Roz Fox - Someone to Watch Over Me

“A tin. It’s airtight.” Isabella left her sisters to make her way across the uneven brick. “Most brides save the smallest layer of their wedding cake to celebrate their first anniversary. I designed these tins to seal in as much freshness as possible.” She handed the older woman a silver canister trimmed with white wedding bells. Her bakery’s name was printed neatly on the side. The couple’s names adorned the top.

Audrey took the tin. “Well, isn’t this nice? I suppose Summer told you I offered to fix food for the reception. After seeing all the work, I’m so grateful she decided to hire you, Isabella. Land sakes, weddings are sure more involved now than in my day. Virgil and I just drove down to the county courthouse and said our I dos.”

“I cater anniversaries, too,” Isabella said casually. “Summer said you and Virgil have a fiftieth coming up in a few months.”

Audrey laughed. “I was fifteen when I set my sights on that man. The day I turned eighteen, I followed him out on a round-up. He’ll tell you he couldn’t shake me so he married me. We’ve stuck together all these years, but neither of us makes any to-do over anniversaries. They’re just days that come and go.”

“Fifty years living with the same man is something to crow over in my opinion.” Isabella eased a business card out of the pocket of her blue cotton dress. “I can go simple for family and a few close friends, or hog-wild feeding half the town like we did today. Thanks to good friends like Summer, my weeks are getting booked fairly fast, so if you change your mind, phone me next week. I promise I’ll work up something that won’t threaten Virgil’s masculinity.”

Audrey grinned and read the card in her hand before sliding it into the pocket of her slacks. “You’d better start eating some of the goodies you fix, Izzy. Goodness, girl, you’re wasting away.”

Isabella raised an unsteady hand to rub her throat. She found it almost impossible to make herself eat, ever since her children’s deaths. And now she couldn’t force a response past the lump that seemed to stay lodged in her throat. When would the mere thought of losing Toni and Ramon quit causing her problems with swallowing and breathing? Molly, her psychiatrist, said it would eventually ease.

“Oh, darlin’. Shut my mouth. I didn’t mean to remind you…of…” Audrey clamped her lips closed. “I, uh, maybe I will throw a little party to commemorate fifty years with that old buzzard.” Outwardly flustered, she hurriedly withdrew into the kitchen again.

Isabella felt bad. She drove people away. And that hurt, too. But she couldn’t help it. Molly said the mind was an unpredictable thing.

As Isabella soberly went back to her work, she urged her mind down a different road. She tried to picture what her life would be like fifty years from now. She didn’t particularly like the vision she conjured up—a wizened, skeletal version of the unhappy woman who gazed back at her each day from the bathroom mirror. Trini was right. They were all right. She couldn’t go on as she was. But how could she not be the spokes-person for her silent children?

Her icy lips formed the mantra she began and ended each day with. “When I see Julian properly punished, I’ll worry about getting my life back.”

GABE SETTLED back into the soft leather seat of his luxury SUV and let Marc’s and Reggie’s endless talk swirl around him. They knew each other so well, Gabe could almost predict the path of their conversation. Reggie would talk for a while about the injured livestock he’d healed. Then Marc would jump in and expound on the virtues of the latest sports cars out on the market. Once they’d exhausted those subjects, their interest would undoubtedly veer toward women.

He grinned when their conversation did exactly that.

Moss, who’d changed from his suit into worn jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt, stretched his lanky frame across Gabe’s middle set of seats. “So, Marc. Are you really serious about tying yourself down to Lizzy Woodruff?”

Marc darted a quick glance at Gabe before he turned sideways in his seat to see both his friends. An oddly dreamy expression softened his pewter-gray eyes. “Lizzy’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“How do you know?” Gabe jerked his eyes off the road long enough to frown at Marc.

From the back, Moss guffawed. “You said it yourself, Gabe, when you pointed out that little Lizzy’s daddy owns a string of car dealerships.”

Marc bolted upright. “That’s a dog-faced lie! Granted, I met Lizzy at one of her dad’s dealerships, where I went to scope out a car. But cars have nothing to do with why I’m going back to Utah to take our relationship to the next level.”

“I’m serious, Marc,” Gabe said. “How do you know Lizzy’s the one and only?”

“How did Coltrane know Summer was it for him?”

“I have no idea.” Gabe smacked the steering wheel. “Especially since he bombed completely back when he married Monica.”

“Now, she was a piece of work,” Reggie said.

“Yeah. But I remember envying Colt back then. Hell, we all did.”

“Our priorities were different, I guess,” Marc muttered.

Mossberger jumped in again. “In the Corps, we had stuff to prove. But even then we had each other. When Colt married Monica, it was like we lost something.” He shook his head. “Before he was captured in that operation that went bad, we thought we were invincible. Suddenly we were ordinary. Men with shortcomings. That changed us.”

Marc’s brows drew together over the bridge of his nose. “Jeez, Moss, you make us sound like a bunch of losers.”

Gabe sneaked a peek at Reggie in the rearview mirror. “I think Moss is trying to say that when we were faced with our own mortality, we woke up. On some level, we all knew Monica was a user. But tough guys like us were supposed to bag a trophy wife.”

“Yeah. Two by two is nature’s way. All God’s species come in pairs.”

“Spoken like a veterinarian,” Marc jeered. “This conversation’s getting too deep for me. Lizzy’s nothing like Monica. She works and she takes care of her grandmother. Best of all, she has a great sense of humor.”

Gabe grabbed Marc’s arm. “Wait. Maybe Moss is onto something. Guys usually get along when we hang out together. Once the pack breaks up and we’re shuffling around on our own, loneliness forces us to start searching for a mate. Someone to keep us company.”

“Marriage is about more than companionship,” Marc said. “Don’t either of you ever think about having kids?” he ventured hesitantly.

Leaning forward, Reggie planted his bony elbows on his knees. “I do. The old vet I trained under worked closely with the area elementary schools. He kept a petting zoo where city kids come to learn about animals. Some kids, well, they got to me, ya know? You guys’ll probably laugh me out of the car, but…I’ve been thinking about adopting. Not a baby. An older kid. I don’t have any prospects for a wife, but I ask myself, do I need a wife to make a home for a kid who has nothing and no one?”

Gabe tugged at his ear. “I’m not gonna laugh, Moss. Growing up, I kicked around the streets fighting hunger in my belly too often. After Russ Poston threw me out, a home like you’re talking about would’ve seemed like heaven.”

“Still, if you’d had your druthers,” Marc argued, “wouldn’t you have preferred having a mom and a dad? I sure want a kid of mine to have both.”

“Aha! So when’s the wedding?” Gabe drawled. At the same time Reggie whooped and said, “Is Lizzy pregnant?”

Marc turned bright red. “It’s not like that with us. She, uh, we aren’t sleeping together…yet,” Marc qualified, growing ever more crimson.