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He was busy talking to Nancy Young, whose eyelashes batted so fast when Major was around I was surprised they hadn’t caused her face to take flight yet.
“He single?” a voice behind me asked. I turned to see Mrs. McReedy from the library point her chin at the major.
I wanted to snap in her face that he wasn’t single. He was ours.
But I knew that was ridiculous. My best friend deserved to find a partner, someone to have like I had Betsy. Someone to give him comfort at the end of a hard day.
“Yes, um. Yes, ma’am. But—” I wasn’t about to tell her he was gay, of course not, but I wanted to say something to lead her off his trail. Otherwise he was going to be on the receiving end of a dozen or more date match-ups before the end of the week.
“He’s a loner, Mrs. McReedy,” Betsy said from over my shoulder. “He had someone once, but… well, you know how hard it is to get over a broken heart…”
My wife was a smooth liar.
I looked at her in surprise, and she gave me a knowing look in return. “Isn’t that right, Liam?”
I glanced at Major, whose eyes were locked on me. “Yes. He… he keeps himself to himself now mostly. The private type.”
“Oh, so sad!” The librarian clucked in Major’s direction, which caused his brows to furrow in confusion. “I should have known. I know just the thing. Never you mind.”
She wandered off muttering to herself while I turned to Betsy with a raised brow.
“I think he would rather date Max than Maxine if you catch my drift,” Betsy said in a soft whisper. “And I don’t want those busybodies foisting every Hobie debutante on the poor man.”
“What makes you say that about him?” I asked just as quietly. I’d never told a living soul about Major preferring men, so I was curious how Betsy of all people had caught on. It wasn’t like she’d had a chance to see him around a man he was interested in. Had she?
She reached out to straighten my tie. “Liam, honey, that man is in love with you. I’ve practically lived with him for six months now and can tell just by the way his face lights up when he hears your name.”
There wasn’t a jealous tone at all. It was more… pity, maybe. Almost like she felt bad she’d called dibs on me first.
“We’re best friends, Betsy,” I corrected. “That’s all. He lights up because I’m his family. I’m his brother. He doesn’t have anyone else.”
Her face softened. “That’s not true anymore, is it? He has me. And the kids. And your parents and my dad. That man has been a rock for my father these last few months. If he stepped in horse patties, I’d wash his feet,” she teased, referring to the time I’d accidentally stepped in horse shit barefoot and begged her to help me hose my feet off. She’d refused.
“Wow. That is love. Are you going to throw me over for Major Marian? Do I need to watch my back?” I slid my arms around her waist and felt the scratchy surface of the black dress suit she wore.
She hummed. “I wish we knew of a man for him. For a while I thought maybe Roger…”
“Roger who works for your dad?” I thought of the short, stocky man who never said much but worked harder on the farm than almost anyone else and always went out of his way to help Marsha with her vegetable garden. “What makes you think—”
Movement across the room caught my eye, and I turned to see Patty Ritches giggle and squeeze Major’s arm right next to where the man’s service ribbons lay in tidy, colorful rows. She’d pulled her friend Carol Claire over with her, and I almost laughed when Major subtly shifted little Jackie until she was on his front like body armor: a baby koala bear, her skinny arms wrapped around his neck and her head laying on his right shoulder. Her blonde curls escaped the barrettes my mother had put in that morning, but Major didn’t seem to mind. He simply reached up and smoothed the wildness down and out of his face.
“The man has no idea that holding that baby makes him more attractive to them, does he?” Betsy said through a laugh. “For as smart as he is, he’s stupid as a box of rocks sometimes. He might as well have sprayed himself with steak juice and gone for a stroll among the wolves.”
I felt the return of that strange euphoria I’d felt at the cemetery, that I was one of the luckiest SOBs on earth. I mourned the loss of my kind mother-in-law, but I was thankful my own parents were still healthy, my wife was happy and settled, and my best friend was there to watch over all of them for me. I was lucky—couldn’t ask for anything more.
