Forever…Again Page 16

  And he liked it.

  Which only made the guilt crawling inside him even stronger.

  His mother sighed. “Do you really think that because the body grows older, the heart does, too? It doesn’t. It still loves, it wants, it needs. It breaks.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, smiled fondly, then turned her gaze back to the trees lining her wide front yard. “Age means nothing, Ron. Age is a state of mind—No. Wait. It’s not a state of mind, it’s a state of soul.”

  “What?”

  She laughed softly. “If you’re able to feel, you must feel. That will keep you young, always. If you close yourself off to emotion, to change, you wither and your soul dies—then, you become old.”

  “Well, that’s cheery,” he said. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She turned to look at him, and the afternoon sunlight shone around her silhouette like a nimbus of gold. Smiling, she said, “That’s not what you wanted to hear?”

  “I wasn’t looking for philosophy,” he said, shoving both hands into his slacks pockets.

  “What were you looking for, then?”

  “I don’t know.” Shaking his head, he strolled across the almost dainty room to stand beside his mother. “Confirmation, maybe?”

  “Of what?”

  He glanced at her. “Lily.”

  “Ah…” She smiled and nodded regally.

  Really, he thought, his mother would have made a good queen. “That was a knowing ‘ah.”’

  “Mothers know everything, don’t you remember?”

  She certainly had when he was a boy. He’d never been able to get away with a thing. And for a long time he’d been convinced his mother was a psychic. But all mothers were like that, he’d discovered. Vi had been.

  Vi.

  He stiffened.

  Myrtle stared at him for a long minute before saying abruptly, “If she’s making you unhappy, I’ll be happy to fire her.”

  “What?”

  “Lily,” Myrtle said, walking back to her seat on the sofa, so that her pleased smile would be kept hidden from the confused man who was her son. “I said I’ll gladly fire her for you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Mother.”

  “She is an annoying woman, after all.”

  His tone surprised, he said, “I thought you liked Lily.”

  Myrtle shrugged and busied herself with picking up her teacup again. “She’s served her purpose. And she is a stubborn woman, isn’t she?”

  “She’s just…opinionated.”

  “But she argues with you.”

  “Only when she believes in what she’s saying.”

  Myrtle hid another smile as she took a sip of tea. “I hear she can’t even cook.”

  “Cooking isn’t that important.” Ron stared at her as if he’d never seen his own mother before. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She’d never in her life said an ugly thing about anyone as far as he knew. And to start now…with Lily, of all people. “You can’t cook, either, remember?”

  She waved that comment aside. “And, she’s very…different, wouldn’t you say?”

  Anger flickered to life inside him. Ron stalked across the room toward her in a few long strides. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Myrtle met his hot stare with a cool look. “She’s very unconventional. Always sticking her nose into things.”

  “Trying to help, you mean?”

  “Plus, she’s so very different from Violet, don’t you think?”

  He yanked his hands from his pockets, threw them into the air, then let them slap hard against his thighs. “What difference does that make?”

  “Why,” Myrtle said innocently, “I don’t know, dear. What difference does it make to you?”

  “Not a damn bit of difference,” he snapped. In fact, he loved that Lily was so different—not only from Vi but from anyone he’d ever known. With Lily he was never sure what was going to happen next. And, for a man who’d lived most of his life on a tight schedule, that feeling was damn near invaluable.

  “But didn’t you prefer your life before Lily came here and shook everything up?”

  Before Lily? Sitting in the empty condo at night, wishing for someone to talk to? To dream with? To laugh with? Going through his days with a resigned sense of emptiness and the sure knowledge that all of the good times in his life were already gone? He choked out a harsh laugh. “God, no.”

  “Really? Fascinating,” Myrtle said, and set her cup and saucer down again before carefully selecting an iced blueberry cake. “Still, if I see that she’s fired, life will become so much…easier, don’t you think?”

  “What’s easy about having nothing but work in your life?” He heard his voice getting louder and louder but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. For God’s sake, he’d expected his mother to understand. She’d always believed in the power of love, affection and loyalty.

  “Oh, it’s so much simpler, dear. Love is so messy, you know.” She lifted one hand to her mouth and gasped prettily. “Sorry. It isn’t as though you love Lily. My mistake.”

  His mother’s wide, innocent eyes looked up at him, and for the first time since this ridiculous conversation had started, he noticed the glint of sparkling amusement.

  Ron opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. Drawing his head back, he looked down at his mother through narrowed, thoughtful eyes. She’d played him like a pro. She’d insulted Lily until he’d defended her. She’d made him face his real feelings. She’d forced him to see that Lily was far more important to him than he’d been willing to admit.

  “Has anyone ever told you what a sneaky woman you are?” he asked, bending down to kiss her soft cheek.

  She patted his face gently and gave him an understanding smile. “Not since your father died,” she said. “So thank you.”

  “No, Mom,” Ron said. “Thank you.”

  Then he straightened up and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” she called out after him.

  He stopped in the doorway. “There’s one more person I have to talk to before I can talk to Lily.”

  As he left, Myrtle leaned back against the plush sofa cushion. Smiling to herself, she whispered, “Say hello to Violet for me.”

  The clouds lowered, and the wind kicked up with a vengeance.

  Walking through the cemetery just outside Binghamton, Ron was struck, as always, by the history of the place. Generations of people buried here. People who had laughed and loved and lost. People who’d found the beauty in life alongside those who had never opened their eyes to it.

  And the question he had to answer now was, which did he want to be?

  His footsteps were sure on the rolling green grass. He faced the onrushing wind, ducked his head and walked on, not needing to think about his direction. He’d been here so many times, he could find his way in the dark. And had, more than once, in the first few months after losing Vi.

  He’d come here looking for solace, but had never been able to find it. Ron knew in his heart that Vi wasn’t here. Had never been here, really. She’d moved on ten long years ago.

  Now it was time for him to do the same.

  He sighed as he stopped in front of the simple, pink granite stone.

  Violet Stephens Bingham.

  She’d died too young. Only forty short years on earth and yet she’d managed to make them all happy ones. Wasn’t that saying something special about the woman he’d once loved so completely?

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stared down at the plot of neatly trimmed grass, decorated with a spray of fall flowers. Gold and red chrysanthemums dipped and swayed in the wind as if dancing to a tune only the angels could hear.

  “Hello, Vi,” he said softly, knowing his words would carry to the woman who would always be listening for them. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here to visit. I’m sorry for that.”

  Guilt chewed at him, but he didn’t give in to it. His late wi
fe would never have expected him to devote himself to visiting her grave. That had been his idea. He’d found a solitary refuge here in the quiet garden of stones.

  A refuge he didn’t need anymore.

  Lifting his gaze from her headstone to the swirling dark clouds overhead, he pulled in another long, shaky breath and said, “I wanted you to know, honey, that I think I finally understand what you meant that last night. I didn’t want to hear your words then, Vi. And for a long time I just refused to remember them.”

  He sighed and looked again at her name carved in stone. “But I get it now. Do you remember? You said, ‘Love, Ron. Live and love.’”

  Smiling, he crouched in front of the granite marker so that he was on eye level with the carving. Reaching out, he fingered the dancing flowers, as if by doing so he could touch a memory of Violet. “I’m ready to love again, Vi. Thanks to you, I know what that means. It means living. Continuing. And thanks to you, I’ll always treasure every moment I have here on this earth.” His fingers dropped to the cool, sweet grass and he gave the ground a gentle pat, as if in farewell.

  “I’ll always love you, Vi. That won’t stop.” He stood up again and looked down solemnly. “And that’s the real beauty of love, isn’t it? It doesn’t end. It only changes.”

  And in the quiet swirl of wind, Ron said goodbye to his past—so he could say hello to a future.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lily vacuumed, dusted, then scrubbed the kitchen floor. She did laundry, then waxed the floor when the overloaded machine spit an ocean of suds at her. She tuned the stereo to an oldies rock and roll station and worked in time to the music that acted as both a soother and an energy boost.

  She needed both.

  Since leaving her office a few hours ago, she’d tried to keep busy. To keep her mind from settling on what was sure to be an explosive confrontation between her and Ron. Her insides twisted at the thought of confessing her love and having to watch him walk out of her life.

  But some risks were worth taking, she told herself firmly. She wiped down the kitchen counter for the third time, then turned and scowled at the pot on the stove. Steam billowed from under the lid even as white, foamy liquid boiled over the sides and dripped down onto the stovetop.

  “Damn it.” Rushing across the room, she grabbed at the lid of the pot only to drop it with a clatter and bring both burned fingers to her mouth. “For God’s sake, Lily, are you really that pitiful?”

  Snatching up a kitchen towel, she wadded it up and used it as a hot mitt to lift the lid and inspect the cooking rice. Giving the contents of the pan a stir, she frowned at the soupy mix and the white kernels floating aimlessly through the murky liquid. “It’s rice for Pete’s sake. It’s not a soufflé!”

  But it didn’t seem to matter.

  She checked the box and reread the directions. One cup of rice, one cup of water. She looked at the coffee mug she’d used to measure it all out. One cup. Should have been simple. So why wasn’t the quick-cooking rice quickly cooking?

  She never should have tried to fix dinner, she told herself in disgust. Should have just bought something. Would have been safer. But then, there had been a small voice inside her whispering that maybe if she could convince Ron that she wasn’t totally helpless in the kitchen, she wouldn’t come off quite so badly in comparison to the late, great Violet.

  “Stupid.” She dropped the lid onto the stove, turned the fire off under the pan and took a step back from the damn thing. “If he wants a cook, he can hire one. I never pretended to be anything but what I am,” she continued and flashed a glance heavenward, disregarding the ceiling that stood between her and the object of her conversation. “Okay, fine. I admit I’m lousy housewife material. But I love him, doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Depends,” a deep voice answered.

  Lily jumped, shrieked and whipped around to stare at Ron, standing in the doorway. “Are you trying to kill me?” she shouted, hoping that her heart would drop back into her chest before it choked her.

  “Nope.”

  “Could have fooled me, sneaking up on a person like that in the middle of a private conversation.” Great, she thought. Good start to the evening. An argument. Well then, maybe if they fought hard enough, it wouldn’t hurt so much when he leaves.

  Liar.

  “Just who were you talking to?” he asked, walking into the room with the slow deliberation of a man who had all the time in the world.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” she snapped, “but I was talking to Violet.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “Really? Funny, I was just doing that myself.”

  She laughed shortly, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Don’t you want to know what I said?”

  Lily tipped her head to one side, folded her arms across her chest and adopted what she hoped was a casual expression. “Do I want a play-by-play of you chatting with your dead wife? Let me think.” She paused a beat. “No.”

  Shut up, Lily. Shut up.

  Her temper, the very one she’d been trying to work off all afternoon, was still with her. It wasn’t all anger, either. It was a defense mechanism, pure and simple. She knew it. She just couldn’t seem to stop it.

  Basically she was staying angry with him so he couldn’t hurt her.

  It was an old game.

  But one she was very good at.

  “Too bad,” he said, taking the single step that put him within an arm’s reach of her. “Because I’d love to know what you were talking to Vi about.”

  Her mouth worked as she tried to remember exactly what she’d been saying as he entered the kitchen. Had she been complaining still? Or had he heard her confess her love? And if he had, why was he still here and not running for his car?

  “It was private.”

  “Then you shouldn’t shout.”

  She winced, and her anger evaporated, leaving her shaken and worried and way too anxious about saying the words she’d been rehearsing all afternoon. “Probably not.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, jerking a thumb at the pot on the stove.

  She sighed. “It was supposed to be chicken and rice.”

  He took a step and looked into the ugly mess. “There’s no chicken in there. And I’m not sure you could call that rice, either.”

  Lily laughed. She couldn’t help it. Waving her arms in the air, she admitted, “You’re right. I suck at cooking. Never wanted to learn.”

  “So why’d you try tonight?”

  She blew out a breath that ruffled the hair that had fallen across her forehead. “I was…trying to prove something, I guess.”

  “To whom?”

  “You. Or maybe, Violet.”

  He gave her a small smile. “Prove what?”

  Lily shook her head and chuckled helplessly. “That I could be a good wife. Of course, you can see the results, so what I succeeded in proving was just the opposite.”

  “A wife?”

  She looked up at him and was astonished to see that he hadn’t backed into a corner like a caged animal. “Don’t worry, that wasn’t a proposal.”

  “Good.”

  “Well you don’t have to be so happy about it,” she muttered, tossing the towel she still clutched in one fist at the kitchen sink.

  “Why shouldn’t I be?” he asked, still smiling, still watching her.

  She stared at him for a long minute, then told herself, What the hell, and let him have it. “You shouldn’t be happy because I’d be a darn good wife. Okay, I can’t cook. And I can’t have children, but I wouldn’t want any at this stage of my life, anyway.” She held up a finger when he opened his mouth to speak. “But I’m a good person. And I’m fun and loyal and loving. I could make sure you don’t keep yourself locked into a beige, boring world. I could make you happy, Ron. As happy as you could make me.”

  When she ran out of breath, she stopped, but before he could say anything, she took another lungful of air and sped ahead.
“And there’s one more thing. I love you, you big dummy.”

  Both of his eyebrows lifted, but she paid no attention.

  “That’s right,” Lily said, walking right up to him until she could poke her index finger against his broad chest. “Love. With a capital L. I hadn’t counted on it. And I know you don’t want to hear it, so feel free to run screaming from the house, but before you go, I want to make sure you know I mean it. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

  “Lily—”

  “I know you’ll always love Vi. And you should. I don’t mind sharing you with a woman who had your heart first…but I won’t fight a ghost for you, Ron. You’re allowed to love both of us, you know. And I won’t pretend anymore that I’m happy with the relationship we have. Because it’s not enough. I don’t want to settle for crumbs if I can’t have the whole cake.” She sucked in another deep breath and added one last thing, since she was on a roll. “Violet’s gone, Ron, and she isn’t coming back. I’m here. And I love you, too.”

  When she would have continued, Ron shut her up the only way he could think of. He grabbed her, pulled her close and kissed her, long and hard and deep, until his body felt the fire and he knew hers did, too.

  After several long, amazing minutes, he came up for air and stared down into her dazed, dark-brown eyes. “You finished?”

  She nodded and licked her lips.

  “Good. It’s my turn.”

  “Just say goodbye and go, then,” she said quietly.

  His fingers tightened on her upper arms. “My turn, remember?”

  “Right.”

  “I told you I went to talk to Vi.”

  She nodded.

  “I told her about you. I told her that I love you. Then I came to tell you.”

  Lily blinked against the rush of tears filming her eyes. “Ron—”

  He shook his head. “Still talking.”

  “Right.” She smiled, though, since so many of their conversations went like this.