CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Lance~
In Success, they had bought groceries and a box of note cards that would not have found any favor with Grandmother Prescott. Too casual. But the flowers on the front had appealed to Amber, and naturally enough there were no boxes of heavy laid-vellum writing paper in the Success drugstore.
Their dinner conversation had roamed around, but had not come back to Bascom’s gift. All in all it had been a successful date. He thought Amber had enjoyed herself. And she certainly had needed warmer boots and gloves. He just wished he was willing to spend Tommy Jeff’s money. But not even for Amber would he touch a penny.
He parked the truck as close to Amber’s cabin as he could. The ground was frozen solid, so he had no excuse to carry her tonight. But perhaps he could make an occasion. He did get to take her elbow when she skidded on a patch of ice clinging to a boulder freshly exposed by the thaw and freeze. Be still my heart.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked.
“I would. But I don’t think you are ready for what I want,” he replied with probably too much honesty. But last night’s dream had kept him buzzed all day.
It was dark on the porch, so he couldn’t read her eyes. But there was light enough to see her smile. “I don’t know what I want,” she admitted. “But I do want you to help me with that letter. I don’t want to write the wrong thing.”
He could do this. He had led teams into combat. Surely keeping his hands off a woman couldn’t be harder than facing enemy fire? Even this beauty.
“Sure,” he said. He followed her into the little cabin.
It was as neat as it had been on every other occasion he had visited. He was still military enough to like that in a woman. She shrugged off her parka and hung it up. Took off her boots with a sigh.
“They were a little warm for sitting in a heated truck,” she confided.
Good to know.
They sat down at the table and she took out the first of the cards. It had a big basket of wildflowers. She examined it doubtfully. “Is it a bit girly for a guy?” she asked.
Probably. “You’re a girl. It’s fine.”
She started to scribble on the back of the little paper sack she had gotten at the drugstore. After a while she showed him what she had written.
“Too apologetic,” he said. “You should be all gushing gratitude to a rich uncle who has given you a treat. Not a hint of ‘Sorry, but I’m not interested’.”
“Oh. Good idea. I’ll make believe my old Uncle Pierre bought them for me.” She went back to work. Crossed out what she had written. Scratched away. Passed him the paper bag. There were a great many lines drawn through words and several arrows pointing to newer versions. But he figured it out.
Dear Calvin,
I was delighted to open my surprise package this afternoon and find such warm and lovely things. The boots are beautiful and cozy, and they fit perfectly. So do the gloves. I love the red color which looks great with my coat. I will be warm and dry all day when I am working. Thank you.
Your gift has made me feel a real part of the Bascom family. I can’t wait to show Heather and Patrick the fine things you have given me. I am sure they will both appreciate your thoughtfulness and kindness as much as I do, and will be grateful that you are looking out for me.
With all good wishes for your continued good health,
Amber Dupré
He read it and laughed. “Grandmother Prescott couldn’t have done better,” he assured her. “A nice balance between gratitude and stiffness. You write it in the card and we will see that Rhonda gives it to him.”
“Okay.” She bent over the card and carefully transcribed her words. Sealed the finished card in its envelope and wrote Calvin’s name on the outside. “There. That’s done. Only what do I say, if I see him?”
“Thank him the way you would thank Uncle Pierre,” he suggested.
“I am not hugging and kissing Calvin!”
Perish the thought. “Best not. But you could thank him for taking care of you.”
“Okay.” She gathered her writing stuff and put it away. “I’m glad that’s over.”
She was so sweet and pretty. And unworldly. He was being selfish. He took a breath and did his duty. “You know, Calvin Bascom is quite a catch.”
She made a face. Shook her head hard enough to make her braid sway. “He’s not a keeper,” she said as if she had thought about it. “He’d get bored with me in a week.”
“I doubt that. He could give you a good life.”
“Because he’s rich?”
For that very reason. Even if Lance used Tommy Jeff’s money, he would never be in Bascom’s financial league.
She shook her head again. “I’d be a bird in a gilded cage. Calvin doesn’t have anything I want or need.”
“And I do?”
“Oh, Lance. You have every quality a man ought to have.” Her blue eyes were big and luminous and very, very sincere.
His heart swelled. “Thank you.” He stood up. “I should go,” he said.
Her eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry I’m being so indecisive,” she said. “It still feels a bit weird to kiss someone who is not Willie.”
He took her shoulders in his hands, stared into her eyes. “Do you wish I were Willie?”
She met his eye squarely. Shook her head. “No. I just feel bad because it seems wrong to forget about him. I mean, I thought he was my one and only, and here I am – just forgetting about our love.”
“Hmm.” He continued to meet her eyes. It was surprisingly intimate. He felt an overwhelming tenderness for her. They had to get this right. He wasn’t much good at talking, but he could try. “I would say that if his name is on your tongue you haven’t forgotten him. You are just no longer in love with him.”
“That’s it. But surely love should last longer?” Her pretty mouth drooped.
He rubbed his thumbs in circles over her strong shoulders. Felt the supple muscles relax a little under his touch. “Probably would have, if you had been able to grow up together. It isn’t really so surprising that you have fallen out of love with a teenage boy.”
She sighed. Ran her hands up his arms and rested them on his biceps. His heart skipped a beat.
“I remember him with fondness, but my best memories seem to make me shake my head at his – at our – foolishness.”
“Seventeen and nineteen are a long way from twenty-three. You were a child when you loved Willie. Now you are a woman.”
“Yes.” But her soft voice was hesitant still.
“You tell me one thing, Amber.”
“What?”
“Was your Willie a jealous fellow?”
She tipped her head to one side and thought. Really thought. Wrinkled her nose. Nodded. “Yeeeah. I guess so.”
“Mean jealous, or insecure, do-you-really-love-me jealous?”
She giggled. “That last. That describes Willie perfectly. He wasn’t one of those mean guys who smacked his girl around if some idiot whistled at her. But he always watched if I was dancing with some other boy and gave him the stink eye.”
“That sounds normal. Tell me another thing. Would Willie have wanted you to put yourself in cold storage because he was dead?”
She didn’t even have to think. “Nope. He thought it was terrible that Aunt Debbie never remarried even though she was a young woman when her husband was killed.”
“And I gather you think that Aunt Debbie’s marriage to Gilbert Bascom is a good thing?”
“Oh, yes. She’s even happier than she used to be.”
“Think I could make you happy?” He held his breath.
“Yes, I do.”
He rested his forehead on hers and let the relief pump through him. They stood like that for a long time before they were interrupted by the sound of a branch breaking. The crash when it landed shattered the intimate moment. They moved apart.
After a while the noise was followed by the sound of a scuffle. They hurried to peer out the window.