He listened to the phone ringing in his ear.
Then he heard, “Chace.”
“Make a reservation at Reynaldo’s. This weekend. Sunday night. For four.”
“Chace,” his father whispered, and fuck him, he heard that whisper tremble.
Chace’s gut got tight.
“We’ll meet you there at seven.”
There was nothing then, “Right. Seven.”
“Tell Ma I said hi.”
“I’ll pass that along.”
“I’m almost home,” Chace told him, seeing the white picket fence up ahead. “I gotta go.”
“Of course.”
“Later.”
“Chace?”
Shit.
Chace gave him something, he was going for more.
“Dad, how ‘bout we take this slow,” he suggested.
“I like her.”
Shit, fuck, shit.
“Good.”
“She suits you.”
Chace sucked in breath.
His father went on. “A good woman for a good man.”
Shit, fuck, shit!
“Right.”
Unfortunately, he wasn’t fucking done.
“I heard what you did for that boy and his sister. I’m proud of you.”
Shit, fuck, shit!
“Dad –”
“I just wanted you to know.”
Chace turned into his drive then hit the garage door opener and into the phone he said, “All right, you wanted me to know. I know.”
“All right,” Trane replied quietly. “Your mother and I’ll look forward to Sunday.”
“Great. Later.”
“Have a good evening, Chace.”
“You too,” he returned then disconnected.
He drove into his garage and parked. He was in his new blue Yukon. His old one was parked next to him. When he’d bought the new one, he’d given the old one to Faye and her Cherokee was gracing someone else’s garage. She accepted this without much discussion much like he suspected Sondra did when her ride was phased out and Silas’s new one phased in. Faye didn’t really care what she drove and since he did and his old Yukon was better than her Cherokee, she went with it without giving him any lip.
When the garage door was going down, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.
“Shit, fuck, shit,” he whispered.
Then he pulled in a breath, got out of his truck, walked through the garage, opened the door, moved into the back hall and was immediately accosted by Apollo.
He bent and scooped up the cat, walked down the hall while avoiding Starbuck who was chasing his feet and saw Faye at the stove, stirring something.
She turned to him and smiled. “Hey honey, how was swimming?”
He stared at her, her gleaming hair, her crystal blue eyes, her cute outfit, her smiling bubblegum lips and felt his gut release.
Then he smiled back and said, “It was good. What’s for dinner?”
*
Faye
Two weeks later
I swam up from the fog of sleep and I did this because I heard Chace whispering in my ear, “Wake up, baby.”
I blinked, looked at the alarm clock and saw it was early.
It was Sunday.
I didn’t need to get up early anyway, though these days I did to get up with Chace. But Sundays, we both could sleep in.
So I was wondering why he wasn’t doing that.
I shifted and the pile of cats draped over my feet and ankles shifted, Starbuck, with his usual attitude, doing it on an annoyed mew.
“What?” I asked Chace.
“It snowed last night.”
I stared at him.
Then I asked, “So?”
“Come on, baby, get up, wrap up, let’s go drink coffee outside.”
Coffee outside?
Was he fraking nuts?
I didn’t get the chance to ask and had no choice in the matter since he yanked the covers back, grabbed my hand and pulled me out of bed.
I saw he was already wrapped up and he also was sauntering out the door. I considered climbing back into bed but curiosity got the better of me. So I went about brushing my teeth and doing the same, pulling up some leggings under my nightie, one of Chace’s sweatshirts over it and some thick socks on my feet.
I met Chace at the end of the hall and he had two steaming mugs. He gave me one and we wandered out the front door. Chace pulled the rockers up to the railing and we settled into them, both immediately lifting our feet to the railing like we had countless times when we sat out there that summer.
Our breath came out in puffs.
The steam from the hot coffee got steamier.
Mine tasted of hazelnut and went down warm.
The plain was startlingly different with a blanket of snow.
Beautiful.
Peaceful.
Chace didn’t speak.
Still slightly sleepy, I didn’t either. I just sipped my coffee and stared at the snow, the plain, the white covered hills and mountains beyond with their stark breaks of green pine.
“Common miracle,” he muttered and I looked at him.
“Pardon, honey?”
His eyes didn’t leave the plain when he answered, “This. Common miracle. Even common, still miraculous.”
I looked at the plain and the instant I did it settled in me he was right.
It was.
Miraculous.
Not only snowfall on the Rockies but him finding me, me finding him, both of us sitting on our porch, drinking coffee, quiet, content, beauty as far as the eye could see.