CHAPTER SEVEN
Ellie slipped into the pew Sunday morning five minutes after the service had started. Organ music surged through the church as she took the last seat, reached for the hymnal and joined the congregation in song. At first she suspected the attention she’d generated was due to her tardiness. It wasn’t that she’d overslept. Far from it. The night had been her most restless since before her father’s death.
She’d tossed and turned and fretted, and when sleep finally claimed her, it was fitful. She blamed Glen for that—and for a whole lot more. It was because of him she was late, but at the moment she’d have been willing to blame him for global warming.
Even after the song had ended and Pastor Wade McMillen started his sermon, Ellie felt the scrutiny of friends and neighbors. That, too, could be directly attributed to Glen. The man had single-handedly made her the object of speculation and gossip. Wringing his neck would be too good for him. First he’d embarrassed her in front of the entire town by making a spectacle of himself fighting over her. If that wasn’t enough, he’d woken her out of a dead sleep, insulted her—then kissed her senseless. Ellie couldn’t recall a time anyone had confused her more.
Not that she was Richard’s champion. No way! He’d intentionally provoked Glen, leading him to believe the two of them were involved when it simply wasn’t true. Besides, Richard was selfish and untrustworthy, and Glen was…Glen. Her friend.
Naturally Glen had skipped church. Richard, too. No doubt the effort of carting around their massive egos had worn them out, she thought irritably. It might have helped had they shown up to divide the attention now directed solely at her.
By concentrating on Wade’s sermon, she managed to pretend she didn’t notice her newfound celebrity status. At the end of the service following the benediction, she hoped to slip away unnoticed; it soon became apparent that this wasn’t going to happen. The organ music filled the church as the congregation started to flow outside and Ellie was surrounded.
“I saw everything,” Louise Powell purred, sidling up to Ellie as though they were long-standing friends. “It isn’t every woman who has two men virtually at each other’s throats.”
“I think you misunderstood what happened,” Ellie said desperately.
“I’ve known Glen Patterson all my life,” Ruth Bishop was saying behind Louise, “and when he wants something, he gets it.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate Richard Weston,” Louise said. “He’s a man of the world. Ellie could do worse.”
Ellie hated it when people spoke as if they knew more about her life than she did.
“Stay close to me,” Edwina Moorhouse whispered, suddenly slipping next to Ellie and taking her arm. “Lily,” she instructed her younger sister, “go on the other side.” Again for Ellie’s ears only, she added, “Just keep walking. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”
Ellie found herself grateful for the Moorhouse sister’s protection. Especially from Louise Powell, the town gossip, a woman who enjoyed meddling in the affairs of others, often under the guise of concern.
“Ladies, ladies,” Louise said in a sharp voice, tagging behind Ellie and the Moorhouse sisters. “I was chatting with Ellie.”
“You aren’t any longer,” Edwina declared, stepping in front of Ellie.
If it hadn’t been so ridiculous, and if she hadn’t felt so tired and worn-out, Ellie would have laughed. Each sister positioned herself in a way that told Louise she’d have a fight on her hands before they’d willingly abandon Ellie. The two unlikely guardians were dressed in their Sunday best, with crisp white gloves and pillbox hats.
“All I wanted to do—”
“We know very well what you were doing, Louise,” Edwina said in a voice that reminded Ellie of her schooldays.
“Louise,” Lily said, not unkindly, “do you remember in sixth grade when Larry Marino…”
Louise’s face turned beet red. “I remember,” she whispered.
“It would be embarrassing if news of you and Larry somehow got around town, wouldn’t it?”
“That was nearly forty years ago!” Louise protested.
“And just as scandalous today as it was back then,” Lily said primly. “Now, as Edwina was saying, Ellie’s with us.”
“Oh, all right.” The other woman flounced off with her rumpled dignity and returned to where her husband stood impatiently waiting.
“Lily!” Edwina gasped. “What happened between Louise and Larry in the sixth grade?”
Lily covered her mouth with her hand. “God’s honest truth, sister, I don’t know.”
“Sister, you amaze me.”
“You!” Ellie giggled. She could certainly have dealt with a busybody like Louise Powell on her own, but this was much more fun.
Edwina waited until Louise was out of earshot, then she turned around and regarded Ellie with deep affection. “Are you all right, Ellie?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like to box a few ears,” Lily said. “We didn’t teach our students to stare, did we, sister?”
“Positively not.”
“I hope you’re willing to forgive everyone’s curiosity?”
“It’s only natural, I suppose,” Ellie said agreeably. “Especially in light of what happened at the dance.”
“Yes, we did hear about that.” Lily patted Ellie’s hand. “I realize you didn’t ask Edwina’s or my advice, but I feel compelled to offer you a few words of wisdom.”
“Since your mother isn’t here,” Edwina inserted.
“Please do.” Ellie had always loved the Moorhouse sisters and wouldn’t even consider turning down anything they offered.
“We may never have married, but Edwina and I do know a thing or two about love.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
Edwina caught Ellie’s hand in her own. “Follow your heart, child.”
“Yes, indeed, follow your heart,” Lily echoed.
“I will,” Ellie promised, and she would, just as soon as her heart had sorted everything out.
Still thinking about their advice, Ellie drove home, stopping first at the grocery store to pick up a few essentials. When she turned onto her street, she noticed the pickup outside her house. She groaned when she found Richard sitting on her porch, waiting for her return.
He was the last person she wanted to see. Not that she was ready to see Glen anytime soon, either. She refused to think about the kisses they’d shared or the reasons he’d come by her house after the disastrous dance. Her fear was that he saw Richard and himself as rivals for her. And that this had influenced his actions and his declarations.
What he didn’t know was that Richard hadn’t kissed her. Not for lack of trying, mind you, but because she was in no mood for him or his games.
Realizing she had no escape, Ellie pulled into her driveway and climbed out of the car. Richard glanced up, apparently surprised to see her loaded down with groceries.
“Ellie,” he said, smiling brightly. He leaped to his feet and raced down the steps to take the bags out of her arms. “You should have said something,” he chastised as if he’d waited all day for the honor of carrying her groceries.
Ellie tried to refuse his help, but he’d have none of it. “Hey, it’s the least I can do.” It also gave him the perfect excuse to follow her into the house, Ellie noted despondently.
He set the bags on the kitchen counter and immediately started unpacking them. “Look at this,” he said as if finding a dozen eggs was akin to discovering gold. “I swear I was thinking just five minutes ago how much I’d enjoy a mushroom-and-Swiss-cheese omelet.” Gesturing like a magician, he pulled a paper sack of mushrooms free of the bag, along with a slab of Swiss cheese. “It’s fate,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Richard, I don’t think—”
“I’ll cook,” he said. He clasped her shoulders and backed her into a kitchen chair. “Sit down and make yourself at home.”
“I am home,” she interrupted, amused despite herself at his audacity.
He stopped a moment and smiled, then said, “So you are.”
She started to stand, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“I’m cooking,” he said cheerfully, pushing her into the chair again.
“Richard—”
“I won’t take no for an answer.” He opened the cupboard door and took out a small bowl. Before Ellie could stop him, he was whirling about her kitchen as if he’d been cooking there his entire life.
To his credit he seemed to know what he was doing.
“You look especially lovely this morning,” he said, pouring the eggs into the skillet.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ellie was in no mood for empty flattery. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Only because it’s true.” He whistled something jaunty as he edged a spatula under the omelet.
The doorbell rang and with a wave of his hand Richard motioned for her to answer it.
Ellie was too concerned with how to expel Richard from her home to be affronted by his peremptory manner—or to worry about who’d come calling unannounced. Hindsight being what it was, she wished later she’d given the matter some thought before she opened the door.
Glen Patterson stood on the other side.
Ellie’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t expected to see him.
“Glen!”
“Who is it, sweetheart?” Richard asked, stepping out of the kitchen, a dish towel tucked at his waist. He carried the frying pan and spatula in his hands and didn’t miss a beat when he saw Glen.
“Howdy, neighbor,” he called. “I’m stirring up a little brunch here. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
Glen’s eyes hardened as he looked at Ellie. She tried to tell him without words that it wasn’t how it seemed; that she hadn’t asked Richard to join her, he’d come uninvited. But Glen had already formed his own opinion, and nothing she did now was likely to change it.
“I’ll be back another time,” he muttered.
“Stay,” Richard urged like a gracious host. “Cooking is one of my talents. Ask Ellie.”
It was all she could manage not to wheel around and kick Richard in the shin.
***
Three days had passed since Glen had stumbled on Richard cooking Ellie’s breakfast. Three miserable days. He still couldn’t think about it and not get mad.
He hadn’t seen Ellie, hadn’t talked to her in those three days. Generally he dropped in the feed store for supplies on Tuesday afternoons. Almost always they’d spend a few minutes together, joking, teasing, laughing. There’d been damn little of that lately. He didn’t drive into town on Tuesday, and he wasn’t eager to make the trip on Wednesday, either. It would do Ellie good to miss his company, not that he’d received any indication that she had.
Ellie preyed on his mind, making him next to useless around the ranch. Disgusted, Cal sent him out to check fence lines. If that was meant to distract him, it hadn’t worked. Grandpa Patterson used to say: never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from any direction. Well, Glen couldn’t help feeling like a fool, and his mind seemed to be spinning in every direction.
His thinking was clouded with thoughts of Ellie as he trotted back toward the ranch. When he wasn’t thinking about her, he was brooding about Richard Weston. Glen feared Richard was using the time he stayed away from Ellie to further his own cause.
If that was true, then so be it. If Ellie wanted Richard, fine, she was welcome to him but he’d figured she had more sense.
A man had his pride, too. Glen had kissed Ellie on two occasions now, and if he could recognize that they had something pretty special, why couldn’t she? Okay, so they hadn’t talked about their feelings, but Glen had been hoping to do that on Sunday. Only he couldn’t, because Richard was there, playing Julia Child.
The way he saw it, Ellie owed him an apology. She’d misled him, kissing him like she had, then cozying up to Richard. He’d never have taken Ellie for the type of woman who’d play one man against another, but he’d seen the evidence with his own eyes.
Cal was waiting for him when he led Moonshine into the barn.
“Are you picking up supplies this week or not?” Cal demanded.
“I’ll get them,” Glen replied without enthusiasm.
“If it’s a problem, I’ll drive into town myself.”
“It’s no problem,” Glen said. Damn it, he couldn’t stay away a minute longer, and he knew it.
By the time Glen cleaned up and drove into town, his throat was parched. More to fortify his courage than to cure his thirst, he decided to stop at Billy D’s for a cold beer.
Billy D himself was behind the bar when Glen sauntered in. The ranchers tended to congregate here when they came to town, and there was usually someone he knew. Billy was the friendly sort and something of an institution in Promise. He baked a decent pizza, and his fried chicken was as good as any colonel’s; but few people came to Billy D’s for the food. It was the one place in town, other than the bowling alley and the feed store, where ranchers could shoot the breeze and unwind. And at Billy’s they could do it over a beer.
“Well if it ain’t Glen Patterson himself,” Billy called out when Glen walked in.
A couple of ranchers lounging against the bar raised their hands in greeting.
Glen tipped his Stetson a little farther back on his head.
“You want a cold one?” Billy asked.
“Sounds good.” Glen stepped up to the bar and set some money down on the counter.
With practiced ease Billy slid the thick mug down the polished bar and Glen grabbed it before it flew past.
“Keep your money. It’s on the house,” Billy said, smiling broadly.
Glen arched his brows and lifted the mug to his lips. Nothing tasted better than a cold beer on a hot day, especially when it was free. It slid down the back of his throat, easing away the taste of several hours of eating dust.
“Any reason you’re giving away beer this afternoon?” he asked when he’d downed half the mug.
“Only to you,” Billy informed him.
“What’s so special about me?”
Billy gave him a look that suggested he open his eyes. “I figure you’re gonna set Richard Weston on his ear. In fact, I’m waitin’ to see it.”
Glen frowned. “I don’t have any fight with Weston.” Ellie would probably love it if he acted like an idiot—yet again—but he was finished with that game. Those two were welcome to each other. Glen had decided to wash his hands of the whole thing. If Ellie wanted to marry Richard, then he wasn’t going to stand in her way.
“You don’t care?” Billy looked as if he wanted his beer back. “Richard’s been by, and to hear him talk, he’s done everything but put an engagement ring on Ellie’s finger. You aren’t going to let that happen, are you?”
“What am I supposed to do about it?” Glen asked, hardening his heart in order to avoid showing his feelings.
Billy frowned. He braced both hands on the bar and leaned forward as though to get a better look at Glen. “You’re serious about this?”
“Damn right, I’m serious.”
“That’s not the impression I got Saturday night. The three of you are the hot topic of conversation this week, dancing that Texas two-step of yours. Some folks’ve started placing bets on which of you is gonna marry Ellie.”
“As far as I’m concerned Richard can have her.” It was a bold-faced lie, but Glen considered it damage control. For his ego and his reputation.
“Personally I think you’re the better man,” Lyle Whitehouse said. His back was to the bar and he’d rested his elbows behind him. Lyle worked at a ranch closer to Brewster than to Promise, but he’d worn out his welcome at more than a few places. He had a reputation as a hothead, although he hadn’t started any fights at Billy D’s. Yet.
Jimmy Morris stood beside him, his stomach pressed to the bar and one boot on the brass foot rail. “When you’re talkin’ marriage, it isn’t a matter of bein’ better,” he said ponderously. “Ladies choose who they choose.”
“True enough,” Lyle agreed. “But it doesn’t hurt to try a bit of persuasion…” He winked. “You know what I mean.”
“Richard seems to think he’s got an edge on you,” Billy informed Glen, “and no one likes a man who’s too confident.”
“Even if he does buy the drinks,” Jimmy added.
“Richard’s celebrating already?” Glen asked, wondering if Richard knew something no one else did. Maybe he’d already asked Ellie and maybe she’d given him an encouraging response. The thought twisted his gut. To this point he’d trusted Ellie’s judgment. More or less. He was miserable and uncertain about her and Richard, but he’d always supposed that in the end Ellie would turn to him. Because of their friendship and everything they had in common…and their kisses.
Those kisses in the wee hours of Saturday night had been wonderful, the best of his life. He found it hard to believe they’d meant so little to her.
“Weston’s so sure of himself he’s taking odds.”
“Making himself the favorite,” Billy said, his mouth thinning with disapproval.
“Naturally,” Jimmy muttered, and took a swallow of beer.
“We were kinda hopin’ you’d set him down a peg or two,” Lyle said in a tone that suggested more than one rancher had pinned his hopes on Glen.
Glen didn’t know what it was about Richard Weston. He’d never met anyone so likable, yet so universally disliked. He could be charming, witty and fun, and at the same time he was the biggest jackass in the state of Texas.
“What do you think?” Billy pressed.
“You’re not gonna take this sittin’ down, are you?” Lyle asked.
“You gotta do something,” Jimmy added. “We got money on you!”
All three men looked to Glen. Unfortunately he didn’t know what the hell to do.
***
One of the most difficult things Richard Weston had ever done was return to Promise—broke, his tail between his legs, seeking a handout from his family. Once he was home again, he figured he’d die of sheer boredom inside a month. Promise was about as Hicktown, U.S.A., as it could get. He stared at the walls of his old bedroom and sighed. Never in a million years did he guess he’d end up back here.
What intrigued him was how gullible folks in Promise were. Everyone—well, except for the sheriff and he couldn’t prove anything—accepted his lies without pause or question. In fact, he’d gotten a little careless, but it didn’t seem to matter. He’d certainly been right in assuming that he’d be safe here, at the ranch—safe from his troubles back East.
The boredom, though. He sighed. And the cows…
It’d taken him the better part of six years to get the stench of cattle from his skin. He’d never understood the attraction of following a bunch of pathetic-looking beasts from pasture to pasture. As far as he was concerned, cattle were headaches on the hoof. Yet his father and his brother had always acted as though there was nothing more wonderful in life than ranching. But it sure wasn’t for him; never had been, never would be. The mere thought of sitting in a saddle all day made him want to puke, although God knew Grady had done his best to get him to do some work around the place. Thus far, he’d managed to avoid doing anything of consequence. He’d volunteered to run errands, which gave him free use of the pickup—something that had come in handy for other reasons. The tradespeople around Promise trusted him, assumed he was taking care of ranch business. And he was. But he was seeing to his own needs, as well.
To his surprise he’d discovered some pleasant distractions in Promise. Ellie Frasier, for one. She was a sweet thing, pretty, too, if a guy didn’t mind small breasts and skinny legs. Personally he preferred a more voluptuous woman, but Ellie came with certain monetary compensations. A prosperous business, plus a healthy inheritance from her daddy, who’d doted on his only child.
It wouldn’t hurt him any to get his hands on old-man Frasier’s money. He could use it. He was in trouble, but all it took was money in the right places and his problem would vanish.
For now he was safe enough in Promise. No one knew about his family, and even if they managed to track him to Texas, they’d never find his hiding place.
He had Savannah to thank for that. He’d always been lucky—at least until his present difficulties. But then, everything had a way of working out. This latest episode was a good example.
No, he decided, lying on top of his quilt, hands folded behind his head, there could be worse things in this world than marrying Ellie Frasier. He’d ask her soon, and if she was opposed to selling the business, then he’d take it over. He could do well with it, too—aside from the fact that it would provide collateral for raising quick cash.
Actually Richard liked the idea of becoming a local businessman. He could remember one of his teachers, Lily Moorhouse, telling him he should be a politician. The old biddy just could be right. In a year or two he might even consider running for mayor. Promise could use his kind of leadership. This hayseed town needed someone to bring it into the twenty-first century.
The town had real possibilities, if he could convince people to listen to his ideas. For starters they needed to close down the bowling alley; in his view it gave the place a white-trash image. He’d buy up land outside town and get some investors to build a shopping complex. If not that, he’d bet he could get one of the big discount stores interested in the area. It was time the local shop owners found out about competitive pricing.
Everything hinged on Ellie. They’d kissed a couple of times, and although she didn’t exactly set him ablaze, she wasn’t bad. He knew she was sweet on Glen Patterson. That might be cause for concern if Patterson wasn’t so intent on putting his foot in his mouth, which he seemed to do with increasing regularity. Fortunately for Richard.
Poor guy was out of his league with women, unlike Richard who had the whole mating ritual down to an art. The way he figured it, Ellie would agree to marry him before the end of the month. Maybe sooner. When he turned on the charm, there wasn’t a female within six states who could refuse him. Little Ellie Frasier didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.
And over at Billy D’s Richard stood to pick up a few extra bucks betting on his own chances in the Texas two-step.
Altogether a sweet deal.
***
For most of his adult life Glen had been confident and self-assured. He’d taken over the family ranch with his brother, worked hard, kept his nose clean. Romantic involvements had been light and ultimately insignificant, causing no pain when they ended. Until now there’d been little to disrupt his calm existence.
Any problems he either solved himself or sought advice from Cal. This was the first time since he was thirteen years old that he felt the need to speak to his father about girls. Women. What his grandfather used to call “personal matters.”
His parents had moved into town a few years ago. His father had suffered a heart attack, and although the doctors had said he was good as new following his bypass surgery, his mother wasn’t taking any chances. For years they’d talked about moving into Promise one day. His father had insisted he wasn’t ready to retire, so they’d bought the Howe Mansion, which wasn’t really a mansion, just the largest house in town. Before another year was up it’d been renovated and turned into a bed-and-breakfast.
Glen had had his doubts about this venture. Cal, too. But their parents had proved them both wrong. The bed-and-breakfast was thriving, and so were Phil and Mary Patterson.
His mother complained that she didn’t see near enough of her sons. That being the case, she certainly looked surprised to see Glen when he walked into her kitchen.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, slipping up behind her and kissing her cheek.
Mary Patterson hugged him as though it’d been a week of Sundays since his last visit. “Taste this,” she said, sticking a spoon in his face.
“What is it?” Glen asked, jerking his head back. He preferred not to be part of a culinary experiment.
“Chili. I’m practicing for the cook-off.”
“Mom, that’s not for months yet.”
“I know. This is a new recipe I’ve been playing around with. What do you think?”
Despite his better judgment, Glen tried the chili and tried to hide his response. It tasted…well, not like food. Not like something you’d seriously consider eating.
“It needs work, right?” she asked, studying him.
He nodded. For her guests his mother generally stayed with plain basic food. Good thing. “This recipe needs a rethink, Mom.”
She sighed and tossed the spoon into the sink. “I was afraid of that.”
“Where’s Dad?” Glen asked, hoping to make the inquiry sound casual.
“Upstairs. The sink in the bathroom’s plugged again.” Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “Something on your mind?”
He nodded. He could never hide anything from his mother.
“Does it involve Ellie Frasier?”
“Yeah.”
She grinned and pointed toward the stairway off the kitchen. “Talk to your father, but if you want advice about how to romance her, talk to me. Your father doesn’t know a damn thing about romance.”
Hiding a smile, Glen headed for the stairs. Just as his mother had said, he found his dad lying on the tile floor staring up at the sink, wrench in hand.
“Hi, Dad.”
“I thought I heard you downstairs talking to your mother.” Phil Patterson slid out from beneath the sink and reached for a rag to dry his hands. “And to think she was worried about me working too hard on the ranch. If anything’s going to kill me, it’ll be this sink.”
Glen sat down on the edge of the tub.
“Did you have something you wanted to ask me, son?”
Leaning forward, Glen removed his Stetson, slowly turning it in his hands. “How many years have you and Mom been married?”
“Well, your brother’s thirty-six, so this year we had our thirty-seventh anniversary. Thirty-seven years! Damn, it doesn’t seem that long. Hell if I can figure out when I got old.”
“You’re not.”
Phil smiled. “That’s my boy. Buttering me up, are you? So what do you need?”
“Just some advice.”
“Be glad to help if I can.” With an exaggerated groan, he stood up, lowered the toilet seat and sat there.
Glen wasn’t sure where to start. “When did you know you loved Mom?”
Phil considered the question for a moment. “When she told me I did.” He chuckled and Glen joined in. “Don’t laugh too hard, boy, it’s the truth. We’d dated in high school some, but she was two years younger. After I graduated, I enlisted. Joined the Navy. We wrote back and forth and I saw a little of the world. Eventually your mother graduated and went away to college in Dallas. We didn’t see each other for three years, but we kept in touch. I must say she wrote a lot more letters than me.
“Then one Christmas, we both happened to be home at the same time. It was a shock to see her again. We’d been friends, stayed in touch, but somehow I’d never noticed how pretty she was.”
Glen nodded; his mother was still a pretty woman.
“I wasn’t the only one who noticed, either,” his father continued. “She got more attention than a prize heifer at the state fair. Until that Christmas I’d always thought of her as a friend. We’d dated from time to time, but it was nothing serious. That Christmas my eyes were opened.”
“Did you ask her to marry you then?”
“Hell, no. I wasn’t happy about other men paying attention to her, but I figured if she wanted to date someone else, I didn’t have the right to stand in her way.”
“You were sweet on her, though?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t realize how much until we’d kissed a few times.”
Now that was something Glen could understand. “Did you try to talk to her?”
Phil chuckled again. “I sure did, but all we seemed to do was argue. Nothing I said was right. I told her I thought she was pretty, and even that came out like an insult.”
This story was sounding more familiar by the minute. “So what happened?”
His father grew thoughtful. “It was time to head back to the base, and I knew if I didn’t try to explain myself one last time, I might not get another chance. I called her all evening, but she was out—you can imagine how that made me feel, especially since I couldn’t very well ring her doorbell in the middle of the night.” He smiled at the memory. “So I stood outside her bedroom and threw stones at the window until she woke up.
“It’s not a good idea to wake your mother out of a sound sleep, even now. It took me a while to convince her to hear me out. Luckily she agreed and sat with me on the porch. By that time I was so confused I didn’t know what to say.”
Glen edged closer to his father, keenly interested in the details of his parents’ courtship.
“I stammered and stuttered and told her how much I valued her friendship and hated the idea of returning to Maine with this bad feeling between us. That was when she looked me full in the eye and asked if I loved her.”
His mother had always been a gutsy woman and Glen admired her for it. “What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t know what to say. It was the first time I’d ever thought about it. We were friends, hung around with the same crowd, exchanged letters, that sort of thing. She wanted to know if I loved her, and for the life of me I didn’t have an answer.”
It went without saying that wasn’t what his mother had wanted to hear.
“When I hesitated, Mary leaped to her feet and announced I was the biggest fool who’d ever lived if I hadn’t figured out how I felt about her after three years. My, was she mad.” Shaking his head, he rubbed the side of his jaw. “Her eyes had fire in them. In all the years we’ve been married, I’ve only seen her get that riled a handful of times. She told me if I married some Yankee girl I’d regret it the rest of my life.”
He paused a moment, lost in his memories. “Then before I could stop her, she raced into the house. By the time I’d gathered my wits and followed her, she was already running up the stairs. Her father and her mother both stood on the landing, looking down at me as though they wanted to string me up from the nearest tree.”
“What’d you do?”
“What I should have done a hell of a lot sooner. I shouted up at her father for permission to marry his daughter.”
That scene filled Glen’s mind. His father a young sailor, standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the love of his life racing away. “What’d Mom do?”
“She stopped, halfway between her parents and me. I’ll never forget the look of shock on her face as she turned around and stared at me.”
“She burst into tears, right?”
“No. She stood here, calm as could be and asked me when I wanted the wedding to take place. Hell if I knew, so I said that was up to her, and she suggested six months.”
“I thought your anniversary was Valentine’s Day.”
“It is. Once we decided to get married, I wasn’t willing to wait six months. By summer she was pregnant with your brother.” He looked at Glen. “Why all these questions?”
“Just curious.”
“You going to ask Ellie to marry you?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
His father’s grin widened. “Did she tell you you’re in love with her yet?”
“Nope. I don’t think she realizes it herself.”
Phil stood and slapped him on the back. “Then start a new family tradition and tell her yourself, boy. It’s about time the men in this family took the initiative.”