One Day in Apple Grove(44)

Her father was mumbling beneath his breath as they pulled into Johnson’s driveway. “You and your sister see too much.”

“Pop,” Cait said as she parked the truck. “For what it’s worth, we all like her and want you to be happy.”

“You and your sisters have been the light of my life for so long.” He shook his head as he got out of the truck. “I wasn’t thinking about dating when Mary and I met for the first cup of coffee at the diner, but now…”

Cait got out and worked with her father unloading the truck bed. “She’s kind, has a nice smile, and must have some other redeeming qualities, or you wouldn’t be stuck on her.”

His head reared up and his eyes flashed a split-second warning that his temper was on the rise. “Who said anything about being stuck?” he grumbled. “I’m not stuck.”

Cait heard the panic in his voice and felt they had something more in common than just good genes and big hearts—fear of taking the next step in a relationship when it mattered. “I didn’t think I was either, but you were right.” Her emerald-bright gaze met his and the look of complete and utter terror faded.

“Jack’s a good man, Cait.”

“I know, but I’m surprised that it took me this long to realize it. Why does that happen?”

“What happen?” he asked, unloading another length of wood and adding it to the growing stack by the side of the barn.

“You pass someone on the street nearly every day of your life, you wave,” she said, lifting another board. When he lifted his end, she continued, “They wave back, and you both smile. But then one day, something changes…maybe it’s the Earth tilting on its axis toward springtime, maybe you’ve just contracted the bubonic plague…maybe he’s been away and finally back home, and you see them—really see them—and you realize you don’t know them at all.”

Her father helped her lift the last of the boards before answering. “It was like that with Mary. We’d known one another all our lives. Her husband was a good man. We went to his wake and funeral, said whatever nonsensical words one says to comfort the bereaved while they numbly nod to you, waiting for the next person in line to do the same.”

Cait brushed her hands on the seat of her jeans and tossed her braid over her shoulder. They pulled the tarp over the wood and placed a rock on it to make sure it wouldn’t blow off.

“It was the week before Bill and Edie’s wedding three years ago that I walked into Murphy’s Market and saw Mary standing in a pool of sunlight. She had her eyes closed and a sweet smile on her face as she lifted it toward the sun.” He cleared his throat as Cait turned the key in the ignition, engaged the clutch, and put it in reverse. “I hadn’t seen a smile like that in fifteen years. After your mom died, I was so wrapped up in grief and trying to raise you girls that I’d forgotten how vibrant a woman looks when she smiles.”

They drove for a bit without speaking until she turned onto Route 13 and asked, “How’d you like to meet Jamie?”

Her dad grinned. “Want to text Jack first and ask him?”

“He might be home by now. His last appointment for the day canceled.”

“How do you know that?”

“He, uh, texted me to let me know and asked if I could stop by.”

“So, you’re really hoping I won’t mind making a detour because you can’t wait to see him?”

She signaled and pulled into Jack’s driveway. “You’ve always been the smartest man I know, Pop.”

He grinned, got out of the truck, and paused. “Any chance of the puppy running out here and jumping on the truck?”

“No, he stays in the backyard or the house. He’s pretty smart for a puppy.”

“Let’s go then.”

Cait raised her hand to knock on the back door when she heard a shout from inside. “Sounds like puppy trouble,” she said with a grin and knocked.

“Get back here, you devil dog!”

Her father chuckled. “I used to have one of those as a kid.”

They heard something crash on the other side of the door, followed by a playful yip. “Maybe Jack can’t hear you over that racket,” her father said. “Try again.”

“Hold on!” There was a muffled curse, another yip, and Jack yanked the door open, saying, “Thank God you’re here, Cait. Can you help me get my boxers—”

***

A dripping Jack tightened his hold on the towel he’d wrapped around his waist before chasing the dog. He looked from Cait to her father and back. “I, uh…come in.”