A Wedding at the Orange Blossom Inn(6)

A line formed between Ben’s brows. “That’s it? You started seeing Mamm because it was convenient?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he retorted. “I’m trying to answer you as honestly as possible. Like a man.”

“Sorry.”

“I understand, son. Believe me, I do.” He glanced over at Ben to gauge his reaction, but found himself gazing into nothing but memories. He recalled the way Evelyn had looked when he used to walk her to school and how she’d tilt her head a certain way when she was listening hard or concentrating on a problem. The way she’d looked the summer she’d turned sixteen and he’d suddenly realized that his feelings for her had moved beyond mere friendship, and that he’d never wanted to look at another girl for the rest of his life.

Perhaps that was it?

“I think I knew Evelyn was the one when I realized no other girl mattered to me,” he said simply. “I think that was when your mother was sixteen or so.”

“That’s when you knew you were in love?”

Jay hated to categorize the complexities of a relationship into one simple moment. Though he’d heard of love at first sight, he’d always thought it was a bit too fanciful for his tastes. “That was when I knew I wanted to be in love with her,” he allowed. “Falling in love is a complicated thing.”

“Sounds like it.” Ben shifted, allowing Jay to get a real good look at his scowl. “Daed, you’re not helping much.”

Only by biting the inside of his cheek could Jay keep a straight face. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, it’s hard to compare my relationship with your mother with the way most people meet and date. We had been friends for years. Why don’t you tell me what has you thinking about love tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah.” He’d learned over time not to push his eldest.

“Okay. Even though I have only known Tricia a week, I think there’s something between her and me.”

“A week isn’t very long.”

“Don’t forget that I did meet her two months ago. I talked to her quite a bit when we came out to look at the farm.”

“Ah.” Jay refrained from pointing out that that still wasn’t much time.

Ben sighed. “But maybe I simply think she’s pretty.”

Jay thought of a dozen reasons for Ben not to do anything he might regret but he elected not to say a word. Evelyn would’ve said something, of course. Though she hadn’t been especially forceful in nature, she was thoughtful and very sweet. She’d doted on her boys and they’d loved her attention.

But that was part of the problem. She wasn’t there.

With an impatient grunt, Ben said, “Daed, aren’t ya going to say anything? Aren’t ya going to offer me any advice?”

“Not tonight,” he said as he got to his feet. He still wasn’t exactly tired but he was feeling particularly old. “If you still are interested in Tricia in two weeks, we’ll talk then.”

“Why do I have to wait two weeks?”

“Because then you’ll know whether it’s her pretty face or her pretty mind that has caught your attention.”

“Pretty mind?”

“I’m a farmer, son, not a poet. If you want better words you’re going to have to seek them someplace else.” With a wink, he added, “I heard Michael Knoxx moved here. Since he’s used to giving speeches the whole world over, I’m sure he will know what to tell you. Next time you see him, ask away.”

“Good to know,” Ben said sarcastically. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said, “Hey, Daed?”

“Jah?”

“You going to be able to sleep tonight?”

“I don’t know. See you in the morning, Ben.”

“Gut naught, Daed.” Ben’s voice was filled with disappointment and worry.

Jay was sorry for that, but he knew he simply wasn’t able to pretend to be okay in front of Mark or Ben anymore. With William, he would put up a front, but not his two oldest.

When Jay entered their attic room, he tried to be thankful for the comfortable linens on the twin bed, tried to concentrate on the soft snores coming from his youngest. But all he could really think about was how much he missed his king-sized bed, with all its room to spread out and stretch.

And how much more he missed the person he used to share it with.

BEVERLY OVERHOLT KEPT TO the shadows of the kitchen while Ben Hilty gazed out into the foliage for a few more minutes after his father left, before at last heading upstairs.

Then, and only then, did she carefully close the kitchen window, which had been cracked open just enough to allow her to hear every bit of the men’s private conversation.