“Yeah, well.” She was shifting from foot to foot, staring down at her bare toes. “I’m still pretty new at the friend thing.”
He studied her a moment in the dim porch light, her face nearly lost in shadow. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that before—they’re new at the friend thing.”
“I guess it would sound funny to most people, but I learned to keep my distance at an early age. A survival mechanism, you might say. I’m working on it, though. Another thirty years and I should about have it mastered.”
She smiled then, a genuine smile that chased the shadows from her face, and for an instant, he was reminded of the time he’d gone cliff diving in Mexico, the dizzy, breathtaking moment he’d kicked away from solid ground and fallen out into space—praying the whole way down.
“I’m willing to wait,” he said quietly.
Her smile flickered and went out. “I’m not sure I’m worth the wait. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit of a wreck right now. Lots of baggage.”
He leaned in then, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll risk it.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Sweetwater, Virginia
July 4, 2017
With the exception of Christmas, Independence Day was by far Sweetwater’s favorite holiday, and this year, Christy-Lynn found herself smack-dab in the middle of the festivities. It was hard not to get caught up in the enthusiasm as she scanned the crowd gathered on the drilling green to witness the annual reading of the Declaration of Independence.
She was looking for Missy and the boys when she spotted Wade just a few yards away, his phone to his ear. He ended the call when he spotted her, smiling as he made his way over.
“Fancy meeting you here.” He nodded toward her American flag tank top. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”
“I did.” She smiled as she surveyed the crowd. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Taking time to remember what it’s all about, hearing the words read aloud. Even the kids seem to love it.”
Wade nodded as he followed her gaze. “I’d forgotten how much this town loves the Fourth. My grandfather used to bring me when I was a kid. I’d pretend I was bored, too cool for parades, but I loved it. I think he knew. Not much got past the old man.”
They were meandering toward the sidewalk now, flowing with the throng of families scouting shady spots to watch the parade. Christy-Lynn grinned as a pair of twins wearing matching yellow sunglasses scampered past. “Did you come from a big family?”
“Not big. One sister, but we were close. My father died when I was three. I don’t really remember him. My mom still has pictures of him everywhere, so I have a memory of his face, or at least what feels like a memory.”
“I’m sorry.”
Wade shrugged. “You can’t miss what you never had.”
She shot him a quick glance. “You don’t think so?”
Another shrug. “Maybe it’s because I had my grandfather. He stepped in when my mother went back to work and sort of took me under his wing. What about you? What was your family like?”
“I didn’t have a family,” she said bluntly. “It was just my mother and me.”
“Two people can’t be a family?”
She could feel his eyes and knew he was waiting for an explanation. Instead, she pointed across the street where a vendor with a shiny metal cart was hawking frozen lemonade. “I’m hot. How about you?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before dashing across the street, winding her way through the throng until she reached the cart. She ordered two and handed one to Wade. “Happy Fourth of July.”
As if on cue, the Sweetwater High School marching band began moving down the center of Main Street, kicking off the parade with a warbling rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”
Stephen had taken her to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade once, not long after they were married. She had been dazzled, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless sights and sounds. But now, as she watched Sweetwater’s homegrown procession of toilet paper floats and sequined majorettes move past, she couldn’t remember ever feeling such delight. In fact, she almost hated to see it end, cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd as the parade moved off down Main Street.
“That was so much fun!”
Wade took her empty cup, tossing it into a nearby trash can. “What are you doing later?”
Christy-Lynn shielded her eyes as she looked up at him. “I’ve been toying with starting a book club at the store. I was going to work on a flyer to help gauge interest. Why?”
“I’ve been thinking about your offer to look at my manuscript, and I think I’d like to take you up on it. You could come by a little later. It’s my turn to cook.”
The invitation took Christy-Lynn by surprise. When she made the offer to look at his manuscript, she hadn’t really thought about what might happen if he accepted. Nor had she considered the possible fallout if the book turned out to be bad. She’d been coaching writers long enough to know that many who claimed to want the truth actually wanted anything but.
“In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I have a tendency to shoot from the hip,” she warned. “Are you sure that’s what you’re looking for?”
“If I was looking for a pat on the back, I’d just send it to my mother. I need to know if I’m wasting my time. And I promise to let you off the hook if you decide it’s just too terrible to read. At least you’ll get a meal out of it.”
“All right. I’ll be there around six. That’ll give me a few hours to work on the flyer. Should I bring anything?”
He grinned sheepishly as he stepped off the curb, preparing to cross the street. “An open mind.”
Christy-Lynn was still feeling anxious as she pulled into Wade’s driveway. Stephen had made no bones about the fact that Wade was talented—or had been back when they were in college. But that was twenty years ago. Wade himself had admitted struggling to get his chops back. The question was had he succeeded, and if not, did she want to be the one to tell him?
“Come on through. I’m out on the deck.”
Wade’s voice startled her, bleeding through the screen door before she could lift a hand to knock. She left her purse on the kitchen table and stepped out onto the deck where he was scrubbing a grill grate with a wire brush and a bucket of soapy water. He was barefoot, wearing a faded University of Virginia T-shirt and jeans that were drenched from the knees down.
“Excuse the mess. I thought I’d give the thing a good cleaning since I was having company.”
“Can I help?”
“Not unless you want to ruin those white pants. You can go in and get us something to drink, though. I’ll take a beer.”
A few minutes later, she returned with a bottled water and the requested beer. Wade dropped the brush into the bucket and grabbed his beer with wet hands. “Listen, I started thinking about it on the way home, and I realized you were probably just being polite the other night. I don’t want to be the writer who foists his work on everyone he meets, so if you want to back out, no worries.”
“You aren’t foisting anything on me. I volunteered.”
“I saw your face this afternoon. You looked as if you’d just stepped into oncoming traffic.”
“I think I was surprised that you actually want my feedback. Stephen stopped asking a long time ago.”
“I would have thought it rather handy to have you around. A second set of eyes, someone to bounce ideas off.”
Christy-Lynn looked up from peeling the soggy label from her water bottle. “Stephen never thought much of what I do—or the writers I do it for. As far as he was concerned, if you weren’t with one of the Big Five, you should be doing something else. In his eyes, it wasn’t real editing because my clients weren’t real writers.”
Wade took a pull from his beer then stood looking at her with something like bewilderment. “Can you help me with something? Because I’ve been wondering about it for the last four years. How did a jackass like Stephen ever manage to snare someone like you?”