Play It Safe(134)

“Wash your hands, Ivey,” Gray ordered gently.

Oh God.

Not today, not three days from Christmas.

“Mrs. Cody?” I whispered and Gray shook his head.

“No, baby. Now wash your hands, yeah?”

When I didn’t move, stood frozen to the spot, Hoot’s hand wrapped around my forearm and he murmured, “Wash your hands, beautiful.”

I looked to him then to the dough. Then I rubbed my hands clean of lumps, walked to the sink and washed them.

I was drying them, turning and nearly bumped into Gray when I did. I had barely got my body to facing him fully when both his hands settled on either side of his neck, he bowed his back and his face was in mine.

“Fast, right? I tell you fast.”

Oh God.

“Gray –” I whispered.

“That was Lash. He got word. Casey’s body was found a week ago in Oakland. He’d been shot in the head. Cops don’t know why. They’re investigating.”

I stared at him.

“Ivey.”

I kept staring at him.

“Baby,” he whispered, his hands giving me a squeeze.

Casey.

I closed my eyes, twisted my head and shoved my face in neck as the sob tore through me.

His hands left my neck and his arms wrapped around me tight.

My arms did the same.

My brother.

My Casey.

Now really dead to me.

My body bucked with another sob and I felt my hair shifted to the side then I felt my father’s big, warm hand curl around the back of my neck.

And I stood in a warm kitchen with Christmas music playing, bay and rosemary scent all around me, safe in the attentions of two men who loved me as I cried for another one who used to love me, who used to be everything to me.

Until he wasn’t.

* * * * *

Eleven months later…

The noise came on the monitor, my eyes opened to darkness and Gray’s arm tightened around me.

“Your turn,” I muttered into the dark.

“Yeah,” Gray muttered back, shifted, kissed my shoulder and exited the bed.

I pretended to fall back asleep.

But I didn’t.

I did what I did every time it was his turn.

I gave it time then slid out of bed silently, tiptoed out of the room and went one room over, a room that became Gray’s office when the den was taken up by Grandma Miriam.

Now it was a nursery.

The light glowed through the opened door and I approached it, with practice, without a sound.

Then I peered around to see my man in his light blue, drawstring pajama bottoms, his glorious chest bare, sitting and rocking in the rocking chair with our baby son, Holt cradled in his arm, Gray holding the bottle to his little baby lips.

Holt was my idea. Holt Cody was the only name I could come up with that was more cowboy than Grayson Cody.

I loved it.

Gray thought I was crazy but he didn’t fight me.

I watched for awhile thinking pretty much everything Gray did, walking, talking, working, sleeping, breathing, was hot.

But nothing was hotter than watching him feeding our baby.

Once I got my fill, I tiptoed back to our bed.

And, as usual, I was dead asleep when my husband came back to me.

* * * * *

Four months later…

A buzz of low noise filled the house as I walked down the hall in my tight, black skirt, my exquisite little blouse doing so on my fabulous, high-heeled designer pumps.

I moved to the sink and dealt with the dishes I carried, dumping the remains of food, rinsing them and shoving them into the dishwasher.

I noted it was full.

This was because there were a lot of people there.

I put in a tablet, shut it, locked it and turned it on.

Listening to the motor start, the water gushing, I stood with my hands light on the edge of the sink and my eyes slid out the window to the barn.

It was March. Next month, I’d need to plant my impatiens.

“Ivey, honey?”

I turned my head, surprised to see Macy standing right beside me.

“Hey, sorry, I was…” I trailed off then finished, “Sorry.”

She smiled and it didn’t reach her eyes.

Then she moved and I looked down to see she had an envelope in her hand.

I looked back at her.

“What –?” I started.

“She wanted you to have this,” she whispered and tears stung my nose but I held them back, lifted my hand and took the envelope.

She wrapped an arm around me sideways, gave me a brief hug, kissed the side of my head then moved out of the kitchen.

My head dropped and I turned the note over.

My name was written in slightly wobbly, cursive writing.

I closed my eyes.

Then I opened them, used my finger to slit the envelope open then I pulled out the papers inside.

There were three sheets covered front-to-back in that same wobbly, cursive writing.

At the top of the first sheet, it read,

Ivey, child,

Gray told me you liked my preserves. I never got the chance to teach you how to make them and since Gray’s great-grandma taught me and his great-great-grandma taught her, I best get on with teaching you…

Then for the next six pages she gave me step by step by step by step instructions on how to make strawberry jam.