Play It Safe(135)

All of them bossy.

My eyes went back to the barn as I clutched the papers to my chest but I didn’t see it, it was way too blurry.

We’d put Grandma Miriam in the ground that day and I thought I’d lost her forever.

Now, I realized, standing in her kitchen, wearing her ring, married to her grandson, planning to plant her impatiens and holding her bossy letter to me, I’d never lose her.

Not ever.

“Dollface?” I heard and I turned my blurry eyes to the door, blinking and (kind of) seeing Gray carrying Holt and coming at me.

Then they got to me.

“Baby,” Gray whispered and I kept hold of my piece of Grandma Miriam as I took hold of another piece of her by taking my son from his Daddy. “You okay?” Gray asked gently.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled instead of lied, curling Holt close to me.

My beautiful baby with his deep blue eyes with their dark, russet tipped lashes grabbed my hair and yanked.

I smiled a shaky smile at him.

Gray’s arm curved around my waist.

“What’s the letter?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head to get control of myself and lifted my eyes to him.

“Nothing, just Mrs. Cody being bossy.”

His brows drew slightly together then his deep blue eyes with their dark, russet tipped lashes moved over my face. Then his brows relaxed and he gave me his tender look.

Then he leaned in, pulling me and his son closer with his arm going tight around me and he kissed my forehead.

Then he kissed Holt’s.

Then his eyes caught mine and he whispered, “Say you love me, Ivey.”

I leaned into him.

Then, through my sadness, I happily did as ordered and whispered back, “I love you, Gray.”

And then I turned my neck, leaned deeper and rested my head on my husband’s shoulder. Gray pulled us both closer and I aimed my eyes out the window where I could see our barn, part of our orchard and, in the distance, the purple ridge of Colorado mountains.

Holt fidgeted and gurgled in my arms.

My husband stayed silent with his arm wrapped around his family.

I sighed.

* * * * *

Four months later…

My preserves turned out great.

* * * * *

Two years, one month later…

I sat on the porch swing and watched.

Gray was standing with Norrie beside her SUV. He’d dipped his head as she lifted up to her toes in her cowboy boots and kissed his cheek. His hand was at her waist and from my place I couldn’t see but I knew in my heart it gave her a squeeze.

They moved away from each other and she turned and waved at me.

I waved back.

She moved to the driver’s side door and Gray bent to look into her backseat where I could see the thick, burnished blond-haired head of Holt who was strapped in a child’s seat and I could also see Abel’s near-identical hair where he was secured in his baby seat.

Norrie started up the truck and waved again as Gray backed away, not waving but jerking up his chin.

Then she reversed out as he turned and made his way to me.

He had to go to the stairs because there was a lush, thick, wide border of white, pink and red impatiens all around the house including the porch. He could leap it, I had no doubt, but he never did.

Norrie drove down the lane as I watched my husband move. And as he made his way to me, he lifted his hand, doing what men do for whatever reason they did it. He grabbed the bill of his baseball cap, pulled it off, flipped it back on, pulled it off again then settled it back on his head.

I didn’t know why men did that and I didn’t ask because I didn’t care. Like everything Gray, when he did it, I thought it was hot. I didn’t want to bring his attention to it because if I did, he might stop.

He walked up the steps and came right to me, bending low to grab his beer bottle that he left on the porch floor when Norrie came to get the kids.

She did this often and she did it to give Gray and me a break. But she mostly did it because she was a grandma who loved her grandkids and she was a mother who missed her son growing up. Therefore, if she could help it, she was not going to miss any more of her family.

This sentiment was shared by Hoot who came regularly, stayed long and, not as often, but it happened, took the boys off on some adventure with their Granddaddy.

I grew up with very little.

Therefore I loved it that my boys had everything.

Gray settled on the swing at my side, immediately hooked an arm around my chest and pulled me into him, forcing my h*ps to twist in the seat as he pulled my back to the side of his front.

With ease borne of practice since we sat here often just like that, I lifted my bare feet and tanned legs, cocked my knees, set my feet in the seat and I settled my weight into Gray.

When I settled, my eyes aimed themselves toward the paddock where the horses were standing or wandering lazily. The sky was blue. It was late afternoon but the sun was still bright and warm. There was no sound except the whispered rush of a breeze in the leaves of the trees.

I sighed.

Then I smoothed my hand over the stylish (I thought) but still countrified, cowgirl sundress I was wearing, my hand moving over the growing baby bump that was my belly.

For awhile, Gray and I sat in silence as we often did.

Then I broke the silence.

“What do you think about the name Booker?”