A Minute to Smile Read online

  She couldn’t have said how long they stood there above the pond in the darkness, just kissing. Her heart dropped into a slow thudding pattern and she couldn’t tell if a minute or century had passed, only that she’d somehow fallen adrift in his arms.

  When he lifted his head, his eyes showed the same glaze of wonder Esther felt. He simply looked into her face for a long moment. “Perhaps,” he said in a roughened, low voice, “you will lead me back to the legends, instead of the other way around.”

  Then he took her hand and they walked on in the mild night. Esther risked a glance at him once and found he had a bemused expression on his face that seemed to mirror her own feelings. She smiled to herself and continued to walk silently next to him.

  After a time, they started speaking again, about the class and the things they would be doing. They parted on the porch. He didn’t kiss her goodnight, and Esther didn’t expect it.

  Inside, she leaned against the door and let the bottled-up emotions of the evening flow from her. Healing, she thought. There was a matter of healing she needed to remember. She was the fix-it lady—whatever a man’s ills, Esther had a need to try to soothe them.

  And if ever a man needed the healing of a loving woman, Alexander did. The trouble was, his wounds were as serious in their way as the shrapnel that riddled Abe’s physical body. To find true healing, the shards of the past would have to be removed.

  Sobering, she walked upstairs, thinking of her ex-husband. John of the vague father and alcoholic mother; John who had left home at twelve and had tattoos on his arms before he was sixteen. She had never managed to teach him how to love a woman and no one ever would—his scars were too deep. Over the years, he’d made peace with his father, and he loved his sons the way he had once longed to be loved, but no woman would ever overcome the betrayal of his mother.

  As she shed her clothes in preparation for a bath, she could see now that her primary attraction to her former husband had been the need to heal him the way she’d healed stray cats with her herbal lore as a teenager. Trouble was, not all healing took. And she’d wasted almost ten years on him.

  Wasted? No. She had her children. And a boy, properly raised, didn’t need healing as a man.

  That was her task, she decided, raising her two boys into adults healthy enough to withstand the blows of life. She couldn’t allow any man to interfere with that.

  But as she slipped into the warm, lavender-scented water of her bath, she felt again the heavy thudding of her heart that Alexander’s kiss had aroused. She knew herself well enough to know that if he decided to pursue her, she’d be hard put to resist.

  Chapter Four

  Saturdays were always busy at the shop and the day after Esther’s date with Alexander was no different, a fact for which she gave silent thanks. It kept her mind from lingering too much upon the lion man, he of the changeable eyes and beautiful lips and lingering sorrows.

  Abe appeared late in the afternoon. Esther kneeled in front of the long shelves, straightening a row of natural cosmetics: shampoos made with herbs and exotic plant oils, clay facial masks, oatmeal soap and baking powder deodorant. When the bell rang, she looked up. “Greetings, stranger,” she said to Abe, getting to her feet. “Where have you been all week?”

  He shrugged in resignation. “Had a bad couple of days—I had to hang around the house mainly.”

  “Oh, Abe, I’m sorry.” She hugged him, feeling the stiffness in his body. “Have a seat and let me fix you some tea.”

  “I’m all right today,” he protested. “I had a walk around campus and worked out the kinks.” In contrast to his words, however, he sank with studied effort into the rattan love seat, grunting a little as he settled. “Any evil doughnuts stashed away in the kitchen?”

  Esther grinned. “Sorry—I only allowed myself to buy two sticky buns this morning, since I’m by myself.”

  Abe groaned at the missed treat. “With nuts?”

  “Guilty.” She glanced at her watch. “If you can hang around for an hour, I’ll make something dreadfully wicked for us to share after I close.”

  “How wicked?”

  In mock fear, she glanced over her shoulder at the empty shop, then whispered, “Chocolate fondue.”

  “Pretty bad. I guess I’m going to have to stay and help you eat it.”

  “Will you get some strawberries from the market? Or would you rather rest?”

  “Hell, no, I don’t want to rest.” Using his cane to lever himself into a standing position, he added, “I’m sick of resting.”

  “You can at least have a cup of tea before you run off.”

  He shook his head, eyes glittering. A long lock of dark hair fell on his forehead and he tossed it back defiantly. “For chocolate fondue, I can do anything.”

  Esther laughed and returned to her straightening as he left. When the stock was again neatly presented, she turned back the pages of a small notebook that she kept by the cash register. Three pages were filled with precise accounts of every sale she had made today. From the list she would do inventory and ordering, and as backup, she handwrote receipts for each purchase.

  It was a laborious process and friends constantly extolled the ease a computer would give her. Bent over the lists this afternoon, wearily noting boxes of henna sold—one natural, one chestnut—jars of jam—two each of crab apple and rosehip—and bottles of juice from the refrigerated unit that had been one of her heftiest and most valuable investments for the store, she realized once again that it would be fabulous to have a computer. Unfortunately it was completely out of her budget at the moment. Perhaps by fall she would be able to look at used systems.

  Footsteps on the front porch alerted her to the presence of a customer and with a sigh, Esther looked at her watch again. In spite of her wish that she could just be done with the long day, she plastered a welcoming smile on her face and looked up.

  It was Alexander, his face suffused with healthy color. He brought with him the smell of the outdoors, a mixture of sunshine and earth and a good wind. For a moment, she forgot her resolve to keep him at arm’s length. “Hello,” she said warmly. “You must have spent the day outside.”

  He grinned, pausing just inside the door. “How did you know?”

  “Your nose is sunburned.” She smiled, surprised in a secret part of herself at how fiercely pleased she was to see him again. In contrast to the mild sunburn, his eyes were nearly neon blue and his unruly dark curls with their tiny silver accents tumbled in disarray over his head. He wore khaki chinos with a cream-colored polo shirt. In combination with the healthy color in his face, the clothes gave him an effortlessly elegant look. Self-consciously, she smoothed her dress and touched her hair, wondering how her own apparel had fared through the day. “What brings you here this afternoon?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  “I was out for a walk,” he said with a shrug. “Thought I’d stop in and say hello.”

  “I’m glad you did,” she said, and realized that if she were planning to keep him at arm’s length, that was probably the wrong thing to say. But rather than retract it, she rounded the counter that separated them. “Can I offer you something?”

  A quirk of humor lifted one corner of his mouth. “Careful,” he teased in his rich voice, “I may ask for more than you will give.”

  The earthy nature of the light comment was unmistakable and Esther felt hot. She lowered her eyes. “How about a sample of Esther’s Special Herb Tea?” she asked, bustling toward a coffeemaker in the corner where she brewed the tea. “I know how you English love your hearty blends, but this is very special and very nice and I think you might enjoy it.” As she spoke, she busied her hands with a mug. Pouring the clear red-brown liquid, she inhaled the citrusy scent of hibiscus.

  “I make it myself,” she continued, vaguely aware that she was babbling. “It took a few years to figure out the best recipe. I think I’ve finally got it right, but who knows?” She shrugged. “I may change it again.”

  Alexander ac
cepted the heavy mug of tea. On his craggy face was an expression of amusement. Esther flushed for the second time in three minutes, mentally calling herself a ninny.

  Ceremoniously he lifted the cup to his lips, his eyes fastened on her face. He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re right. It isn’t English tea at all, but it’s delicious nonetheless.”

  “I’m all out of lemonade,” she said and then touched her lips, wishing she could call back the words. Rather irrelevant, after all.

  “This is fine.” He gestured toward the chair. “May I?”

  “Of course. Enjoy it. I have to finish a few notes and then I’ll join you.”

  Safely behind the counter, Esther bent her head over the lists, hoping the simple business task would calm her. It did not. Like a ten-year-old with a crush, she couldn’t concentrate while he was in the room. It was hard to breathe. Biting her lip, she glanced up at him through her lashes.

  He was studying her with a curiously sober expression. Esther straightened and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” His expression didn’t lighten. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “Not at all.” She twisted the pencil in her fingers, then lifted a shoulder helplessly. “You just flustered me a little, that’s all.”

  “Did I now?” he smiled and stepped forward. “I’m honored.” He stretched a hand over the counter and lightly touched her cheek. “Then perhaps I can persuade you to come out with me again tonight. A simple meal?”

  A long ray of sunlight arched through the window and splashed into his beard. Esther admired the silver and dark brown threads, remembering how silky that hair had felt against her chin. She warred with herself for a moment, trying to remember the resolve she had made to concentrate on her children, rather than a man who needed emotional mending.

  The trouble was, he didn’t look at all like a man in need of healing. He looked strong and controlled, his eyes glimmering with sparks of desire as they flickered over her face, her lips, her hair. A fleeting but acute vision swept her mind, a vision of his civilized veneer undone by passion—

  She swallowed. Perhaps her mind had also manufactured the picture of him as a man in need of healing. “I’d love to,” she said in reply to his dinner invitation—then remembered Abe. “But I can’t. I’ve just sent Abe to get strawberries for a fondue.”

  “All right,” he said. “Perhaps another day.”

  “Or maybe you’d like to join us?” Esther returned hopefully. “It’s not an ordinary sort of meal, though.” She cleared her throat a little ruefully. “Actually we’ll just be having dessert.’

  Just then, Abe appeared with an overflowing net bag. Ripe red strawberries peeked through the top. She could also see a bakery angel food cake, pears and apples, and a chunk of white cheese.

  “If we can’t make ourselves sick on this, we’re too greedy to live,” Abe commented, plopping the bag on the counter. He grinned at Alexander. “Contrary to current opinion, Esther believes the way to health is gluttony.”

  Esther slapped his arm. “I do not!” Lifting her chin in an effort to assemble some dignity, she tugged the cake out of the mesh. “But a little greed can be good for the soul.” She glanced at Alexander. “Will you stay?”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “She’s a big eater, Alexander,” Abe said, “but I’ll make sure she doesn’t get it all.”

  Esther glared at him, then looked at Alexander, who had a suspiciously amused expression in his eyes. “I do have a few normal things to eat, too,” she said. “I’ll make us all some ham sandwiches first, then we can open a bottle of wine in the backyard and eat the fondue out there as the sun sets.”

  Alexander gave her a lazy grin, one eyebrow cocking in consideration. There was something so sensually promising in the expression that Esther swallowed. A second detailed vision of him completely tousled and wild with leonine passion assaulted her.

  She lowered her eyes, shocked at herself.

  “It would be my pleasure to share such a feast,” he said in his rumbling voice, “but only if you will allow me to add a contribution of my own.”

  “Of course!” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll put Abe to work making sandwiches while I wash up. A half hour?”

  Again a promise danced in his eyes. “A half hour it is.” Whistling, he exited.

  Abe swung around, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Are you going to seduce him with strawberries?” he teased.

  “I’m not going to seduce him at all,” Esther said airily. “We’re friends.”

  “No, sis,” Abe said, grabbing her hand. “You and I are friends. You look at him like he’s a mountain of chocolate ice cream and you can’t wait to dive in.”

  Esther flushed, disconcerted. “Really?”

  “What’s wrong with that? You aren’t the kind of woman who ought to be spending her life alone.”

  “Abe,” she protested. “Stop matchmaking me.” She pulled her hand free and picked up the net bag, deciding to finish her accounting in the morning. “I won’t lie to you—”

  He chuckled. “You’re incapable of lying.”

  Esther shook her head. “I’m just not ready for anything intense.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “And I don’t think there’s any other way for me to conduct a relationship.” Briskly she turned away and lifted the Closed sign into place.

  “At least you’ve got me,” he said, tongue-in-cheek.

  “Some comfort!” She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

  He reached for a strawberry. “Least I’m not as ugly as you are—sheesh!” He popped the berry into his mouth. “You’d make a freight train take a gravel road.”

  Esther moaned at the return to childhood, when Abe’s favorite name for her had been “Gunboats,” because her feet had grown so much faster than the rest of her. Gathering the bag of groceries, she headed for the kitchen. “But you have to sneak up on a glass of water to get a drink!” she called over her shoulder.

  Abe followed her. “But they had to tie a bone around your neck to get the dog to play with you.”

  In the kitchen, Esther smiled as she pulled out the makings of sandwiches for Abe. She’d lose the game—she could never remember or make up as many insults as he could. Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Make the sandwiches.”

  “I’m not going to eat any of ‘em,” he said, eyeing the pile of sweets. “Are you?”

  “Yes.” She pointed. “Work!”

  He grinned impishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Stop teasing me now. I am going to take a shower and put on my grown-up self, so you behave yourself.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  As she climbed the back stairs, he called, “Esther!”

  “Hmm?”

  “I know you guys are friends, but how about that blue dress?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m too fat to wear that dress.”

  He shook his head and disappeared, muttering, “Women!”

  Indeed, thought Esther. What about men?

  * * *

  Alexander carried a bundle of freshly cut irises from his garden back to Esther’s in the warm, late afternoon. In a long brown bag was a loaf of French bread and a bottle of white wine.

  He felt extraordinarily aware and alive today, as if all of his senses had been half sleeping and now stretched, awake and refreshed. Thick bands of gold light bronzed the air, and violet shadows fell from the trees to the grass. Against the western sky the mountains stood sentinel, like soldiers in rough blue wool. The sidewalk warmed the soles of his shoes and a soft wind fluttered by, smelling of pine.

  Rather than ringing Esther’s bell when he came upon her house, he followed the sidewalk toward the backyard. Here the light was thicker still, and a scattering of wrens picked through the soil of the herb garden. As Alexander stepped into their realm, they flapped into a tree, whistling in alarm and worry.

  He settled the irises on the table and opened the waxed paper covering the bread,
then broke off pieces and tossed them toward the garden. In unison, six small gray heads quirked; a dozen tiny black eyes looked at the offering. He chuckled to himself.

  From behind him, Abe said, “You like birds, Alexander?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “They just always seem to be so much at the mercy of everything.”

  Abe flashed a crooked grin, munching cheerfully on a banana. “Esther told me about your pirate cat.”

  “He’s a pirate, all right.” Abe had carried out a glass bucket of ice and a platter of sandwiches, covered against the air. “Can I do anything to help?” Alexander asked.

  “Esther’s finishing the fondue in the kitchen. You might be able to help her lug some of the stuff out.”

  “Gladly.” He gathered the flowers, leaving the bread on the round wooden table, and went inside.

  In the dimness of the kitchen, he paused momentarily. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Esther standing over the counter, piling strawberries into a bowl. Diffused north light poured in through the window and washed over her. The pale red hair was caught back in a black velvet ribbon and her head was bent over her task. In the old-fashioned kitchen, with ferns and ivies spilling from the windowsills, she looked like a painting of a woman in the middle ages—there was that fullness and richness about her figure and the simple contentment she radiated.

  For the first time, she wore something ordinary, a blue tank-top sort of dress that left her arms bare and clung to her curves. Alexander felt himself grow hot as he looked at her, his heightened senses whirling at the smell of chocolate and irises, at the delightfully beautiful woman in her serene kitchen. As he watched, she took a strawberry from the bowl and put it into her mouth, and a single bead of silvery water clung to her lower lip.

  He must have made some sound, for she turned. “Alexander!” she said, her voice honeyed with pleasure. “What beautiful flowers.”

  He gave her a mock bow and raised an eyebrow. “For the loveliest lady in the kingdom.”