Rachel Dahlrumple. Shea McMaster
worn denim and a dark tan cowboy hat, I flew back in time to a few stolen afternoons hidden under the drooping branches of a weeping willow. My God, did everything have to be thrown at me at once? That was all the time I had to think before he caught me up in a hug.
“Wow, stranger,” I said. Completely lame, but I honestly had no small talk in me.
“Is that all the greeting I get, querida?” He lifted me just enough to spin me around and kiss my cheek, forcing me to cling to him. “Has it been so long you no longer think of me with kindness?”
“It’s been more than twenty years, you oaf. Put me down.” I slapped at his shoulder and noted how much he’d changed since that Homecoming week so very long ago. Twenty-four years, but the memory still had the power to make me blush. He was broader and stronger, yet still lean in the hips. And hard. Oh boy, was he hard all over as he held me close. I prodded his muscled-in-iron-shoulder with a finger and almost broke the nail. “What are you doing here, and where’s your family?”
He set me down and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “Mom and Dad went on ahead an hour ago. Mom won’t be happy if someone takes her spot.”
Jim had always been a touchy-feely one, and since we’d shared a certain–ahem–rite of passage, just the two of us in a well hidden spot beneath a tree, well, I guessed he felt a certain right to touch me. I didn’t see it that way. I was married, and as such I’d put old boyfriends and lovers behind me. I stepped away, imagining the gossip from the many witnesses around us getting back to Burt. I secretly bet he’d find a way to turn it around on me and make it look like I’d been the cheater.
Funny how gossip about Burt had never reached me. The reminder of his alleged betrayal hit me afresh, flipping my stomach over once more, and I turned toward town.
“Ah yes, in front of the diner. No local would dare take her spot, or let a tourist move in, for that matter.” Mrs. Santos had her territory, and that was that.
Jim kept pace with me and when his hand brushed mine, I shoved both hands in the pockets of my sundress.
“You’re alone, Rachel. Why is that? Where’s your big handsome husband?”
Whether it was the question or the tone–had it really been a sneer?–I didn’t know, but the probing turned up the heat on my anger a notch.
“Out of town on business. Due home in a few hours,” I answered shortly, ignoring the sideways glance he gave me.
“Why did you come from the river? Ever revisit our spot?”
What was he trying to do? Did he know about the delivery last night? Had he made it for someone else?
Whatever the reason, he’d stepped on my last nerve. “Jim, if you want to talk to me, catch up, or hang out, drop the subject of our past. I’m a married woman and last I heard you were married. Twice. Where’re your wife and kids?”
“Okay, okay.” Jim backed off and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “My second divorce was final last week. No kids from either marriage, except a couple step-kids I’m helping put through college. Mom heard a rumor of you getting a divorce, so I was just testing the waters. I’m home for the holiday and Monday I’ll be back at work.”
The word divorce in conjunction with my name knocked the breath from me and stopped my forward motion completely. “Wh-what did you say?”
Jim managed to stop with me. “I’m just in town–”
I turned on him and stabbed a finger into the middle of his chest. “No, the part about me getting a divorce. Where did you hear that?”
Jim shrugged uncomfortably and adjusted his cowboy hat. “Mom heard it somewhere in town last week. In case it’s true, you should know she approves. Thinks you should take him to the cleaners.”
I must have blanched and appeared ready to keel over because Jim caught me by the shoulders and backed me up to the strong trunk of a tree. “Easy, Rachel.”
Control. The word floated into my head as I forced myself to take long, slow, deep breaths. After a minute, I felt stronger, but my heart still raced. I’d barely decided I needed a divorce lawyer, yet the town already knew about it? How blatant had Burt been and how had I not noticed? Damn him! Damn him for ruining the holiday, for making me an object of vicious gossip, and damn him for, well, everything! When I got my hands on the son of a bitch, he’d know the depth of my fury. We might end up canceling the party because Burt would be too busy salvaging his belongings. Or his life. I hadn’t decided which just yet. It was a toss-up at that moment.
“Rachel?” Jim’s voice brought me back to my surroundings and I noticed people regarding us with curiosity as they passed. His hands held me securely, which was probably a good thing as my legs trembled on the edge of collapse.
“I’m okay,” I said, knowing it to be a lie as I shrugged away his hands.
He stepped back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I looked up and found him looking contrite. Another handsome man. More handsome than he’d been as a youth. I remembered the power of those dark, almost black eyes, but the feeling remained that, a memory.
“I don’t know where the rumors came from, but there’s no divorce in motion.” Yet. Come the following Monday morning that would change, unless Burt came home with some very convincing proof. Then again, I didn’t think he could. My heart dropped again, and I resisted the urge to pull off my wedding set and fling it down the nearest storm drain. The hand wearing it curled into a fist. I might need it to pay for the lawyer. Then again, the diamond would make a nice mark on Burt’s face when I punched him.
“Okay. Let’s forget I passed on stupid gossip. I don’t want you mad at me. Friends?” He held out a hand.
I cautiously took it and gave it a shake.
Jim used our clasped hands to gently tug me away from the tree. “Sure you want to go to the parade?” He asked it softly, as if concerned I might fall apart. Granted, he was right to be worried. I was damn close to a breakdown right then.
“Yeah.” The words felt wooden and flat, but I forced myself to speak, hoping a feeling of normalcy would return. “The Westons will be looking for me if I don’t show up soon. They made me promise.”
“Who?”
“You remember John Weston? He lived next door to me. Between us in age.”
“Oh, right. The super jock.” Jim nodded.
“He bought the house next door from his parents. I’m meeting him, his wife, and three kids.”
“Let me walk you into town.”
I could have refused. Probably should have, but his presence felt vaguely familiar and somewhat comforting. With him beside me, I realized I hadn’t liked walking alone. On the other hand, wouldn’t Jim’s presence instead of Burt’s draw more comments than me walking by myself? Hard to tell right then. I shrugged away from the tree and resumed the trek toward Main Street, where the parade would start in twenty minutes. If I weren’t there by then, John would come looking for me. And Mindy had informed me everything would be ruined. So I was stuck.
We walked in silence for a block before I found some small talk inside me. “What do you do these days?”
“Construction.”
I glanced sideways at him again. I’d bet he still wielded a hammer. His already-darker Hispanic skin tone was more so from the sun, and I could make out the bulge of well-toned biceps beneath his worn chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
The crowd began to thicken with the Elks, VFW, American Legion, Boy and Girl Scouts, and various other civic-minded groups lining up for the parade, so we had to move to the crowded sidewalk. From there we greeted members of each of these groups that kept the town busy with enough dances, pancake breakfasts, and ice cream socials to keep everyone up on