Page 32 of Takes Two to Tango

Rayne glanced out the window at the square that held a huge fountain flowing at the feet of Rufus Tucker, the founder of Oak Stand, and the broad swath of newly green grass. Pansies still flourished in the raised beds at the square's entrance andsquirrels scampered left and right, digging frantically for stored acorns. "It's still a pretty place."

Henry stabbed the windowpane. "Where are the swings and junk?"

"It's not that kind of park. Just a town square with paths and flowers, and though you can't see it, a small gazebo to the left of the footbridge spanning a dry creek bed." Brent pointed in the direction of the structure where he'd given Rayne her first kiss. He still remembered how sweet she'd tasted. How surprised she'd been.

"Oh." Henry glanced at the counter. Obviously, school had made the boy ravenous and he couldn't wait for his food. He looked at his mother. "Did you play in that park?"

Rayne nodded. Brent thought back to the place where they’d gathered acorns for a war with Bubba Malone and Talton Drake nearly every day one summer. And many afternoons he and Rayne had ridden their bikes to the library which sat across the square, stopping in the park to kick off their shoes and climb the ancient oaks bending toward the stone paths radiating from the fountain. They'd detached locust shells and covered themselves with them, splashed in the fountain until an adult ran them off, and raced across the footbridge to climb on the roof of the gazebo.

"I've got an idea," Brent said, scooting out from the bench and heading toward Charlie Mac.

He looked back at Henry and Rayne. "Charlie, make that order to go."

CHAPTER NINE

RAYNE WATCHED AS HENRY sloshed his milk shake onto the brick-paved street that encircled the square, wincing when it dripped on his uniform shirt. Chocolate milk shake on white knit. Great.

"Henry, watch your shake," she called as they darted in front of a small SUV looping the square. Traffic had picked up as the five o'clock hour neared.

"I've never been on a picnic," Henry shouted, catching up with Brent. Her son's words shook Rayne. Had she never taken the boy on a picnic? That couldn't be right, but she knew it to be true. She'd always been busy. What a horrible excuse.

Henry glanced at her. "Come on, Mom."

The child's face looked lit from within, like a hundred fireflies had taken up residence. It struck Rayne, the reason for his joy. He was thrilled to be with Brent. Just as she'd always been, dogging Brent's footsteps, worshipping at the altar of the all-state quarterback.

A bleep of alarm sounded inside her, but the sight of her son's smiling face overshadowed the fear. She wanted Henry to be happy, to smile rather than chew his shirt or check obsessivelyfor the note card of emergency numbers he carried with him in his pocket like a security blanket.

What would some hero worship hurt?

She didn't answer that question. Just hurried her pace to catch up.

"Follow me," Brent said, carrying the two white bags with the red logo of a barn. Already grease marks formed on the outside of the bags. She suppressed the inclination to snatch them and toss them in a trash can.

They filed into the park like ducks waddling to a pond. The brick pavers of the path matched the ones in the street, and the oaks greeted them with a friendly wave of leaves. Rayne's hair whipped in the wind, and she impatiently pushed it from her eyes. Here and there, people moved around them, but no one sat on the park bench or wandered over the well-trod paths. It felt much as it had when she was younger, a magical little oasis in the middle of reality.

"How about here?" Brent motioned with a bag. He indicated one of the benches. A copper plate read In Memory of Edward Monk. May He Forever be a Part of our Lives. A balding man in a checked sport coat materialized in Rayne's mind. He'd carried wrapped bubble gum in his pocket and gave it to kids who gave him a high-five. His wife, Betty, had trimmed Rayne's hair at the Curlique.

"Y'all sit on the bench," Henry directed, snagging a fry from the sack that gaped open in Brent's hand. "I wanna sit by the fountain."

The fountain that gurgled at Founding Father Rufus Tucker's feet was about twenty yards away. Rayne nodded. "Okay, but no playing in the fountain."

Henry shot Brent another suffering look. The child was getting good at demonstrating disgust at her mothering, but inside she celebrated because usually he'd insist on sitting rightbeside her as if she might gallop away and leave him behind. The separation anxiety he'd been struck with reared its ugly head at the oddest times. But today wasn't one of them.

Brent rooted through the sack and pulled out Henry's fries, handing them to him along with a packet of ketchup. "Here you go, sport. And mind your mother."

Henry scarfed down three fries while nodding. He ran toward the fountain, clutching his treat.

Brent plunked down on the bench. "You want some of my banana split?"

"No, thanks," she said, still standing. She raised her face to the blue sky peeking through the trees. "We better not spend too much time here. Dawn wants us to pick up the chairs and cushions."

The leaves shimmered in the breeze, a soft rebuke to her need to rush. She inhaled the scent of spring in the air, allowed the splash of the fountain to soothe her, remind her that time marched at a clip, and she'd sought to slow it by coming to Oak Stand. She tore her gaze from the bark of the oak and the spark of new, sticky green on the silver-leafed maple to find Brent watching her. His mouth was full of cheeseburger, but his eyes showed a deep hunger.

It made her mouth dry.

He seemed to sense her reaction and shoved his soda her way.

She took it and sipped. Root beer. How long had it been since she'd indulged in a soda? According to her taste buds, too long. Then she recognized the moment as a mirror of the past- her sneaking sips of Brent's root beer while watching him wolf down a Dairy Barn cheeseburger.Deja vuwaylaid her like a linebacker.

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