Even now.
CHAPTER FOUR
A spring breeze floated through the early morning air, bringing unaccustomed warmth to Yorkshire Falls and filling Raina’s lungs with incredibly sweet, fresh air. As fresh as her sons in their teenage years, she thought wryly.
She left Norman’s, walked across First and onto the grassy mound in the center of town with a gazebo in the corner. She was meeting Eric here during his lunch hour, before he had to return to the office to see his afternoon appointments. Although he’d done the inviting, she’d chosen the place and picked up lunch. Who could resist a picnic in the outdoors? She had the most delicious grilled chicken sandwiches for them.
She paused in the center of the median, surprised to see Charlotte Bronson and Samson Humphrey, the duck man, as the children in town called him, standing together. Samson lived on the outskirts of town, in a run-down house that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family. Raina had no idea how he got by or what he did with his time other than sit in the park and feed the ducks, but he was a staple fixture in town.
She walked up beside them. “Hello, Charlotte. Samson.” She smiled at them both.
“Hi, Raina.” Charlotte inclined her head. “Nice to see you.”
“You too.” When Samson remained silent, Raina prodded again. “Nice weather we’re having. Perfect for you to feed the ducks.”
“Already told you it’s Sam,” he grumbled, barely loud enough to be heard. “Can’t you remember a damn thing?”
“He’s grouchy because he hasn’t had lunch yet. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Charlotte asked.
Raina laughed, knowing full well he was always grouchy. Leave it to Charlotte to try to smooth over even the surliest disposition.
“What would you know about it?” he asked.
Raina knew Charlotte was probably right and she’d packed a separate sandwich for him just in case.
“Well, I know your bark is worse than your bite,” Charlotte said. “Now, here. Take this.” She held out a brown paper bag, beating Raina to her good deed.
From the time Roman had a crush on Charlotte in high school, Raina had always known the girl had a heart of gold. She remembered the two had shared one date and her son had been a bear the morning after. More existed between Roman and Charlotte than an awful date. Raina had known it then. She knew it now. Just as she also knew Charlotte Bronson and her heart of gold were perfect for her youngest son.
“Go on, Sam, take it,” Charlotte said.
He grabbed the bag and muttered a barely audible “Thanks.” He dug past the foil wrapping, taking a huge first bite. “Would’ve preferred mustard.”
Both Raina and Charlotte laughed. “Norman refuses to put mustard on grilled chicken, and you’re welcome,” Charlotte said.
Obviously the condiment on the sandwich didn’t matter, Raina thought, because he’d devoured half of it in two bites.
“I’ve got to get back to work.” Charlotte waved to Raina, then Sam, and headed back toward her store.
“Nice girl,” Raina said.
“Ought to have more sense than to bother with me,” he muttered.
She shook her head. “That just shows her good taste. Well, enjoy lunch.” Raina walked past him, to settle on the far edge of the bench.
She knew better than to join Sam. He’d just walk away, as he’d done in the past. He was an antisocial loner. The younger kids were afraid of him, the older kids made fun of him, and the rest of town generally ignored him. But Raina had always felt sorry for Sam and she liked him despite his gruff outer shell. When she bought herself food at Norman’s, she always picked up something for Samson, too. Obviously Charlotte felt the same way. Something else Raina and the younger woman had in common, apart from Roman.
“I should have known you’d beat me here,” a familiar male voice said.
“Eric.” Raina rose to greet her friend. Dr. Eric Fallon and Raina had grown up together on the same street in Yorkshire Falls. They’d been friends as married couples and remained friends now that their spouses had died, Eric’s wife long after Raina had lost John.
“You’d better not have walked all this way or driven into town well past the speed limit. Indigestion or not, you can’t be too careful.” Wrinkles of concern furrowed his brows.
Raina didn’t want him worrying about her, but she had another, more pressing issue to take care of first. She’d have to remind her dear friend of his medical ethics before he accidentally slipped and told one of her sons she’d suffered no more than glorified heartburn. “Chase dropped me off, and I take it you’ve either been through my file or heard about my hospital trip through the grapevine?”
“You should have told me yourself when I called this morning.”
“If every friend bothered you with health crises the minute you got back from vacation, you’d go running back to Mexico.”
He sighed, drawing a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You’re not just any friend. When are you going to understand that?” His dark eyes bore into hers.
She patted his hand. “You’re a good man.”
His tanned, weathered hand covered hers, his touch surprisingly warm and tender.
Shaken, she changed the subject. “I suppose you heard Roman’s back in town?”
Eric nodded. “Now tell me why I also heard your sons are tiptoeing around you like you might shatter at any moment. Why Roman’s taken a leave of absence from his job. And why when you’re not out about town, you’re home resting as per doctor’s orders. Because I know darn well Leslie didn’t say a thing about added rest. Added Maalox, maybe.”
Raina glanced around to see if anyone would save her from a lecture, but no white knight was in sight, not even Samson, who’d moved behind them and was weeding the flower beds. “Eric, how old are the boys? Old enough to be married,” she said without waiting for him to answer. “Old enough to have children.”
“So that’s what’s been bothering you. You want grandchildren?”
She nodded, finding it difficult to speak, to acknowledge the truth without giving away the growing emptiness in both her life and her heart.
“The boys will get married when they’re good and ready, Raina.”
“What’s wrong with upping the time frame? Lord knows Rick needs to see that just because one woman hurt him doesn’t mean all will. And then there’s Roman—”
“Forgive me, but I’m not understanding,” Eric interrupted her. “How does pretending to be sick relate to your desire to see the boys settled with families of their own?”
She glanced upward. Heaven help her when dealing with obtuse men—it seemed she was surrounded by them. “My sons would never deny me my fondest wish, one that will complete their lives too. Not if they thought …” She wrinkled her nose and cringed, hesitating.
“Your health was at risk?” At her barely perceptible nod, he rose from his seat. “Good God, woman, how could you do that to your children?”
“I did it for my children. Sit down, you’re making a scene.” She jerked on his sleeve and he followed her command.