Three
“Dad!” Savannah was mortified. The heat rose from her neck to her cheeks, and she knew her face had to be bright red.
Marcus Charles raised his hands. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” But there was still a smile on his face.
“I’m Nash Davenport,” Nash said, offering Marcus his hand. Considering how her father had chosen to welcome Nash, his gesture was a generous one. She chanced a look in the attorney’s direction and was relieved to see he was smiling, too.
“You’ll have to forgive me for speaking out of turn,” her father said, “but Savannah’s never brought home a young man she wants us to meet, so I assumed you’re the—”
“Daddy, that’s not true!”
“Name one,” he said. “And while you’re inventing a beau, I’ll take Nash in and introduce him to your mother.”
“Dad!”
“Hush now or you’ll give Nash the wrong impression.”
The wrong impression! If only he knew. This meeting couldn’t have gotten off to a worse start, especially with Nash’s present mood. She’d made a drastic mistake mentioning his marriage. It was more than obvious that he’d been badly hurt and was trying to put the memory behind him.
Nash had built a strong case against marriage. The more clients he described, the harder his voice became. The grief of his own experience echoed in his voice as he listed the nightmares of the cases he’d represented.
Nash and her father were already in the house by the time Savannah walked up the steps and into the living room. Her mother had redecorated the room in a Southwestern motif, with painted clay pots and Navajo-style rugs. A recent addition was a wooden folk art coyote with his head thrown back, howling at the moon.
Every time she entered this room, Savannah felt a twinge of sadness. Her mother loved the Southwest and her parents had visited there often. Savannah knew her parents had once looked forward to moving south. She also knew she was the reason they hadn’t. As an only child, and one who’d sustained a serious injury—even if it’d happened years before—they worried about her constantly. And with no other immediate family in the Seattle area, they were uncomfortable leaving their daughter alone in the big city.
A hundred times in the past few years, Savannah had tried to convince them to pursue their dreams, but they’d continually made excuses. They never came right out and said they’d stayed in Seattle because of her. They didn’t need to; in her heart she knew.
“Hi, Mom,” Savannah said as she walked into the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the sink, slicing tomatoes fresh from her garden. “Can I do anything to help?”
Joyce Charles set aside the knife and turned to give her a firm hug. “Savannah, let me look at you,” she said, studying her. “You’re working too hard, aren’t you?”
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“Good. Now sit down here and have something cold to drink and tell me all about Nash.”
This was worse than Savannah had first believed. She should have explained her purpose in bringing him to meet her family at the very beginning, before introducing him. Giving them a misleading impression was bad enough, but she could only imagine what Nash was thinking.
When Savannah didn’t immediately answer her question, Joyce supplied what information she already knew. “You’re coordinating his sister’s wedding and that’s how you two met.”
“Yes, but—”
“He really is handsome. What does he do?”
“He’s an attorney,” Savannah said. “But, Mom—”
“Just look at your dad.” Laughing, Joyce motioned toward the kitchen window that looked out over the freshly mowed backyard. The barbecue was heating on the brick patio and her father was showing Nash his prize fishing flies. He’d been tying his own for years and took real pride in the craft; now that he’d retired, it was his favorite hobby.
After glancing out at them, Savannah sank into a kitchen chair. Her mother had poured her a glass of lemonade. Her father displayed his fishing flies only when the guest was someone important, someone he was hoping to impress. Savannah should have realized when she first mentioned Nash that her father had made completely the wrong assumption about this meeting.
“Mom,” she said, clenching the ice-cold glass. “I think you should know Nash and I are friends. Nothing more.”
“We know that, dear. Do you think he’ll like my pasta salad? I added jumbo shrimp this time. I hope he’s not a fussy eater.”
Jumbo shrimp! So they were rolling out the red carpet. With her dad it was the fishing flies, with her mother it was pasta salad. She sighed. What had she let herself in for now?
“I’m sure he’ll enjoy your salad.” And if his anti-marriage argument—his evidence—was stronger than hers, he’d be eating seven more meals with a member of the Charles family. Her. She could only hope her parents conveyed the success of their relationship to this cynical lawyer.
“Your father’s barbecuing steaks.”
“T-bone,” Savannah guessed.
“Probably. I forget what he told me when he took them out of the freezer.”
Savannah managed a smile.
“I thought we’d eat outside,” her mother went on. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”
“No, Mom, that’ll be great.” Maybe a little sunshine would lift her spirits.
“Let’s go outside, then, shall we?” her mother said, carrying the large wooden bowl with the shrimp pasta salad.
The early-evening weather was perfect. Warm, with a subtle breeze and slanting sunlight. Her mother’s prize roses bloomed against the fence line. The bright red ones were Savannah’s favorite. The flowering rhododendron tree spread out its pink limbs in opulent welcome. Robins chatted back and forth like long-lost friends.
Nash looked up from the fishing rod he was holding and smiled. At least he was enjoying himself. Or seemed to be, anyway. Perhaps her embarrassment was what entertained him. Somehow, Savannah vowed, she’d find a way to clarify the situation to her parents without complicating things with Nash.
A cold bottle of beer in one hand, Nash joined her, grinning as though he’d just won the lottery.
“Wipe that smug look off your face,” she muttered under her breath, not wanting her parents to hear. It was unlikely they would, busy as they were with the barbecue.
“You should’ve said something earlier.” His smile was wider than ever. “I had no idea you were so taken with me.”
“Nash, please. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
“But why?”
“Don’t play dumb.” She was fast losing her patience with him. The misunderstanding delighted him and mortified her. “I’m going to have to tell them,” she said, more for her own benefit than his.
“Don’t. Your father might decide to barbecue hamburgers instead. It isn’t every day his only daughter brings home a potential husband.”
“Stop it,” she whispered forcefully. “We both know how you feel about marriage.”
“I wouldn’t object if you wanted to live with me.”
Savannah glared at him so hard, her eyes ached.
“Just joking.” He took a swig of beer and held the bottle in front of his lips, his look thoughtful. “Then again, maybe I wasn’t.”
Savannah was so furious she had to walk away. To her dismay, Nash followed her to the back of the yard. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of her parents talking.
“You’re making this impossible,” she told him furiously.
“How’s that?” His eyes fairly sparkled.
“Don’t, please don’t.” She didn’t often plead, but she did now, struggling to keep her voice from quavering.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She bit her lower lip so hard, she was afraid she’d drawn blood. “My parents would like to see me settled down and married. They...they believe I’m like every other woman and—”
“You aren’t?”
Savannah wondered if his question was sincere. “I’m handicapped,” she said bluntly. “In my experience, men want a woman who’s whole and perfect. Their egos ride on that, and I’m flawed. Defective merchandise doesn’t do much for the ego.”
“Savannah—”
She placed her hand against his chest. “Please don’t say it. Spare me the speech. I’ve accepted what’s wrong with me. I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll never run or jump or marry or—”
Nash stepped back from her, his gaze pinning hers. “You’re right, Savannah,” he broke in. “You are handicapped and you will be until you view yourself otherwise.” Having said that, he turned and walked away.
Savannah went in the opposite direction, needing a few moments to compose herself before rejoining the others. She heard her mother’s laughter and turned to see her father with his arms around Joyce’s waist, nuzzling her neck. From a distance they looked twenty years younger. Their love was as alive now as it had been years earlier...and demonstrating that was the purpose of this visit.
She scanned the yard, looking for Nash, wanting him to witness the happy exchange between her parents, but he was busy studying the fishing flies her father had left out for his inspection.
Her father’s shout alerted Savannah that dinner was ready. Reluctantly she joined Nash and her parents at the round picnic table. She wasn’t given any choice but to share the crescent-shaped bench with him.
He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that she yearned to be closer yet. That was what surprised her, but more profoundly it terrified her. From the first moment she’d met him, Savannah suspected there was something different about him, about her reactions to him. In the beginning she’d attributed it to their disagreement, his heated argument against marriage, the challenge he represented, the promise of satisfaction if she could change his mind.
Dinner was delicious and Nash went out of his way to compliment Joyce until her mother blushed with pleasure.
“So,” her father said, glancing purposefully toward Savannah and Nash, “what are your plans?”
“For what?” Nash asked.
Savannah already knew the question almost as well as she knew the answer. Her father was asking about her future with Nash, and she had none.
“Why don’t you tell Nash how you and Mom met,” Savannah asked, interrupting her father before he could respond to Nash’s question.
“Oh, Savannah,” her mother protested, “that was years and years ago.” She glanced at her husband of thirty-seven years and her clear eyes lit up with a love so strong, it couldn’t be disguised. “But it was terribly romantic.”
“You want to hear this?” Marcus’s question was directed to Nash.
“By all means.”
In that moment, Savannah could have kissed Nash, she was so grateful. “I was in the service,” her father explained. “An Airborne Ranger. A few days before I met Joyce, I received my orders and learned I was about to be stationed in Germany.”
“He’d come up from California and was at Fort Lewis,” her mother added.
“There’s not much to tell. Two weeks before I was scheduled to leave, I met Joyce at a dance.”
“Daddy, you left out the best part,” Savannah complained. “It wasn’t like the band was playing a number you enjoyed and you needed a partner.”
Her father chuckled. “You’re right about that. I’d gone to the dance with a couple of buddies. The evening hadn’t been going well.”
“I remember you’d been stood up,” Savannah inserted, eager to get to the details of their romance.
“No, dear,” her mother intervened, picking up the story, “that was me. So I was in no mood to be at any social function. The only reason I decided to go was to make sure Lenny Walton knew I hadn’t sat home mooning over him, but in reality I was at the dance mooning over him.”
“I wasn’t particularly keen on being at this dance, either,” Marcus added. “I thought, mistakenly, that we were going to play pool at a local hall. I’ve never been much of a dancer, but my buddies were. They disappeared onto the dance floor almost immediately. I was bored and wandered around the hall for a while. I kept looking at my watch, eager to be on my way.”
“As you can imagine, I wasn’t dancing much myself,” Joyce said.
“Then it happened.” Savannah pressed her palms together and leaned forward. “This is my favorite part,” she told Nash.
“I saw Joyce.” Her father’s voice dropped slightly. “When I first caught sight of her, my heart seized. I thought I might be having a reaction to the shots we’d been given earlier in the day. I swear I’d never seen a more beautiful woman. She wore this white dress and she looked like an angel. For a moment I was convinced she was.” He reached for her mother’s hand.
“I saw Marcus at that precise second, as well,” Joyce whispered. “My friends were chatting and their voices faded until the only sound I heard was the pounding of my own heart. I don’t remember walking toward him and yet I must have, because when I looked up Marcus was standing there.”
“The funny part is, I don’t remember moving, either.”
Savannah propped her elbows on the table, her dinner forgotten. This story never failed to move her, although she’d heard it dozens of times over the years.
“We danced,” her mother continued.
“All night.”
“We didn’t say a word. I think we must’ve been afraid the other would vanish if we spoke.”
“While we were on the dance floor I kept pinching myself to be sure this was real, that Joyce was real. It was like we were both in a dream. These sorts of things only happen in the movies.
“When the music stopped, I looked around and realized my buddies were gone. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Joyce.”
“Oh, Dad, I never get tired of hearing this story.”
Joyce smiled as if she, too, was eager to relive the events of that night. “As we were walking out of the hall, I kept thinking I was never going to see Marcus again. I knew he was in the army—his haircut was a dead giveaway. I was well aware that my parents didn’t want me dating anyone in the military, and up until then I’d abided by their wishes.”
“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see her again,” Savannah’s father went on. “But Joyce gave me her name and phone number and then ran off to catch up with her ride home.”
“I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was convinced I’d imagined everything.”
“I couldn’t sleep, either,” Marcus confessed. “Here I was with my shipping orders in my pocket—this was not the time to get involved with a woman.”
“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Nash said, studying Savannah.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t think I had much of a choice. It was as if our relationship was preordained. By the end of the following week, I knew Joyce was the woman I’d marry. I knew I’d love her all my life, and both have held true.”
“Did you leave for Germany?”
“Of course. I had no alternative. We wrote back and forth for two years and then were married three months after I was discharged. There was never another woman for me after I met Joyce.”
“There was never another man for me,” her mother said quietly.
Savannah tossed Nash a triumphant look and was disappointed to see that he wasn’t looking her way.
“It’s a romantic story.” He was gracious enough to admit that much.
“Apparently some of that romance rubbed off on Savannah.” Her father’s eyes were proud as he glanced at her. “This wedding business of hers is thriving.”
“So it seems.” Some of the enthusiasm left Nash’s voice. He was apparently thinking of his sister, and Savannah’s role in her wedding plans.
“Eat, before your dinner gets cold,” Joyce said, waving her fork in their direction.
“How long did you say you’ve been married?” Nash asked, cutting off a piece of his steak.
“Thirty-seven years,” her father told him.
“And it’s been smooth sailing all that time?”
Savannah wanted to pound her fist on the table and insist that this cross-examination was unnecessary.
Marcus laughed. “Smooth sailing? Oh, hardly. Joyce and I’ve had our ups and downs over the years like most couples. If there’s anything special about our marriage, it’s been our commitment to each other.”
Savannah cleared her throat, wanting to gloat. Once more Nash ignored her.
“You’ve never once entertained the idea of divorce?” he asked.
This question was unfair! She hadn’t had the opportunity to challenge his clients about their divorces, not that she would’ve wanted to. Every case had saddened and depressed her.
“As soon as a couple introduces the subject of divorce, there isn’t the same willingness to concentrate on communication and problem-solving. People aren’t nearly as flexible,” Marcus said. “Because there’s always that out, that possibility.”
Joyce nodded. “If there was any one key to the success of our marriage, it’s been that we’ve refused to consider divorce an option. That’s not to say I haven’t fantasized about it a time or two.”
“We’re only human,” her father agreed with a nod. “I’ll admit I’ve entertained the notion a time or two myself—even if I didn’t do anything about it.”
No! It wasn’t true. Savannah didn’t believe it. “But you were never serious,” she felt obliged to say.
Marcus looked at her and offered her a sympathetic smile, as if he knew about their wager. “Your mother and I love each other, and neither of us could say we’re sorry we stuck it out through the hard times, but yes, sweetheart, there were a few occasions when I didn’t know if our marriage would survive.”
Savannah dared not look at Nash. Her parents’ timing was incredible. If they were going to be brutally honest, why did it have to be now? In all the years Savannah was growing up she’d never once heard the word divorce. In her eyes their marriage was solid, always had been and always would be.
“Of course, we never stopped talking,” her mother was saying. “No matter how angry we might be with each other.”
Soon after, Joyce brought out dessert—a coconut cake—and coffee.
“So, what do you think of our little girl?” Marcus asked, when he’d finished his dinner. He placed his hands on his stomach and studied Nash.
“Dad, please! You’re embarrassing me.”
“Why?”
“My guess is Savannah would prefer we didn’t give her friend the third degree, dear,” Joyce said mildly.
Savannah felt like kissing her mother’s cheek. She stood, eager to disentangle herself from this conversation. “I’ll help with the dishes, Mom,” she said as if suggesting a trip to the mall.
* * *
Nash’s mood had improved considerably after meeting Savannah’s parents. Obviously, things weren’t going the way she’d planned. Twice now, during dinner, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. She’d expected them to paint a rosy picture of their idyllic lives together, one that would convince him of the error of his own views.
The project had backfired in her face. Rarely had he seen anyone look more shocked than when her parents said that divorce was something they’d each contemplated at one point or another in their marriage.
The men cleared the picnic table and the two women shooed them out of the kitchen. Nash was grateful, since he had several questions he wanted to ask Marcus about Savannah.
They wandered back outside. Nash was helping Marcus gather up his fishing gear when Savannah’s father spoke.
“I didn’t mean to pry earlier,” he said casually, carrying his fishing rod and box of flies into the garage. A motor home was parked alongside the building. Although it was an older model, it looked as good as new.
“You don’t need to worry about offending me,” Nash assured him.
“I wasn’t worried about you. Savannah gave me ‘the look’ while we were eating. I don’t know how much experience you have with women, young man, but take my advice. When you see ‘the look,’ shut up. No matter what you’re discussing, if you value your life, don’t say another word.”
Nash chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Savannah’s got the same expression as her mother. If you continue dating her, you’ll recognize it soon enough.” He paused. “You are going to continue seeing my daughter, aren’t you?”
“You wouldn’t object?”
“Heavens, no. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of my little girl?”
Nash didn’t mince words. “She’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
Marcus nodded and leaned his prize fishing rod against the wall. “She gets that from her mother, too.” He turned around to face Nash, hands on his hips. “Does her limp bother you?” he asked point-blank.
“Yes and no.” Nash wouldn’t insult her father with a half-truth. “It bothers me because she’s so conscious of it herself.”
Marcus’s chest swelled as he exhaled. “That she is.”
“How’d it happen?” Curiosity got the better of him, although he’d prefer to hear the explanation from Savannah.
Her father walked to the back of the garage where a youngster’s mangled bicycle was stored. “It sounds simple to say she was hit by a car. This is what was left of her bike. I’ve kept it all these years as a reminder of how far she’s come.”
“Oh, no...” Nash breathed when he viewed the mangled frame and guessed the full extent of the damage done to the child riding it. “How’d she ever survive?”
“I’m not being facetious when I say sheer nerve. Anyone with less fortitude would have willed death. She was in the hospital for months, and that was only the beginning. The doctors initially told us she’d never walk again, and for the first year we believed it.
“Even now she still has pain. Some days are worse than others. Climate seems to affect it somewhat. And her limp is more pronounced when she’s tired.” Marcus replaced the bicycle and turned back to Nash. “It isn’t every man who recognizes Savannah’s strength. You haven’t asked for my advice, so forgive me for offering it.”
“Please.”
“My daughter’s a special woman, but she’s prickly when it comes to men and relationships. Somehow, she’s got it in her head that no man will ever want her.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is true, simply because Savannah believes it is,” Marcus corrected. “It’ll take a rare man to overpower her defenses. I’m not saying you’re that man. I’m not even saying you should try.”
“You seemed to think otherwise earlier. Wasn’t it you who assumed I was going to marry your daughter?”
“I said that to get a rise out of Savannah, and it worked.” Marcus rubbed his jaw, eyes twinkling with delight.
“We’ve only just met.” Nash felt he had to present some explanation, although he wasn’t sure why.
“I know.” He slapped Nash affectionately on the back and together they left the garage. When they returned to the house, the dinner dishes had been washed and put away.
Savannah’s mother had filled several containers with leftovers and packed them in an insulated bag. She gave Savannah detailed instructions on how to warm up the leftover steak and vegetables. Attempting brain surgery sounded simpler. As it happened, Nash caught a glimpse of Marcus from the corner of his eye and nearly burst out laughing. The older man was slowly shaking his head.
“I like the coyote, Mom,” Savannah said, as Nash took the food for her. She ran one hand over the stylized animal. “Are you and Dad going to Arizona this winter?”
Nash felt static electricity hit the airwaves.
“We haven’t decided, but I doubt we will this year,” Joyce answered.
“Why not?” Savannah asked. This was obviously an old argument. “You love it there. More and more of your friends are becoming snowbirds. It doesn’t make sense for you to spend your winters here in the cold and damp when you can be with your friends, soaking up the sunshine.”
“Sweetheart, we’ve got a long time to make that decision,” Marcus reminded her. “It’s barely summer.”
She hugged them both goodbye, then slung her purse over her shoulder, obviously giving up on the argument with her parents.
“What was that all about?” Nash asked once they were in his car.
It was unusual to see Savannah look vulnerable, but she did now. He wasn’t any expert on women. His sister was evidence of that, and so was every other female he’d ever had contact with, for that matter. It looked as though gutsy Savannah was about to burst into tears.
“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice so low it was almost nonexistent. Her head was turned away from him and she was staring out the side window.
“Tell me,” he insisted as he reached the freeway’s on ramp. He increased the car’s speed.
Savannah clasped her hands together. “They won’t leave because of me. They seem to think I need a babysitter, that it’s their duty to watch over me.”
“Are you sure you’re not being overly sensitive?”
“I’m sure. Mom and Dad love to travel, and now that Dad’s retired they should be doing much more of it.”
“They have the motor home.”
“They seldom use it. Day trips, a drive to the ocean once or twice a year, and that’s about it. Dad would love to explore the East Coast in the autumn, but I doubt he ever will.”
“Why not?”
“They’re afraid something will happen to me.”
“It sounds like they’re being overprotective.”
“They are!” Savannah cried. “But I can’t force them to go, and they won’t listen to me.”
He sensed that there was more to this story. “What’s the real reason, Savannah?” He made his words as coaxing as he could, not wanting to pressure her into telling him something she’d later regret.
“They blame themselves for the accident,” she whispered. “They were leaving for a weekend trip that day and I was to stay with a babysitter. I’d wanted to go with them and when they said I couldn’t, I got upset. In order to appease me, Dad said I could ride my bicycle. Up until that time he’d always gone with me.”
Nash chanced a look at her and saw that her eyes were closed and her body was rigid with tension.
“And so they punish themselves,” she continued in halting tones, “thinking if they sacrifice their lives for me, it’ll absolve them from their guilt. Instead it increases mine.”
“Yours?”
“Do you mind if we don’t discuss this anymore?” she asked, sounding physically tired and emotionally beaten.
The silence that followed was eventually broken by Savannah’s sigh of defeat.
“When would you like me to start cooking your dinners?” she asked as they neared her shop.
“You’re conceding?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “Just like that, without so much as an argument? You must be more tired than I realized.”
His comments produced a sad smile.
“So you’re willing to admit marriage is a thing of the past and has no part in this day and age?”
“Never!” She rallied a bit at that.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Are you ready to admit love can last a lifetime when it’s nourished and respected?” she asked.
Nash frowned, his thoughts confused. “I’ll grant there are exceptions to every rule and your parents are clearly that. Unfortunately, the love they share doesn’t exist between most married couples.
“It’d be easy to tell you I like my macaroni and cheese extra cheesy,” he went on to say, “but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind in the morning and demand a rematch.”
Savannah smiled and pressed the side of her head against the car window.
“You’re exhausted, and if I accepted your defeat, you’d never forgive me.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“A draw.” He pulled into the alley behind the shop, where Savannah had parked her car. “Let’s call it square. I proved what I wanted to prove and you did the same. There’s no need to go back to the beginning and start over, because neither of us is going to make any progress with the other. We’re both too strong-minded for that.”
“We should have recognized it sooner,” Savannah said, eyes closed.
She was so attractive, so...delectable, Nash had to force himself to look away.
“It’s very gentlemanly of you not to accept my defeat.”
“Not really.”
Her eyes slowly opened and she turned her head so she could meet his eyes. “Why not?”
“Because I’m about to incur your wrath.”
“Really? How are you going to do that?”
He smiled. It’d been so long since he’d looked forward to anything this much. “Because, my dear wedding coordinator, I’m about to kiss you.”