She took in his grin before she wandered deeper into the space.
He thought this was going well.
But like it was calling to her, she made a beeline to the only photograph he had framed in the whole house, and Hap felt his body string tight.
It was set to the side, out of eyeline of the huge TV mounted above the fireplace, on his mantle.
She reached out and curled her long fingers around it, bringing it to her, and honest to Christ, it felt like her touching it was her touching him.
And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Hap only had her profile, but he still saw her face change. Go soft. Sweet.
He knew how he felt about that. He just wished he didn’t feel it.
“Your grandparents,” she murmured.
Yeah.
And him. On the porch. On the farm. Before it was lost. He’d been fifteen.
“You look like your grandmother,” she whispered. She turned her eyes to him. “She was very beautiful.”
She was. Sweet. Tough. No nonsense. Hard working. Strict. Hilarious. Strong.
And beautiful.
Luci’s attention floated back to the picture. “But unlike you, she’s very dainty.”
“She wanted to be a ballerina,” Hap told her.
She looked again to Hap.
“Then she met my gramps,” he went on.
“I don’t suspect she regretted it,” Luci guessed.
“No tellin’. That wasn’t somethin’ she’d share, not to anyone. She made her choice. Cast her lot. Love makes you do stupid shit and maybe she regretted it a thousand times in the years they had together. I’ll never know.”
She kept hold of the picture but turned fully to him. “Love makes you do stupid shit?”
Yeah.
Like her being right there, holding the picture of him with the only family he’d ever had until he went into the Army.
Stupid.
“Workin’ a farm isn’t easy on a man, or a woman. She did not live the high life.”
Slowly, almost methodically, Luci returned the frame to the mantle, saying, “The high life comes in many forms, Hap.”
“There weren’t any tutus near our farm, Luce. Or any spotlights.”
She lifted her chin and locked her gaze with his.
“But there was her husband. And eventually you.”
“I didn’t make her life any easier.”
“And still, you don’t understand banana bread.”
Hap went solid.
“Women have many ways of doing things,” Luci said quietly. “If she knew you didn’t like bananas, she didn’t buy them to try and make you like them. She bought them to let them get ripe because she also knew you liked her banana bread. If you had little money, that was probably a treat. So she found a way to give you a treat. And then she did.”
Hap’s throat closed and his eyes strayed to that frame.
She’d do that, his gram. That was something she’d do.
And obviously something she’d done.
He just hadn’t caught on.
Fuck.
“Her grandson, angry at the world because of his father, his mother, the hard life he watched his grandparents lead, enjoying banana bread. That’s about the highest high life you can get,” she finished.
And there was the second most beautiful thing he’d heard in his life.
He had no idea what made him say what he said next.
Maybe self-preservation.
But he said it.
“She met you, she would not like you. She’d think you were a fancy woman out slumming for shits and grins.”
“And then I’d prove her wrong,” she instantly shot back. “But right now, I’ll prove you wrong. She’d never consider you slumming. She might think I was flighty or spoiled, and thus unworthy of you. But she wouldn’t ever think I was too good for you.”
“You don’t even know her, babe,” he pointed out, and she just shrugged.
“But I know you. Someone made you the man you are today. And both of those someones are right there,” she stated, lifting a hand and jabbing a long fingernail at the frame. “Now are you going to give me a quick orgasm and pass out? Or would you like more time to try to push me away, fail and unnecessarily delay said orgasm and passing out?”
It shocked the shit out of him, but Hap ignored the invitation.
“I made their life hell, Luci.”
“And still they kept you in it.”
“An obligation. That’s what people do in Iowa,” he returned.
Shit.
Now it appeared he was pissing her off.
Luci pissed off was cute, but it wasn’t a good thing because, although it was worth a repeat that it was cute, she said things when she was pissed that blew his mind.
“No. That’s what grandparents do if they’re good grandparents who love their grandchild. Look at them, Hap,” she snapped on another jab of her finger at the picture. “They’re smiling. I’m a model. I know these things. Those smiles aren’t forced. You think she cried for hours because you went into the Army and she thought maybe you’d amount to something?” She shook her head. “You’re wrong. She cried for hours, beside herself with happiness that you’d proved what she always believed to be correct. You were a good boy who would grow into a good man, that coming from what was inside you that she knew was there and they nurtured.”
“That’s a pretty big leap from a smile in a picture, babe,” he retorted.
“Then you need to look really fucking close at that picture, Hap, because I see it. I see it because I know you. And I’m a woman. I know if I had a hand in making a man like you, the pride in that smile would shine through like the pride in her smile is shining through.”
Hap again looked at the picture.
“Did you work with your grandfather when you had the farm?” she demanded.
He turned his attention back to her. “Yeah.”
“Of course. And you decided on the Army after you lost the farm. What were you going to do before?”
He saw where this was going so he clenched his teeth.
She watched.
Then she whispered, “I see.”
“Babe, maybe we should quit talkin’ about this,” he suggested.
“No, because, you see, you were going to work that farm.”
She was right.
He opened his mouth to shut this down but didn’t get dick out.
“And they knew it. And they were happy you were going to take on their legacy. And they understood completely that you acted out when your future was lost. And then you did what they’d hoped you’d do. Adjusted your future and found a new path. One that is one of the most honorable you can take, even if it’s also one of the most difficult. So yes, I’m sure they felt relief when you did that. But likely not surprise, except for the fact that you did it so quickly and didn’t knock about aimless for decades before you did it.”
“You make me sound pretty fuckin’ great,” he forced out.
“Because you are.”
Yup.
There it was again.
Luci convinced they worked, they fit, saying shit that if he let it in would make him think the same.
“Luci, I am not great. I’m just a guy.”
“So is Sam and I suspect you think he’s great.”
“He’s an ex-NFL player who quit to become a soldier. Everyone thinks Sam is great. And by everyone, I mean everyone on the whole fuckin’ planet.”
“Because God gave him the talent to play football?” she asked incredulously.