The Simple Wild (Wild 1)

“It does suit him, doesn’t it?” I make a point of cocking my head and letting my eyes drag along his jawline in an admiring way. “My neighbor’s sheepdog always looks much better after getting clipped, too. And it helps with the fleas.”

Agnes snorts.

I can’t even begin to read the look that takes over Jonah’s face as his eyes burn holes into mine, but it’s made my stomach roll and my blood race all the same.

“Sharon wanted to see me about something,” I lie, sidestepping around him. I stroll for the door, forcing my legs to move slowly, so as not to look like the sprinting chicken that I truly am.

Chapter 19

“Damn rain. Makes everything so damp,” my dad mutters through another cough, his gray gaze on the living room window and the porch screen beyond, soaked by the steady rainfall. It started as a light sprinkle around two this afternoon—earlier than expected—and quickly evolved into a hard downpour that grounded the rest of the flights. Sharon’s husband, Max, is stranded in Nome for the night, much to her dismay. “At least they’re saying the worst of it should be moved out by tomorrow afternoon. Let’s hope, anyway.” Cough, cough.

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

It’s a moment before my dad answers. “Sure, kiddo.” The endearment is there, but the reluctance in his voice is unmistakeable.

“Do you have a thing for Julia Roberts?”

“Uh . . .” He lets out a shaky sigh of relief and then chuckles. “I don’t know. Do I?”

I know what he was afraid of: that I was going to push for information about his diagnosis, his prognosis. That I wanted to know if these frequent coughing fits he’s had the last couple of days are more than on account of damp air and running through a field. The truth is, though, I’m finding lately that I want to think about and talk about the coming battle as much as he does: not at all.

“You have every single movie she’s ever been in, in both VHS and DVD. So, yeah, I’m pretty sure you have a thing for her.”

A thoughtful smile stretches my dad’s lips. “Her laugh. It reminds me of Susan’s laugh.”

I frown as the Pretty Woman movie credits roll along the TV screen, trying to recall the sound. “I never made the connection, but you’re right, it does, kind of.” Mom has one of those show-stopping laughs, an infectious melody that carries through rooms and cuts strangers’ sentences short as they search for the source.

“You know, that’s what made me introduce myself to her that night. I heard her before I saw her. And then I saw her and I thought, ‘I’ve got to get up the nerve to meet that woman, if it’s the last thing I ever do.’ ” He studies his hands in quiet thought for a moment. “She was probably living up here six months or so when I first noticed I hadn’t heard that laugh in a while.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Oh, kiddo. What your mom and me had . . .” His voice drifts as he shakes his head.

“I know. It was never going to work. It can’t work. It will never work. I get it. But do you still love her?”

He pauses for a long moment. “I’ll always love her. Always. I wish that was enough, but it’s not. For a while there, I believed she’d have a change of heart and fly back. You know, spend a few months with her family and then come back to me, after the thaw.”

“And she was hoping you’d have a change of heart and fly out to us.”

“Yeah. Well . . . like I said, we were never gonna work. I’m glad she found someone who’s good for her. And you.”

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Another woman.”

“Oh.” He hesitates. “I did try once, with someone else who means a lot to me. But we both figured out pretty quick that it’s hard to make things work when another woman is already taking up center stage. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone, to have to compete, and I don’t seem in any rush to move on. I guess marriage just ain’t for me.”

“Are you talking about Agnes?”

“Jeez.” He rubs his eyes and then chuckles. “You really are grilling me tonight, aren’t you?”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s good that we’re talking about this. It’s important to talk. I wish I had talked more, way back when.” He sighs. “Mabel wasn’t even two, so she doesn’t remember. It wasn’t ever anything official or big. Just some long talks, some ideas that maybe something could be evolving.”

“And then it didn’t?”