Page 13 of Love in Mission City
Henry’s company was easy. I could talk, or I could stay silent. The fact my mouth kept running off this morning was on me, not him.
Zeus kept darting forward, circling around, and nudging us from behind.
As I cast quick glances Henry’s way, I caught the smile. I wanted to ask him if he had a pet. Or if he’d ever had one in the past, but…something warned me off. This…friendship…was too tender. Talking about lost pets, or parents, would be tough. My parents were both still living, although they headed to New Mexico every winter and were there now.
I’d be spending Christmas alone.
Mark had left me three days before Christmas last year. Another anniversary fast approaching.
When we arrived at the house, Henry nodded toward his car. A little sedan that had some years, and I suspected some miles, on it.
“Will you return?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, sure. I thought you could come to see me.”
“That would be great!”
Temper the enthusiasm.
“If you want,” I added lamely.
“I do.” He pointed to my ass.
What…? Oh, phone. I yanked it out.
He rattled off an address that meant nothing to me. Quickly, I added it to my phone then tapped on it. Fifteen minute’s drive. He lived on the other side of Mission City, in the hills north of town. “Uh, when?”
“Tonight?” He winced. “Or is that too soon?”
For any other guy, and wanting to play it cool, I would’ve made him wait a few days. But this was Henry, and God knew, if given too much time, he might change his mind. “What can I bring?”
A ghost of a smile. “Cider? And Zeus.” Then, without another word, he got into his car and drove away.
Chapter Four
Johnson
Beverly and Mary’s explanation of Henry, and why he was the way he was, circled in my brain as I drove up the long, winding driveway. Properties in this neck of the woods cost a pretty penny.
I might’ve done some checking this afternoon while making cookies to go with the fermented cider I had packed to bring with me.
The cabin I encountered once I made my way into a clearing wasn’t quite as ramshackle as I’d expected.
Nor was it shabby chic.
Maybe a little… No, I couldn’t come up with the right word. Not derelict. Not abandoned. Just…lacking vitality. Compared to my bright farmhouse and my orchards, this felt…small.
Cozy.
Yeah, that was the word I sought. A place where you could cozy up to the fire on a chilly night and watch a movie.
Oh, right, he didn’t have a way to watch movies. Did he even have a television?
That, I couldn’t contemplate. Although, if I read more, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Zeus woofed as I cut the engine.
I peered out the windshield. Ah, Henry stood on the front porch. He wore a thick sweater and jeans that fit him perfectly.
