Heart of a Marine (The Wounded Warrior Series Book 1) (38 page)

A huge flower arrangement sat in the shade on her front porch, when she pulled into her driveway. She opened the garage door, drove in, closed the door, and ignored it.

For days, flowers accumulated on her porch. Her house looked like a funeral home. Neighbors gave her strange looks, but she merely waved and smiled as she came and went.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Amber waved and ran to the construction truck. Dwayne pushed open the door and she bounced in. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, squirt. How’s my big second grader doing?”

“I got a A on my math test today.”

He ruffled her hair. “Sweet! That calls for ice cream.”

“Yay!”

He exited the school parking lot and turned toward the edge of town where a new ice cream parlor had opened a few days ago. “Let’s check out the new place, shall we?”

“Uh huh. I hope they have bubble gum flavor. That’s my favorite.”

“No kidding? I didn’t know that.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yes you did. You rilly like to tease me.”

“My favorite pastime.” He stopped at a four-way corner.

“Daddy! That’s Marla. That’s her car.”

Amber waved frantically to catch Marla’s attention.

Breath caught in his throat, he willed her to look in their direction as she drove through the intersection, eyes staring straight ahead. But he hadn’t missed the brief glance in their direction. It was a small town. This was bound to happen.

“She didn’t see us.” Amber huffed a frustrated breath and bounced her shoulders against the back of her seat. “I guess the flowers aren’t working then.”

“Don’t seem to be.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“What say we work on it while we stoke up on ice cream?”

Amber crossed her arms and gave him a skeptical look.

He dropped his chin and scowled. “What?”

She pursed her lips like a spinster librarian. “We can work on it at the ice cream store, but you’re wasting time and money.”

“Whoa, look who’s my newest financial advisor. What do you know about money?” She was maturing far too fast for him. How was he going to stay a step ahead of her? He grimaced as a streak of terror hit him. How would he cope with her teen years?

She gave him her best
you’re clueless
expression. “I can do math. I can read. Flowers cost big money.”

For a moment he sucked air, then slowly shook his head and expressed a small sigh. He turned into the mini-mall where the new ice cream store had opened. The Grand Opening sign fluttered in the early autumn breeze and bunches of balloons tied to weights bounced around the outdoor tables and chairs.

He found a parking space in front of his barbershop two doors down. “Here we are.”

She let herself out of the truck and waited for him at the door. When they went inside and looked at the menu on the wall, he began to read the choices out loud.

“I can read, Daddy.”

He put a big hand on her shoulder. “I know, sorry, but do me a favor. Get some of the snark out of your voice and show some respect for your father, OK?”

Amber leaned into his side and nodded. He noticed how tall she was. On the tall side for a seven year old. At the beginning of summer she came just past his elbow, now she was almost to the middle of his chest. “I love you, squirt.”

“I know, Daddy, me too.”

“How about you reading the menu to me? I can’t decide which flavor to try, so many to choose from. I’ll close my mouth and listen.” He tugged her tighter to his side.

Amber turned her face up, elbowed him on the hip, then began to recite the long list of flavors which included, of course, Double Delicious Double Bubble. They settled on their choices, carried the cups outside, and sat at one of the wire bistro tables to enjoy their ice cream and the cooling evening.

“You know what we could do, Daddy?” She had a devilish sparkle in her big golden eyes.

“From the look on your face, I’m afraid to ask.” He scooped a big spoonful of Moose Tracks into his mouth and winked.

“Let’s be bad. After we finish this we could pick another flavor, and ice cream will be our dinner tonight. Then if we’re not full we could buy another flavor and take it home for dessert.”

He put on a serious face and enjoyed the flash of disappointment in her gaze. “I think that’s one of the…best ideas you’ve had in a long time.”

Her face lit up. “Rilly?”

“Really, but let’s hope child welfare never finds out or they’ll put you in foster care, and I’ll have to take parenting classes before I can get you back.”

She grinned and wiped a drippy pink smear off her chin, her little butt bouncing on the wire chair seat.

Now for Plan B.

* * *

Oh, she’d seen them all right. Dwayne caught her quick sidewise glance as she drove past. Thoroughly disgusted with herself, Marla drove on home, parked, dragged her waste barrel to the front porch, and dumped all the dead and dying flowers. What was she, sixteen?
Do I intend to forgive him or not?

She wanted to forgive him. It was taking more and more energy to hang on to her insult and anger. What was the point? She dragged the barrel to the side of the house, muttering all the way. “He’s sorry. What more do I expect him to do? He’s a man. Men are clueless about patching up a relationship. So, does that mean it’s up to me?” She kicked the barrel for good measure. “Dang it!”

The next day at her office Marla froze when she saw Dwayne walk in the door carrying another bouquet of roses. She heard him say, “Delivery for Ms. Danaher,” and then stroll right past the receptionist, straight for her.

He set the vase on her desk and leaned forward. “I’m coming to your house later, Danaher.”

“No!”

“Yes! I’m prepared to sit on your doorstep until you open the door.”

“What are you up to?”

“Plan B.”

Marla wracked her brain. “I’m…uh…I’m not going to be home tonight. I…um…have a date.”

“No problem. I’ll wait until you get home.” He turned on his heel, proceeded across the office and out the door.

Her mouth hung open. She snapped it shut and stared at the top of her desk, hoping nobody had noticed. Silly her.

“Oh, my, gawd! Who was the big hunk of eye candy? You’ve been keeping him all for yourself? Shame on you, Marla Danaher.” The bouncy receptionist hovered over her desk, fluttering like a flag in a stiff breeze. “My, gawd! I can’t breathe. Call 911.”

“For the love of goats, Jessie, stuff it.”

“Who is he? Does he live around here? I’ve never seen him in town. His shiny black pickup looked familiar, but I couldn’t read what it said. He doesn’t work for the florist—that I do know. Give. Give.” She picked up a file folder and fanned herself.

Marla snatched it back. “For somebody who can’t breathe, you seem able to talk endlessly.” She snapped a shoo gesture with her wrist. “Go away. I have work to do.”

“Not till you tell me who he is. Spit it out. I’m not moving.”

Marla rolled her eyes. “OK, OK, his name is Dwayne Dempsey. He owns Big D Construction. I hired him to do the renovation on my condo project. Happy now?”

Jessie’s face morphed in to a sly, slit-eyed smile. “And why is he bringing you flowers, huh?”

“Because the project was successful?”

“There are different ways to define success. Whatever ‘success
’
you had on the project must have been spectacular. He sent those other flowers here too, didn’t he?”

Marla grabbed her purse. “I give up.” She shoved her desk chair in and stormed past her co-worker, spun around, went back and snatched the flowers then flounced to the door. “I’ll be back when I get back.”

She felt her face go hot when laughter and applause followed her out the door.

At seven-thirty, her doorbell rang. She’d been pacing for an hour and was surprised there was any hair left on her head the way she’d been tugging and twisting it. OK, this was it. Now’s your chance to have it out with the big lout, Marla. Take a breath. Tell him exactly what you think of his unforgivable behavior. Let him have the full force of your anger and frustration. Teeth gritting hard enough to make her jaw ache, she tromped to the door and flung it open. “What!”

Edwin Plimpton gasped and stumbled back. “I…”

Mouth slack, Marla grabbed her throat. “Edwin, what are you doing here?” Color drained from his face. He looked as if she’d induced a heart attack. “Edwin?”

He waved a hand. “Let me get my breath. You startled me.” He sucked in some air and let it whoosh out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Are you OK? You don’t look so good. Maybe you’d better sit down.” Great, she’d almost killed Edwin. The poor guy’s complexion went from death white to mottled purple. She extended a tentative hand. “Breathe, please, Edwin. You’re scaring me.”

He shook his head and waved his hands. “I’m OK. Let me catch my breath. I thought we could talk, Marla.”

“No, I, um, Edwin I’m…” Her eyes scanned the street for signs of Dwayne’s truck. “Tonight isn’t a good time for me.”

“Are you expecting someone?” The pathetic look on his face nearly evoked affection for him.

Without either of them having noticed his arrival, Dwayne strode to the porch. “She’s expecting me, aren’t you, honey?” He glared at Edwin, who actually shrank under Dwayne’s steely gaze. That had to be his Gunnery Sergeant glare. “You have business with my woman, Plimpton?”

Edwin’s mouth opened, his lips moved, but no words came out.

Dwayne slammed his hands on Edwin’s bony shoulders. “No? Good. Then I suggest you beat it.”

Marla sputtered, “What do you—?” She cleared her throat. “Edwin, I’m sorry, this man, he…” She wished she kept a baseball bat by her front door because Dwayne could use a couple of good whacks about now.

By way of answering, Edwin raised his hands, took a step back then another, and stepped off the porch. He scurried down her walk like a mouse outrunning a snake. She whirled on Dwayne.

“You! You!” She felt her eyes grow big and hair prickle on the top of her head. About to explode, she stamped her foot, clenched her fists. Dwayne grinned. “Damn you, Dempsey!”

He didn’t answer. Just stood there grinning.

She crossed her arms, daring him to move. “This is your Plan B? Threatening my friends? Showing up on my doorstep uninvited? You are the most arrogant, the most infuriating, obnoxious, maddening…stop grinning! What is there to grin about?”

The grin grew so wide it seemed to her his face might crack. Was he crazy? Why didn’t he say something?

“Are you drunk? Say something, Dempsey, or I’ll turn the hose on you. I mean it!” She extended her arm and shoved him back, away from her door. “If you think you’re coming in here, you’re smoking funny stuff.”

“God, you are magnificent, Danaher. I love you. Marry me.” And before she had a chance to react, he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her into a hard kiss.

Marla shoved him. Sputtering again, she was unable to utter a clear response. The man was insane. Did he actually think he could walk right up to her front door, toss poor Edwin out, then ask her to marry him? As if nothing had happened between them in Wyoming? She had her pride. Dwayne was nuts if that’s what he thought.

He released her and she immediately missed the warmth of his big hands, his lips. Her insides got all gooey and soft. Watery knees threatened to give way. She actually considered dragging him inside, pulling off his clothes, her clothes, and falling on the floor arms outstretched to reach for him. She got so warm in her girly place she feared for an instant she’d wet her panties.

Dwayne brushed his finger down her cheek, took a step back, then another. “I’ll see you around, Red.”

He left. He actually left her standing there all melty and wide-eyed, staring at his butt as he walked away from her. She heard his truck fire up, and continued to watch when he drove past the house.

Down the street.

Around the corner.

Away.

Three weeks later, he hadn’t called, hadn’t sent flowers. She’d been tempted to cruise past his house to see if he was in town. What game was he playing with her?

Marla spent a lot of time reading books, working on her rose bushes, hustling for listings, puttering around the condo office, calling on her tenants to make sure they were happy with their new homes, ready to sign new leases, had no problems.

The afternoon before Halloween she visited Miss Emmaline, her new building manager. Where the old woman got all her energy was a mystery. She’d been thrilled when Marla had asked her if she’d be interested in handling tenant inquiries and concerns and collecting rents. “You got yourself a manager, young lady,” she’d said. “I’ve got no interest in sitting around waiting for the Grim Reaper.”

Marla knocked on Emmaline’s door. Amber opened it, shrieked, and threw herself at Marla nearly knocking her over. “Marla! Miss Emmaline, it’s Marla.”

Surprised at how much Amber had grown over the summer, Marla released her and held her at arm’s length. “You’re so tall. When did you get so tall?”

“That’s what Daddy said. He told me to slow down. I’m seven. You missed my birthday. Auntie Silvia bought me Cinderella pajamas and sparkly Scrunchies for my hair.” She turned and pointed to her ponytail.

To hear her mother referred to as Auntie Silvia startled her, but of course, when Char married Donovan, Amber’s uncle, she became her aunt, and Silvia her great-aunt. She blinked. She was Amber’s aunt too. Why hadn’t her mom said anything about the child’s birthday? Didn’t she know how much Marla loved her—Dwayne or no Dwayne?

She let Amber drag her inside Emmaline’s apartment. “I just realized something. I’m your Auntie Marla.”

“I know.” She wrinkled her freckled nose. “I’d rather have your for my mom, though.”

Leave it to kids to say exactly what they were thinking. Racking her brain for an answer, she was saved by the arrival of Emmaline. “Come in, dear. We were just sitting down for afternoon tea. Please join us.”