Lilies and Lies (8 page)

“Not much before Kyle came along. But now, well...” Gunnar's gaze connected with hers over the rim of his cup. “It's odd to think that I've spent so many years alone and then just—I guess we're a family, Kyle and me.”

“Of course you are. He's a part of you, Gunnar. He always will be.”

“What about you?”

“I find the whole white-picket-fence thing kind of intriguing, and I've entertained the idea from time to time. What girl doesn't dream about her wedding day…and all that comes after? But, that said, I'd like a little breather away from the venue of bossy males before I meander down
that
particular road.”

“What makes you think a husband—your husband—would be bossy?”

“I don't know. That's just how my life goes, being the only girl and practically the youngest. Sometimes I feel invisible—either that or like a pin cushion…jab, jab, jab. I've developed a thick skin.”

“You're not invisible to me.” Gunnar said. “And your skin looks…soft, radiant.”

Heat blossomed along the nape of Maddie's neck and curled across her cheeks as his knuckles skimmed the length of her forearm. “That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“It's the truth.” His gaze settled on her lips. “You're beautiful, Maddie. Can I take you out this weekend…Friday night?”

The question came as such a shock that for a moment Maddie felt as if she'd been swept up in an undertow. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Gunnar waited patiently, a hint of smile on his lips, for Maddie to locate her tongue. “I'd like that, but…”

“What?”

“You'll have to drive.”

It took a split second for the meaning to register, and then laughter spilled, warm as molasses syrup, from Gunnar. “That's a deal, Maddie. Playing chauffer will be my pleasure. Seven o'clock OK?”

“Perfect. I have to work at the nursery 'til five.”

“Me, too—at the garage.”

“What about Kyle?”

“He's going camping with the Thompsons. They're headed to the lake with their RV and they invited him.”

“Oh, that will be fun…a weekend of sun, swimming, and exploring.”

“That sounds about right. Have you had dinner?”

“Not yet. I was thinking about going for dessert first. Anthony made his killer zeppole for the special tonight...those little pockets of donuts dusted in sugar. Have you ever had them dipped in chocolate sauce? They're to die for.”

“No wonder Kyle thinks you're so cool. You two are cut from the same cloth as far as food goes…dessert before dinner.” Gunnar motioned for Jada, placed the zeppole order when she stepped over to the booth. “OK, I'll bite. But, we'd better devour them fast before Kyle comes back from his tour of the kitchen to get his hands on them.”

 

****

 

“Got everything packed for camping?” Gunnar asked Kyle as they climbed into the truck to head to school Friday morning. Axle already lay curled in the bed, snoozing as if he'd just finished working a double-shift. “A flashlight, extra shoes?”

“I'm good. It's gonna be so much fun. Mr. Thompson is gonna teach me how to fly fish, and we're gonna roast hotdogs and marshmallows over the fire. Mrs. Thompson's bringing her guitar so we can sing campfire songs, too. She said I can do some strumming if I want, and she might even teach me a few new songs.”

“Good. Then
you
can teach
me
.”

“Cool. Maybe I can do some chores around the garage when I get back and earn some money to buy a guitar of my own. Do you think I can do that, Uncle Gunnar?”

“I think that's a great idea. I could use some help on that '57 Chevy I'm restoring for Mr. Glick. Do you think you'd like to learn how to overhaul a transmission?”

“Yeah.” Kyle tossed his camp pack and bedroll into the back seat of the extended cab. “Maybe one day I can own a garage, too, just like you do.”

“It's a lot of work to run a business, but if you enjoy what you're doing then most days it doesn't seem like work at all. It's important to remember that.”

“Who taught you so much about cars?”

“My Uncle John, Grandma's brother. He died before you were born, so you wouldn't remember him. He started out pumping gas when he was just a kid and worked his way up to building his own garage. I used to hang out there a lot when I was about your age, maybe a little older. I paid attention and picked up some things.”

“Was he nice, like he didn't mind you hanging around and peering over his shoulder?”

“He was real nice, and he didn't mind me hanging around at all. I think he even liked it.”

“But your step-dad wasn't so nice, right?”

“You could say that.”

“Mom said he used to yell a lot…and worse.”

“Yeah, he wasn't exactly Mr. Sunshine. But he's gone now, to somewhere far away from here. It's all in the past and better left there, where it belongs.”

“How come you never talk about your scar…how you got it?”

Gunnar pressed the inside of his forearm to his side, hiding the wound. “Why so many questions all of a sudden?”

“I dunno. I've just been doin' some thinking, I guess.” Kyle tilted his head to the side, his brown eyes trained on Gunnar. “I'm getting older, so there's a lot to think about. All these things go through my head, and I'm trying to figure stuff out.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I dunno. Just…stuff.”

“Well, that really clears things up.” Gunnar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. At this rate, he'd be bald before thirty. “Well, I don't talk about how I got the scar because it's painful…not a physical kind of pain, but here.” Gunnar pressed a hand to his chest. “And I was a mess back then, around the time that it happened and for a while before and a long time after, doing things I had no right to do. I suppose I don't want you to see that side of me—to know that side. It's…embarrassing and ugly.”

“But it's part of you, right? Like when I ran away from home last summer. It was a bad thing to do, and it hurt Mom a lot. And I was pretty embarrassed when the police officer put me in his cruiser to take me home, and when Mom answered the door and I saw she'd been crying. But I can't make it go away, even if I pretend it didn't happen, because it
did
happen. Is it like that for you, Uncle Gunnar?”

“It's exactly like that.” How could the kid be so young and so smart all at the same time?

“Do you still love me even though I ran away and the police had to haul me home? And even though I locked myself in my room the first time you tried to take me to church, said ugly things and refused come out and get in the car?” Kyle's brown eyes studied him with such innocence Gunnar's heart ached. “And there's the time I called Mrs. Johnson an old bat, and when I got a D on my geography test because I didn't study, even though I told you I had. I've done lots of awful things, but do you still love me anyway, Uncle Gunnar?”

“Of course I love you.” Gunnar reached over to muss Kyle's hair and pull him close, enfolding him in a bear hug. “I love you just as much as I always have, from the first time I saw your puckered little face while your mom held you in her arms right after you were born. You were squalling something awful, by the way. But I'll never love you any less, no matter what.”

“Then how come you think if you tell me stuff about the crummy things you've done that I won't love you?”

“Good point. I'm being ridiculous.” Gunnar loosened the hug, eased back. “I guess I'll have to get over it, because I'm not setting a very good example for you about honesty, am I?”

“Mr. Thompson says God loves us despite all our flaws, and that the older we get, the more opportunity we have to mess up, especially with the people we love the most. Maybe that's why you worry more, Uncle Gunnar, because you're getting pretty old.”

“Yes, I'm ancient.” Gunnar laughed. “I'm closing in on three full decades.”

“That's
a lot
. Pretty soon you'll have grey hair…or maybe even go bald like Mr. Glick. Yikes.” Kyle pressed a hand to his mouth. “Then what?”

“Well, you sure are expediting the process.” Gunnar grabbed a ball cap from the seat and tugged the brim low over his brow, giving a cursory glance into the side-view mirror for grey strands to sprout from his head. “But I think I'm OK in the baldness department for at least a little longer.”

“That's good, because when Mr. Glick does that funny comb-over thing it just looks…weird.”

“On that brutally-honest observation…there's your school, and the tardy bell's about to ring so we don't have time to get into my not-so-illustrious past right now. But we'll talk when you come home from camping, OK? I promise I'll spill the beans then.”

“All the beans, even the gross ones?”

“Even the bad ones.” Gunnar gave him a playful little shove. “Now, get out of the truck and go have a good time.”

“At school?” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? That building is a torture chamber in disguise. You have no idea.”

“Been there, done that, survived it and you will, too.” Gunnar pressed a sack lunch into Kyle's hands. “Now, scoot.”

 

 

 

 

8

 

Maddie pranced in front of the mirror Friday evening, surveying her reflection. Maybe the sundress with its little shrug and matching, strappy sandals was a bit over-the-top for a dinner date with Gunnar. He seemed like a casual kind of guy. Maybe she should just change back into the jeans and blouse she had tried on two outfits before this one.

Or the neat khaki shorts and scalloped V-neck T-shirt paired with tennis shoes that she'd rejected and tossed across the bed.

Or maybe she should just phone Gunnar and cancel. The butterflies swarming her stomach had stolen her appetite. She probably wouldn't manage to swallow a bite of the dinner he'd promised and would end up miserable in the process. For the first time in her life she felt truly tongue-tied. Imagine that.

She draped a gold necklace adorned with a single emerald, her birthstone, that her dad had given her for her eighteenth birthday over her collarbone worked the clasp into its slivered holder. Why was she so nervous? She was simply spending an evening with Gunnar, and she'd already demolished his garage. How much more damage could she manage to sow on a date with him?

A date…she was going on a date with Gunnar. When the doorbell chimed, the butterflies morphed to pterodactyls. Maddie drew a breath and smoothed a hand over her dress. It was too late to change her mind—or her outfit—now.

She ran a hand through her hair as she turned and padded down the hall toward the front door, pausing to check her lip gloss in a mirror mounted to the side foyer wall. She drew a deep breath and yanked on the door handle. A breeze rushed in to meet her, carrying the clean, brisk scent of Gunnar's aftershave.

“Hi.” Her breath caught at the sight of him in a dress shirt and khakis complemented by a tie and jacket. Thank God she'd kept the sundress. He was holding a bouquet of miniature sunflowers, and their scent had the effect of a calming breeze as his gaze scanned the length of her, tip to toes. “What…do I have something on my face?” She checked her outfit. Nothing wrong there, as far as she could tell—all buttoned and zipped…and she even matched. “What's wrong?”

“You look”—he shook his head and dark hair skimmed his eyes--“wow.”

“You like?” Relieved, Maddie twirled for him. The flirty hem of her dress swished around her knees.

“Like?” Gunnar whistled through his teeth, long and low. “I
love
. You're a beautiful woman, Maddie…inside and out.”

His compliment sent her heart into a wild gallop. She pressed a hand to her chest to steady the pounding before it deafened them both. “The flowers…where did you find them? We don't carry that particular variety at the nursery.”

“You're not the only one in this town who has connections.” He winked, and Maddie's heart exploded into a grand finale of fireworks. “I hope you like them.”

“Like? I
love
.” She mimicked his earlier comment as she took the bouquet with trembling fingers. “Come on in while I hunt up a vase and put them in some water.”

“Don't mind if I do.”

“The kitchen is this way.” As the door whispered closed Gunnar's shoes brushed the wood planks along the hallway. Maddie glanced back over her shoulder, warming. He looked better than a box of chocolates. “You clean up nice, by the way.”

“And you…” He whistled again. “Wow.”

 

****

 

“Have you heard from Kyle tonight?” Maddie asked as they exited the steakhouse. Gunnar hated to see the evening end and scrambled for a way to prolong it. He'd loved seeing a smile dance over Maddie's glossed lips as candlelight caressed her face from the opposite side of the linen-clothed table. She was at once quick-witted and beautiful to look at, her features strong yet soft. It was a paradox of nature, and he was still trying to wrap his brain around how much he enjoyed spending time with her.

“No. The Thompsons won't call unless there's a problem. Kyle mentioned to Clint and Stacy that we were going out tonight and asserted I need my ‘grown-up time.' So, I guess that's the order of the weekend. It's weird, but after three months of twenty-four/seven with him, it feels a little odd to have the house calm, quiet and all to myself.”

“I might not have calm, but I do have quiet all the time, and after a lifetime spent with three rambunctious brothers,
that's
a little odd.”

“Funny how perspective puts a fresh spin on things, isn't it?”