A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(61)

She put her fingers on his lips. “Matt, I never thought I’d have a man like you in my life.” She smiled weakly. “I sure didn’t think so at Peyton’s wedding when you went for my boob.”

“Ah, a defining moment. Impressive, wasn’t I?”

“Drunk and clumsy,” she said.

“Yeah, but I’m persistent. I’m with you now. What do you want to do, sweetheart? Stay here awhile? Go to my place and rest a little bit?”

“I just want to go home,” she said. “I need to go back to my life. Will I see you this weekend?”

“I’m taking you home, honey.”

“You’re following me?”

“No. Driving you. You follow me to U-Haul. It’s not far. I’m going to rent a half trailer, hook your car up and tow you. We’ll ride together. We can hold hands and talk. Or not talk, if you’re feeling quiet. You can sleep a little—grieving wears a person out. We’ll stop for a good meal because I bet you didn’t eat...”

“Al’s going to be jealous. He wanted to drive me.”

“He needs to watch it,” Matt said teasingly. “This is my territory now.”

“It is, isn’t it? I should mind being called territory, but I don’t. You’ll be missed on the farm...”

“No, it’s all good. No one’s expecting me, but I’ll make a call, let Mama know I’m busy. She’ll tell Paco and George.”

“Do they know about me? That I’m damaged? That my baby died and I’m so damaged?”

“I haven’t told them the particulars, just that you needed me today. You can tell them someday if you feel like it.” He stood up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “You ready or do you want more time here?”

“I’m ready,” she said.

Matt hated to put her in the car to drive even a short distance. Ginger never mentioned him, not even once, but Matt thought about him—that loser, Mick. He probably changed his name to Mick to be like Jagger. He should have been with her when that baby died. And even though Matt didn’t want him anywhere near her ever again, he should be here now, propping her up, supporting her. He should cry that his son died.

Matt hated him.

* * *

Ginger did sleep a little on the way back to Thunder Point. They stopped just outside Eugene at a homey little country restaurant that also sold hams and pies. Ginger had a bowl of soup with crackers and half a sandwich while Matt, no doubt concerned about getting enough to eat when they got back to that little loft, indulged in a large meat loaf and potato dinner. She called her parents, explaining she’d been to the cemetery and her suspicions were right—they’d made a visit early that morning and left a bouquet. She had planned to visit Josh’s grave alone, spend a couple of hours and leave, not feeling like seeing people.

Then she explained Matt being there, taking her back home. “I didn’t tell him I’d be there and if he’d asked to come with me I would’ve said I wanted to be alone,” she said to her mother. “But I’m so glad he was there. And it turned out to be the right thing for me.”

Then she slept a little more. He unhooked the tow bar and parked her car behind the flower shop while she went upstairs. Once she was in her secure little loft apartment, she called Ray Anne and asked her to relay to Al that she was fine.

“I went to the cemetery today to put flowers on his little grave, and Matt came. He guessed I might be there. He brought his own flowers. It was so lovely that he’d do that without being asked, without being needed.”

“Oh, baby,” Ray Anne singsonged. “And now? Feeling all right?”

“Feeling a little wrung out, honestly. But I’ll sleep tonight and tomorrow I’ll be so happy to get back to my flowers and friends.” Unbelievably, that was the truth. She needed that pilgrimage to Portland. She wished there was more by way of closure, but that was as good as it was going to get. She was beginning to understand that there was nothing she could do, no ritual that could make the feelings go away. The sadness would just have to leave her with time as replaced by new feelings. Remembering him, his sweet little face, that belonged to her.

Matt said he had no instincts where women were concerned, but she was amazed by them. He seemed to give her plenty of space while staying near. At about eight that night he went out for ice cream, which they ate in bed, then they talked a little while about ordinary things—she wanted to know about the grapes and pears. He wanted to know about her flowers and Grace’s mother. He told her they’d be breeding sheep at George’s in the late fall. He was slated to teach a few classes as a visiting professor in the fall after the harvest. She was looking forward to the harvest celebrations and food.

At the first light of dawn Ginger woke to the gentle stroke of Matt’s rough hand on her upper arm. She turned to him and smiled.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Okay. You?”

He just nodded. “If you think you’ll be all right, I should get back to the farm.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I was there.”

“I meant, thank you for going to his grave even though I might not have been there. He wasn’t part of your life. That was one of the nicest things anyone has done for me.”