Everlasting Love Read online

  "There goes dinner," Steele said, laughing at the way Pops wrinkled his nose.

  "I haven't eaten," Pops said. "And I don't want to go out."

  "I'll order in. What do you like—Chinese, or pizza?"

  "A man could die of all this high fat junk. I want a plain old meal—meat and potatoes and lots of veggies."

  Steele joined Pops at the fridge, pulled open the freezer side and dug out a package of sirloin steak. The plastic had cracked. The meat had streaks of freezer burn. "Here you go."

  Pops drew back and refused to touch the meat. "That's disgusting. Grab your boots, boy. We're going shopping."

  "I thought you were too tired to go out."

  "Lesser of two evils." He looked at the steaks and shuddered. "I would have brought meat from home if I’d known this was the best you had to offer."

  Steele shoved the steak back in the freezer and closed the door. "Something eating at you, Pops?"

  "Just my hunger."

  An hour later they returned with bags of groceries, enough to feed a small army Steele figured, and hoped it didn't hint at Pops planning an extended stay. "You'll be headed back to the ranch soon, I suppose." He kept his attention on the potatoes he scrubbed.

  "You telling me it's time to move on? ’Cause if you are there's lots of motels in town."

  Steele dried the potatoes, wrapped them in foil and stuck them in the oven before he faced Pops. "You've been acting like a cow with a nail in her cud all evening. You want to tell me what's going on or am I expected to shut up and ignore your snipes?"

  Pops's expression grew stubborn then he sighed and pulled himself up on a stool. "It's Jean."

  Steele nodded. He'd seen this coming. The old guy was going to get hurt all over again.

  "I want to marry her. I should never have walked away from her fifty years ago though I don't regret a minute of my time with your grandmother. It's just that Jean and I have—" He waggled his hands. "Something. A connection I can't explain. She makes me feel good about myself. She does thoughtful little things." He must have seen the skepticism in Steele's face. "Yeah, I know you'll mock but she does romantic things. Your grandmother never did. I bought flowers and gifts. Your grandmother was far more practical, but it makes a person feel special to be the recipient, you know."

  Steele didn't. But he wasn't going to say so. Nor was he going to acknowledge the hollow echo deep inside him as he remembered Holly saying something similar. "So what's the problem?"

  "There are so many things to consider—money, property..." He sighed deeply. "So many choices and decisions. It gives me a headache just thinking of it. Maybe I'm too old for this sort of nonsense."

  Maybe Pops had begun to discover things on his own. "Pops, why complicate your life? Why not go home and enjoy what you've worked so hard to build?"

  "A man gets lonely."

  Steele thought of all the lonely, unhappily married men he'd seen. "Pops, a man can be married and still be lonelier than he imagined."

  "You are far too cynical for a young man. I’m not afraid I'd be lonely if I married Jean. I just don't care for all the decisions that need to be made."

  "Maybe it's time to forget this business." He kept his voice soft, almost pleading. Please, Pops, go home before you get hurt. Before you buy yourself a whole set of problems you don't want to deal with.

  "No. Avoiding problems is never a way to solve them. Jean and I have some decisions to make and it's time to make them." He slapped his palm on the counter. The harsh noise caused Steele to jump. "I know what I'm going to do. Jean and I took a long drive once. Out toward Anaconda on the Pintler scenic route. We looped around to Deer Lodge and returned. Had a really good time as I recall. I'm going to take her on that trip and we're going to deal with things."

  Steele could imagine them confined to a small vehicle for hours with nothing to do but talk. "I'll tell you what. I'll drive. That way you and Jean can concentrate on the scenery."

  Pops eyes lit up. "Good idea. We can sit in the back and I can hold her hand."

  Steele resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Great. He thought he'd make it impossible for them to scheme in private; Pops saw it as an opportunity to cuddle in the back. There were times he couldn't believe they shared the same genes. Steele had obviously inherited more of his mother's genes than his father’s.

  As he plotted how to nip this little problem in the bud, he washed lettuce for a salad then went to the balcony and turned on the barbecue to grill steaks.

  Saturday morning dawned as bright and clear as only a Montana day could be, promising never-ending sunshine.

  Pops had shaved twice and slicked his hair down too many times for Steele to count. He headed for the door half a dozen times as Steele drank his second cup of coffee. Finally he jerked on his boots. "Come on boy. What's holding you up? There's a lot to see and do before the day is out."

  Steele gathered up his keys. "Pops, hold your horses."

  But the older man hurried outside and stood by Steele's SUV as Steele locked the apartment.

  "I'll ride shotgun until we pick up the ladies."

  Steele pulled himself behind the wheel before he answered. "You mean Jean." His gut warned him he couldn't be so fortunate.

  "Holly's coming too. No point in you being alone." Pops leered at him. "You pay attention boy and I'll show you how to win a woman's heart."

  Steele's stomach did a strange little bounce—rising in a rocket launch arc at the idea of Holly at his side all day, and then plummeting with a mingling of dread and nervousness. He wanted nothing to distract him from being Pops's voice of reason throughout the day. Somehow he felt certain Holly's presence would prove exactly that—a distraction.

  Steele gripped the steering wheel. Holly hadn't been part of the plan but he could deal with it. He'd had worse surprises. Like the time he'd fallen off his horse and rolled to the bottom of a hill scaring a porcupine. He'd found his feet faster than lightening and backed away from the angry little creature.

  "Boy, stop your day dreaming and let's get moving."

  His knuckles white, Steele drove away, heading downtown to historic East Pine Street.

  Holly and Jean—holding a single purple daisy of some sort—waited on the sidewalk. Pops obviously wasn't the only eager one this morning.

  Pops jumped out and opened the back door for Jean. She handed him the flower.

  "What's this?"

  "I remembered you asked the florist about Gerber daisies the other day. You said how bold they were. So I bought you one."

  Pops took the flower, his gaze never leaving Jean's face. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Thank you."

  No mistaking the huskiness in Pops's voice. These little gestures made him feel special, he'd said.

  But as Steele watched the older man stand rooted to the sidewalk, he figured such nonsense only mucked up the old man's reasoning. It wasn't until Holly opened the passenger-side door that Pops and Jean seemed to remember they weren't the only two people in the world.

  Holly climbed in beside Steele. "Good morning."

  He nodded. "Morning."

  She studied him. Her smiled faded. "How nice of you to offer to take Nan and Henry on this trip."

  Steele heard the warning in her voice, knew she suspected him of ulterior motives, and ignored her.

  "Nan is excited. She hasn't been back in fifty years."

  "I expect things will have changed." What he meant, what he wanted to say was, Holly, get real. Only fools and romantics think you can recreate something fifty years after the fact. Pops wasn't the same man and Jean was certainly not the young, innocent woman of fifty years ago.

  "So you've mentioned a time or two." She snapped open a map. "This should be fun."

  He didn't miss the emphasis on 'should' any more than he mistook her subtle warning.

  They locked eyes, did silent battle for a moment. He sensed her draw a mental line in the dust.

  "Come on, boy," Pops boomed. "Time's a getting aw
ay."

  Steele tipped his chin in silent acceptance of her challenge. "Should be quite a day," he murmured, pulling away from the curb and heading out of town.

  Jean got comfortable in the back and looked around her. "The country is just as pretty as I remember it. Rolling hills like draped fabric. Each fold growing more and more gray in the distance. Never have seen anything prettier."

  Steele had to wonder where she'd spent the past half-century. "Where's home for you?"

  "Seattle. Tom and I bought a house there shortly after we married."

  "Which," Holly murmured, "is now worth a fortune."

  "Point taken." Didn't negate all the other obstacles to a relationship between the older pair.

  "I remember we stopped often to look at the sprawling vistas," Jean said.

  Steele kept up a steady speed. After all, as Pops had said numerous times already, they had a lot of miles to cover.

  "Nan, we'll stop at the next pull out." Holly said her grandmother's name but Steele knew she spoke to him.

  "Oh, don't bother for me. I know Steele wants to get-"

  "Exactly where are you going in such a hurry?" Pops demanded.

  Steele lifted one hand off the wheel in a sign of defeat. "Who was chomping at the bit not more than forty-five minutes ago?"

  "I wanted to start the trip, not hurry and end it. You gonna be like this and I'll wish I'd brought my own vehicle. Jean wants to stop and admire the scenery. What's wrong with that?"

  The air inside the SUV grew heavy with combined disapproval from the others. Steele gave a grin that felt too small for his mouth. "My misunderstanding. I thought we had a destination." He saw a turnout and pulled over. The others piled out of the vehicle and gathered at the edge of the road to admire the deep valley before them.

  "It's beautiful," Jean said, turning to smile sweetly at Pops. Poor old Pops practically melted like hot butter right on the spot.

  Steele stood beside the vehicle, arms crossed over his chest, a feeling of frustrated fury tightening his lungs.

  Holly pulled herself away from the view and came to his side. "Steele, what's wrong?"

  "Nothing." Except he didn't want Pops hurt.

  "Glad to hear that. Would it kill you to show it?"

  He relaxed his arms, leaned back on his heels and forced a smile to his lips.

  A few minutes later they were on their way. The two in the back talked softly. Steele strained to hear what they said. Holly, consciously or not, ran interference. "I brought a map. It's got all sorts of information. Did you know the Number One highway is the oldest paved road in Montana?"

  He grunted. Didn't know. And wondered why he should care.

  They reached Philipsburg, according to Holly's running commentary, the liveliest Ghost Town in the West. "Twice the town has won the award for the prettiest painted place."

  "My, it's changed since we were here," Jean said, peering out the side window. "It's very pretty, isn't it?"

  "Look." Pops pointed past Jean's shoulder. "There's a little courtyard and some tables. We can get coffee there."

  Steele pulled to the curb before anyone could suggest stopping.

  "What a pretty spot," Jean said. "Holly, just think what you could do if you had that much outdoor space. Look at the pots of flowers and trees. And the art work."

  Holly pressed her nose to the side window. "It's lovely."

  "Henry." Jean's voice was as round as the daisy on the seat between the two. "I do believe we stopped at this very spot. I don’t remember the patio but I recall a bench beneath the sign on that building and I remember you telling me about the silver mines and the manganese needed in World War One." She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. "We had such a good time. We sat right there” she pointed to the place—"for a long time and discussed so many things—our faith, our families, our dreams. We prayed together for God to lead us regarding our future." Her voice grew husky. "I believe this is a sign—remembering how we asked God to direct us. I've been praying to know how we should proceed." She sent a shy smile to Holly, included Steele. "Henry has asked me to marry him. I've hesitated because there are so many things to consider. It's not like being young and having nothing to think about but the future."

  Steele had done his best to restrain his frustration at the flowers, the impractical dreams, the purposeful disregard for facts, but Jean's sudden revelation grabbed at his throat. Suddenly he could keep quiet no longer. "Enjoy coffee. Enjoy the town. Buy some little souvenir if you like. But don't let flowers and faded memories cloud your thinking. Jean's right. You both need to hesitate and get your feet back on the ground before you make any big decisions that you could regret later."

  Silence filled the vehicle. He knew they all stared at him. But he pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed the door handle.

  "Steele, you're out of line." Pops's voice growled his anger. "Jean, you'll have to forgive him. He has no business speaking that way. Boy, you're far too much like your mother. Don't get me wrong. She's a good woman but she sees no value in anything but work. I'm sure she'd stomp a flower if it crossed her path."

  His gut burning, Steele wrenched the door open and strode away.

  He didn't realize Holly had followed him until she grabbed his elbow. Still he didn't slow his steps until she edged around him and blocked his way. "Steele, what gives you the right to speak to my grandmother like that? Or your grandfather, for that matter. What is wrong with you?"

  He saw the brick walls of the building beside him. Saw a sign. Read the words without knowing what they said. "Nothing. I'm worried about my grandfather. I don't want to see him hurt."

  "Aren't they entitled to make their own choices? They're not exactly senile."

  "Don't you think they should take some time and think about what they're doing. A break. Go home." He said the words woodenly, not thinking them, not feeling them, simply repeating them from the arguments he'd provided himself for days.

  "Steele. I get the feeling this isn't about Nan and Henry. It's about you. What are you running from?"

  There were no flowers in sight. Just brick and board. Yet he had the same stupid, nameless, suffocating feeling he got when he saw pink flowers. He shuddered.

  She maneuvered him toward a bench at the edge of the sidewalk and nudged him toward the wooden seat. He sat.

  "Something's bothering you. What is it?" Like a soft spring breeze, her voice pulled at his thoughts. But how could he tell her something he didn't understand? Pops's words echoed inside his head, tangling with his own confused thoughts. Work. Practical. Stomp—why did he shudder at the word? Flowers. Pink flowers. A thought tugged at the edges of his mind. A little boy kneeling, tears on his cheeks. Was he the boy? No way. He'd never been a crybaby.

  "What's wrong?" Holly asked again.

  "I don't know." He looked at her and resisted an urge to catch the strands of hair blowing across her cheek and tuck them back.

  "Is it what Henry said about your mother?"

  "No. Mom is very practical. She operates a Cat. Pushes dirt around."

  Holly touched the back of his hand. "Tell me about your parents."

  "Not much to say. They met when Mom asked for a job with the construction company. Threatened to sue Dad if he refused because she was a woman. He says she pestered him until he finally said okay. Said the same about getting married. She pestered him into it. Not that he doesn't adore her. I always think of them with Dad's arm around her waist standing at the side of a construction project discussing the work. They have a great relationship." He felt he had to make sure she knew that.

  "So you think every relationship should be as practical?"

  "Yes. No. I don't know." What was there about this woman that turned his brain to powder?

  Her hand still rested on his and he grew aware of its gentle weight. The boiling turmoil of a few minutes ago settled into a simmer and he slowly relaxed.

  "Seems to me all kinds of relationships work. It's not up to us t
o judge so long as they do work," she said.

  "Are you talking about Pops and Jean?"

  "Partly. I don't think they need us to tell them how to run their lives. In fact, I hope I can learn something from them."

  "Uh huh." A noise meant to be noncommittal. He jerked to his feet. "I'm going to poke around the shops." It beat thinking about the crying young boy and how it related to Pops and Jean. If indeed, it did, which seemed highly unlikely. He stood and waited for Holly. "Want to come along?"

  "I might want to buy flowers or something frilly."

  "I might want to buy a different map."

  She chuckled. "One with nothing but the miles and the names of the towns, I suppose."

  "You must have read my mind."

  She came to his side and nudged him with her shoulder, causing him to stumble. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side to stop her from repeating it. She swung their joined hands as they marched along the street. There were gift shops, and boutiques that Holly browsed through. Steele picked up a colorful brochure describing the historic buildings. He found the history fascinating. They passed Pops and Nan several times and each time he felt a pang that he wasn't fulfilling his goal and keeping them from discussing marriage. He blinked. Had that been his goal? He thought he only wanted to make sure they didn't make foolish decisions. When had marriage become the foolish thing he worried about?

  Holly must have felt his start of surprise. "What's up with you? You're acting so strange."

  "That's hardly flattering."

  "You're the guy who likes his feet planted on terra firma. I would think flattery would be an insult."

  "Flattery is an insult because it's insincere." He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the store. "We better continue this journey." He better get himself sorted out before he lost his way.

  They rounded up Pops and Jean and headed down the road. Everyone was quiet as they drove. Steele blamed himself and his out-of-line comments about their relationship. He couldn't ignore the tension.

  "Pops, I'm sorry I spoke out of turn."

  "Boy, I'm sorry if I insulted your mother."

  "You didn't. Did you?"

  "Didn't mean to."