Without You Here by Carter Ashby Page B

grandchildren. Blake had jabbed my side with an elbow at that. I shot him a glare and he backed off. I would not be having children with Blake. Ever.
    Everyone talked over everyone else and after dinner, Stan and Cecily did dishes while Charles and Cecily's husband, Rick, cleared the table. I noticed this was the group who'd been absent during dinner prep. So everyone seemed to take turns and pitch in. I wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a family like this.
    Blake whisked me outside into the balmy, spring air. There were clouds out over the horizon. A rainstorm was in our future. But for now, the sun still shone, though dimming as the evening progressed.
    Wyatt sat on the porch steps, his back to the rails, picking out a song quietly on a guitar. God, he looked beautiful. I stood at the top of the steps and hugged the post while Blake settled into a rocking chair. I watched Wyatt play. He didn't look up at me. I didn't want him to.
    "I've always wanted to learn," I mused aloud.
    Wyatt did look up then. Then he nodded toward his son. "Blake plays. You should have him teach you."
    “You never told me you could play guitar,” I said.
    Blake shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I can't even read music or anything."
    Figured. Probably one of the most interesting things I'd learned about him, and he thought it was nothing. It didn't matter, though. I wanted Wyatt to teach me, not Blake. I wanted Wyatt's arms around me, his cheek resting against my ear, while he showed me how to position my fingers and strum the chords. I watched his hands and couldn't help remembering how those hands had felt on me.
    Everyone else filtered outside. Jesse came out with a banjo in one hand and a fiddle in the other. "Here, Uncle Wyatt," he said, handing him the banjo. "I wanna show-off for my girl."
    Wyatt smiled and traded the banjo for the guitar. Jesse pulled up an old stump and sat at the foot of the steps. He nodded at the pretty brunette he'd brought home with him, Stacy. "Come sit at my feet, Sweetie, and I'll serenade you." She giggled and blushed and sat on the ground next to him with her feet curled up under her skirt.
    Wyatt was tuning up the banjo. Stan had confiscated the guitar.
    "We all play guitar," Blake explained. "But Dad's the only one any good on banjo. And Jesse's the only one good on fiddle."
    Stan had taken up position in a folding chair down at the base of the steps.
    "Let's do Salt Creek, Uncle Wyatt," Jesse said.
    Wyatt nodded without looking up and started the song. Jesse jumped in with his fiddle.
    It was amazing fun listening to the music and clapping along. After their first two songs, which were mainly played so that Jesse could show off, Liza called for a waltz so that she could dance with her husband. Wyatt switched back to guitar and he and Jesse played a couple of waltzes while everyone with a partner danced in the yard. Then Wyatt did Amazing Grace alone on the guitar...this was apparently Amberlee's favorite version of the song. He looked terribly sad, playing it.
    The evening darkened long before I was ready to give it up. Jesse and his girlfriend went home. And then the rest of Stan and Diane's family. Cecily and her husband took their leave. Blake went out to his car and got my bags.
    "Let me show you to your room, dear," Liza said. She led me upstairs. There was a simple, full-sized four-poster bed with a tattered blue quilt on top; a shelf of books in the corner; some photos on top of a chest of drawers. I sat on the edge of the bed. Closed my eyes and just knew. "This was Wyatt's room, wasn't it?"
    "Yes," said Liza, surprised and delighted. "How did you know?"
    "It just...feels like him in here."
    I stared ahead and then realized there was silence coming from Liza. I turned and saw her staring hard at me. And then Blake came in with my bags and effectively ended the moment. Liza disappeared.
    Blake brought me into his arms. I was very careful not to hug him back. "I wish you'd change your