Dear Al. He was hardly her first steady man. She was a little afraid to think about what number he was in a long line of previous beaux and lovers; in fact, she had been married three times. All water over the dam. Al was the most special man she’d ever known and completely unlike her usual type. He was a mechanic for one thing—grease under the blunt nails on those big calloused, gentle hands. He was physical, rough and ready and the best-natured man she knew. Plus, he had those three foster sons. Yes, there was a time Ray Anne had wanted children but she’d gotten over that a long while back. The boys, Justin, Danny and Kevin, were nineteen, fifteen and thirteen respectively. Good boys and Al kept them in line, but Ray Anne didn’t feel equipped to be a parent to boys, foster or otherwise. She was a girlie girl. Yet she couldn’t help but admit she enjoyed them and got a kick out of the way Al was able to manage them.

She felt she was thriving with Al and his family of boys. Of course, most of the time it was just Al she was with. She saw him every day. She would swing by Lucky’s, the service station where he worked. Or he would drop by her house before or after his shift, provided his boys were taken care of. Sometimes they met at the diner for a quick meal or Cliffhanger’s for a drink. Cliff’s was the only restaurant in town with tablecloths. Sometimes they managed a whole evening or day off together; sometimes she joined Al and the boys for dinner. And if they planned carefully, she and Al could get naked and have some real quality time. Once or twice a week.

Like now.

It was Sunday, early afternoon. Al had the day off. The boys had driven to the nursing home where their mother resided. They visited her at least once a week, such devoted sons. Ray Anne took complete advantage of the opportunity when the boys were otherwise occupied.

She stretched out in bed. She smiled. She could hear the shower running. Al had spent the morning in her garage, changing the oil in her car, checking her brakes and such. He wanted to clean up before joining her in bed. She wore one of her sheer lacy, seductive little nighties, waiting. Her cell phone chimed and she frowned. It better not be important, she thought. She’d been looking forward to a little time alone with her man.

It was her cousin, Dick. Ray Anne had very little family, but she and Dick had been close growing up and kept in touch. She picked up. “Dickie, let me call you back in a little while...”

“It’s important, Ray,” he said. “Call me back right away, okay? As soon as you can?”

“What’s so important?”

“It’s Ginger,” he said. “She’s just not doing well. I don’t know what more to do. Me and Sue, we’re out of ideas. She’s had counseling, talked to the minister, her friends have tried to boost her up. We thought maybe if she went to stay with you for a little while...”

“Honey, I don’t know what to do, either.”

“Could you think about it? Even if it’s only a few weeks? Because we worry about her and she just won’t help herself. We thought maybe a change...”

“Do you have any idea how gloomy it is here in winter? I wouldn’t expect it to lift her spirits any. And besides, I’m in a... Well, I’m in a relationship and it’s hard enough finding time.”

“Ray, it’s almost spring and you always got a relationship, don’t you? Girl, I think I need help this time. Could you just think about it? See if you get any ideas that could help us out? Because we don’t want to lose her. Ain’t we lost enough?”

She took a deep breath. “Sure. Of course. Let me think about this. Let me ask some of my close friends for ideas. They know a lot more about kids and family stuff. I love her, you know that.” The shower stopped. “I just don’t know anything about how to help in a situation like hers. And God, I’d hate myself forever if I just made it worse. You know I’m not much of a mommy kind of girl.”

“You were her fairy godmother,” he said. “Just the sight of you made her happy.”

“Well, the sight of me is damn hard to fix up these days. I’m not young anymore.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “And she isn’t that young, either.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Thanks. Anything you can do. Thanks.”

She clicked off and sat on the edge of the bed. Thinking. Dickie had always been there for her. He was a hardworking trucker who’d ended up with his own company and any time Ray Anne had a problem—a man, a big bill she couldn’t pay, a need to move, a co-signer, a shoulder—he never asked a single question, never hesitated. He was there. His wife, Sue, wasn’t quite as warm and loving toward her, but she sure accepted her and never balked when Ray and Dickie got together or when Dickie helped Ray Anne out.

And they’d never asked much of her.

Al came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, rubbing a smaller towel over his short hair. His arms and shoulders were muscled, his belly flat, a body that usually filled her with all kinds of dirty expectations. But she was distracted.

“Did I hear you talking?” he asked.

She still gripped the phone. She lifted it and showed him. “My cousin, Dickie. Remember, his daughter was the one whose baby died—crib death.”

“Yeah,” he said, kind of wearily. He sat down beside her. “I wasn’t likely to forget about that.” In fact, way back in Al’s youth when he was a young husband, he and his wife had lost their only child the very same way. Al had spent decades trying to run away from that sorrow. “Poor thing.”

“Well, she’s not good. She’s not getting better. She’s grief stricken and they’ve tried everything from medication to counseling and Dickie wants me to take her in for a while, even if it’s only a few weeks.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she was my little princess and always loved staying with me. But she’s not a little princess now—she’s a thirty-year-old woman whose baby died and I don’t think I can help her get over it with facials and mani-pedis.” She looked up at him. “I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do. I might just make it worse.”

Al shifted into the bed, stretching out his long legs as he leaned against the headboard. He pulled her back into his arms. “Ray Anne, just being you puts a smile on most faces. You’re kind and sweet and funny—maybe that would lighten her spirits a little bit. You could let her talk about it.”

“Ugh,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I know, I know. But they know you’re not a professional counselor. I mean, your cousin and his missus. They don’t expect you to cure her or anything, right? They just want her to have a safe place to go, right?”

“I think so,” she said. “The poor thing. Her marriage was breaking up when she was barely pregnant, so she was alone. Had the baby alone. She moved back with her parents so she could take three months off work and she never went back because... How do you get someone over something like that?”

“Honey, you don’t,” Al said, pulling her closer against him, holding her in the crook of his big arm. “You can’t get someone over something. All you can do is give ’em a little love and space and pray. You pray, baby?”