Southern Sympathies

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  “Why?”

  “Because God has to work in Mr. Alec’s heart first. Right now all we can do is pray. . .and not say a word to anyone. Then, if something happens, we’ll know for sure it’s the Lord’s will.”

  “Okay. I promise.”

  She smiled at his exuberance.

  “God likes to answer my prayers.”

  “Yes, He sure does,” Lydia admitted, standing and making her way out of the room.

  “Grampa says God’s gonna use me in a big way.”

  “I believe that.” She blew him a kiss. “Good night. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Walking toward her own bedroom, Lydia couldn’t suppress the chuckle bubbling up inside her. The future suddenly seemed to sparkle again. For the first time in two and a half years, she felt alive. Had she really been only existing for the sake of her children and others? No wonder Gerald had been concerned, telling her she should remarry. She’d been lifeless.

  She strolled to the window and pulled back the blinds. But everything changed in a week, she thought incredulously, peering down at Alec’s house. All because a neighbor moved in next door. Shaking her head, she added silently, Alec Corbett, why do you make me feel like I’m a hopeful sixteen-year-old again?

  Nine

  Days passed and the rain began. The cold dampness had a way of creeping into the bones, not to mention the mind and spirit. For the first time in twelve years, Lydia felt sorry for her mother-in-law. The scandal surrounding Gerald leveled her to a mere shadow of the strong-willed, opinionated woman Lydia had known. She hadn’t even fallen apart like this after losing her only son. But by the worship service on Thursday evening, Elberta had had more than she could bear and packed her bags and flew off to Tallahassee to stay indefinitely with her daughter, Mary. At church there were murmurs of Gerald’s resignation—at least temporarily, until the talk quieted, Elberta returned, and the charges against him were dismissed. Gerald stubbornly refused to give in, saying he’d “raised this church up from the ground,” but he acknowledged his need for some time away. On Friday morning, Sim obtained permission from the DA and Gerald left at noon for his secluded cabin in the Smoky Mountains. After he’d gone, Lydia wished there were something she could do for her in-laws. Things at SPCC seemed to be unraveling like a cheap sweater, and that afternoon as she drove home with Tyler and Brooke, she felt as bleak as the gloomy winter weather.

  “Hey, Lydia,” Alec called out his back door as she began to run for the house in the freezing downpour, “I want to talk to you. Can I come over? Won’t take long.”

  “Sure,” she said, reaching the back door and fishing in her purse for her keys.

  “Hurry,” Brooke whined, “I’m getting wet.”

  Lydia unlocked the door and the three of them spilled into the house. “What a day,” she said with a long sigh.

  Removing their wet things, the children agreed.

  “Maybe we’ll order a pizza for supper tonight.”

  “Yeah! And maybe Mr. Alec will stay and eat with us.”

  “Tyler, don’t start. We talked about this, remember?”

  He nodded grimly and followed his sister into the den. Still in the kitchen, Lydia heard the television go on. She rolled her head in a circle, stretching her tense neck muscles. This hadn’t been a good day, and she wondered what Alec wanted. She hadn’t seen him all week.

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Tyler ran to answer it. “Hi, Mr. Alec,” she heard him say. “Come on in.”

  “Hey, kid, how you doing?”

  “Okay.”

  “Got your ark built yet?” Meeting him in the foyer, Lydia saw Alec chuckle while confusion flittered across Tyler’s face. “Ark, get it?” he explained. “Like Noah and all the rain. . .”

  “Oh!” The boy laughed.

  Smiling, Alec looked over at Lydia. Clad in blue jeans and a striped, long-sleeve, button-down shirt, he made an impressive sight there in her hallway. Just seeing him again caused her a small measure of happiness after enduring the last seven hours at work.

  “How are you?”

  “Good,” she fibbed. “And yourself?”

  “Fine. I had a short day. Got off at noon.” He scratched his jaw and shifted his stance uncomfortably.

  Lydia glanced at Tyler, who watched the exchange with interest. Brooke, sitting on one of the sofas in the den, seemed to care less that their neighbor had stopped by and looked completely absorbed by the cartoon, sing-along video on TV.

  “Alec, why don’t you and I talk in the kitchen,” she said, realizing he wanted to speak with her privately. “Tyler, you go back in the den.”

  “But, Mama—”

  “Tyler.” She gave him a direct look and he didn’t argue.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alec grinned. “Kitchen’s fine.”

  Turning, Lydia led the way. “I think I’ll make some herbal tea. Would you like a cup?”

  “Naw. Thanks anyway. This really won’t take long. I just wondered if. . .um. . .” They reached the kitchen, and Lydia stopped by the counter, giving him her full attention. “Well, tomorrow is February thirteenth and the company I work for is throwing a Valentine’s Day party. I normally wouldn’t go, but being the new guy, I sort of feel obligated and I, um, need a date. If I show up without one, Norm Whitehall says he’ll fix me up with his sister and if she resembles Norm even a little. . . Lydia this isn’t funny. Quit laughing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, doing her best to swallow her giggles. “It’s been a long day and I guess I’m punchy.” In truth, she felt a bit giddy that Alec was asking her out—even if it was in order to escape a blind date.

  “Lydia, I wondered if maybe you’d go to the party with me,” he asked, looking stone faced, but very vulnerable.

  “I would be honored,” she said.

  He relaxed visibly. “Thanks.”

  “What time will you pick me up?”

  “How’s seven sound?”

  “Fine.” She smiled and then remembered their previous plans. “What about the Bible study?”

  “Would you mind skipping it with me this week?”

  Lydia shook her head.

  “Sorry this is such short notice, but it took me four days to work up the courage to ask you.”

  “Oh, Alec. . .” She waved a hand at him. “I don’t bite. Honest.”

  He laughed curtly. “Well, if you bit me, you’d have every good reason, considering the things I’ve said to you.”

  “I forgot all about them.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Pursing his lips, Alec scrutinized her in a way that caused Lydia’s cheeks to warm.

  She turned away. “Are you sure you don’t want some tea?”

  “Yeah. I’d better go.” He walked back through the house to the foyer, then stopped short. “On second thought. . .” He spun around.

  Right behind him, Lydia halted midstride and arched questioning brows.

  “I might be pushing my luck here, but would you and the kids want to go out for pizza tonight?”

  Tyler whooped from the den. “Say yes, Mama!”

  Lydia rolled her eyes at her son’s response, but inside, her heart beat with as much enthusiasm. “Sure,” she said at last, “we’d love to.”

  ❧

  It was ten o’clock that night when Alec finally arrived back home. He tossed his truck keys onto his kitchen counter and stared at them as though they might come to life and turn somersaults. I’m doing it again, he thought almost miserably. I’m falling head over heels in love with a woman—the very thing I vowed I wouldn’t do. He sighed, glancing at the ceiling. “Two weeks, Lord,” he muttered in prayer. “Do you see what I’ve done in two short weeks? Got myself in another fine mess.”

  He sauntered through the house and into the living room, feeling a surge of disbelief shoot through him. Lydia Boswick—he didn’t even know her middle name. He didn’t know much about her at all, other than she owned and refurbished the house next door, was
a widow, a Christian. . .and liked pizza. And she sure could talk, but that was all right with him. Tyler and Brook had been well-mannered at the table, and they obviously liked him—and, better yet, so did their mother.

  Alec sat down on the couch and turned on the television set, mindlessly watching in muted silence whatever happened to be on. That Lydia shared his romantic interest, well, that made things easier. Wouldn’t be hard to win her heart. But did he want to? In his experience, romances always started off all warm and fuzzy only to become complicated matters that messed with his mind and tore at his emotions. But there was always the chance this time could be different.

  This time. . .

  Pointing the remote control at the TV, Alec flipped it off. He hadn’t kissed Lydia tonight, but he’d sure wanted to. They’d spent a long time gazing into each other’s eyes at her front door before he took his leave, and now he felt like some lovesick schoolboy. It’d happened just this way with Denise, too. He’d fallen fast, and he’d fallen hard. And now Lydia.

  Lord, You’re going to have to take over here, ’cause I’m scared. Real scared. And Lydia and I have another date tomorrow night—except I just might die if I have to wait that long to see her again.

  Standing, Alec turned off the lamp on the end table beside the sofa and walked into his bedroom. Maybe if he had a good night’s sleep he’d wake up thinking straight in the morning.

  Yeah, that’s it. A good night’s sleep.

  Ten

  Alec made it until eleven o’clock before he couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to trek over to Lydia’s house. Thinking he needed an excuse, he wheeled the bike he’d given Tyler alongside him. The day was damp and gloomy, but the rain had stopped, and Alec thought if the kid played his cards right, his mother might even allow him to take back his new bike.

  Walking up the driveway, he paused outside the back door and knocked loudly. Tyler answered.

  “Hi, Mr. Alec.”

  “Hi. Is your mom busy?”

  “No. I’ll get her.”

  He turned and Alec watched through the screen door as the boy ran back into the kitchen, calling for her. Within minutes, Lydia strode toward him, wearing a pink wool sweater with an off-white turtleneck underneath it, a denim split skirt, and thick, ivory socks tucked snugly into brown, leather ankle boots.

  “Hi.” She opened the door and beckoned him into the hallway.

  He smiled. “Expecting the temperature to fall to fifty below?” he asked amusedly.

  She frowned, puzzled, and Alec chuckled.

  “Your outfit, Lydia. You look like someone who lives in the North Pole.”

  “Excuse me,” she said in feigned haughtiness, “but I’m freezing.”

  “It’s warm out here.”

  “Oh, it is not. You’re just a thick-blooded Northerner.”

  Throwing his head back, Alec hooted.

  Lydia gave him a quelling look, smiling all the while, and then Alec spotted Tyler standing a short distance away, watching them curiously.

  “I, um, brought the bike back,” he said earnestly now. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

  Lydia turned and eyed her son before bringing her gaze back to his, and Alec realized for the first time just what a petite, little thing she really was, standing no taller than his shoulders.

  “Tyler has a bike,” she began. “He doesn’t really need another. I’ve been trying to teach both my children the difference between wanting something and needing it.”

  “That’s a good lesson,” Alec replied carefully, trying to ignore the way the boy’s face fell with disappointment. “But he’ll probably outgrow the bike he’s got soon enough and then he’ll need a new one. Might as well keep this one. It’s free.”

  “Yeah, Mama. Otherwise, it’ll cost you money.”

  Lydia glanced at her son before her dusky blue eyes swung back around, searching Alec’s face. The tiny tug at the corner of her mouth let him know she found his and Tyler’s persuasiveness somewhat comical.

  He grinned back at her. “Come on, Lydia,” he said softly, “it’s just a bike.” Then, before he could think better of it, he reached out and brushed a strand of chestnut-colored hair from her cheek. A moment’s look of surprise and something else—something unidentifiable—flittered across her lovely features before she blinked, obviously regaining her composure.

  “That’s right. It’s just a bike,” she repeated.

  “Say yes, Mama,” Tyler begged. “Please, say yes.”

  “Oh, well, I guess it can’t hurt,” Lydia agreed at last.

  “Yippee!”

  “But there’s one condition,” Alec declared above Tyler’s cheering. He narrowed his gaze at Lydia. “You can’t give the thing back—even if you get mad at me again.”

  She blushed, her cheeks matching the color of her sweater, and Alec felt thoroughly charmed.

  “Can I go outside and ride it for a while?” Tyler asked.

  Lydia nodded. “Yes, but put on a jacket.”

  “Aw, do I hafta? Mr. Alec said it’s warm.”

  “Not warm enough for you. Jacket on.”

  Alec regarded her with interest as she gave her son one of those expressions only a mother could impart. He laughed softly under his breath.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tyler muttered.

  Lydia turned back to Alec. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  As Tyler rushed out of the back door, Alec followed Lydia into the kitchen. She invited him to sit down at the table and he recognized the fancy, rose tablecloth that he’d first seen last week. Then Brooke entered the kitchen, asking if she could go outside and play, too.

  “Yes, but stay in the backyard.”

  The little girl nodded.

  “How do you like your coffee, Alec?”

  “Black.”

  Lydia fixed up two cups before claiming a seat beside him at the table.

  “So did you say you’ve lived in North Carolina all your life?” Alec asked, taking a swallow of his brew.

  “Yes. I was born in a small city near the coast, but after my father died, my mother moved us to Charlotte.”

  “Brothers? Sisters?”

  “Neither. Just me. What about you?”

  “Two older sisters. I’m the baby of the family.”

  Lydia grinned. “You’re an awfully big baby,” she drawled teasingly.

  “Yeah, well, what can I say?” Alec chuckled and a few moments of silence passed. “So, does your mother still live around here?”

  “Yes. She’s in Charlotte, but now lives with her new husband. She and Pete were married about nine months ago.”

  “Interesting.” Alec took another drink. “My folks are divorced, but neither remarried. I guess the first time around was enough for both of them.”

  “What about you?” Lydia asked. “You talked about a broken engagement at the Bible study. . . .”

  “Yep. And there’s not much to tell, other than Denise—that was her name—up and changed her mind about marrying me.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Alec shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about, really. Can I ask you something personal?”

  “I suppose. . .but how personal?”

  Alec laughed. “What’s your middle name?”

  Lydia paused, as if momentarily taken aback. “My middle name? It’s Rose. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering. I’ve been trying to imagine what it’d be. I thought maybe Ann or Marie. But Rose fits you just perfect. Lydia Rose, Southern belle.”

  “Oh, hush,” she quipped, blushing profusely. “And what’s your middle name?”

  “Guess.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes, but sat thinking it over. Alec watched her pretty mouth trying different names on her tongue. Finally she picked one. “James.”

  “Right.”

  “Really? And here I’m not very good at guessing games.” Laughing softly, she stood and walked to the counter with her cup. �
�Would you care for more coffee?”

  “Sure would.”

  Lydia refilled his cup once, then again, and finally three times before their coffee klatch came to an end two hours later. After Alec left the house, she took the cups to the sink. Pulling out the bread and the peanut butter and jelly jars, she made sandwiches for Tyler and Brooke, who were no doubt ready to dash inside any minute for lunch. Before she finished, the door banged shut behind her predictable pair.

  “Mama, you like him more and more, don’t you?” Ty asked perceptively, noisily sitting down and scraping the chair closer to the table.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And he likes you, too.”

  “I think he does.”

  “Oh, he does,” Brooke said adamantly, nodding her blond head as though she were an expert on such matters.

  Lydia just smiled and began wiping off the counter. Yes, they liked each other—enough to pursue this relationship further. The thought sent a stream of delight mingled with apprehension through her veins. Gerald wouldn’t like him—somehow she just knew it.

  She and Alec had discussed a wide gamut of subjects this morning, and Lydia ended up divulging the details surrounding her mother and the church discipline issue. Alec had said the disciplinary action didn’t sound right to him, since Pete professed to be a Christian. “Sounds to me like your father-in-law was standing in judgment of the guy. But, Lydia, I’m no authority on the subject. I’d have to research the topic of church discipline in the Bible.”

  Lydia nibbled her lower lip in contemplation. It didn’t sound right to Alec. He’d given her his objective opinion, putting the question in her own heart. And now more than ever, Lydia wanted to phone her mother. Glancing out the window, she realized it had started raining again.

  “Can me ’n’ Brooke watch a movie?” Tyler asked. “What about the one Gramma bought us?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  The children left the table and headed for the den. Standing with her back to the kitchen sink, Lydia watched them go before she eyed the phone on the wall. Should I call?

  Lord, if I’m wrong to do this, then I deserve to be found out. If going against Gerald’s wishes is going against Your will, I’ll suffer the consequences. She collected her address book from the drawer at the end of the counter where she kept the phone books. But if my mother’s church discipline wasn’t fair—if it wasn’t right—I trust You will protect me from suffering a similar reproof. Picking up the phone, Lydia dialed her mother’s number.