His shoulders were broader than she remembered, the muscles more defined and prominent. He might have grown another inch or two. Then again, maybe he just stood straighter and taller. Either way, maturity agreed with him. Were he another man, Aubrey might find the changes appealing.

When the plank Gage was cutting split neatly into two pieces, he shut off the saw and looked up. “Hey, there.” Removing his ball cap, he ran fingers through sweat-dampened hair, then flung it onto the tailgate as he came toward them. “Need a hand?”

“No, I—”

“Good heavens, Gage,” Grandma Rose interrupted. “You must be dying of thirst. Get him a glass of lemonade, will you, Aubrey?”

Setting the brake on the wheelchair, she gratefully retreated into the house. Maybe by the time she came back with his lemonade, he’d be working again.

No such luck.

He was sitting in the chair closest to Grandma Rose when Aubrey stepped outside.

“Thanks,” he said, as he shot to his feet and reached for the plastic tumbler she carried.

She gave it to him and when he’d sat back down, she inched toward the door. “I have a few things to do around the house before we leave for Pineville.”