Wed By Fortune

“I’ll try to write something down for you,” her uncle said. “But I’m not sure how to go about it. I just throw things together.”

“Then you have a good sense about how something is supposed to taste. You’re an awesome cook.”

Uncle Roger beamed, his bright-eyed smile shaving years off his face. “Thanks, Sasha-Marie.”

But it wasn’t just the main dish that Sasha found remarkable. “I haven’t had baked potatoes with all the fixings in ages.” She pointed to the small bowls of toppings he’d set out on the table. “Butter, fresh chives, sour cream, grated cheddar, real bacon... You didn’t skimp on anything.”

When her uncle didn’t respond, she looked up from her plate to see him and Graham shooting glances at each other. She tried to read their expressions, to no avail.

Had they, over the years, created a silent language of their own? Then again, there was still a lot left to be said this evening, plus a hatchet to be buried. And they all knew it. Well, the adults did. Little Maddie was eating away, oblivious of the tension that still stretched between Sasha and Roger.

“Thanks for going to all this trouble for me,” she said. “It’s a perfect welcome-home meal.”

At that, Uncle Roger broke into another grin. “I’m glad you’re here, honey.”

“Me, too,” she admitted. And she was grateful that, in spite of the fact that he’d been hurt, he’d opened his arms and heart to her once again, just as he’d done after her parents died.

She speared her fork into a crunchy piece of romaine lettuce, as well as a plump chunk of tomato that had obviously come fresh from the vine. But she hadn’t been prepared for the familiar taste of the vinaigrette. “Oh, my gosh. You even made Aunt Helen’s salad dressing. Now I’m really impressed.”

Roger’s tired blue eyes lit up and he winked. “That was my way of having her here with us tonight.”

“What a nice thought.”

After they finished dinner, Roger brought out dessert: chocolate-chip ice cream and store-bought peanut butter cookies.

“I like ranch food,” Maddie said. “It’s really good.”

Roger, whose smile stretched from ear to ear, said, “You just wait for breakfast. I’ll make silver-dollar pancakes for you.”

The man had always been a whiz in the kitchen, going out of his way to make sure he pleased those sharing his table. And while Sasha should volunteer to do the dishes herself and give him a much-deserved break this evening, they still had things to discuss. And they needed to do that in private.

“I’ll help you with the dishes,” she told her uncle.

“That’s not necessary. I clean up as I go.”

“Yes, I know. But I’d like to talk to you.”

As Roger nodded in agreement, Graham spoke up. “That sounds like a good plan to me.” Then he turned his attention to Maddie. “Since you and I are off the hook for cleanup detail, let’s go into the living room, kick back and watch the sports channel.”

Maddie wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t like sports. Don’t you want to watch Disney or Nickelodeon or cartoons instead?”

Graham sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and scrunched his own face. “What do you mean, you don’t like sports? Not even pro rodeo?”

Maddie sat up, her eyes brightening. “I thought sports meant football and basketball and dumb ol’ golf. But I’d like to watch rodeo stuff.”

“Something told me you would be okay with that.” Graham glanced at Sasha and winked in camaraderie, setting off a warm flutter in her heart. She doubted he had any idea how that small, brief connection had affected her, just as he hadn’t in the past, because he turned back to her daughter. “I’ll make you a deal, Maddie. If we can’t find any rodeo on TV, then I’ll let you be in charge of the remote.”

The child clapped her hands. “Deal!”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Graham pushed back his chair and stood. “Let’s get out of here before they put you and me to work.”

Maddie slid off her seat, then followed the handsome cowboy into the family room, leaving Sasha and Uncle Roger alone.

As her uncle began to clear the table, she said, “I owe you an apology.”

He merely looked at her, waiting for her to explain.

“You tried to warn me about Gabe, and I should have listened. But I was young and headstrong back then. I was also in love with the idea of marriage.”

“Yeah, well, I knew that no-good son of a...” Roger cleared his throat, pausing as if trying to temper his response. Then he blew out a heavy sigh. “Well, that’s all muddy water under a rickety old bridge to nowhere.”

“Yes, I know. But it needs to be said, just the same.” She picked up the plates, bowls and silverware, while he grabbed the glasses.

“I s’pose you’re right about that. But just so you know, when I was that age and had fallen for your aunt, I wouldn’t have let anyone talk me out of marrying her. So I can’t blame you for not listening to me.”

“I’m glad you understand, but that isn’t the only reason I need to apologize.”

He arched a gray, bushy eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for not keeping in better contact with you. I should have done that.” She stacked the dirty dishes on the counter near the sink, then took the glasses from him and set them down, too. “It wouldn’t have hurt me to visit some and call you more often.”

“Yeah, well...” Roger paused again, his craggy brow creased as if he was wading through his thoughts and feelings. Then he shrugged. “The phone line goes both ways. Besides, the fault is probably mine. I shouldn’t have stirred things up at your wedding.”

“I knew something happened that day, but I wasn’t sure what. You were so quiet and grim.” She reached into the cupboard under the sink for the bottle of dish soap. “And Gabe was... Well, he was as tense as a fence post and angry about something.”

“Gabe and I had words,” Roger said. “And I damn near beat the crap out of him. The best man and the groomsmen had to pull me off him. So I’m sorry about that.” He chuckled. “Actually, I’m mostly sorry someone interfered before I had a chance to let him have it. I would have enjoyed giving him a black eye, a fat lip and a bloody nose. But it’s just as well. If I had, it would have ruined your special day.”

She laughed, imagining a battered groom standing at the altar. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have been happy about that.”

“Either way, honey, I should have held my tongue. And my temper.”

It wasn’t like her uncle to get into brawls, especially at a church and dressed in a tuxedo. “What made you want to fight him?”

“The stuff he said to me. Things meant to rile me up, I ’spect.” Again he shrugged as if it no longer mattered.

But it did matter, especially if they wanted to put it all behind them.

“What did he say to you?” she asked.

Roger pondered her question for the longest time. When she thought he might never answer, he said, “I wanted to have a talk with him before the ceremony. I figured, with your daddy and your grandpa gone, that job was up to me. So I found him and his friends waiting for the ceremony to start in one of the small rooms at the church. They were already dressed and throwing back shots of whiskey as if the bachelor party had never ended.”

She’d smelled alcohol on Gabe’s breath, tasted it, too. She’d assumed he’d been nervous and had wanted to take the edge off.

“Now, I’ll admit,” Roger said, “I ain’t a teetotaler. But I didn’t think the preacher or the Good Lord would have appreciated those boys tying one on at the church on a Saturday morning. And I told ’em so. But Gabe didn’t take to being scolded. I should have taken the hint then, but I decided to try a different approach and asked if I could talk to him alone.”

“When you spoke in private, what did he say?”

“Actually, he told me there wasn’t anything I had to say that his buddies couldn’t hear.”