One String (Lighter Ones)

Chapter 33

Marilyn

My mind is coming up with too many horrible scenarios. The message I received from Devan said that Justin had been moved to a rehabilitation center in Washington, Indiana. Her mom had flown back to Florida, and she needed me at her house as soon as I could be there. After work, I swung by home and packed an overnight bag. The traffic on the north side of Indianapolis was horrendous. It seemed like every driver was trying to get out of the city. Intrastate, interstate, highway, or street, it didn’t matter.

Now, I’m only about fifteen minutes away from her house, but I haven’t been able to reach her by phone or text message. I’m more than a little scared that something is the matter with her or the baby.

My focus on Devan has kept my other constant thought from my mind, if only temporarily. That thought would be about Ricky.

It would be a lie to say I didn’t check on his position at Parker and Stevens. It made my heart happy and sad that he’d worked out a compromise with the partners. From Devan, I also learned that Ricky wasn’t the only one shouldering the responsibilities of the farm. Ricky Dunn may be an ass, but in my opinion, he deserves to be happy. I remember the way he looked, his eyes shone, and his dimples grew when he spoke about the possibilities for the agricultural wealth proposal.

Researching and developing the proposition is exactly something he is meant to do.

Then we’re back to the fact that he’s an ass.

I meant to ask Devan if Ricky would be down here. Actually, I did ask. She hasn’t returned any of my messages since I said I’d hurry to Riverbend. Leaving the street, I turn down the lane toward Justin’s and her house, passing by the big white barn. Nothing much has changed because it’s still winter. That doesn’t mean Dax and Ricky haven’t been working. I’m aware there are always projects year-round.

My headlights cut through the darkness. I hold my breath as I search the driveway for cars. At the sight of Devan’s car, and only her car, I exhale. Lights are illuminating the kitchen as I hurriedly park and rush toward the house. Opening the screen door and then the solid one, I call out her name.

The house is quiet and filled with a delicious aroma of something garlic.

“Devan,” I call up the back stairs. A quick search of the first floor, and I dash up the front staircase toward her bedroom. In my mind’s eye, I see her alone and hurt. It’s almost too much after what happened to Justin. “Devan,” I call again.

At the top of the stairs, I come to a screeching halt at the sight of the man in the hallway.

“Marilyn,” Ricky says, his deep voice causing the tiny hairs on my arms to stand to attention, small lightning rods sparked by the electricity in the air.

“Where’s Devan?”

With the light from the end of the hall around him, Ricky seems larger-than-life, filling the width of the upstairs hallway. He’s not dressed in the work clothes I saw him in the other day. Now he’s wearing his low-riding blue jeans and a caramel-colored thermal that pulls tight across his wide chest and shoulders.

“Where is Devan?” I repeat louder.

“I don’t know. I think she’s in Washington with Justin.”

“Is she okay?” Before he can answer, I ask, “Is the baby okay?”

Ricky’s forehead furrows. “Baby?”

“She left me a message saying I needed to hurry down here. I’m afraid there’s something wrong with the baby or her.”

He comes closer and reaches for my shoulders. “I don’t know about a baby, but Devan is fine.”

I try to break away. “Shit. Don’t tell her I told. I need to find her.”

He doesn’t release me. “Marilyn, she lured you down here for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid if I asked, you wouldn’t come.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh my God. You’re right, Ricky.” I spin and head toward the front steps.

“Wait,” he calls, his footsteps seconds behind mine. At the bottom of the stairs, he again reaches for me, this time capturing my hands. He tilts his head, his brown eyes bigger than normal. “Please, hear me out.”

Taking a step back, I cross my arms over my breasts. “Make it fast.”

“Do you have a date?”

My eyes narrow. “First, none of your business.”

“Bryce Perkins came to me.”

I exhale and shake my head. “Bryce is a douchebag.”

“You’re not dating him again?”

I wrinkle my nose. “No.” I look around, taking in the first floor more than I did when I rushed in. A dozen roses are in a vase on the kitchen counter. The light is on in the dining room. I peer around the corner and see the table set for two with candles. “Is this all because of Bryce?”

“No.” He runs his hands over his facial hair. “Yes.”

Shaking my head, I make my way toward the back door.

“Marilyn, I’m an ass.”

“Nice, Ricky. We can agree on something.”

“I wanted the position at Parker and Stevens, not just to work there, but to be closer to you. I told you the truth when I confessed that, years ago, I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I thought, maybe if we worked together…”

“It’s too late.”

He inhales, his nostrils flaring. “I know it should be. No matter where I work or what I do, I don’t deserve you, but I want you.”

Closing my eyes, I inhale, taking in the garlic aroma. “I won’t let you hurt me again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I want to have a life with you, the rest of our lives.” He lifts his hand. “Don’t freak out. That’s not a proposal. It’s me hoping that one day you may listen to one of those.”

“Why?”

“Why do I want you to listen?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Why would you want to say one?”

“Because I want to be with you. You make me smile. I make you smile.”

“YouTube videos make me smile too.”

He cocks his head to the side and grins a radiant smile. “I made chicken fettuccine alfredo. We have breadsticks, and in the freezer is a half gallon of caramel ice cream. Just caramel. I called Kandace. She’s added specialty foods to Quintessential Treasures. She said Ruth had a recipe. Joyce agreed to make it.”

“Homemade caramel ice cream? Why would you go to that trouble?”

“Because,” he says, slowly reaching for my hand, “one night a while ago, I had a dinner with a beautiful woman. I asked her to describe her perfect date. I thought she’d describe a fabulous night in Paris or New York. Instead, she described a homemade dinner with carbs and caramel ice cream.”

Tears prick my eyes. “You remembered that?”

“I’m sorry, Marilyn. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I don’t have an excuse. When Justin was hurt, I thought it was all on me to make things right. That baler was ours, and it’s always had trouble with the suspension. I thought we’d told him, but if we hadn’t and that was why he was hurt, it was up to me and me alone to make things right.”

I shake my head. “It was an accident, Ricky. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that. I’ve spent many hours out in the barn. The suspension isn’t why it fell. It was—” he shakes his head “—an accident. The jack gave way. Who knows if it wasn’t set properly or if it malfunctioned. And it took me opening my eyes to realize that helping Justin wasn’t my job alone. So many people have volunteered, and Dax is as invested as I am—family.”

I swallow. “I’m happy you figured that out.”

“If I’d listened to you…”

I shrug. “Some people are denser than others.”

“That’s not all. You told me not to make a rash decision. I did. I turned down the position at Parker and Stevens. If it weren’t for you…”

“No, Ricky. They want you. See? All is well.”

He takes a step closer, his cologne mingling with the garlic in a spicy scent. “Marilyn, you spoke to Mr. Stevens. He said he cornered you and it was wrong, but he didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t answering my phone.”

“He didn’t corner me. He asked me to his office and asked politely. He did say that I didn’t need to answer.”

Ricky puts his hands on my waist. When I don’t back away, he pulls us closer together until I need to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “I’ll never deserve you, Marilyn, but I’d like to spend our lives trying.”

My resolve is fading fast. I’m still scared. “Can I call you out when you’re being an ass?”

His smile lifts his cheeks. “Every time.”

“Did you really make the fettuccine?”

“I mean, I bought the noodles and the sauce, but I warmed them up.”

My smile returns.

“I’ve missed you.” His lips collide with mine as one of his hands goes to the back of my neck. I lift my hands to his strong shoulders. Our tongues mingle as my lips bruise.

When we pull apart, I say, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Did you bring an overnight bag?” he asks, his eyebrows dancing.

“Maybe.” I smirk. “Feed me first.”