Linda Varner - New Year's Wife

Without a doubt John was the type of person who thrived on the chaos of a large family. Tyler didn’t remember the late Mrs. Newman all that well since he’d only met her once, but he carried in his mind an impression of warmth and motherly patience. He guessed that her loss was probably the reason John had called his family back home.

To the little girl’s right—was her name Celia? No, Carly—sat Don, complete with bloodshot eyes and unshaven face. One beer too many? Tyler wondered, instantly excusing the overindulgence. New Year’s Eve came just once a year. Tyler knew from experience that Don was a health nut who never drank anything stronger than beer and then only on special occasions such as little sis’s birthday party.

And speaking of little sis…she sat a high chair away from Don, at the end of the table across from her dad and to Tyler’s left. She looked beautiful this morning, he thought, none the worse for a night of drama.

With her hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing a tattered sweatshirt, she could easily have been sixteen almost seventeen, just as she was the day they met. That reminded Tyler of his mission, and noting that she’d finished eating, he made short work of cleaning his plate, too.

“Carly and I will take care of the kitchen,” John said, when Julie stood from the table, moments after Don excused himself and ran off to get ready for his salespeople, and carried her plate to the sink. “You get started on those driving lessons.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue.” He waved his hands as though to shoo them out. With a shrug, Julie met Tyler at the door, through which they exited.

“My jacket’s in the coat closet. Where’s yours?” she asked.

“On that hook there.” Tyler pointed to a rack near the front door on which hung his leather jacket. Since the closet was nearby, they walked together.

“Shall we?” Julie murmured after she’d donned a denim jacket, inclining her head in the direction of the door that led to the garage. Tyler led the way, opening the door and then stepping back so Julie could pass through it into the garage. Moments later found them peering under the hood of the Corvette—a dream car in Tyler’s opinion.

“I just want to learn to clutch and shift this thing,” Julie grumbled when Tyler automatically reached for the dip stick. “I already know how to check the oil.”

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