The Family Gathering. Robyn Carr
I’d never crossed paths with a woman? Even this old man can tell you, sometimes just being around a woman makes certain things better. Don’t go telling Maggie I said that. She’ll try to picture it in her head and get all riled up. But I’ve been friendly with women over the years. It’s a wise man who knows his limitations, son. Remember that.”
“I will,” Dakota said. But he couldn’t help but laugh.
He vowed to remember that. But he continued to go to the bar for two or three dinners a week. When Sid saw him coming, she gave a half smile and shook her head. She realized he was relentless. He liked her. And he could tell one of the problems she was having right now was that she also liked him. Well, maybe he shouldn’t go that far. She enjoyed him. Whatever the husband had done must have been so devious she was afraid that lurking beneath the surface of every good guy was a monster. Why else was the idea of even a cup of coffee such a terrible notion?
But Dakota was patient. He spent the month of April settling into the world of trash hauling. The first couple of weeks he hung on the side of the truck and picked up scattered refuse while a man named Lawrence drove and dumped the buckets. Lawrence was forty-seven but looked much older. His hair was going white; he had a wife and six kids. When he talked about his wife, everything came with an appreciative laugh and a headshake. “Ooh-wee, Benita made some of the best taco pie this man ever had!” Or, “Damn me, that woman got her fist on those boys o’ mine and they don’t dare talk back at their mama!” In short, Lawrence had a good, normal, happy life with all the usual problems. Dakota wanted to work with Lawrence forever. But he really wanted to drive. “You get to do that soon enough, boy,” Lawrence said.
April was full of rain and flowers. Hauling trash in the rain was just the same but wetter. But as the days passed, Dakota thought Sid might be softening up toward him, just a little bit.
The most extraordinary thing in the world
is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman
and their ordinary children.
—GILBERT K. CHESTERTON
TOM CANADAY WAS a happy man in general, always upbeat and positive even when times were challenging. It was his nature. His father was the same way and his mother might fret sometimes but she was both hopeful and helpful. Lately his happiness had been elevated a notch or two. He had a good woman in his life.
Tom had married his high school sweetheart when they were very young. They’d had four children, a handful for anyone. Zach, the youngest, was still in diapers when Becky left them and Tom became a single working father. Had his parents, brother and sister-in-law not helped from time to time, he never would have made it. Becky had moved out ten years ago now. Tom was the first to admit he’d had trouble moving on, but he was emotionally free now. There wasn’t a sliver of attachment to Becky left.
About the time Tom cut the ties he noticed Lola. Really noticed her. He’d known her almost all their lives; they were both raised near Timberlake and attended the same schools. They’d both married and divorced while still young. They saw each other around town all the time. Lola worked full-time at Home Depot, where Tom bought a lot of building supplies, and she was also a part-time waitress at the diner, just part-time enough for him to stop in for the occasional cup of coffee.
Tom had been getting a lot more pie and coffee the past six months than ever before.
Tom had been courting her for over six months and for two single parents to find time for romance was beyond difficult. But every time he kissed her he wanted more. He found Lola to be the most beautiful of women. She was strong and independent, but her strength and independence had not made her bitter. She was kind and compassionate. When he was able to put his arms around her and smell her sweet skin, he became aroused. She filled his arms with softness and he loved holding her against him.
But their schedules were impossible. They had to get by on what little time they could find here and there, maybe going to a home show or open house. They were both really into remodeling. In fact, they found they had many things in common. But they wanted to get alone together and just hadn’t found the opportunity.
It was 10:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning when Tom Canaday knocked on Lola’s door. When she opened it, smiling broadly, he handed her a gift-wrapped box.
“What is this?” she asked, taking it from him.
“Open it,” he said.
“Oh, Tom, you’re always so thoughtful,” she said, pulling the ribbon off. “Always thinking of others.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me.”
She pulled off the top of the box and frowned. “What’s this?”
“You know what it is,” he said.
She pulled the item out. “A dead bolt?” she asked in confusion.
“For your bedroom door,” he said. “And I have a matching lock installed on my bedroom door.”
“I don’t think either of the boys will surprise us today,” she said with a laugh. “They’re both in school.” Cole had college classes and Trace was in high school.
“We’re not taking any chances.”
“They never open my bedroom door, Tom,” she said. “They’re scared to death they might see me in my underwear!”
“This is going to be different,” he said. “There will be no underwear. And they might hear noises and mistake it for you screaming in pain.” He grinned. “It won’t be pain.”
She put down the box and put her hands on his cheeks, kissing him soundly. His arms went around her to pull her closer, moving over her mouth with precision. He parted her lips with his, going deep, groaning as their tongues began to play. His hand slid down over her butt and pressed her close against him. The kiss went on and on, too long, really. He had to force himself to pull away. “Lola, quick—get me your toolbox.”
“You sure know how to woo a girl,” she said. She couldn’t help but giggle as she went to get the box. Having done a lot of her own repairs and renovating, she knew exactly what he’d need. By the time she got back he was already getting the lock out of the package. She immediately started handing him tools. First the screwdriver to remove the old doorknob, then the chisel and hammer to enlarge the opening in the jam. “I wish I’d gotten this done before the kissing,” he grumbled. “I gotta say, this is my first lock repair with a hard-on.”
“Just how long has it been?” she asked.
“Oh, about two minutes now,” he said.
“Not that!” she said with a laugh.
“You mean since I’ve had sex with a woman?” He wanted to clarify.
“Oh, my. Maybe we should talk about who else you might be having it with...”
He looked at her over his shoulder, lifting one eyebrow. “My left hand,” he said. “Believe me, you have nothing to be jealous of.”
“Tom,” she said in a scolding voice.
“It’s been such a long time,” he said, drilling in the screws.
She put down the toolbox where he could reach it and backed away from him. He grumbled a little bit at a stubborn screw but he made very fast work of the job. He closed the door, turned the lock and tested it, trying to open it. “Success!” he said.
But he turned and she wasn’t there.
“Lola?” he said.
She stepped into the doorway of her master bath wearing a sleek and satiny black robe. It took his breath away. “Whoa,” he said, running a hand over the top of his head.
Lola was so voluptuous.