“You givin’ a tough test today?” Dad asks. “Gonna teach your students how to cure cancer?”
“Sure am.” My mom’s words open like gifts in my memory; all the life lessons she said chemistry could teach you. “Change of any sort is reversible, some.”
And the wisdom suddenly blesses me.
I can still change.
I can’t go back, but I remember who I am: a daughter born out of love—the love I can still find one day. I’m only thirty. Once this nightmare with Gentry ends, I’ll find love as my parents had.
I take that as my gift for my birthday soon, knowing it’ll be the only one I get.
A couple of hours later, my cell rings as I pull into the garage.
He tracked my trip.
“Yes,” I answer, grabbing my water bottle and purse from the passenger seat.
Gentry barks, “I called an hour ago.”
“I was in yoga.”
“Maybe I should cancel your classes if they distract you from your job.”
The peace yoga gives me vanishes with his threat.
Redirect. Redirect. Breathe and play the game.
“It keeps me looking fit for you.”
He huffs, “That’s debatable,” as the den of men laughing on a golf course fills the background. “Call the caterer,” he orders. “I want Bollinger La Grande Année for our New Year’s toast.”
Holy hell, I saw those bottles on the caterer’s list. They’re the most expensive. “Sure,” but I won’t debate the cost.
“Chuck Middleton just said it’s Earl and June Van de May’s favorite,” Gentry boasts at the intel he’s getting for our party. It’s not a celebration to him; it’s a G7 summit. “You invited their son, Silas, right? He’s coming with that woman? And bringing his parents?”
That woman? He won’t even say her name.
I open the door to the mudroom. “Yes. I invited Cade and Silas. I don’t know about his parents yet.”
“Call that woman and make sure they come,” he commands. “I’m on the yacht tonight. I’ll be home late tomorrow.”
He ends the call, and I exhale, relieved.
But the only way I’ll keep the peace is to do “my job.” I’ll never hear the end of it if Silas Van de May comes to our party without his powerful parents.
The doorbell chimes on time as I set my stuff down in the kitchen before answering it.
It’s only Luke this morning, waiting like a puppy on my front step. A big, sexy, eager golden puppy holding two Starbucks coffees.
“Good morning,” he answers before whispering, “Stacey.”
“Good morning, Luke.” I smile, not keeping my voice down, signaling to him we’re alone... and safe.
He steps inside as I close the door behind him. “Where’s Mateo?”
“Another job went sideways—long story.” He grins. “One that involves red paint everywhere. Ford and Mateo are putting out that fire, so it’s just me, but I got this. I’ll finish the dining room, then start on the parlor.” He offers me a cup. “Got this for you. Caramel Brulée Latte.” His gaze drops, shy. “For the holidays and all.”
Stunned by a man being so kind, I mutter, “Thank you,” taking the cup. I sip, stifling my moan at how yummy it is, and Luke.
He casts his glance around. “You ever think about refreshing the whole house? Beige is the color of misery.”
“Lots of miserable things need changing around here.” The truth falls from my mouth, and he makes me curious. “How’d you get this job anyway? You look young but paint like a pro.”
I rarely get to talk to someone without Gentry scrutinizing my every word.
“I did it through college, working with Ford to earn some cash. I just graduated this past May; now I’m working full time and taking the year to train.”
“Train for what?”
“The Army Rangers. I go in next summer, and Ford’s helping me prepare.”
“That’s a dangerous job.”
“Sure is. My dad was a Ranger. It’s all I ever wanted to be.”
“Is your dad helping you train too?”
“Nah,”—his smile drops—“he was killed in Afghanistan when I was four.”
“Oh, Luke.” It’s sudden; my sympathy. “I’m sorry. I lost my mom, too, when I was young.”
He nods, grief almost reaching his happy eyes as his grin slowly returns. “My mom and sister serve. They’re in the Army too. It’s a family thing.”
“I bet you make ‘em proud.”
He shrugs. “That’s the plan.” The way his bright eyes cast over me next, I feel caught in his happy web. “What about you? Miss South Carolina and all. That took training, and you had to do it in heels and hairspray.”
“Please,”—I roll my eyes—“you give me too much credit. My service is taking care of my dad. He’s got Alzheimer’s, and that’s all I do.”
His eyes won’t leave me while he sips again, making a flush crawl up my cheeks, realizing this young man is a real man about to risk his life in honor of his father and country. It’s beyond humbling.
“So,” he lowers his cup, “you don’t give yourself enough credit then, do you, Stacey?”
“Credit for what?”
His eyes spark, then glance down, and it flutters my heart. “Nothing,” he mutters, and I see his hesitation, fighting his gaze that lingers back up my powder blue yoga pants, over my sports bra, landing on my eyes and tripling my pulse.
After my mornings with my dad and yoga class, I glow. I’m happy. No husband. No makeup. No groomed hair or high heels or approved dress I have to wear.
I’m natural and free for a stolen hour.
And Luke makes my joy last longer this morning, asking, “So what do you do when you’re not taking care of your dad?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Oh,” he winces, “that’s a bad habit.” He softly grins at my self-loathing, and he’s right. I never used to be this way. That’s Gentry’s word for me. Like cancer, it tries to grow in my psyche too. “Try again,” he says.
“I like doing photography. Graduations. Retirements. Headshots for résumés and social media, that kinda stuff. My schedule is too crazy to do it as a business, but I do it when I can.”
“No weddings?”
“No. I like the joy in someone’s eyes when they accomplish something on their own. When they’re truly proud. There’s nothing like it.”
“How’d you get into it?”
“I wanted to use my marketing major somehow. Someone should benefit from all my experience on stage and in front of cameras. I don’t even charge people. I just like helping them.”
The nod of his head is slow, and now he’s the mature one, and I’m the fool to think years lived always equates to wisdom. Grief provides it too.
I admire that about Luke. Like Gentry, he lost his dad, but Luke hasn’t let it turn him into an angry, bitter man. He’s using his loss as inspiration.
I guess I did the same thing. I never wanted to win a pageant. I just wanted to make my mom proud, to graduate from college.