You're Still the One

Jamie sighed. “Then I guess I shouldn’t ask for a Brazilian either.”

Rachel laughed loudly enough that Sally and Roxy both sent her curious looks. Sally waved them back to her station, and before Rachel took the lead, she murmured to Jamie, “I dare you.”

“I’m not worried. They’ll be too busy talking about you and your purple streak, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Oh, they’ll be whispering all right…about what a horrible influence you are on me.”

This time Jamie burst out laughing. “I’m screwed either way.”

Sally motioned for Rachel to sit in her chair. “You ladies are in mighty fine moods. You just wait till you’re looking down the barrel of forty-six and see how chipper you are.” She shook out a plastic pink cape and draped it over Rachel.

“What would you know about that?” Rachel lifted her hair so Sally could tie the strings. “You can’t be a day over thirty yourself.”

Sally chuckled. She’d been telling people she was thirty-nine for so long, her age had remained a true mystery. But forty-six sounded about right.

Rolling her eyes, Jamie sank onto Roxy’s chair and was sheathed with her own plastic cape.

“You two serious about putting in streaks?” Sally asked.

In unison they assured her they were, and she eagerly pulled out color samples. Roxy didn’t seem as impressed, and she gladly stood by while Sally mixed the two selected shades.

Mrs. Perkins’s dryer went off and she started to say something when the door opened. All heads turned toward Louise. Her cheeks red, she looked as if she’d run all the way from her fabric store, a pair of scissors in one hand, and a silver thimble on her right thumb.

“You’re not gonna believe who I just saw going into Abe’s Variety.” Her gaze panned the room, her eyes bright and excited.

“Well, go ahead, tell us before you have a stroke,” Sally said impatiently.

Searching each face until she was satisfied she had everyone’s full attention, Louise took another dramatic pause, then deliberately met Rachel’s eyes and said, “Matt Gunderson.”

2

RACHEL FELT THE BLOOD drain from her face. She didn’t think she’d said anything out loud or made a weird noise, but she might have. All the other women were staring at her, including Jamie.

For pity’s sake, Rachel hadn’t seen him in ten years. Yeah, she’d had a thing for him once, but she’d been a kid, only sixteen when he left town. The few people who’d suspected her crush hadn’t taken it seriously. For two reasons—he was three years older than her, already a man, and he was a Gunderson. Everyone in Blackfoot Falls knew McAllisters and Gundersons didn’t mix. Not if Matt’s father had anything to do with it, anyway.

“Matt Gunderson,” Sally repeated with a soft murmur. “He was a damn fine-looking young man last I saw him. Tall and lean, with those bedroom blue eyes…Got his pa’s looks. Wallace was real handsome in his twenties and thirties, before he started drinking heavy. What’s it been, ten years since Matt left?”

“Good thing he didn’t end up with Wallace’s nasty disposition.” Louise said. “Of course a decade is a long time…anything could’ve happened. I suppose he might be just as rotten as his father by now.”

“Not Matt,” Ruth Wilson said, the adamant shake of her head brooking no argument. “He was a quiet, sweet boy, and very smart, too.” He’d been her student, just like everyone under age forty living in Salina County had been at one time or another. “I’d hoped Matthew would go to college. I certainly encouraged him to give it a try. So did his mama. By the way, he was here for her funeral three years ago. Seems you ladies have forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget.” Libby Perkins sniffed. “Catherine Gunderson was a lovely woman. I don’t know a soul who didn’t attend her funeral. The way I hear it, Matt came back two weeks before she died, stayed glued to her bedside, saw to her burial arrangements the day she passed, then left an hour after the services.”

Rachel hadn’t gone to the funeral. She’d been in Dallas, studying for finals, and hadn’t learned of Mrs. Gunderson’s passing until a week later. By delaying the news, her mother had saved her from making the decision to return for the services. Selfishly, Rachel hadn’t minded. The timing had been bad as far as school went, and she hadn’t wanted to see Matt under such sad circumstances.

The women continued talking about the Gundersons, mostly Wallace and his haggard appearance of late. They speculated on whether it was due to drinking or if his failing health was the reason Matt had suddenly shown up. Though it was no secret the two had been estranged the minute Matt left a decade ago.

Rachel quit listening and tried to think about something else. Except it was difficult to ignore the jittery feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even distract herself by talking to Jamie, not without the others hearing them. But the way Jamie kept shooting her inquisitive glances, it was obvious what was on her mind. The trouble was, Rachel hadn’t decided how much she wanted to share about Matt.

It was ridiculous that she was having any reaction at all. Absurd to be replaying scenes of hot summer afternoons they’d spent swimming in Mill Creek after she’d lured him away from his chores. She’d been a kid, not even a junior yet, and incensed that his father was so mean and making Matt work all the time.

She’d pretended to be hiking that first day she followed him to the fence line that separated their properties. And he’d pretended to believe her. After that it got to be a regular Friday thing throughout the rest of the summer. She’d just show up at the section of fence he was mending. For several weeks he only smiled at her teasing and flirting. Then one day he’d yanked off his hat and unbuttoned his shirt, and she’d nearly peed her pants.

The sneak had worn swim trunks under his jeans, but he’d let her go through her usual song and dance trying to tempt him. They’d raced each other to the creek. He’d let her win, then gave her a victory kiss. It was brief, nothing hot or steamy, but at the time she’d been convinced she was having a heart attack.

Until then, she’d never kissed a boy, at least not a real kiss, and she’d wanted more. But he’d slammed on the brakes, kept her at arm’s length. He’d said she was too young…anything beyond kissing wasn’t going to happen. It hadn’t stopped her from lying in the tall grass after he returned to work, staring up at the clear blue sky, daydreaming, debating whether she’d be a modern woman and keep her last name or become Rachel Gunderson.

To her annoyance, Matt had kept his word all summer, clear through fall, up to her sixteenth birthday. The kisses had grown more frustrating and sometimes he’d rubbed against her breasts, but always through her shirt. By February, a day before her birthday, she’d made up her mind. Half the girls in her class had boasted of having sex, and she decided she would lose her virginity to Matt that night when they met behind the calving shed. She’d taken a blanket with her, confident she could entice him into going to Mill Creek to do the deed. It was only fitting they made love for the first time there.

He’d never showed. The next morning she’d learned he left town, and her a short note. She’d cried for days, then lost her virginity to a classmate two months later. Not one of her finer moments, and she’d regretted nothing more than the rashness of her self-pity ever since.

But that was a lifetime ago. She was no longer that silly love-struck kid. She’d changed. He’d surely changed, too. Not that she thought he’d followed in his father’s footsteps. She agreed with Mrs. Wilson. Matt was good to his core. He’d never be like his bitter despicable old man.

“Okay, this has crossed over to torture territory,” Jamie whispered when Sally stepped away to grab a towel. “After our hair is done, you still want to get a manicure?”

“No.”

Jamie grinned. “That was emphatic.”

They’d already had to wait for the color to process then had their hair shampooed between numerous interruptions. A slew of customers stopped in to make appointments but mostly to find out if the news of Matt’s return had hit The Cut and Curl yet.

With the water running close to her ear, Rachel hadn’t heard much but then the disappointed faces told her enough. Twice she’d had to consciously stop clenching her teeth because, jeez, it was a shame to have suffered through two years of braces for nothing. “Our blow-outs shouldn’t take long, but I swear, if Sally turns off that blow-dryer one more time so she can chitchat I’ll scream.”

“If anyone else walks in, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.” Jamie turned to Roxy, who was trying to listen under the pretense of finding the right brush. “Let’s keep this quick, huh? And we’re skipping the manicures.”

When Sally returned with the dry towel, after stopping to yak with two more clients, Jamie passed on the same instructions to her. Rachel bit back a smile when the older woman gave Jamie a who-died-and-made-you-queen look that she completely ignored.

Jamie settled the tab while Rachel said her goodbyes. They stepped outside under the glaring afternoon sun, looked at each other and burst out laughing. The blue streak woven through Jamie’s pretty tawny-colored hair was almost neon and wider than she’d had in mind.

“Purple suits you,” Jamie said between snorts of laughter.

Rachel touched her hair. “I wanted out of there so badly I forgot to check it out.”

“Don’t you worry—it’s very you.” Jamie started giggling again.

“Gee, thanks for the endorsement. Do me a favor…make sure I’m there when Cole sees your hair.”

She sniffed. “He’ll love it.”

“Yeah, right.” Rachel glanced down Main Street. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Would he still be in town?”

She swung her attention back to Jamie. “Cole?”

“No,” Jamie said. “Uh-uh, don’t you dare play dumb with me. Not after I had to sit there and keep my mouth shut for two hours.” She checked for traffic, then tugged Rachel into the street. “Come on. You can tell me all about Matt at the Watering Hole.”

“Keep your voice down.” There wasn’t a soul within earshot, but still…“I wish there was something to tell. But there isn’t.” On the next block she saw a silver truck she didn’t recognize but then an older man opened the driver’s door. “And please, your mouth was barely shut for ten minutes.”