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Oakley
“I really like him,” my mother said softly.
I knew who she was talking about instantly.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Me, too.”
“I can’t believe he did that.” She shook her head. “Your dad picked up that sign. It had to have weighed a hundred pounds. I couldn’t even lift it with the pole on it. And that boy just had surgery! Ford said that he walked it all the way down.”
My belly hurt just thinking about carrying something that large.
“You like him, or you like him, like him?” she pushed.
I rolled my eyes. “I both like him, and like him, like him.”
She grinned. “I’ve always loved hearing stories about him from your brother. He sounded like a good man.”
I agreed.
That was partially why I’d started sending so many care packages when my brother had been deployed that first time. He’d talked a lot about his friends, but it was his ‘friend Pace’ who ‘didn’t get any letters or packages’ that had caught a little piece of my heart. Even from all the way across an ocean.
I’d learned Pace liked peanut butter—and sent everything peanut butter I could find. Especially since I knew that Ford hated peanut butter. That way, I knew that at least some of it would get to the other man.
“I have, too,” I admitted. “Did you know that he still carries around that bunny that you and I found at that old gas station? The one with all the fru-fru, hoity-toity things that looked like it was so out of place? He made that bunny into a keychain and carries it around everywhere with him.” I paused. “I heard him call it his lucky charm.”
My mother softened. “I remember.”
Of course, she did. When I’d bought it to send to Ford, we’d been laughing so much at the obviously delicate rabbit in that old man’s dirty hands. He’d said that it was his good luck charm, too. He’d told us a story about pulling it out of the box that his wife had ordered—accidentally—and thinking that it was a big mistake. When he’d put all the ‘mumbo jumbo’ out, he’d entertained a crying kid with that very bunny.
That kid had belonged to a woman who’d been forced to stop for repairs on her car, and had loved the delicate display of femininity in the middle of a dirty old shop/gas station.
She’d bought up one of everything, and then had sent her friends.
Her friends had sent friends. And those friends had sent friends.
And then all of a sudden that man had his wife order ‘mumbo jumbo’ on purpose.
“That’s very cool,” my mom’s eyes sparkled. “I love hearing that.”
I loved telling her it.
“What are y’all in here whispering about?” Ford asked as he came inside.
He stopped at the cake box and picked up the fork that someone had left inside, then promptly started to eat it straight out of the box.
I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to cut off a piece from the middle, away from all the fork marks.
“We’re whispering about your friend, Pace,” Mom said. “Would you be all right with her dating him?”
Ford stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth.
“I really like Pace,” he said. “So if you do date him, make sure you don’t piss him off. I’d like to keep him in my life.”
I grinned. “I’ll try not to do that.”
“Good.” He took a bite of the cake. “Who’s been eating this cake? It looks like it’s been massacred.”
I got up to look.
The entire cake looked like someone had been eating directly from the box. Fork marks went all the way around.
“Gross,” I said.
Pace came inside then, and saw what we were looking at.
“I ate from that side,” he pointed at the very corner. “It’s not contaminated.”
I laughed.
Then cut myself a piece like a civilized human being, making sure to take my piece from the uncontaminated part like Pace had dictated.
It was delicious.
It also made me think about kissing Pace and tasting frosting on his lips.Chapter 11I’m looking for a moisturizer that hides the fact that I’ve been tired since last year.
-Oakley’s secret thoughts
Oakley
It was official.
I was in love with the man that’d given me a kidney.
I didn’t know when it happened.
Maybe when he stopped the nurses from rolling us into our operating room to give me a pep talk.
Maybe over the numerous dinners we’d had together since—though none of those at an actual restaurant. Most of those times, it’d been him coming over to my house, stopping in to check on me.
Whenever it was, I was sure of it.
I was in love with him.
Head over tennis shoes—because I didn’t wear heels—in love with Pace Vineyard.
Today he’d met with his new unit, and new supervisor—Captain Morgan—to discuss his new job.
And he’d called twenty minutes ago asking if I’d like to go get a bite to eat.
