Second Chances (10 page)

As though reading my mind he added, “I used to dream about this, lying there in Rich's trailer after seeing you at work all day. I'd dream about how your skin would feel, and the sounds you'd make when I touched you at last…”

“Sounds I'd make?” I teased him.

He grinned and said, “All those sounds you were making just now.”

I squeaked for the second time, my whole body flushing. I tipped my face into his neck and whispered, almost shyly, “You're so good at that.”

He slid down my body and braced his chin on my belly, then just lower, breathing against me. “At this, you mean?”

“Yes,” I affirmed in a tiny, breathless voice. “Oh God, yes, that…”

Again he spread my legs and I gasped as he tipped his head. I felt as though I might shred apart at the seams, coming again in waves, until I was limp and sweat trailed over my temples. Blythe was above me then, a condom in place, sliding home with a groan as my body clenched hard around him. He tipped my hips up to take him fully, moving with deep, fast strokes.

“Joelle,” he gasped out, his lips against my hair. I could hardly breathe, unable to do more than cling to him. He came with a cry that made me think I'd hurt him, if I hadn't known better. He shuddered against me, catching me close, until I slowly drifted back to myself.

The sky was brilliant with sunset when
we at last managed to sit up and think about getting dressed. Bly's window was open and the sounds of crickets met our ears. I fastened my bra and then leaned over his lap to admire the view. The western horizon appeared to have been splattered with liquid gold and then dotted by indigo-blue puffs of cloud slightly darker than the robin's egg shade of the rest of the sky. The sun itself was a molten magenta, just the top half visible as it sank inescapably into a fiery pool of light.

“That is so gorgeous,” I said, relaxed, bracing my elbows on Bly's lap. He leaned back against the seat and turned his head to gaze out the window, too, rubbing along my spine with his warm hands.

“I do believe that Oklahoma has some of the best sunsets,” he said. “But Landon is a close second.”

I nodded agreement.

“Shit,” he observed minutes later, but in a lazy tone.

I looked back over my shoulder and drew in a breath at the way he looked in the last of the light, his hair all roughed up from my hands, his lips warm and soft, his eyes so smoky blue beneath spiky long lashes.

“Mom was expecting us for dinner. It's her day off,” he explained. “But it's probably almost 9:00 by now.”

“Shit,” I agreed, and for a moment I felt like a teenage girl, so caught up in her own world that she neglected everyone else's. I hadn't checked my phone all day, hadn't called my own teenage girls…

“It's all right,” he laughed. “I'll call her.”

He did, apologizing, while I slipped back into my clothes and brushed out my hair. I had been through such a range of emotions that I felt a little drained, not to mention starving. Altogether I was glad that Christy was gracious enough to tell her son that there was plenty of food left and that we should come over immediately.

“Mom likes you,” Bly told me as we drove back through Brandt.

“I like her too,” I said truthfully. “She's kind. And she loves you very much. What about your dad? Do you ever talk to him?”

“He comes around sometimes,” Bly said. “Mom won't admit it, but he's into drugs. Maybe even something worse than weed, which I know he used to use. He would hide in the bathroom with the fan going, like he was fooling anyone.” He laughed ruefully.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“He was in town just before I left for Landon, actually. I saw him for a minute. He looked like shit,” Bly said. “Poor guy. I don't hate him, even though he wasn't around much for us. Mom still loves him. I wish she'd let him go.”

“It's not always that easy.”

“Your mom and Ellen seem to have gotten along just fine,” he observed. “And your grandma. I never saw such tough ladies.”

“You know, though, Gran has always talked about my grandpa, how she wished he'd have called her one last time. He just up and left town and she never heard from him again. My dad, too, I guess. Great-Aunt Minnie used to joke that there was a curse on the menfolk in our family, isn't that awful? But then everything with Chris…” I shivered a little. I didn't usually talk about it with anyone other than Jillian.

“That's Jillian's husband?” Bly asked as he took the turn into Gatehouse Court. “The one who died?”

“Yeah. Clint looks just like him. There was a long time when we all thought she'd never get over him.” I chewed my thumbnail as I thought about that.

“But she seems really happy with Justin,” Bly observed. “He's a good guy. I've liked hanging out with him.”

“I'm so glad she let herself fall in love. And he's totally over the moon for her,” I said, and then leaned impulsively and kissed Blythe's cheek. “Thanks for the lovely evening.”

He turned his head and caught me for a quick kiss as he put the truck in park. “Anytime, baby.”

Christy and Rich were drinking coffee at the table when we entered moments later. Christy studied us for a moment, making me instantly concerned that my dress was crooked, or inside-out, or that the path of Blythe's hands and lips was somehow glowing all along my body, visible to his mother's eagle eyes. But she smiled gently and said, “There's a pot roast on the stove, mashed potatoes. Thought I was crazy making all that stuff when it was 90-something today.”

“Thanks, Ma, my favorites,” Blythe said and dropped a kiss on her cheek as we entered the kitchen, which smelled wonderful. I filled a plate and sat near Rich, who snagged a piece of pot roast and gave me a smile.

“Nice hair, son,” Christy said as Blythe sat down across from me, his own plate loaded.

“Thanks,” he said to Christy, giving me a wink. “Maggie didn't want to cut it.”

“I know, she called me afterwards and told me so,” Christy said, then laughed. “But it looks good, it suits you. Don't you think, Joelle?”

I nodded, my mouth full of her delicious food.

“Jillian called for you earlier,” Rich told me, helping himself again to my plate.

“I know, I'll call her tonight,” I said, feeling guilty; I had told her I'd call every night, and we'd not spoken yet. Nor had I talked to Tish, or Mom, though the latter I was fine with; I was still irritated with my mother. And Tish was probably too occupied with enjoying the last month of summer vacation to make much of a fuss. I hoped Camille had been able to eat something today, and that Tish was allowing Ruthann to tag along a little…maybe Mom could invite Dodge's grandkids, the triplets, out for an evening…

“Sweetheart, you better go call them,” Bly was saying to me. I looked up from my speculation to see his eyes on me, his expression tender. “I can practically hear your thoughts right now.”

I smiled back at him, taking a last bite of the pot roast mixed with potatoes, then nodded agreement.

“I'll be back,” I added, and found my cell phone on the bed in my room, where its little red message light was blinking crazily. Without even checking my voicemail, I dialed Shore Leave and Jillian answered on the second ring.

“Well it's about damn time,” she said by way of greeting. But she wasn't truly angry, I could tell.

“Sorry,” I told her, taking the phone with me as I went out onto the little porch where the Chinese lanterns glimmered a rainbow welcome. I sat on the top concrete step, smoothing my skirt as I did so. The air out here was warm and crackling-dry, but not unpleasant. From nearby trailers I could hear muted conversations and laughter, music from someone's radio or TV, an occasional dog. Someone pedaling a bike crunched along on the gravel path; he offered a wave as he passed me, which I returned. I asked Jilly, “Any other dreams?”

“No important ones,” my sister said. “Jackson was out here yesterday and he told me to tell you he was sorry for acting like an asshole. That was his exact phrasing too. I think he actually meant it. He came in and had dinner with the girls and Clint on the porch. Mom and Ell sat with them for a while, but Gran just peeked out the window.”

“What about you?” I joked.

“I was going out with Justin, so I only saw the beginning. He stuck around and chatted with the girls until it was dark. It was fine until they started talking about Noah and Camille begged Jackie not to go and have a talk with him, but he was pretty adamant. She bawled and had a little bit of a hissy and then went back to the house, but surprisingly Jackson handled that all right. Mom said he just kept on talking with Ruthie and Tish as though she hadn't acted that way.”

“Aw, Camille,” I groaned. “Shit. I think Jackie's in the right, but I understand how she feels. It's so humiliating. How could she get pregnant by such a jackass?”

Jilly giggled a little. “Nice, Jo.”

For a moment I wished I could tell her about everything I'd learned last night and today, but it wasn't the time nor place. I shifted a little against the hard concrete, wishing I had a smoke. But I'd run out and there was no point buying more when I was quitting. I sighed and said, “It just breaks my heart for her. I know she was in love with that little bastard this summer and then not only does he break her heart, but he knocks her up. I just have a feeling he'll never be there for her.”

“I know. I get the same sense. But what do you say? She'll meet someone who deserves her.”

“But—” I began, but Jilly cut me off with a shushing noise.

“No ‘buts' for now,” she added. “It's so pretty out over the water. I wish you were here to have a beer on the dock. What's the word down there? What's it like?”

“Prairie,” I responded. “Brandt is a lot like Landon except not so pretty. I miss the lake.”

“How is Bly?”

“Good,” I said softly, and Jillian snorted.

“I'll bet,” she teased me.

“Damn good,” I murmured, and then she laughed her deep rollicking laugh.

“Hurry and bring him home,” she said. “I miss you. How did we ever survive with you in Chicago all those years?”

“I was just wondering that today,” I told her.

“Hey, I've gotta go. Ellen is in the weeds at the bar,” Jilly said, and I could practically see my sister craning her neck as she looked that way to notice.

“Okay. Are the girls around?”

“No, they're out on the lake with Clinty. I'll have them call your phone later though. Love you!” she said hurriedly.

“Love you too, Jilly Bean,” I replied, and hung up.

I sat
out in the darkness a little longer, hearing Bly, Christy and Rich chatting in the house. Their voices rose and fell, punctuated by a laugh here and there, mostly Bly's, his deep laugh that made my heart vibrate with happiness. I curled my hands around my knees and arched my back, studying the stars. After a while I heard dishes clattering into the sink, and then Blythe was coming out the screen door and joining me on the step.

“How's everybody?” he asked, squeezing beside me and wrapping one arm around my waist. I leaned my head against his strong shoulder and cupped his left knee.

“Good, I just talked to Jilly. The girls were out on the lake.”

He sighed. “God, I can just picture it. I miss it there so much.”

“Jilly told me to hurry and bring you home,” I said, tightening my grip on his leg. “I told her I'd do everything I could.”

He turned and kissed my hair, drawing me tighter against his warm side.

“Mom wants to know if you play cards,” he said.

“As in Go Fish?” I teased.

“No, more like Texas Hold ‘Em.”

“That's poker, right?”

“Basically,” he replied, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “You ready to take on Mom and Gramps?”

“No, but I'm game,” I told him, and he rose and drew me to my feet.

Two hours
later I'd been visited by Beginner's Luck enough that Rich threw in for the last time, cursing good-naturedly.

“Dammit, that's it for me,” he said, tipping his chair back on its hind legs, reminiscent of Tish back at Shore Leave. “Bly, you about ready to head to bed?”

Bly met my eyes for a fraction of a second with so much heat that my cheeks felt scorched. But he sounded totally at ease as he looked over at Rich and replied, “Yeah, we probably should.”

“You'll call Dale first thing?” Christy asked, sounding on edge. It was the first we'd spoken of Blythe's impending court appearance all evening.

He nodded, rising to his feet. I stood too, prepared to walk him to the truck. Bly gave his mother a hug and then took my hand in his. Outside, the trailer court had quieted under the midnight sky. When we reached his truck, Bly enfolded me against his chest, his arms secure around me. I clung, pressing my face against his red t-shirt, breathing in his scent, my hands spread over the hard muscles of his back.

“Thanks for listening today,” he whispered against my hair, and I tightened my grip.

“Thanks for telling me,” I whispered back. I tipped my chin against him and he bent his head to meet my gaze, cupping my face and gently stroking my cheeks with both thumbs. The lanterns from Christy's porch threw a soft orange glow over his face as he looked intently into my eyes. My heart kicked at my chest and I said, “I love you. So much, Blythe…” I didn't want to let go of him.

“My sweet girl, I love you,” he said, cradling me, bending to rest his forehead against mine. “I'll come over first thing. Try to get some sleep.”

“You too,” I whispered in a slightly shaky voice. I wanted him to come back inside with me so badly. But Rich was coming out the screen door. Bly pulled me in for a kiss, catching me close and hard for one last moment, before drawing back and saying, “Good-night. See you in the morning.”

“Night,” I said.

I slept
better than I'd thought, though just before dawn I had a strange dream. I woke with a jolt, blinking into the dim gray light of a very early morning. Darn that Jillian, getting her animal dreams stuck in my subconscious. I sat up and scraped back my hair, which was slightly sweaty; a trickle ran between my breasts too, and I felt vaguely unsettled. With a sigh I leaned back onto the pillows, readjusting them and trying to remember the fading scraps of the dream that had just been playing out behind my eyelids.

I'd been in a field, and I'd been a horse. I'd somehow known this without the benefit of a mirror or lake, or any other reflective surface. I remembered a fleeting glimpse of long hoofed legs protruding down from my torso. And there'd been the sound of fighting beyond me, maybe over a hill or in the trees that were just to my left. And I'd been worried about the lame horse, the horse with the limp. I'd been worried it would be hurt. And then I'd woken.

In the grayness of Blythe's old bedroom I drew my knees to my chest and sighed. I thought about Jackie telling me that he wished I would have reacted more to his affair. As in, track down Lanny and claw out her eyes? I hated that I was second-guessing myself after all this time, but it made me wonder. Maybe I should have confronted him directly when I'd suspected; it had been so much easier to pretend that I was wrong, that my gut instinct was somehow invalid. It was so much easier to believe that my husband, who'd given me three beautiful baby girls, would never choose to cheat on me, even if the option was readily available. I sighed then, rolling back onto the pillows, continuing to hug myself as though I was a child needing reassurance.