But maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to live the rest of his life alone, waiting to die. Maybe it was time to move forward. Time to live his life again. Maybe there was room in his old heart for two women.
Grace Sutter wasn't at all like Melba. Melba had loved to have fun, and she'd had a wicked sense of humor and a loud laugh. Grace was a bit more refined. She liked to write poetry and watch birds out her kitchen window. Both women were wonderful in different ways.
Stanley went to the garage and brought in some boxes he'd carted home from the store. The part of his heart that had loved his wife for fifty years broke all over again as he put her things into the boxes. He opened her drawers and emptied them into the cardboard cartons. He paused to touch the pink nightie she'd worn when she'd wanted some time alone with him in the bedroom.
He loved her. Still. He always would. He picked up the packing tape and closed the box flaps. His eyes watered, and a tear ran down his wrinkled cheek. "Good-bye, Melba. I'm giving your things away, but I will not forget you. You were my wife, my lover, and my friend. You were my life for a long time, but you're gone. When you left, I was so lonely, but not so much now. I have Katie and Grace." He moved to his dresser and took a handkerchief out of his drawer. He wiped his face and blew his nose, a loud honking sound that filled the room. "You always liked Grace. Now I do too." He more than liked Grace. He loved her. He stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket. "You don't have to worry about Ada Dover or Iona Osborn getting their hooks in me." Sometimes at night, when the two of them had lain awake in bed talking about what would happen if one of them died before the other, Melba had made him promise that out of all the women in town, he wouldn't let either Ada or Iona reel him in. It had been an easy promise to keep.
One by one, he carried the boxes outside and placed them in the back of his '85 Ford pickup truck. As long as Melba's clothes still hung in the closet, and her unfinished craft projects sat on the shelf, he didn't feel right pursuing another woman.
He filled up the back of his truck with boxes, and the next morning he left Katie in charge of the M &S and headed to Boise and the Salvation Army. He unloaded Melba's things, then headed toward home again. He knew there were closer charity drop boxes, but the thought of running across someone else wearing Melba's Tom Jones jacket would have been too difficult to bear.
When he returned to Gospel, he went to Grace's and watched the sun set over the pines in the backyard. She made him a sandwich, and he told her what he'd done that day. She gave him one of her soft smiles and placed her hand on his. "I will always miss Melba," she said. "You two were lucky to have found each other. My husband passed away twenty-five years ago. I have never thought of replacing him in my heart, but I've come to learn that there is room in the human heart for more than one love."
Then he kissed her. For the first time in more than fifty years, he kissed a woman who wasn't Melba. For a few seconds, it felt awkward. For both of them. Then it felt right, and damn if his heart didn't start beating like he was forty again. He broke the kiss and told her of his deep affection and love for her.
She looked him right in the eye and said, "It's about time. I've loved you for almost a year now."
He'd had no idea. None, and all he seemed capable of doing was standing there marveling that someone like Grace could love someone like him. He was almost ten years older than her, and every one of those years showed. She didn't look a day over fifty-five.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Stay the night," she whispered.
"Grace, I respect you and-"
"Stop," she interrupted. "Of course you respect me. That's one of the things I love about you, Stanley Caldwell. You're a good and decent man, but even good and decent men have needs that can only be met in bed. Good and decent women do, too."
God almighty. His insides started shaking so hard that he felt like he was going to shake himself apart. He wanted to have sex with Grace. He was pretty sure his equipment was still capable, but there was a part of him that was terrified. "Things are different today. A person has to have that safe sex."
"I don't think we have to worry about that. I haven't had sex since I voted for the first George Bush and you were married to the same woman for almost five decades." She looked at him, and the crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes deepened. "In case you're worried, I can't get pregnant."
"God almighty."
At half past midnight, Kate picked up the telephone and punched seven numbers. Worry knotted her stomach, and she feared she might get sick. She half hoped he wouldn't pick up. The night he'd run out of the M &S had humiliated her, and she really didn't want to speak to him ever again. That night, he'd made her feel so good, and then he'd turned around and made her feel so bad.
The phone rang five times before it was answered. "This had better be good." His voice was sleepy, sexy as hell, and very cranky.
"Rob, it's Kate. I hate to wake you, but have you seen my grandfather today?"
"Kate?" He cleared his throat, and she could almost see him sit up in bed. "No, I haven't seen Stanley. He's not at home, I take it."
The knot in her stomach tightened. "No, he left for Boise this morning and I haven't seen or heard from him since. Have you talked to your mother today?"
"Yeah. I saw her around noon. Why?"
"I called her house two hours ago to ask her if she'd seen Stanley, and no one answered. I called back fifteen minutes later, and still no answer."
"No one picked up at my mom's?" The sound of dresser drawers opening and slamming filled the background. "Did you dial the right number?" She repeated the number she'd called. "Shit."
"I don't know what to do. I'm afraid my grandfather is in a ditch somewhere. I guess I'll call the sheriff."
"Hold off on calling just yet." Kate heard a soft thump and muffled curses, then a clearer, "Sorry, I dropped the phone while I buttoned my fly. I'll pick you up on the way to my mother's."
"Do you think they're together?"
"Since both of them are missing, yeah, I do."
Kate hung up the phone and reached for her coat. She wished there'd been someone she could have called besides Rob. Before she could stop it, a memory of the other night flashed across her brain, and a mortifying moan escaped her lips. She couldn't believe she'd done that particular sexual position. It was hard for a girl to keep her dignity with her bum in the air, but for some reason keeping her dignity hadn't entered her head that night. Then while she'd been basking in afterglow, he'd been in the bathroom plotting his escape. The second the condom had come off, he'd been out the door as fast as his boots could carry him.
At the grange party, he'd apologized. Maybe he was sorry, but Kate figured he was mostly sorry that she wasn't going to have sex with him again. Yeah, she knew that sounded cynical. So sue her. She wasn't going to ever let him hurt her again.
She watched for Rob out the window. A crescent moon provided little light over the wilderness area, and her thoughts turned from the other night to the crisis at hand. If her grandfather was stranded somewhere, he wouldn't be able to see more than a foot in front of him.
Within fifteen minutes Rob pulled his HUMMER into the driveway. Kate shoved her arms into the sleeves of her coat and was at the passenger door before he could put the vehicle into park.
"After I hung up from talking to you, I phoned my mother," he said as she jumped inside and shut the door. "No one answered." He looked behind him as he backed out. The blue lights of the dash shone on the side of his face and filtered through his hair, unkempt, unruly, and unbelievably hot.