Winter Reunion

“Pretty much.” But then he caught her studying him, and he sighed. “That, and a little hearing loss,” he admitted. “Just temporary.”

“I read a Newsweek article that said a lot of soldiers suffer permanent hearing loss because of the gunfire and explosions. Then they can’t go back.”

“It won’t be an issue,” he bit out as he strode to the entryway. “Not with me.”

Though she’d told herself that she wouldn’t ever waste the time, she thought about Devlin as she headed back to the bookstore.

He had caught the eye of all the girls in high school, and no wonder. But while his golden-flecked, whiskey-brown eyes and the dark sweep of his eyebrows had bordered on heartthrob handsome as a teenager, now he was at least six feet of solid muscle, and the uncompromising planes and angles of his lean face were attractive in a far more rugged way.

They’d married young—too young. They’d probably been as much in love with love itself as they’d been in love with each other. With her own rocky family life—a free-spirited, irresponsible mother and a dad she barely knew—marriage had promised love and stability, and offered the kind of security she’d rarely felt growing up.

In comparison, Dev’s family had seemed like something straight out of a happy TV sitcom—parents who’d been married for over twenty years, who’d lived in the same house since before Dev was born, who lived their faith in a steadfast way. She’d imagined that when she and Dev were that old, they’d be just like them.

She’d discovered the truth much later.

Alan’s ironclad expectation that Dev would achieve nothing less than straight A’s in high school and then go into medicine had sparked extreme tension between them. With Alan, nothing was ever good enough…and Vivian had sided with her husband.

For coming through his teen years as balanced as he was, given the constant criticism he faced at home, Beth had been completely impressed with Dev’s strength. She’d been so sure their marriage would be a safe and happy shelter from the world.

But growing up in a cold and distant household and building a career in the military hadn’t made him a warmer guy.

Then out of the blue, he’d come home from a tour in some undisclosed place, and announced that their marriage was over. No explanations, no apologies…and the next day he was gone.

He’d been a wild one, a charmer in high school, and she should have known better than to risk her heart.

It wouldn’t be something she’d ever do again.

Beth eyed the antique grandfather clock opposite the checkout counter. The stately pendulum swung back and forth. Back and forth. Slower, it seemed, than ever before.

Twenty-four minutes to go, and counting.

Sauntering through the empty store once more, she straightened books and fluffed the colorful patchwork pillows strewn on the overstuffed chairs angled into every corner.

She’d let Janet, her sole employee, leave early to make it to her twins’ Friday night football game in nearby Parkersville, and since then there’d been exactly two customers who’d braved the unseasonable chilly evening to stop in.

Both were frequent browsers, but the gentleman did put a heavy coffee-table book on Egyptian art on layaway, and his cheerful little wife selected several magazines while she sipped hot peach tea.

Eighteen minutes.

Beth thought longingly of the raspberry scones and hot chocolate that she’d savor upstairs in less than an hour. After today, she needed that and a good hot bubble bath, too.

Nearly two-dozen three-year-olds had run amok in the store during the morning—ostensibly for story time, though they were new to the preschool experience and none landed in one spot long enough to hear more than a few consecutive words.

As soon as they left, both Beth and Janet had flopped onto the red velvet sofa in the History section and burst into laughter.

The afternoon had been quieter, with the garden club ladies using the meeting area to discuss the town square gardens for next year.

And then there’d been her talk with Dev.

Even now, her midsection felt jittery and unsettled, though she was pretty sure she’d carried off her visit with an air of calm detachment that had conveyed none of her true emotions.

Lord, I hope You’ll help me through the next six months, because it isn’t going to be easy.

She eyed the clock again. Fifteen minutes to go. Good enough.

Her step lighter, she made one more sweep of the store, checking the windows and back door, then ended up at the front register where she began counting out the cash drawer.

The jangle of the bells over the front door startled her and she spun in that direction. Her mouth fell open at the rainbow apparition standing just inside. “Mom?”

“Sugar!” Metal bracelets clanging and overlarge hoop earrings flashing, Maura Carrigan swept forward in a flurry of multiple layers of fuchsia and peridot scarves and shawls over some sort of canary, gauzy muumuu underneath. Blond this time, her hair caught up in a twist with strands flying about her face, she was as colorful as a one-woman carnival.

Beth accepted her mother’s fierce hug and hugged her in return. “You look…wonderful.”

Maura grimaced. “Not really, after all those days on the road. But color always perks me right up.” She held Beth’s shoulders and took a step back to survey her head to toe. “My goodness, but you’re thin.”

“Not thin. Ten pounds too high, according to the charts.”

“Thin,” Maura retorted. “And so…so staid. It’s a good thing I’m here.”

Amused, Beth looked down. “A long denim skirt and cranberry sweater isn’t exactly staid. I think I’m actually sort of Midwestern hip.”

“Well, we’re going to see what we can do about that, hon.”

At Maura’s calculating appraisal, Beth quelled the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother had embraced the flower child era with gusto, and at sixty she had yet to let it go. “I’m nearly done down here, Mother. As soon as I close, we can go upstairs. I’ve got the guest room ready. It’s small, but you’ll be comfortable while you’re here.”

“It’s a lovely room, as I remember. Now, don’t mind me. I’ll just wander around the store for a while and let you finish up.”

Beth watched her stroll away, the initial bounce in her step fading. Was that a weary droop to her shoulders? Despite Maura’s trademark ebullience upon arrival, there’d also been something else—a trace of worry, maybe. Or stress. Two emotions she’d always said she wouldn’t waste a nickel on, which made them of concern now. Was it just the long trip, or was something else going on?

Frowning, Beth finished checking her totals and filled out a deposit slip.

A minute later the door jangled again…probably Maura heading out to get her luggage, Beth thought as she dropped the money and slip into an Aspen Creek Savings & Loan night-deposit bag.

“You’re closing up already? Guess I got here too late.”

At the all-too familiar deep rumble of his voice, Beth looked up in shock. “D-Dev?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right on all counts.” He approached the front counter with the newest Lee Child hardback in his hand, his eyes troubled. He dropped a couple of twenties on the counter. “This situation isn’t going to be easy for either of us, but we’ll manage. I want to apologize for being rude, and thank you for being willing to try.”

She glanced over her shoulder, then rang up the purchase and handed back his change, hoping he wouldn’t linger. “Maybe we can discuss this tomorrow morning—”

But it was too late.

In a flurry of retro-hippie scarves and beads, Maura came around the corner of a bookshelf clutching a large hardback on organic gardening.

Her mouth fell open, then her eyes narrowed. “Devlin,” she exclaimed, her voice low and bitter as she looked between Beth and her nemesis, then pinned her glare on Dev.

“Mom, please,” Beth pleaded.