Page 65 of In This Moment

Chapter Sixteen

Graham’s folks had landed in Atlanta on the seven-thirty flight Monday evening, and rented a car to drive the ninety minutes toward Vallantine. He’d introduced them to Rebecca this morning at the office, where she insisted she’d cover the fort so he could take them to lunch. They’d spent the majority of the day hanging out at the Gazette listening to his parents tell stories from his youth, and Rebecca laughing. While working, he’d not noticed one lapse in conversation, nor had things gone stale.

They liked her. They genuinely seemed to like Rebecca.

Through the years, as girlfriends or lovers had come and gone from his orbit, his folks had appeared mostly indifferent. Mom, especially. They’d been pleasant, if not distanced. Cordial. Their parenting style was not invasive, allowing him to make his own choices, and offering advice when warranted or requested. Essentially, they’d stayed out of his love life. If they’d known his previous relationships wouldn’t work out, they’d kept mum.

This was different. Entirely. He wasn’t certain what to make of it since it was new territory. On one hand, an overwhelming sense of relief flooded his system that they got along with her. Enjoyed her company. Were as smitten by her as he seemed to be. On the other, he felt like he’d been dropped in a ‘Mayberry’ episode of ‘The Twilight Zone.’

Alone, while his parents tuned in to something on the living room TV and doted on the dog, Graham stood at his kitchen window, watching Rebecca in her backyard. She’d bowed out on their dinner offer, too, claiming she needed to get caught up on gardening. Not once since she’d moved home had he spotted her doing anything of the sort. He figured it had been a paltry excuse if not for the fact she was actually…well, gardening.

Their modest quarter acre lots didn’t allow a lot of leeway for landscaping, and hers had a slight incline toward the rear. Mavis had installed a three-tiered layered wooden garden box that ran the length of the backyard long before he’d moved next door. Up until this evening, it had been overgrown with weeds.

Rebecca had made quite a bit of headway since leaving her shift at the Gazette. Not that he was surprised. Blasted woman could work circles around ten men. Regardless, the weeds were gone and overfilling a garbage can near the house. Empty disposable pots were strewn about the yard, a result of her having planted the top two tiers with varying bushes or flowers. More than twenty bags of mulch were piled on her other side.

He wondered how she’d gotten all that in her car. Maybe the nursery had delivered. If not, that was easily five trips.

Her blonde locks were up in a messy knot and her have-mercy pink shorts were molded to her perfect ass. She also had on a white tank top which, had she been facing him, might have resulted in him ditching his folks to slip next door. Peel off her layers. Get dirty in the figurative sense versus literal.

Vast oranges and reds of sunset played with the mood’s lighting, casting her in romantic hues which belonged at the end of a camera lens. Or a poetry collection. A punch of emotion hit him out of nowhere and smacked his chest, creating reverberations. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was, other than fondness, but damn was it profound. His throat grew tight, and he attempted to figure out the mystery of his lil southern belle.

Lovely and funny. The obvious. Smart, creative, and patient. More duh. All reasons he’d be interested or attracted to a woman. But what made her different? What was it about Rebecca Moore that rendered him putty? Smitten by a smile? A sarcastic comment? A sigh? Hell, just by her breathing?

Normally, he liked puzzles, wading through the deets to get to the heart of a subject. Except, this mystery was driving him to the brink and back, coupled by the fact that he had no clue where they were headed in the relationship.

Uncertainty was not his favorite bedfellow.

At any given moment, one or both of them could get an employment offer outside of Vallantine. She’d mentioned not wanting to leave again, that she’d preferred home. In turn, he hadn’t known how to reply. The only home he’d ever known was hundreds of miles north, and that had stopped feeling less like comfort and more like a safety net over time. He’d failed there. In every sense. And Vallantine wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned for himself. He may never climb out from under the scandal, but was that a reason to settle?

“You’re going to burn a hole through the glass watching her that hard.”

Smiling, he glanced at his mother’s profile. Shoulder-length black hair, pointed jaw, and round cheeks. It had seemed like eons since he’d seen her last, but she looked the same. Age was beginning to show in the creases around her mouth and eyes, a testament to a life lived in laughter and love. One couldn’t ask for more.

“Maybe,” he said through a sigh, casting his focus outside again. Rebecca had put the last of the plants in the bottom tier and was now staring at the mulch bags with her hands on her hips. Probably trying to work up the energy to begin. Worry cranked in his gut. “She’s going to put herself in traction.”

“A little yardwork never hurt anyone. Besides, she’s doing a great job. The garden looks amazing.”

It did look awesome. Rebecca had alternated red and coral rose bushes with white gardenia on the top tier, yellow jasmine and pink honeysuckle vines on the second tier with trellises, and purple coneflowers with blue delphinium on the bottom tier. All perennial, so they’d return every year. Smart of her because all she’d have to do from there was light weeding and mulch replacement. It was colorful and eye-catching. She’d mixed small, rounded holly bushes in between flowers on all tiers, assumingly to keep something growing year round in the off-season since they were an evergreen variety. The only reason he knew all the plant variations was because of his father’s green thumb, and by listening to conversation between Dad and Rebecca at the office earlier.

He wasn’t even surprised by how much had brushed off on him without him realizing.

And a “little gardening” might not be much for the average person, but it would hurt Rebecca.

He internally debated whether or not to tell his mother, and decided Rebecca wouldn’t mind. She wasn’t ashamed of her condition, not that there was a reason to be, and she didn’t use it as a crutch, which his mother would respect. Best he could tell, she was also very open about it when asked, indicating her diagnosis wasn’t a secret.

“She has fibromyalgia.” Crazy how quickly he’d learned the term, pronunciation, and definition in such a short span. It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “Ever hear of it?”

Mom nodded, her gaze out the window, a frown curving the corners of her mouth. “One of the paralegals in the firm was diagnosed last year. I never would’ve known had she not said something. Invisible illnesses are tricky and often ignored in the medical community.”

He grunted in agreement. “She mentioned that very thing. It took them forever and a litany of tests just to tell her there was nothing they could do.” Or almost nothing. “I mean, she looks fine.”

But she wasn’t. At some point, he needed to figure out how to cope with that. He wasn’t doing a very bang-up job of it yet. Like now. He was all but crawling out of his skin wanting to march over there and do the work for her. She’d crucify him for it. Rightfully so.

Another nod from Mom. “I had lunch with Janet a few weeks ago to go over a case. That’s the paralegal I mentioned. The topic of her condition came up, and she said something that stuck with me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She turned to face him, arms crossed, and the troubled weariness in her eyes had his gut sinking. “She said the level of pain she lives with every day would cripple most people, and no one has any iota there’s a thing at all wrong.”

Well…shit. Why didn’t she just pummel his face with a sledgehammer? That would’ve hurt less.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, closing his eyes. It didn’t help. All he pictured was his dear, feisty, affectionate Rebecca. In pain. It caused agony of his own. In his head. His chest. Every damn where.

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