He put his hands at her waist and paused, thinking how nice it was to have someone there to talk to, even about inconsequential things like what color to paint the barn. She sat looking at him, an encouraging smile on her pretty, full lips.
Instead of lifting her down, he nestled between her thighs and whispered, “Thank you, Lily.”
He did as he’d wished before and squeezed each cheek of her derriere as he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. She sat frozen, and for a moment he thought he’d fucked up big time. But then her arms snaked around his neck, and she kissed him back. She shuddered delicately when he slid his hand over her long hair and she tilted her head, deepening the kiss almost tentatively. Was she as concerned about making a mistake as he was? What would it hurt if he went inside with her right now?
Normally, he worked until he was ready to drop each night in an effort to exhaust himself and possibly avoid the nightmares that had plagued him since that horrible night in Kandahar. The sound of weeping women and the horrified cries of a blameless victim seeped insidiously into his thoughts.
Lily pulled back from him and whispered, “Are you all right? I’m sorry if that was—”
Del shook his head as he lifted her from the workbench. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lily. It’s just memories. Sorry.”
“Bad memories?” Del nodded, and she said, “Del, I’ll listen if you ever want to talk. The counselor told me that I have PTSD and that it would help me to talk about what happened with JT. I’m not a licensed therapist, but I can listen if you need me to.”
Del doubted that she would want to listen to the stories that he could tell and knew she would wish that he’d kept them to himself even if she claimed otherwise. Every day he wished he could erase his memories. He’d tried working himself into a stupor just so he could sleep and wound up making it even harder for him to fall asleep, and when he had, he’d discovered that he was a sleepwalker, waking up out on the front porch. It was a relief that the driveway to the ranch house was a long one because there was no telling how far he might have gotten in that state. That’s when he’d started having a couple of beers at night, hoping it would help him relax. Nothing worked, and the truth was that he was unfit company. He felt sorry for Lily having to second-guess him like that.
“I appreciate it, Lily. I’ll just be out here a while longer.”
Seeming to understand, Lily nodded and backed away, holding the dishes. “Dessert’s on the kitchen counter when you come in.”
Smiling, he asked, “What is it?”
“A surprise,” she responded in a teasing tone as she sauntered away.
He watched her hungrily and wished that he was whole so he could give her what she needed. Instead, he returned to his work, knowing he’d be up half the night thinking of her asleep in his bed while he slept in his recliner, unless he was bone-tired exhausted.
The scent of rain was in the air and his boots were dragging when he walked in the house at eleven thirty. The first thing he noticed while he wiped his feet on the doormat in the kitchen was the smells. The odor of cleaning products lingered in the air, overlaid by the scent of the chicken dinner she’d prepared. As he pulled off his boots, he also noticed the fragrance of fresh laundry and saw the stacks of towels and clean clothing lined up on the dryer in the utility room off to the right of the back door, ready to be put away. She’d accomplished in one evening what he hadn’t in two months. For the first time, the ranch house felt like a home.
He padded on silent feet to the counter and paused in confusion when he saw the large, familiar metal tin sitting there. Feeling like he was having a flashback, he slid the lid from the old tin and peeled back the wax paper inside. The scent of vanilla and brown sugar filled his nostrils and made his mouth water as he was transported back to his mother’s kitchen. Lily must’ve found his mom’s recipe for pecan pralines which were his favorite sweets. He grabbed the tin in one hand and reached into the fridge for a beer with the other. He paused when he saw the old pitcher on the top shelf.
He set the beer aside and lifted the pitcher from the fridge then reached into a cabinet. He poured a tall glass, grabbed the tin, and forgot altogether about the beer as he walked into the living room and sat down in his comfy recliner. Savoring the anticipation, he set the glass on the end table and slipped the lid from the tin. He breathed in the sweet aroma and lifted a praline from the container.
The sugary candy melted on his tongue, bringing back a deluge of memories as he sat back and rocked. His mom had made those pralines for every big event and any time the boys had begged her to because they loved them so much. He lifted the sweating glass to his lips and took the first sip of real homemade sweet tea that he’d had in…forever.