Page 24 of Rusty

“Don’t think I ever met anyone who doesn’t like apple pie, now that you mention it. And as formyhomemade apple pie . . . well, you’d have to be crazy not to love it.”

Janice giggled. “I remember your apple pie very well. I’ve missed it, actually. I’ll probably need to eat at least three slices to make up for lost time.”

“You’re gonna need a lot more than three slices to make up for the last ten years, darlin’. I’m gonna have to hook you up to an endless stream of intravenous apple pie, I think.”

Janice giggled again.

Rusty, who was in the middle of pouring lemonade out of a thermos, stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “Damn, I missed that laugh, Janice. The most beautiful sound in the whole wide world.”

Janice bit her lip. “I haven’t heard it much lately, either.”

“Well now, that just ain’t good enough,” Rusty said, his jaw tightening. “We’re gonna have to get you hooked up to an IV of jokes, too, to get you giggling from morning to night.”

Janice giggled a third time. “Apple pie in one arm, jokes in the other. Now that sounds like the kind of prescription I could really get behind.”

They ate the delicious cheese and ham sandwiches Rusty had made and drank cool homemade lemonade in companionable silence, then Janice helped herself to a slice of pie.

“Oh my,” she said. “It even smells the same as it used to.”

“That’s because of my secret ingredient.”

“Which is. . . .?”

“I’ll never tell,” said Rusty. “I never told you when we were together and I’ll never tell you now.”

Janice felt herself blushing again at the mention of them being together. Images entered her mind of her and Rusty naked in bed, kissing and making love after a dinner of roast chicken and apple pie. They had the same routine every Sunday, and it was Janice’s favorite day of the week.

“What are you thinking about?” Rusty asked. “You’re looking at me funny, Janice Jameson.”

“I’m thinking about roast chicken and apple pie,” she said quietly.

Rusty nodded. “I still remember that combination. And I remember tasting your lips, after.”

Janice looked away, suddenly trembling.

“Shit. Sorry,” said Rusty. “Forget I said that. Just lost myself for a moment there. Let’s talk about something else.”

The breeze picked up around them, and Rusty packed away the remains of the sandwiches while Janice tried not to think about Sundays anymore. Tried and failed.

So,” said Rusty, clearly trying to steer the subject in a safer direction. "How did you know Snickers needed a neck massage?"

"It’s the way she was holding her head, tilting it ever so slightly to one side. I learned all kinds of tells about how sick animals hold themselves while working on my father’s ranch. There are a lot of uncomfortable animals on his ranch, unfortunately.”

"I can tell you have a talent for it, Janice," Rusty said sincerely, glancing at her with admiration. “I’d like to tell Chuck about it, if you’ll let me.”

Janice blushed at his praise, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you, Rusty. Yes, I’d love you to tell Chuck. I don't want to feel like a spare part at the ranch. And helping horses like Snickers is something I'm truly passionate about. She deserves a good life."

Rusty reached out and gently squeezed her forearm—the one she hadn’t injured. “So do you, Janice. You've faced so many challenges, yet here you are—strong and resilient."

Janice looked down at her other forearm, still covered by a bandage. "I still have a long way to go,” she admitted. “Just like Snickers."

"We all have our own paths to travel," Rusty replied gently, his hazel eyes filled with understanding. "The important thing is to keep moving forward, one step at a time."

Janice gazed out over the lake. The view spread out before her was pretty as a picture. She took a long, deep breath, soaking it all in. The picturesque surroundings. The peace and quiet. The good people.

“I hope I can stay here permanently. I think I’ve already fallen in love with the place.” She looked at Rusty. “As long as you don’t mind, Rusty. You were here first. It must be strange having me turn up.”

“Strange isn’t really the word, Janice,” said Rusty tenderly. “More like . . . confusing.” He paused. "Y'know, I couldn't eat dinner earlier, either," he confessed, his hazel eyes locked with hers. "I was too excited about spending time with you again."

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