The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(18)

In fact, she knew she might. It kept her awake very late into the night. They’d known each other for about a year when he’d asked her to go mountain hiking in late spring. They’d gone river kayaking in the summer. They’d also taken in movies, eaten pizza and popcorn, sat on the beach for quite a few sunsets. And they’d made love. Yes, they’d tumbled into bed after the third or fourth date and it was good. Very satisfying and completely five-star. But it hadn’t done to her heart what she’d been looking for, what she’d been needing. She’d had several long talks with herself about being ridiculous—there was nothing about being with Troy that put her off or sent up a red flag. But there was also nothing that made her chest expand and brain completely lose focus. She didn’t think about him constantly, didn’t want to phone him at three in the morning, didn’t miss him horribly when he went on his rafting or scuba trips. She could marry him and probably be 75 percent content.

But if she could see a life as 75 percent happy with a man before she even met him at the altar, what were the odds of them having a successful family life together? Shouldn’t she be at least 100 percent first? Then maybe after marriage and all its familiarity and struggle and predictable disharmony from time to time, 75 percent would look pretty good....

She came to a sudden realization. Oh, God, that’s probably what Seth thinks about me! He likes me a lot. He misses me and wants me back, but as his buddy, his pal, not as the love of his life! He’s been trying to explain that to me for twenty years at least and I just won’t get it! Troy isn’t right for me in all ways just like I’m not right for Seth in all ways!

It took such a long time to fall asleep and then, just because sometimes she was the most unlucky person alive, Norm Sileski decided it was the perfect Saturday morning to cut his grass. She rolled to her side and put the pillow over her head. During the week she had to be up early, perky and ready to face three hundred and fifty high school students with a positive attitude and creative problem-solving skills. On the weekend she liked to sleep in.

The pillow wouldn’t make Norm’s mower go away and she rolled over with a growl. She looked at the clock—it was nine o’clock. When she had finally nodded off at three she’d had a mental plan to wake up at about eleven and have lunch for breakfast. He’d robbed her of at least two hours!

Then she heard the mower ram into the side of her house under her bedroom window and she sat up with a start. What was he doing in her yard?

She grabbed a flannel shirt hanging on the peg in her closet and put it on over her skimpy pajama tank top. Barefoot in the cold October morning, she stormed outside to tell him to stop, to go worry about his own grass, hers was only going to need one more mowing before winter anyway. But when she got to the backyard she was nearly run over by Seth. He stopped the mower, put it on idle so it only hummed and grinned. “Morning.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving your grass a mow. I’m being a good neighbor.”

“A good neighbor would let me sleep!”

“Out late last night, Iris?” he asked.

“Sort of. Then I had trouble falling asleep and Saturday is my sleep-in day. Now put your mother’s lawn mower away and go home.”

“Come on, Iris. I’m just being helpful. Now you don’t have to pay a kid to do it and you don’t have to do it yourself. You can go fishing or something instead.”

“I just want to sleep for two more hours!”

He laughed. “Jesus, are you ever grumpy in the morning. I’ll be done here in a flash....”

“Just quit. I’ll finish it. Go away. I’m sleeping!”

“That’s obvious,” he said, making a motion with his hand over the left side of his head, indicating a protruding, springy mound.

She hadn’t looked in the mirror. Her hair tended to go a little berserk at night, especially if it was a tossing-and-turning night. She glared at him. “I. Said. Go.”

“Come on, Iris,” he cajoled. “Go make some coffee. You’ll feel better in a few minutes and by then I’ll be done here.”

She took a couple of steps toward him. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

He smiled pleasantly. “I’m wooing you. I’m wearing you down. I want you back.”

“You’re full of shit,” she said. She turned to walk away.

“Come on, Iris. I need you.”

She wasn’t thinking. She really had been asleep and she was really tired. And he really had pissed her off before he said the thing that brought a curtain of red over her eyes, like a fountain of blood. She whirled and slugged him in the jaw as hard as she could before stomping off.

Just like when they were eight years old.

Seth’s heel caught on the wheel of the lawn mower and he tripped backward, landing on his ass. It ran through his mind that if he’d seen that coming he wouldn’t have let her get away with it, then just as quickly he reminded himself she already had. So he grabbed his left knee and began to moan and groan very loudly. “Ohhh. God, Ohhh. Ah! Jesus! Ohhh.”

Through the slits of his eyes he saw her turn and cast a stricken look his way, her mouth open in a nice, shocked O.

“Seth,” she said, rushing to him. “Oh, God, did you hurt your bad leg? I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—”