From Ashes to Honor Page 12

  For the second time since arriving, Bud and Austin were alone in the cabin. “Your secret’s safe with me, boy. You soft on this one? Or is she just another notch on your headboard?”

  Austin grimaced at the coarse statement. “Good gravy, Bud.Do you always have to tell it like you think it is?”

  “Yessir, I most certainly do. You wouldn’t want me to go to the good Lord with stains on my soul from tellin’ lies and fibs, now would you?”

  “You’re just lucky He doesn’t shave points for being unnecessarily crude.”

  Flora and Mercy returned, each carrying two bowls piled high with ice cream. “We’d have been here sooner,” Mercy said, “but Flora thought this would taste better if we microwaved the cake.”

  “That’s right. All warm and toasty.” She sat down and balanced her bowl on her knees. “Now why did I hear the word crude when I walked into the room?” She branded Bud with a steamy glare. “You haven’t been telling that awful motorcycle joke again, have you?”

  “No, I most certainly haven’t,” he said around a mouthful.“That joke isn’t the least bit crude. And by the way? This cake is delicious, young lady! Can you cook, too?”

  “Oh,” she said, “I can navigate a kitchen fairly well.“Austin thought she looked precious, sitting there blushing like a schoolgirl. How much prettier would she look in a bridal gown and veil?

  He grit his teeth, fully prepared to give himself a good talking to when Bud aimed an arthritic finger at him. “I’m tellin’ you, son, let this one get away and the both of us will be sorry!”

  “Listen to you, Liam Kyle Callahan!” Flora grated. “To hear you talk, every morsel of food that goes into your mouth is as black as charcoal. And just as tasteless!” She reached over and gave his ample belly an affectionate poke. “How do you explain this if that’s the case?”

  “It’s a little-known fact,” he said, his face expressionless, “but charcoal is very fattening.”

  The foursome enjoyed a moment of merry laughter.

  “Liam Kyle?” Mercy said.

  “That’s his daddy’s doing,” Flora answered. “The way his mother told the story, when this silly fellow was a boy, he followed his father around like a puppy and earned the nickname Buddy. Over the years, it got abbreviated, but it stuck.”

  He’d often wondered how Bud came by the moniker, and, not wanting to pry, never asked. Leave it to Mercy, with her gentle, easy way, to get to the bottom of it within minutes of their first meeting. Even more amazing, she’d done it without sounding like a busy-body.

  Maybe Bud had a point. Maybe he would be sorry if he let this one get away.

  “Would you mind telling your motorcycle story?”

  “Oh, Mercy dear,” Flora groaned. “You have no idea what you’ve just done!”

  “Hush, Florrie-May. Take a little nap, why don’t you, while I entertain our beautiful little guest.”

  Flora’s groan circled the room, then she got up to collect the dessert plates and spoons. “I’ll be in the galley,” she said, “cleaning up. Somebody call me when it’s over, will you?”

  But Mercy grabbed her hand, and, smiling, said “Oh, do stay, Flora. I’m almost as curious to see your reaction to the story as I am to hear it!” She relieved her of the plates. “I’ll help you with these when Bud finishes. Please?”

  The woman had a steel trap mind and a donkey’s stubborn streak, so when she sat down and smiled, Austin and Bud exchanged a quick, shocked glance.

  “There,” Mercy said. “A full house for your story.” She sat back and folded both hands on her knees. “Should we applaud, the way they do on that comedy show on cable TV?”

  “An intro? Why, I’ve never had—”

  “Don’t push your luck, you silly old coot. Just get on with it.”

  Bud sat forward on his recliner and sipped his coffee, and, clearing his throat, cracked his knuckles. “The way the story goes,” he said, donning a thick Irish brogue, “McAfferty and O’Brien was cruisin’ down a country road on their motorbike one cold winter’s day, with O’Brien at the helm and ol’ McAfferty hangin’ on b’hind ‘im for dear life.

  ” ‘I’m freezin’, O’Brien!’ says McAfferty. ‘Ye’ve got to pull over!’ So over t’the side goes O’Brien, who climbs off the bike.

  ” ‘Well, St. Brigit’s ghost,’ says O’Brien. ‘No wonder ye’re cold, y’big meat head. Yer jacket’s on backward!’

  “So McAfferty takes off his leather coat, and O’Brien zips it up the back. ‘There y’go, now,’ says O’Brien, fluffin’ the fur around his pal’s chin. ‘That’ll keep y’good ‘n’ warm as we toodle down the highway!’

  “And on they ride, until O’Brien notices the back of his bike feels a bit light, and there’s no one clingin’ on to his chest as if for dear life. ‘Hey, McAfferty!’ O’Brien yells. ‘What’re y’doin’ back there!’ When there weren’t no answer, he pulls over to the side of the road again, and lo and behold, no McAfferty!

  “So back the way they rode goes O’Brien, until he comes to two farmers, huddled over somethin’ in the middle of the highway.When he gets closer, he sees that it’s his pal, McAfferty, on the ground between the men. ‘Lord of angels,’ says O’Brien, ‘I can’t believe he fell off the back of my motorbike! Is he all right, then,’ says O’Brien to the farmers.

  “And one farmer shrugs as the other says, ‘He was movin’ a bit, even talkin’ some when we found him, but since we turned his head around the right way, he ain’t moved or said a word!’”

  Bud’s eyebrows rose high on his many-lined forehead and he sat, eyes wide and grinning, waiting expectantly for the laughter to begin. In the fraction of a second that passed, Austin watched Mercy, who looked helpless and bewildered

  as her gaze shifted from him, to Flora, to Bud, and back again.The poor kid. Unlike Flora and himself, she’d never endured the story before, and had no idea whether or not she’d heard the punch line, or, if she had, what her reaction should be.

  Austin searched his mind for something to say that would spare Bud’s feelings and solve Mercy’s problem, as well. But his mind remained blank.

  Her laughter began, slow and soft, like sea foam kissing the shore at the start of high tide. Then it grew, one sweet note at a time, until she’d written a symphony of pure pleasure that filled the room with joy and amusement. It was contagious, too, and despite Flora’s best efforts to discourage Bud from ever telling the story again, merriment spilled from her lips, too.

  Bud slapped a knee and whistled, then got to his feet and grabbed Mercy’s hands. He pulled her from the sofa, and, planting both meaty palms on her shoulders, said “Darlin’, you’re good for what ails a man’s heart. If the good Lord had seen fit to give me a daughter, I would’ve considered myself blessed if she’d been like you.”

  There were tears in his eyes when he returned to his chair.Austin swallowed the lump in his throat. Bud had always been the type who’d well up when things moved him, from the sight of the Stars and Stripes flapping in a blustery breeze to hearing an old love song. It had always struck Austin odd that this giant of a man—who proudly displayed battle scars earned as he felled the enemy—never had any trouble showing his sensitive side.

  And it got Austin to wondering if he had a sensitive side.He’d teased Mercy, not long ago, about his fragile ego. Her quick mind had come right back with a joke, or tried to, anyway.If he hadn’t interrupted, how might she have finished “If I had to guess, I’d guess the only fragile thing about you is—”

  Heels propped on the coffee table, he linked his fingers over his belly and sat back to watch Mercy interact with the Callahans. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said she’d known them even longer than he had, and Bud mirrored her animated face and gestures.

  Flora, on the other hand, seemed off somehow. A month or so ago, under the same circumstances, she’d have been the life of the party. Tonight, her smile never quite made it to her eyes.She moved more slowly, spoke more softly, as if the brie
f visit had lasted hours and hours.

  He waited for a slight break in the conversation to ask “So, Flora, what did your doctor say?”

  “Doctor!” she echoed. “What doctor?”

  Austin looked at Bud. “Did you tell me just the other day that she had an appointment?”

  His happy expression died, and in its place, the stern frown of a disappointed parent. “Yes, she did,” he ground out, “but she cancelled at the last minute.”

  “Because I overslept,” she said defensively.

  “But you rescheduled, right?” Austin asked.

  Flora looked like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Not yet.”

  And Bud looked genuinely surprised. “That isn’t what you told me.”

  “I’m sure it was just an oversight,” Mercy put in. “In fact, I’ll bet it’s on your to-do list for tomorrow, isn’t it, Flora?”

  “Why, yes. Yes it is!”

  On her feet now, Mercy added, “Well, I have an early day tomorrow, so much as I hate to, I’d better hit the road.”

  Everyone stood, including Flora, whose balance wavered slightly. She quickly got her bearings, but not before Bud said “If you don’t call the doctor in the morning, I will.”

  “You’re such a nag,” she said, hugging him.

  He touched a finger to her nose. “Somebody’s gotta look out for you, since you refuse to do it yourself.”

  Austin slipped an arm around Mercy’s slender waist and led her to the door. “Thanks, you two, for the coffee. Call me when you get home from the doctor’s tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” Flora said, darting into the galley. She returned carrying Mercy’s cake pan. “Delicious as it was, we can’t possibly eat all of this,” she said. “Please, take it with you.”

  Mercy accepted it, but headed right back into the galley. “If you’ll show me where you keep your storage containers, I’ll leave two slices for you and Bud, and Austin can take what’s left to the station.”

  “That’s a great idea!” the older woman agreed. “That’s sure to earn him some brownie points with the rest of his crew.”

  Again, Austin marveled at Mercy’s instinctive people skills.He could have talked himself hoarse without getting that kind of instant cooperation from Flora! Better be careful, he warned himself, in case she decides to turn those talents in your direction.

  But who was he kidding? She’d won him over days ago when she’d followed his ambulance to the hospital to check on the injured football player.

  Moments later, on the walkway between his boat and the Callahans’, Austin slid an arm across her shoulders. “You know what?”

  Mercy shook her head. “No, what?”

  “You’re pretty amazing, that’s what.”

  He adjusted his pace, so her short legs wouldn’t have to work so hard to keep up with his long ones.

  Mercy fiddled with the shiny new sheet of foil Flora had put on the cake pan. “Oh? Because of my scrumptious pineapple upside-down cake recipe?”

  “Well, there’s that,” he said, chuckling. “And then there’s your knack for putting people at ease.”

  “Oh, it’s not really a knack so much as a job requirement.But thanks for the compliment all the same.”

  Affection for her surged within him, and Austin gave in to the urge to pop a kiss to the top of her head. “Y’know what?”

  “No, what?”

  “I like you, kiddo. I like you a lot.”

  She looked down at her feet, then out toward the water, and sighed. “And the feeling is mutual.”

  What inspired the hesitation, he wondered, preceding her words?

  “I hope Flora really does call her doctor—”

  Had she changed the subject on purpose? Or—

  “—because I think you’re right. I think something is wrong.“She fiddled with the tin foil again. “Did you see the way she lost her balance right before we left?”

  Yes, he had, but before he could admit it, she added, “Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious.” She stopped walking and looked up at him. “Will you call me? After Bud tells you what her doctor said, I mean?”

  Starlight sparked in her eyes and the moon’s glow shimmered around her hair like a white halo. Concern drew two vertical lines between her eyebrows, making him rack his brain for words that would erase them. How could she fret so much about a woman she’d only met, what, ninety minutes ago? The better question: How could anyone with a heart as big as Mercy’s not be a Follower? “‘Course I will.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” He’d call even if he hadn’t given his word.

  Mercy gave one nod of her head and started walking again.“Good.”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Austin slung an arm over her shoulders. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  He felt one shoulder rise, then fall beneath his hand as she said “Long as you don’t mind if I can’t answer.”

  Doesn’t take a genius to know that “can’t” really means “won’t”.

  “Nope. I won’t mind a bit.” Liar, he thought.

  “OK, then, shoot.”

  “Why is it so all-fired important to find out what Flora’s doctor says?”

  “You know, I haven’t the foggiest idea.” She shrugged again.“It’s just hard not to care about a woman like that, even given the fact that we only just met.”

  “I know what you mean. It was the same for me when I met her. Bud, too.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “What is?”

  “This knack they have, for making people feel like they’ve been adopted by the sweetest old couple in the world.”

  Was it the music in her voice or the words, themselves, that made his heart feel twice its normal size? “Yeah. I know what you mean.” He held open the screen door, and as she walked into his cabin, Austin said “You have that effect on people, too.”

  “Hey,” she said, putting the cake pan on the stove. She rummaged through is cupboards until she found the one where he kept his plates. “I’m barely thirty,” she said extracting one, “who you callin’ old?”

  Smiling, Austin leaned against the companionway wall, hands in his pockets as she opened and closed drawers in search of a spatula. It pleased him that she felt comfortable enough to make herself at home. Pleased him so much that an image of her, standing in the same spot—but wearing an apron and a gold band on the third finger of her left hand— flashed through his head. Austin had to blink a few times to shake it.

  Now, as she stooped to poke around in the lower cabinets, he wondered what she’d gone on the hunt for this time.

  “Ah-ha!” she said, grabbing the plastic wrap. “When I’m finished getting this ready for your pals down at the station, I’ll help you wash up our supper dishes.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I want to.”

  His heart did the bigger-than-normal thing again as he pictured the two of them, side by side at the sink—her washing, him drying—performing the routine household chore of a husband and wife. Why hadn’t any of the other women he’d brought here inspired thoughts of wedding rings and domestic togetherness?

  Because none had baked his favorite cake? Or because none had bothered to ask what his favorite cake was.

  Austin watched her blanket the leftover slices and put the plastic wrap back where she’d found it. He had no intention of turning down her offer to help with the dishes, not because he minded the chore, but because it gave him a legitimate excuse to be with her for …

  … for as long as he could find things for her to wash.Up on deck, Mercy popped another CD into the player, then proceeded to pile plates, glasses, and silverware onto the red tray. While Austin pretended to scrape the grill racks, she hummed along with another Eagles’ tune. Would she sing out loud if a favorite song blasted from the speakers? A guy can hope, he thought, grinning to himself.

  “Austin! Look!”

  He turned in time to see her point
ing at the sky. “What,” he asked, joining her at the rail.

  “A shooting star!”

  His arm went around her as if he’d been doing it for years.“Where?”

  Mercy leaned closer and, taking his hand, used his finger as her pointer. “There, right between—what are those bright ones called?”

  “That one’s Venus,” he said. “And that’s Vindemiatrix.”

  “I’m impressed,” she said, pressing into his side.

  He opened his mouth to impress her with the names of a few more when she gasped and jumped up and down like an enthused child. “Look! There goes another one!”

  Nodding, he said “Yep.” But he couldn’t concentrate on the stars. In fact, Austin had no desire to look into the sky.

  “It’s amazing! I could stand here forever, just watching for the next one.” She turned slightly to look up into his face.“How do you ever get any sleep, knowing there’s a light show, right on the other side of your roof!”

  “Some nights I don’t. In fact, if I had a dollar for every night I’ve fallen asleep in one of those chairs—” He chuckled. “Well, I could buy a couple more chairs.”

  Mercy sighed. “Maybe I’ll sell the townhouse and buy a tent and pitch it right here. One with a big clear-plastic window on top of it, so I could snuggle into my sleeping bag and fall asleep, watching the sky. And instead of rent, I could cook and clean for you. Why, it’d be a dream come true!”

  He liked to think of himself as a “feet on the ground” kind of guy, the type who poked fun at folks who wished upon the stars. But Mercy’s dream produced a silent groan that started deep in his gut and echoed all the way to his heart, because the only change he’d make to it would be to add himself to that sleeping bag—wearing a gold band on the third finger of his left hand that exactly matched hers.

  He shook his head again, hoping to shake some sense into it.Or, at the very least, shake the nonsensical idea out of it. What he knew about Mercy, he could put in one eye. He needed time, and so did she, to—

  “What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

  He’d been daydreaming, and she’d caught him red-handed.“Handsome?” Austin blinked and, grinning, said, “You think I’m handsome?”