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“Oh, Van.”
“He was a collie, wasn’t he? A big, beautiful collie named Leroy. He let me tangle my grubby little fists in his long, thick hair, and climb on board, and he’d carry me around the yard, with me whoopin’ and hollerin’. Is that right?”
“I don’t know about all of that, Van, but I know you had a big, beautiful collie named Leroy.”
“I’ve remembered. I know what happened.”
“Oh, Van, I hope it’s a good thing that you have remembered, because I think it must have been a very bad thing that happened to make you forget.”
“It was.”
Hetoldhisauntandherhusbandaboutthecarand the threats.
“Oh, Van, no wonder you had to get Leroy away from there and somewhere safe.”
Van touched Cynthia’s hand and smiled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smile quite like that on your face before,” she said.
She was right. He did feel different. Better. So free and easy it was downright strange. He felt as though he’d broken free of anything his father had tried to teach him.
“I’m ashamed to have that man’s blood in me. My father said he and I were alike. He said we didn’t deserve to love and be loved because we couldn’t look after anybody except ourselves, and he said he did a lousy job of that and he knew I would too. I’m going to try not to believe that any more. I’m going to try to be as different from him as I can.”
Did he dare hope he could even make himself worthy of Mary someday?
“I’m guessing that won’t happen overnight, son,” Brock said, “but if you’re anything like Cyn, you can do anything you set your mind to. Heck, she set out to get a blind bachelor like me — make that an idiot who was too scared to see what a treasure he had — and look what happened.”
“Yeah.” Van rubbed his chin. “Look what happened.” He paused, then laughed. “Hey, Brock, is Mary dating anyone I can throw a pie at? If she is, will you give me lessons?” Van’s smile faded. “Does she ever ask about me? Talk about me?”
“If‘she’heardyouaskingaboutherinthatlovesick tone, you would be crossing her mind,” Aunt Cynthia said. “A lot.”
“I don’t think she thinks about me at all.” Van lowered his head into his hands.
“Just because she broke things off between you two doesn’t mean it has to stay that way,” Aunt Cynthia said.
Van split his fingers and looked up at her with hope sneaking its way into his heart. “You think?”“I think. Tell him, Brock.”
“I’m awfully glad your aunt didn’t take no for an answer when I told her we were breaking up.” Brock crinkled his eyes. “Of course, my prowess with a pie may be what made her so determined.”
Van had to laugh. “Baking or throwing?”
“Both,” Aunt Cynthia said.
Van couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Even if he was acutely jealous of Aunt Cynthia and Brock. Even if he was acutely miserable without Mary. “I need to find the equivalent of a pie to get Mary back, huh?”
“Is that what you want, dear? To get Mary back?”
Van consulted the broken and bleeding thing that thumped in his chest and passed for his heart these days. “Yes.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
That was Aunt Cynthia. Decide what you’re going to do and figure out, right now, how to do it. “I wish I knew.”
“If you’re sure about what you want, I have an idea about how you could break the ice with her.”
“I’m sure. I’m sure. I’m sure.”
“Give me a minute while I check on something.” Aunt Cynthia went into the kitchen and spoke to someone on the phone. Moments later, she was back. “About that idea of mine … It’s sitting in your lap, shedding on and rumpling your perfectly pressed suit.”
