Forever, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  Sabine held up her hand and spoke gently. “I’m only asking you to pay closer attention to how the two of you interact.”

  “Fine. We do tend to argue and fuss quite a bit. And she gets her feelings hurt pretty regularly.” An admission of any kind proved she wasn’t a bona fide narcissist.

  “Judith, remember what I said about getting one’s feelings hurt? It’s a passive-aggressive term. Chances are, someone has the responsibility of hurting another’s feelings. So, if you hurt Jamie’s feelings, please tell her that you’re sorry you hurt her feelings not that she got them hurt.”

  “Alright, fine. Can I tell her to work on not being so sensitive?”

  “Having good, honest discussions is always healthy. Good work today. I’ll see you next week.” She walked Judith to the door.

  Digging in her purse, Sabine found one of her migraine tablets. The headache had intensified throughout the session with Judith, but this particular headache began earlier in the day, and was proving to be quite a doozy.

  A noise outside the door caused Sabine to freeze, glass of water midair. She’d locked the door to her office, as Judith was her last patient of the day. All she had left was to transcribe notes in a few remaining charts before heading home.

  The sound hadn’t been a knock, but it had startled her and it was just outside the front door. Moving from her inner office to the side window, she pulled back the corner of the closed blind in the reception area just a crack. Trees and the usual street traffic. But she hadn’t quite made it to the front door yet.

  There it was again, the noise. Bump! Sabine’s hands trembled. Should she fling open the front door? Or just dial 911? Taking a deep breath, Sabine unbolted and pulled the handle hard.

  She stifled a scream as something cold and wet fall on her ankles and feet before she saw anything—oh, flowers. A very large, colorful flower arrangement was tipped over and in danger of dismemberment. The wind must have rocked the glass container against the wood creating the weird sound that’d so freaked her out.

  Carefully, Sabine bent down and tried her best to right the gorgeous bouquet. Who in the world would have sent such an extravagant gift? Maybe it was a mistake. Why didn’t they ring the bell? Was someone watching her right now?

  She gathered up the flowers and hurried inside. Thoughts like that led to bad places. Paranoid places where good sense and reason held no stake in reality.

  There must be a card amidst the chaos she’d made of the arrangement. Yes, there it was. It was so nice to see you again. Dinner soon? Ben L.

  Well, that was nice. But what exactly was his agenda? Just dinner? With a guy who’d recently instated a two-date rule to keep things fair for the women in town? How could she? What if her patients saw them together? They would assume she’d ratted them out.

  No. A real live date with Ben Laroux could never happen. Total conflict of interest—mainly hers. After the things she’d been told. It would be worse than an oncologist who specialized in lung cancer taking up smoking two packs a day—nuts.

  But good manners dictated that she thank him for the flowers, so before she lost her nerve, she dialed his number, still programed in her phone from their first encounter.

  Ben was pulling into his drive when the phone rang. He saw the number pop up and smiled. “Hello there.”

  “Hi. It’s Sabine O’Conner.”

  “I don’t know anyone else named Sabine, so you can drop the last name.”

  “Oh. Well, I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “About dinner—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Can I pick you up tomorrow around seven?”

  “Well, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “It’s a great idea. I had a nice time at the concert the other night and thought maybe you didn’t hate me so much anymore.”

  “I don’t hate you, but—”

  “Great; see you tomorrow at seven. Text me your address, if you don’t mind.”

  “O-okay.”

  Ha. She’d tried to wiggle out of going out with him, but he’d worn her down. Not sure again why it was so important for her to like him, Ben rode on his wave of accomplishment the remainder of the evening. Thankfully, it was a quiet one with no cows, emergency math tutoring, or needy women calling, except Sabine. And he’d been happy to receive her call.

  He’d checked his mailbox at the end of the dirt drive as he’d pulled in, throwing everything on the passenger’s seat of the truck. Now that he’d eaten a frozen dinner, popped the top on a longneck, and was properly stretched out on his sofa, a soft, oversized work of leather perfection, Ben sorted through the enormous stack of bills, sales circulars, and various other non-urgent wastes of trees.

  He’d just about made it to the bottom of the stack, picking out the keepers, when a thick envelope with “IMPORTANT” stamped in red on the front with the return address of the Office of the Governor of the Great State of Alabama. Governor Ted Grumby had promised to keep an eye on Ben last they’d met.

  Governor Grumby had taken a shine to Ben and suggested he make a run for the state house of representatives. Ben hadn’t given it much thought beyond a few pieces of legislation he’d personally like to see passed that would decrease unnecessary red tape for local businesses and streamline permitting for licensing filed through the state tax commissioner’s office.

  If he considered it, there were a dozen or more things on his mind with regards to improving the way the state commissions did business with its counties and municipalities. As an attorney, he dealt with the minutia almost daily and had to admit he’d repeatedly come across such flaws in the system that it made him want to enact change for his own professional, as well as personal, reasons.

  But a life in the political spotlight on a large stage didn’t sound very appealing. He liked being his own man a little too much. He’d seen too many other honest men and women with good intentions fall into the politician trap. Too many favors exchanged and owed, both ways, and too much power. Very few emerged resembling the person they’d been going in. Ben preferred his life as it was.

  As Ben opened the envelope, his stomach hit the floor. This was altogether something different. He’d been preliminarily appointed to the governor’s special task force. Holy shit. He’d seen a call come through from Birmingham and let it go to voice mail yesterday when he was speaking with a client; and he’d left the office without remembering to listen to the missed message. The governor, if he remembered correctly, didn’t believe in cell phones. He was rather old school. He left voice messages on answering machines and still used snail mail.

  Ben guessed the appointment paperwork was sent to his home address to allow for privacy. Anything from the governor’s office was cause for speculation within the office. The gossip would’ve been a nightmare.

  This wasn’t good news because he really couldn’t say no. The time. The stress. The responsibility. Crap. He was already trying to pull back a little and make life less crazy.

  Turning back to the paperwork, he noticed a lengthy list of in-depth and personal questions he’d have to answer. Very personal, as in all the people he’d had “meaningful” intimate relationships with. Surely they didn’t mean everyone he’d slept with. He could honestly say, on his part, that anything truly meaningful could be narrowed down to only one. And he made a habit of not discussing her. No one did—they didn’t dare—out of respect for him.

  It was kind of like that in his family. All his siblings, even his mother, they’d recently found out, had one person in their past that’d done a number on them. Cammie had found forever love with her obliterator, Grey, but that had ended as a good thing, since they were now together and living out their happily-ever-after. Emma had recently found her true love with Matthew, despite former mayor and ex-boyfriend, Tad Beaumont’s, best efforts to keep her from ever dating again. His mother and her first love, Howard, had recently married, years after his fa
ther’s passing. They were all still struggling a little with that one—especially since the revelation that Maeve, his oldest sister, was Howard’s daughter.

  They were pretty much a “one and done” family. Ben was nearly thirty years old and still just as single as he’d been his last year in law school. The year of heartbreak.

  He’d not allowed Lisa to sneak into his thoughts in such a long time. A picture of her shining, long blonde hair and laughing, pale green eyes attacked his consciousness before he could put up the bulletproof emotional barrier.

  She’d been the world to him—his soul mate, confidante, lover, and best friend. They’d shared everything—eventually even his roommate and lifelong buddy, Steve. In one fell swoop, Ben had lost both his best friends at once. And Steve and Lisa still had each other, along with a couple of adorable pale green-eyed, darling children.

  But the town had chosen Ben. Cheaters never prospered. He thought he remembered that from a kids movie he’d watched. From then on, he’d been the town favorite. Steve and Lisa had been completely shunned wherever they went. Everyone learned about her perfidy and his dissing of a bro.

  The blackballing in town had become so awful for the couple, they’d eventually moved a couple counties away, closer to Birmingham. But both still had family and close ties to their hometown, so, they invariably came here to visit on occasion. Now, Lisa and Steve could bring their children to visit grandparents and such without open hostility anymore, so far as Ben knew.

  Ben realized much later that Steve and Lisa had tried to avoid one another, tried to deny their feelings. He’d even forgiven them, as much as he could, but the trust thing, well, that’d left a mark. The big, nasty kind of emotional gash he hoped someday to overcome. So far, he hadn’t found anyone else who’d scratched the surface of his deeper emotions.

  Ben had moved about Ministry without mentions or reminders of Lisa from the townsfolk or from his family. Because they’d chosen him, it was swept right under the rug, never to be dredged up again, preventing his embarrassment and pain. Of course, his sisters tried, occasionally, to discuss the matter, but that never went well or got them very far. So, he hadn’t heard anyone mention her in the last few years.

  Ben filled out the remaining invasive paperwork for Governor Grumby, knowing they’d already have done an initial background check. The information he provided would direct them to the individuals necessary for character assessment interviews.

  Life was about to get a whole lot more interesting around here.

  “Dad says it’s time for a visit from his favorite daughter.” Sabine’s cell phone rang at seven o’clock the next morning, just as she’d left the house and was on her way to the office. It was Friday, the day of her date with Ben.

  “Hello to you too, James. It’s been a while.” How did you get this number? Where are you calling from?

  “Cut the big sister crap, Sabine. You’re the one who ran out on your family.” Classic James.

  She took a deep breath and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. “I didn’t run out on anyone. Dad’s in prison. Mom’s with me. Rachel doesn’t live at home anymore.”

  “What about your husband? Your home is in New Orleans.”

  “My home is wherever I want to live in this free country, last I checked.”

  “Don’t get smart, nerd girl.”

  “Charming, James. Just as I remember you—a runt and a bully.” Why was she taunting him? Because she despised her own brother, that was why.

  “Dad wants to see you.”

  “Is it about the parole hearing?” In truth, she was shaking from head to toe.

  “No, it’s because you’re his favorite.” He snorted. “Of course it’s about the hearing.”

  “Uh huh. Right. Tell him I’ll come, but I’m not sure about Mom.”

  “That’s between him and your mom. Oh, and he’s pissed that you changed your names.”

  “He’ll have to get over it or stay pissed.” She was becoming angry now.

  “Call the prison and let them know you’re coming,” he said.

  “Tell our father I will meet with him but he needs to leave Mom out of this and not try and contact her.” He knew what that meant.

  “Yeah. I understand. I’ll let the old man know.” She heard a click on the other end.

  She hated her own brother. The family therapist her mother had hired for the “James victims” had a motto for such folks. “Can’t change ’em, fix ’em or treat ’em. Just gotta cut ’em loose.” James had no conscience. This Sabine knew well. He’d been a terror when Dad had brought him into the family at age three. Dad demanded her mother raise him as her own son.

  James was her father’s bastard, son of a New Orleans social climber who’d overdosed on cocaine. Had their father allowed any discipline of the toddler, he might have turned out differently. Narcissistic sociopaths were created by neglect at a young age or true overindulgence. James had been neglected before his mother died and grossly overindulged after. He hadn’t stood a chance.

  Her mother had agreed to take James in because she’d had no choice, had even tried to love him. After all, he was a blameless child. But James refused to be nurtured. He was a scary, angry and violent boy who wouldn’t be reined in. Except when it came to their father. James understood innately where his bread was buttered. Dad saw only his adorable male protégée in James, and the son he’d never had within his own marriage. And James could fool their father, manipulate, and make Dad believe in his loyalty.

  The rest of the family, including the long-term staff knew differently. They all were forced to suffer James Prudhomme, the crowned prince of New Orleans. Really, he was just a thug in nice clothing. He was educated, charming, and far too handsome. A lot like their father.

  By the time Sabine reached her office, she’d calmed a little. This was bound to happen at some point. It was a bit of a relief. She looked forward to her father’s parole hearing, and his release. Not because she wanted him back in their lives, but because he might realize Mom had moved on. Then, he would do the same.

  Sabine glanced up at the clock on the wall. In thirteen minutes, she would counsel another person on how to handle their life’s problems. Considering her screwed up family and background—what a fraud she was.

  But she’d always believed most therapists became such to try and figure out their own lives. It’d certainly been a large part of her career motivation.

  Ben’s day hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Fortunately, he’d not been scheduled for court, but had taken depositions in a pit-bull attack case. Another terrible situation where the animal had been raised as a killer from puppyhood. These dogs were never going to improve their reputations if humans continued using them as terrorists.

  Seeing the wounds from the bites on the ten-year-old boy and hearing him recount the horror in detail left Ben agitated and bothered the rest of the day. He couldn’t help think how he would feel had it been one of his nieces or nephew who’d been the victim.

  He was still anticipating the evening ahead with Sabine as his reward for such a crappy day. The governor called his office and asked to be put through. His ever-efficient assistant, Chase, had rushed in, excited. “You’ll never guess who’s on line one for you.” Chase was clearly leaping in his loafers to tell Ben the caller’s name.

  “I’ll bite; who’s on the line?”

  “It’s none other than the governor of our state.” Chase nearly squealed.

  “Ah, okay. Thanks, Chase.” Ben had expected someone from the governor’s office might call soon, so Ben had answered, half-excited, half-dreading the conversation. There would be no going back.

  “Governor Grumby, it’s an honor. What can I do for you?”

  “Son, you know damn well what you can do. You can get that paperwork back to me ASAP. I want you on the special task force.” The governor boomed through the earpiece.

  “Yes, sir. I filled everything out and sent it registered mail this morning. You should have it by
tomorrow, Monday at the latest.”

  “Excellent, son. So, you accept the appointment?”

  “Yes, sir. I’d be honored.”

  “Good. After we get all the hassle and paperwork sorted out, we’ll make the official announcement. No skeletons in the closet, I take it?”

  “None that I’m aware of, sir.”

  “Just checking. ’Cause, we don’t like skeletons—or surprises. Gotta check with all your people, just to make sure you’re as solid as we know you are.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand. My fiancée ran off with my best friend in law school. That’s as scandalous as it gets.” Now why did he say that?

  “Ouch! So long as she wasn’t a Russian spy, we don’t have a problem. Heh. Heh. No ties to corruption?” the governor asked, serious now.

  “None that I’m aware of.” He could honestly say this.

  “You’ll do just fine, boy. Just fine.” Governor Grumby chuckled.

  Ben squirmed in his office chair uncomfortably. He sensed he’d just become somebody else’s boy. Not the best feeling. “So, can you tell me what this task force is going to focus on?”

  “Sure. It’s a clean-up crew for waste and corruption. I only want the squeaky clean folks on this one. Can’t have anyone accusing my team of being in anyone’s pockets.”

  After they’d hung up, Ben noticed the buzz outside his office door. Handling this might be tricky. Best to keep a lid on the appointment until everything was official. Time for a little bait and switch.

  “So, Ben, what did Grumpy Grumby want with you?” George, one of the three partners asked quietly.

  “Just checking in. You know, I sent that letter to his office last month with the suggested legislation changes to the House. Somebody passed it along to the governor. He wanted to discuss it.”

  “Must have really ticked him off.” This came as a smirk from Jeff, his backstabbing colleague, who was gunning for partner. They really should get rid of him. That kind of over-competitiveness was bad for business and company morale. His uncle was senior partner, unfortunately.