Broken Promises by Terri Reid Page B

a bite out of his second muffin and grumbled. “They’s fine, but they ain’t nothing compared to what you can whip up in the kitchen,” he said.
    She smiled sweetly. “Why thank you Stanley.”
    Looking away from her, Stanley perused the ceiling for a few moments before he cleared his throat and turned back her way. “Rosie.”
    “Yes, Stanley.”
    “I s’pose I need to apologize for how I acted last night.”
    “How’s that?” she asked.
    “Pretty much acted like an ass,” he admitted.
    She took another bite of muffin and nodded. “Why yes, I believe you did.”
    “Well you don’t have to agree with me,” he grumbled.
    She hid her grin and nodded. “Of course, how rude of me,” she said. “No, Stanley, you were just fine last night.”
    “But I acted like an ass,” he said. “There ain’t no two ways around it.”
    She sighed. “What would you like me to say?”
    He pushed back his chair and stood up. “I don’t know,” he growled. “I want to be the one you run to, Rosie.”
    Placing his hands on the edge of the table, he leaned over towards her. “I want to be the one to protect you. Guess I was just plain jealous that you came here.”
    “But, Stanley, I was only looking for a place to spend the night,” she said. “I would have come to you to solve my problem with the ghost in the morning.”
    “Really?” he asked. “You weren’t coming here so they could fight your battles?”
    Shaking her head, she reached over and placed her hand over his. “Stanley, you’re my hero,” she replied. “There’s no one I would run to for help before you.”
    He leaned over further and kissed her forehead. “You humble me, Rosie.”
    “I do no such thing, Stanley,” she said, reaching up and kissing him back. “I just want to be sure we understand each other.”
    He smiled at her. “Well, I ain’t saying I understand woman, and I ain’t saying I don’t,” he said. “But I know it’s gonna be fun figuring each other out.”
    “Yes, it is, Stanley. Yes it is.”
    They sat in companionable silence for a few moments until Rosie delicately cleared her throat. “Um, Stanley,” she began.
    He looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Yes?”
    “Did I hear you correctly last night when you mentioned that you were being haunted by your first wife, Verda?”
    He nodded. “As best as I could see it was her,” he said. “But it weren’t her, if you know what I mean.”
    Rosie stirred her tea, began to lift it to her mouth, but then placed it down on the table. “Do you still love her?” she finally asked. “Is that the reason she’s haunting you? Are you regretting your decision to ask me to marry you?”
    Stanley dropped the paper and sat back in his chair, shocked. “Where in tarnation did that idea come from?” he asked. “I ain’t haunting her, she’s haunting me. I didn’t ask her to come walking through my bedroom, rustling through my drawers. She just took it upon herself.”
    Putting her hands on the edge of the table, Rosie leaned towards him. “You didn’t answer my question, Stanley Aloysius Wagner,” she demanded. “Do you still love Verda?”
    He reached over and took her hand, and although she tried to resist, he held it firmly. “Look at me, Rosie,” he said softly, and waited until she met his eyes. “Of course I still love Verda. She was my first wife. We grew up together, we worked together, we had kids together and we lived a whole lot of years together. Just ‘cause someone dies doesn’t mean the love dies too.”
    “But what about me?” Rosie asked quietly.
    “Love ain’t a pie, Rosie,” he explained. “You don’t only got so much to go around. Loving someone don’t take the love from someone else. I love Verda, but it’s an old love, soft and sweet, filled with memories of years gone by. I love you, but it’s a burning love. It’s new and fresh and kinda exciting. It’s a different love than the one I had with Verda because