"It's a nice picture," Anna murmured from behind her and made Grace
jolt. With a quiet laugh, Anna set down the enormous bowl of pasta
salad. "I do the same thing with Cam sometimes. Just stand and watch
him. The Quinns are very watchable men."
"I think I'm just going to take a quick glance, then I can't stop
looking." She grinned when Ethan rose, Aubrey still clinging to his
back, and turned slow circles as if trying to find her.
"He has a wonderful, natural way with children," Anna commented. "He'll
make a wonderful father."
Grace felt heat rise up into her cheeks. She'd been thinking the same
thing. It was hard to believe that only a few weeks before she'd told
her own mother she would never marry again. And now she was thinking,
and wondering. And waiting.
It had been easy to put all thoughts of marriage aside when she hadn't
believed she could ever have a life with Ethan. She made a poor job of
marriage before because her heart had belonged to someone other than her
husband. That was her fault, and she accepted the responsibility for the
failure.
But she could make marriage shine with Ethan, couldn't she? They could
build a home and a family and a future based on love and trust and
honesty.
He wouldn't move quickly, she mused. It wasn't his way. But he loved
her. She understood Ethan well enough to know that marriage would be the
next step.
She was already poised to take it.
the smell of burgers smoking on the grill, the yeasty tang of beer
pumped from a cold keg. The sounds of children laughing and adult voices
lifted in bright conversation or lowered in juicy gossip. The low roar
of a boat zipping over the water, with the thrilled shouts of its
teenage occupants, the metallic clang of a horseshoe striking home.
There were scents and sounds and sights. There was the snappy red,
white, and blue of the cloths covering the tables that were crowded with
bowls and plates and platters and casseroles.
Mrs. Cutter's cherry pie. The Wilsons' shrimp salad. What was left of
the bushel of corn the Crawfords had brought along. Jell-O molds and
fruit salad, fried chicken and early vine tomatoes. People were spread
out and gathered. On chairs, on the lawn, down at the dock, and on the
porch.
Several men stood with hands on hips, watching the horseshoe match,
their faces sober in the way men had when they kibitzed a sporting
event. Babies napped in carriers or willing arms while others wailed for
attention. The young splashed and swam in the cool water, and the old
fanned themselves in the shade.
The sky was clear, the heat immense.
Grace watched Foolish nosing along the ground in search of dropped food.
He'd found plenty, and she imagined he'd be sick as a--well, a
dog--before the day was over.
She hoped it was never over.
She waded into the water, gripping Aubrey firmly despite the colorful
floats wrapped around her arms. She dipped her daughter down, laughing