“He was a photographer. He had a natural interest in the opposite sex. You shouldn’t have gone braless in that T-shirt and let your sister spray you with the hose.”
Right. Blame the victim. “We were on our own property tanning our legs, Mom! It got hot.”
“Your father pulled a few pranks to get my attention in our younger days. Matt’s different now, and so are you. I think he likes you…or he would…if you’d let him.”
Jane wished her mother would mind her own business.
One might as well wish for rattlesnakes to become extinct in the Texas hill country.
When the printer stopped spitting out pages, Jane arose and did a few stretches and told herself she simply had to quit thinking about him. Willing herself to concentrate on her presentation, she opened the curtains and stared out at her backyard just in time to see a brand-new Texas sun peeping over the cedar fence. A lone mourning dove cooed as the live oak trees turned red.
Pretending not to hear the taunting coos of the dove, Dennis, her cat, ambled lazily up to the glass door and gave Jane the look. Thank goodness he didn’t have a mouse or a lizard this morning. Jane hated it when he killed things. She let him in. After a brief appreciative swish of her legs with the tip of his tail, Dennis headed straight to his bowl in the kitchen.
She gave the backyard a final wistful glance. Difficult as it was facing her past here, not for anything would she live in the city. Yes, she had to drive twenty miles from Red Rock into San Antonio on a daily basis, and yes, the traffic on the interstate seemed to get worse every day, and especially since the NAFTA treaty.
When she sat back down at her desk again, she lifted a folder concerning the fund-raiser she’d volunteered to chair that would raise money to benefit after-school day care for needy children. She checked over her to-do list and was pleased to find everything in order.
At least Harper had not volunteered for the project as she’d feared, so she didn’t have to deal with him at the booth she was setting up for the silent auction Wednesday night at the local high school’s baseball game. Although fund-raisers weren’t his thing usually, she’d thought he might volunteer just to tip the scales in his favor about the upcoming promotion. He was the last person she wanted at the event when she auctioned her cooking services.
Jane glanced at her watch. Her Honda was in the shop for routine maintenance, and her mother, who had errands in the city, had talked her out of renting a car and had promised to drive her to work today. Since her mother, who was an artist and a fortune-teller, could be forgetful, she was about to call her and remind her, when the phone suddenly rang.
“Happy birthday,” her younger sister, Mindy, chirped the instant she answered. Mindy was the wild sister, the loud sister.
Jane pulled the pencil out of her hair. “I forgot. I can’t believe I forgot my own birthday.”
“You work too hard.”
“Thirty-two,” Jane said a little sadly. “I’m old. Maybe I wanted to forget.”
“Age is a state of mind.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not thirty yet. You know, I can’t remember when I last went out on a date.”
“Because you turn everybody down.”
“Maybe because the right man doesn’t ask.”
Mindy hesitated. “Hey, Mom just called.”
“Did she remember she’s picking me up?”
“Yes. But that’s not why…I mean…I thought I’d better warn you. She’s on one of her tears.”
“Oh, dear. What’s she up to now?”
“Have you seen the paper yet?”
“Mindy, I have a very important presentation this afternoon. I’d—”
“Helen Geary called Mom first thing as soon as she saw it. She was very upset about it.”
Not good. Helen had been Mom’s best friend since first grade—and they were very bad influences on each other. Helen had the biggest beehive hairdo in all of Texas and that was saying something. She was also Red Rock’s most opinionated gossip and a prime meddler, if you didn’t count Ol’ Bill Sinclair.
“So what did Ol’ Bill do to get Helen’s tail in a knot? More politics?”
“Ol’ Bill ran a love letter.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He snipped the signature off the letter, and he won’t tell Helen who wrote it. Our mom had ideas of her own about the author, and she’s been talking to Matt’s mom.”
“Already?”
“Mrs. Harper thinks he’s definitely interested in you. Mom wants me to read you the love letter to see if it rings any bells.”
“Don’t tell me Mom thinks Matt wrote it.”
“Duh-h-h.”
“Well, she can just forget it. He’s not the literary type.”
“You shouldn’t have kissed him last Christmas at the Harpers’ party. And kept kissing him.”
Jane felt her face redden as it always did when she thought about those kisses. “He’s the one who kissed me under the mistletoe.”
“How well we remember the cherished moment.”
“He would have kissed anybody if she’d been standing under the mistletoe.”
“Not like that. You both looked plenty smitten. And once you two started, you couldn’t seem to stop.”
“I—I was too flabbergasted and outraged.”
“All anybody remembers is how you both looked pie-eyed the rest of the night. You couldn’t look at each other without turning red. He is so cute. And hot. I don’t get why you still hate him. Those wet T-shirt photos were flattering. I’m still jealous because he didn’t take a single one of me.”
“I’m going to hang up if you don’t shut up about this.”
“Okay already.”
“Besides, he’s been going out with Carol Frey.”
“I rest my case. Look who’s keeping up with his love life. But for the record, you’ll be glad to know, Mom says that’s off. As of last night.”
Jane’s racing heart leaped into her throat. For a long minute she was unable to swallow, much less answer. Finally, she managed to say, “Look, I really do have to go.”
“Not before I read you his love letter.”
Against her will, Jane listened. Of course, after the first word, when she got to thinking it really might be Matt, she was spellbound. Certain phrases like I would give anything to turn back time before the moment I hurt you, made her go hot all over and catch her breath as she dreamily remembered Matt’s lips clinging to hers.
“So, what do you think?” Mindy asked when she’d finished.
Jane’s heart was racing at an even more frightening pace as she pondered the phrase there has never been anyone in my heart except you. Soon it became difficult to breathe.
She remembered the warmth and eagerness in his eyes after their Christmas kiss. The next day when she’d refused to wave or speak to him on the town square after he’d waved, he’d looked so strange and hurt. Since then he’d been awfully nice. Not that she’d responded.
“I—I think I’d better get dressed now,” Jane said quickly.
“Okay,