Dena motioned toward two wicker chairs next to the hammock. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
I settled into a chair. “I know she was his high school sweetheart.”
“The funny thing about time is, it tends to gloss over the bad parts of things,” Dena began. “Let’s take my first husband, Flint. He was an amazing man. Great father. Wonderful husband. But there were times I wanted to smash his face with a two-by-four. He could be quite dense.”
Shocked laughter bubbled out of my mouth. “No way.”
“Way!” Dena nodded. “Like I said. I loved that man with my whole heart. And damn if I didn’t want to kick his ass into next week sometimes. But that’s love. You take the not-so-great along with the great. It’s messy, but that’s the fun. Wading through the messy things together.”
“Is that what Celeste and Flint did?”
“No,” Dena shook her head. “Their relationship was much different.”
I tilted my head. “How so?”
“Teenage drama. Hormones. You name it,” Dena sighed. “They were like oil and water. Our ranches are so close together. It was a foregone conclusion that the two of them would get together. Celeste told him he would be her boyfriend when they were five.”
I snickered, thinking about the giant five-year-old Flint must have been. That’s probably about the time he got his first tattoo. And learned to flip a man like a cheese omelette.
“When they got to high school, Celeste claimed him again. Basically, telling him they were going to be boyfriend and girlfriend,” Dena continued. “Flint didn’t have much say in it. He could have said no, but he went along with her declaration, and they dated throughout high school.”
“And then, got engaged.”
Flint’s mom nodded. “Yes. He asked her to marry him at their senior prom.”
I took a good look at Dena. “Jocko was in the picture by then?”
She smiled. “Yes, Jocko finally made an honest woman out of me. Flint told us he no longer needed to be the man of the house, then announced he was going to marry Celeste.”
“Announcedhe’d marry Celeste,” I frowned as I repeated her words. “No talk of love?”
Dena wiggled her eyebrows. “Now, you’re getting it.”
“I’m confused.”
“And here I thought you were a smart one!” Dena winked.
I mulled over what Dena told me. “You’re saying Flint didn’t love Celeste but was going to marry her anyway?”
Dena nodded.
“Why?”
“Obligation.”
“Obligation for what?”
“Why does an 18-year-old boy suddenly marry an 18-year-old girl?”
I sucked in a breath. “No.”
Dena nodded. “Yes. She was a few weeks pregnant when she died.”
The confession sucked the air out of my lungs. “How did she die?”
“Car accident,” Dena grimaced. “Lost control of her car and ran into a tree. Killed instantly.”
I clutched my hands to my heart.
Dena stood and placed her hand on my shoulder. “He doesn’t talk about it, but I thought you should know. Especially with the term of endearment he calls you.”
“Lalelei?” I glanced up at his mom.
“It means ‘beautiful' in Samoan,” Dena winked. “It’s what his father always called me.”
With a nod, she left me in the greenhouse to consider all of the earth-shattering news she just dropped at my feet. All of the perfumed air from the flowers must have gone right to my head because it was pounding, demanding I lay down for a few minutes.
I headed back into the main house to do exactly that when my plans changed. Because that’s what I needed today. A few more surprises.
