Last Chance Bride Part 6

She did the same and stepped out into a balmy March day.

"I've never seen a house painted puke green, gold, and purple before," he said.

"It's not that bad."

The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's hot. Are we gonna stand here looking at it all day?"

The muscles along Savannah's shoulders knotted, and the headache she'd been fighting since they'd crossed the South Carolina border was beginning to actually throb.

Just then the front door opened with a bang, and a white-haired lady wearing a blue polyester pantsuit and a pair of red Keds appeared on the porch. Dark, almost black, eyes peered at Savannah through a pair of 1960s-style spectacles festooned with rhinestones. "Well, look who just turned up, pretty as a daisy. C'mon up here, sugar," Aunt Miriam said, opening her arms.

Savannah took the rickety porch steps in two long strides and gave Aunt Miriam a bear hug.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came," the old lady said.

Savannah pulled away and looked down at her great-aunt, noting the changes recorded in her face. Her apple cheeks now drooped a little along her jawline. Her skin looked pale and papery. Even the ever-present twinkle in her eyes was dimmed by time and sorrow. Savannah felt a sharp pang of regret that she had allowed so much time to elapse between visits. Aunt Miriam was getting old. Savannah wished with all her might that she could turn back the clock.

"I'm so sorry about Uncle Harry," Savannah said.

Miriam nodded. "He was as old as dirt. And sick these last few years. I know at the end he just wanted to lay his burden down and go on home." Her voice wavered.

Savannah gave Miriam another big hug and whispered, "I'm sure he did. But I know you would have liked him to stay a while longer."

Miriam pushed back and wiped a few tears from her cheeks. "Enough of this maudlin stuff. Let me see that boy of yours. Last time I saw him, he was no bigger than a minute."

Miriam turned her gaze down into the yard, where Todd slouched. Savannah's son had a.s.sumed the preteen position: arms crossed and disinterest written all over his face.

"Hmm," Aunt Mim said, "he's a big boy, isn't he?"

Savannah sighed. "Yes, he is."

"Too bad he doesn't live around here. I'm sure Harlan At.w.a.ter would be all over you to recruit him for Pop Warner football."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I think Todd would make an excellent center."

Savannah filed that information away. Todd probably had no interest in playing football. But Savannah was determined to get her son off the couch and out into the fresh air. Last Chance had lots and lots of fresh air.

"Well, son," Miriam said with a wave, "c'mon up here and meet your old Aunt Mim. I know you don't remember me."

The boy walked slowly up the stairs and stoically allowed himself to be hugged.

"Y'all come on in," Aunt Miriam said, once she let Todd go. "I've got cookies and pie and enough food to choke a horse. The ca.s.serole brigade has been doing overtime these last few days. To be honest, I got so tired of Lillian Bray trying to take charge of my kitchen that I shooed them all away this noontime. They mean well, I suppose, but a whole day with Lillian is enough to try even the most patient of souls."

She turned toward Todd. "I'm sure you're hungry, son."

Todd nodded. Todd was always hungry.

"Well, come on, then, I'll show you the way to the kitchen."

A burst of cool air greeted them in the hallway. It took a moment for Savannah's eyes to adjust to the dark interior. The house had changed little in the eight years since her last visit. To the right stood the formal dining room, with its gleaming mahogany table and chairs upholstered in light green moire. The china closet filled with blue willow ware still dominated the far wall. She could practically smell the ham and b.u.t.ter beans that Granny had served on those dishes all those years ago.

She turned her gaze to the left. The front parlor still contained Victorian settees upholstered in red velvet and striped damask silk. The baby grand piano, where she'd practiced endless scales and learned Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, still stood in the corner between the bay window and the pink marble fireplace.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the scents of lemon oil and beeswax and memory. This house had once belonged to her grandfather, Aunt Miriam's older brother. And she had spent most of her summers here. Those had been happy times, for the most part.

Miriam came to a stop beside the oak stairway. "Oh, there you are. I called you to come down five minutes ago," she said as a dark-headed man of about thirty-five two-stepped down to the landing and leaned into the newel post.

He hooked his thumbs through the loops of his Wranglers, lazily crossed one cowboy-booted heel over the other, and a.s.sumed the traditional western pose. Too hard and rangy to belong to the house, with its 1940s cabbage rose wallpaper, lace doilies, and china figurines, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a grade B western.

He gazed at Savannah with a pair of s.e.xy eyes as blue as Bradley Cooper's, and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a craggy smile. "It's been a long time," he said in a deep drawl.

She blinked a few times, taken by her visceral reaction to the obvious tw.a.n.g in his drawl. And then recognition flashed through Savannah like the Roman candles Granddaddy used to set off on the Fourth of July.

"Cousin Dash," she said, "you still sound like a Texan."

Dash's gaze did a slow circuit of her body, and she felt naked as a jaybird under his intense inspection. "You've grown up some since I saw you last, Princess."

"Don't call me that," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm not ten years old anymore." Granddaddy had called Savannah Princess until the day he died, but in Dash's mouth, the word came out as a twisted insult.

"No, I guess not." His eyes flashed to Todd and back. "And I see you've become a momma."

She turned toward her son. "Todd, this is Cousin Dash. When he was fifteen, he put a snake in my bed and blew up my favorite Barbie doll with a cherry bomb. I'm sure he is very sorry for what he did. And I am very-"

"Did the Barbie doll melt?" Todd asked.

Dash chuckled. "As I recall, it blew apart in about a dozen flaming pieces. But yeah, it melted."

"It was my favorite, Twirly Curls Barbie. And-"

"Cool. What kind of snake did you put in the bed?" Todd asked.

"A garter snake, entirely harmless. Scared your momma to pieces, though. You should have seen her running through the hallway in her baby-doll nightie. It was the-"

"Dash, I really don't think we have to rerun our entire history for Todd's benefit, do we?" Savannah said.

"If we're talking about the past, Princess, it's because you raised the issue."

Aunt Miriam entered the fray. "I declare you two sound just like you did when you were children. Now, both of y'all act like the adults you are and c'mon back to the kitchen and have some dinner. I've got one of Jenny Carpenter's pies. A cherry one, I believe."

Dash flashed a bright smile in Miriam's direction. "Yes, ma'am, I will try to behave. But no thank you, ma'am, to the dinner and pie. I have errands to run up at the stable. Aunt Mim, will you be all right if I leave you with Savannah for a little bit?"

"You go on, Dash. I'm fine," Miriam said.

He nodded to Savannah. "Welcome back," he said without much enthusiasm. Then he strode toward the front door, his cowboy boots sc.r.a.ping across the oak floor. He stopped at the rack by the door and snagged an old, sweat-stained baseball hat bearing the logo of the Houston Astros. He slapped it down on his head and turned toward Miriam. "Don't wait up. I'll probably be late," he said, then turned toward Savannah. "Princess." He tipped his hat and headed through the open door.

"Dash, don't slam-" Miriam's admonishment was cut off by the loud bang of the front door slamming.

Todd spoke into the silence that followed: "He's really cool, isn't he?"

Oh great. Dash Randall was the last person on earth that Savannah wanted as a role model for her problem child.

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