Page 8 of Operator
“They may not be happy about it, but they do.” I just don’t mention that I needed it too, as much as it pains me. I needed something. Anything to keep me from drifting along.
“I didn’t think y’all got along,” she says, searching, as if she doesn’t already know that’s still the truth.
“We don’t, but they’re my family.”
“Family would have been here for Ian’s funeral,” Gwen bites out, the tentative control she had on her temper snapping at last. “So, don’t come back here acting like you give a damn. If you had, you would have come when I called you after he died.” She catches herself when her voice starts to break. Her lashes flutter down as she lays both hands on the swell of her belly and rubs, as though soothing the occupant inside.
Something in my chest burns at the sight. Gwendolyn Diane Winston—I mean,Reece—had always been a beautiful woman, there was no denying it, but Gwen pregnant? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t imagine her full with my child. It scared me how much I wanted it, when she was still young and bursting with innocence. I wanted her pregnant and mine before I left on my next deployment. Wanted to know a piece of me would live on in her if anything were to ever happen to me.But that wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.
And now it’s not a piece of me.
It’s a piece of Ian.
I shouldn’t have to keep reminding myself of that.
“No one wanted me here for that. I would have made it worse. I said goodbye to him in my own way and I’ll visit his grave. Don’t ask more of me than that, Gwen, okay? I lost my brother. I don’t need you makin’ me feel worse than I already do about it.”
For a moment, a split second, a heartbeat, she softens. The furrow between her brow smooths and her perfect posture eases. Her delicate hands lift to the top of the fence like she wants to reach out to me. Or maybe I’m imagining it. I’d give anything to have her hold me like she used to. Like she could protect me from the world as much as I wanted to protect her.
“Cal, I—”
I take a step back from the fence and let my hands drop to my side. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I just wanted to give you a head’s up. I don’t want any bad blood between us, really. Just don’t mind me if I stir you up a little. Always liked seeing you spittin’ fire.”
“Well, I’d appreciate if you didn’t. I have enough trouble with my blood pressure these days without your help.” Am I imagining it, or is there a hint of a smile on her lips? Nah, there couldn’t be. Before I can take a closer look, she’s stepping away and turning to pat her hip. “C’mon, Daisy. Let’s go inside.”
I’d like to say I don’t watch those hips, full, feminine, all woman, sway back and forth as she walks back up the cracked sidewalk to the house, but I do. They entrance me like a pendulum, swaying back and forth. Wider than before, probably because of the baby, but damn if I don’t get off on it. She looks good. Damn good.
My biggest temptation.
My worst regret.
I turn back to my truck and make the short drive to my house, trying not to think about the flickering at the curtains in the window and hoping they’re Gwen looking out at me.
Always hoping.
Bunny greets me at their door with a resigned smile. “Oh, it’s you.”
I can’t say I’m surprised her greeting is about as warm as Gwen’s. “Good to see you, too, Mom.”When she’d called begging me to come home to help with the diner she’d inherited from her family, I’d said yes out of pure shock. Bunny never begged for anything, let along willingly, and begging me? Plum insanity. She must have been desperate, although there’s not a trace of it on her face now.
“Todd, it’s Cal,” she hollers over her shoulder. “He’s home.”
“Cal?” I hear my father bellow. “Well shit, tell him to c’mere.”
“Tell him yourself,” Mom says before she turns her back to me and disappears into the kitchen. She’s still mad at me, but then again, when isn’t she? I can’t remember a time in my life when the woman had ever been proud of me. I was always a disappointment.Ian had been her pride and joy. He’s who she’d really want to help with her family businesses. The Finnegans, Mom’s side of the family, own nearly all the businesses in town. Ian was supposed to take them over when he retired from the military. Needless to say, Gwen isn’t the only woman in Sweet Creek who wished it had been me instead of him who died.
Home sweet home.
I find my father in the den with a perpetual cloud of smoke hovering above an easy chair that’s been melded to his backside for almost as long as I’ve been alive. “Hey, chief! Long time no see.”
Bending down, I give him a slap on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Pop. How’ve you been?”
“Oh, as good as I can be, I guess. We’ve missed you around here.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Pop. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back.”
“Well, that’s alright. I knew you’d be back in your own time.”
Neither of us mention Ian. What is there to say?
