Lavished with Lavender - Valerie Comer Page 0,34

street.

Dan’s son Henry saw him, dodged his dad, and barreled down the sidewalk as fast as his toddler legs would churn.

“Hey, little guy.” Tony scooped the two-year-old onto his shoulders.

“Nice catch,” yelled Dixie. “He’s quick.”

Henry dug his fingers into Tony’s hair, holding tight as he bounced with glee.

Tony loved this boy. Living with Dan and the three kids last winter had piqued his enjoyment of reading stories, playing cars, and making kid-friendly meals. He’d even managed to get picky Buddy eating vegetables.

And now? The desire to have kids of his own roared back over him. He’d missed these three. He missed Gina’s kids. Jasmine’s baby was great, but she wasn’t enough. He wanted his own.

Did Kenna want kids?

And did it matter whether she did or not?

13

The old lady stared out the living room into a gray, foggy morning, a slight frown marring her lined face.

The weather did the same thing to Kenna, but it wasn’t only that. It was concern for her client.

Marietta hadn’t spoken of Kenji Ito since her sons had brought the mementoes to her several days ago. She’d seemed pensive — melancholy, even — ever since, and the items lay on her bedside table right next to a photo of a middle-aged couple that must be Marietta and her late husband.

Should Kenna ask her client about it? Maybe it would be easier since she wasn’t family. Maybe it would help Marietta sort out her feelings. It was obvious she was conflicted.

Not that Kenna knew anything about dealing with stress in a healthy way. If she had, she’d have walked out on Maurice years before he passed away. Better yet, she’d have been wiser to begin with and never taken that fateful trip to Las Vegas with him.

Too late for all that now, but at least she was free of the man.

Did Marietta feel the same about her husband? That he’d been a mistake, and she should have married Kenji instead?

Kenna couldn’t imagine it. Not with the fondness with which the old lady spoke of Salvador and her obvious love for her sons and grandchildren. She’d seemed at peace, even amid the pain, before the revelation the other day.

“You have heavy thoughts.”

Kenna swung her gaze toward Marietta, whose sharp eyes focused on her. She forced a smile. “Gray thoughts for a gray day.”

“Into each life some rain must fall.”

“That sounds... profound.”

“It is from a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ‘The Rainy Day.’ Do you know it?”

The poet’s name sounded vaguely familiar, but Kenna couldn’t place it. She shook her head.

“Longfellow laments the days that are dark and dreary but concludes his ballad with the famous words: Be still, sad heart, and cease repining. Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; thy fate is the common fate of all. Into each life some rain must fall; some days must be dark and dreary.”

Kenna turned the words over in her mind. They made a sort of sense. Rain and sunshine. Sadness and joy. Yes, that sounded like life, a constant rollercoaster of bad and good. Mostly bad for her, but maybe not for everyone.

She didn’t like the fluctuation. Wouldn’t it be better if life were on an even keel and didn’t vary so much? Still, then she’d miss the times of great joy. Kenna nearly snorted. She’d had so few of those, but she was only thirty-three, maybe a third of the way through her days. Was it possible there was joy to come?

A quick vision of Tony flickered in her mind, but she banished it. Friends was one thing. More was something else, and highly unlikely.

“We must accept the bad with the good.” The old lady was back to staring out the window. “When there are dark and stormy times, we must hold fast to a loving God. He is faithful and will never let us go.”

Kenna shook her head, as though the action would dislodge the tears that suddenly clung to her eyelashes.

“To cling to our God, we must know Him. Love Him as He loves us. Do you know Him, Makenna?”

“Not really. He’s never been part of my life.”

“But He has.” Marietta’s voice gentled. “He has guided your steps your whole life long. He has waited for you to turn to Him.”

“If He guided me, I would never have married Maurice.” Kenna clapped her hand over her mouth. Her doubts and pain were never to be spoken aloud. Never.

“And yet God was still with you. We all make mistakes.”

“Was marrying Salvador a mistake?” Oh, man. How