2. Prescription For Love

“Look along the river next time, they’ll be running there. You might catch a glimpse of ghost shadows in the moonlight.”

“You love it here as much as Harper, don’t you?”

Flann studied her wine. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“I think I could easily come to feel that way too,” Abby said. The clouds drifted across the moon, turning purple as the moonlight shone through, pulling at some place deep inside her, reminding her of how insignificant one life was and how precious each passing moment. “It’s pretty obvious Blake already has.”

Flann laughed. “Margie’s pretty persuasive.”

“Margie is an incredibly kind and generous and extraordinarily intelligent young woman.”

“She’s all of that.” Flann stretched and sighed. “I haven’t spent this much time just sitting outside in a long time.”

“You don’t belong in an apartment,” Abby said. “You belong in a place with a porch and some land to walk around on and—”

“A picket fence, a dog, and a few kids?” Flann said slowly.

“I don’t know about the last part.” Abby’s heart beat faster. “What do you think?” “I would’ve said no way not that long ago. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Any reason?”

Flann smiled at her in the moonlight, the bold planes of her face highlighted in silver. “I can think of one or two.”

“I thought you said you wanted to kiss me earlier,” Abby said softly.

Flann put her wineglass on the floor and leaned over, brushing a kiss gently across Abby’s mouth, a tender, wistful kiss that had every bit as much power as her demanding, possessive kisses had earlier. Abby found herself holding her breath, waiting for the spell to break, but even when Flann eased back, the wonder remained.

Voice just a little shaky, Abby said, “I don’t know about you, but I think this is a dangerous game we’re playing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Flann said. “It’s no game at all.”

“What if I said I wanted more than kisses,” Abby said, feeling reckless and not caring. She wanted kisses and more, and wondered why Flann had stopped.

“I’d say that could definitely be dangerous.” Flann smiled. “And there’s no rush.”

Abby frowned. When had she become the one who wanted more, right now? Since when did Flann want slow? “I—”

The front gate banged open and Margie and Blake ambled up the walk, talking in animated tones about something someone had said about a concert. Abby steadied her breath, tried to still the pounding of her heart.

Flann rose. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner. I enjoyed it more than I can say.”

Abby stood too, conscious of Blake and Margie on the walk a few feet away. “It was wonderful. Thank you for the day.”

“Good night,” Flann murmured. “Good night.”

Flann was already down the steps and slung an arm around Margie’s shoulders. “Come on, we’ll get your bike in the back of the Jeep, and I’ll take you home.” Margie called, “See you at the barn raising.” “I’ll call you,” Blake said.

Abby waited until Flann drove away, leaning on the porch post and thinking about all the things she hadn’t realized she wanted until now. She picked up the empty wine bottle and Flann’s empty glass, found hers, and swallowed the last few drops.

“I saw the two of you kissing, out by the grill,” Blake said quietly.

“Did it bother you?” Abby laughed softly. “More than the usual embarrassment when you come face-to-face with the fact that your parent has a romantic life?”

Blake snorted. “I think that was more than romance.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“No, it didn’t bother me. I like Flann a lot. I guess you do too.”

“I do like her. I’m glad you feel the same.” Abby hesitated. “What about you and Margie? Are you

romantically interested too?”

Even in the dim moonlight, Blake’s chagrin was clear. “No, Mom. Jeez. We’re friends.”

“Well, okay. I was just wondering. I can tell you’re really close friends, and I’m glad about that. I just wasn’t sure if it was

more.”

“I’m not ready to have a girlfriend,” Blake said. “Or a boyfriend, or whatever.”

“Right,” Abby said, “or whatever.” She slid her arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “Whenever you want to talk about it, let me know.” “Same goes,” Blake said.

Abby gave him a little push toward the house. “Smart-ass.”

But she was very glad that Blake liked Flann. Very, very glad.

CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE

The homestead was dark when Flann pulled down the drive a little before ten thirty to drop Margie home. She smiled to herself. Early to bed, early to rise

et cetera, et cetera. Her mother would be up at four as she had been Flann’s whole life, even though she didn’t have a houseful to get off to school with only Margie living at home now. The kitchen would still smell like fresh coffee, bacon, and hot biscuits, and the table would still be set and waiting for whoever showed up. Sometimes she or Harper would roll in with the sun after a late-night call. Her father would be up shortly after her mother if he hadn’t been out all night working, and then they’d all be out of the house again by six for early morning rounds.