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haze of the low-burning fires cane farmers set to burn the stubble. The warm air remaining after the day’s heat coaxed a few cricket frogs to come forth from their crannies and start a chorus of song.
    He breathed deep, the way he was supposed to when agitated. Anti-social behavior, a symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, according to the army psychiatrist. Jesus, he’d spilled more to Jane in a half hour than to the shrink in the past year. Now, he’d blown it with her. His plan to practice living a normal life with a night out dining and dancing with a pretty woman had gone up in smoke quicker than gasoline poured on the chaff.
    Good thing the owner of the helicopter company had served in ’Nam and understood, knew that when Blackie Tauzin said he’d die before letting anyone in his care come to harm, he meant it. Sure Braxton Rice had written him up a couple of times, once for not shaving, and another for being surly to customers. Shaving more often, not a problem. Playing nice when all he wanted to do was fly his aircraft free and in silence to reach his destination safely took some effort. He should have made more effort with Jane. If only she hadn’t asked about the medal. He heard the backdoor open and didn’t move. She’d spot him then, brooding under her tree like a stalker.
    “Merlin, are you still out here?”
    Only his granny, his mom, and now Jane called him Merlin. Everyone else knew the name Blackie suited him better.
    “Yeah,” he confessed. “Just looking at the moon for a minute before I go.”
    “Are we still on for that dinner? I do owe you.” Jane started down the steps.
    “Better stay where you are. Snakes eat little bunnies like you.”
    “Where?” Her head swiveled from side to side trying to find the venomous reptile in her grass. If only she knew.
    “It’s gone for now. Tomorrow night. Dinner and dancing at Mulate’s. Music starts at seven. I’ll be over here early to plant those flowers. We’ll have plenty of time to clean up before we go.”
    “That’s a date then.”
    “Yeah, a date.” Go figure, a real date with a good woman, something he never thought he’d have again.

Chapter Five
    Merlin failed to ring the doorbell. Jane wouldn’t have known he was out there on hands and knees by the newly revealed flowerbeds if she hadn’t been wandering around her house with a bowl of breakfast granola in her hand wondering when he would show up. Much as she liked to sleep in on Saturdays, she’d gotten up early, put on khaki shorts, her pink T-shirt from the 10K run, and her sneakers, all to prove she wasn’t such a slug when it came to yard work. She finished her cereal in a hurry and put the bowl in the sink. Grabbing the pot of coffee from the maker, she selected a sunny yellow mug and sauntered casually out the front door, across the porch and down to where Merlin worked.
    Frilly, purple ornamental cabbages filled the center of each circular bed. Flats of plain yellow pansies and another variety, purple and white with markings like droll little faces sat beside where Merlin knelt. He picked up a six-pack of plants and gently squeezed one from the base of its plastic container. Tenderly, he placed it deep in a small hole and pressed the earth firmly around the stems. Why did that simple act make her mouth go dry?
    “Coffee break,” Jane said brightly.
    “I barely got started here, but yeah, coffee would be good.” He rocked back on his heels, folded his long legs Indian style, and accepted the mug without getting up. There he sat, his striking blue eyes catching the early morning light, his black beard another day thicker, right about the level of her crotch.
    She poured. “I should have brought real sugar and milk for you.”
    “Black is fine. Your coffee is weaker than I’m used to.”
    Not sure if that statement was an insult, Jane nestled the coffeepot in a clump of grass and yanked a pansy from its holder. “Let me plant while you drink that.”
    “No!