After the Rain

by Karen White

  “Down, George. Down!” Sam shouted, and the huge dog complied, but not before he used a fat pink tongue to wedge its way between her hands and lick her cheek.

  When she opened her eyes, Sam was holding the dog by its leash and trying hard not to smile. “He’s big, but he’s got the heart of a bunny rabbit. He’s always been a sucker for a pretty face.”

  Embarrassed to find herself shaking, she continued to press herself against the wall. “I . . . I don’t like dogs.”

  “I could kinda tell. I’ll make sure to leave George at home next time.” He glanced at her again with a curious look. “Joe mentioned you didn’t like children much, either, so I’ll be sure to keep all creatures—both the two- and four-legged varieties—away.”

  She forgot her embarrassment for a moment as his words sank in. “He said that? I mean, it’s not that I don’t like them; it’s more like I don’t know what to do with them.”

  Sam led the beast out the door and onto the front porch. “As with everything, they just take some getting used to, that’s all. And then you find that you can’t live without them. Trust me—I’ve seen it happen.”

  Suzanne frowned. “Dogs or children?”

  “Both. Not much difference between the two if you ask me. And pretty likeable once you get to know them.” He winked.

  George barked and she shrank back against the door. “I’ll have to take your word on that.”

  He tipped an imaginary hat. “I’ve got to get to work. Call me if you need anything—I left my card on the hall table. And I understand Lucinda’s stopping by this morning to take you to the store. Just be prepared to buy a tube of lipstick and rouge from her, too.” He winked again, then opened the door of his truck to let the dog in. After settling himself behind the wheel, he said, “See you later.” With a wave, he drove off in a small puff of dirt, George’s face hanging from the window with an innocent look in his soft brown eyes. He offered a good-bye bark to her as the truck pulled out of sight.

  An involuntary laugh burst through her lips, surprising her. Hugging her arms across her chest, she walked down the steps and onto the front yard and surveyed the neat, trim house with its picket fence and rosebushes. It was certainly the stuff of her dreams, dreams that were never meant to last. But at least it was hers. For now. With the laugh still fading on her lips, she climbed the steps and went back into the house and up the stairs, having made the decision that she would at least unpack, and maybe, tonight, she’d sleep under the covers.

  Sam was already waiting at the counter of the Dixie Diner, nursing a coffee, when Joe strolled in. Joe waved, self-conscious of his appearance. His blue button-down shirt had a scorch mark under the pocket, and his khaki pants had long since lost their crease. Lucinda didn’t go away often, but when she did it seemed his tenuous hold on his life completely fell by the wayside. It was all he could do to drive the kids where they needed to be, help with the homework, and give them each individual attention before tucking them into bed at night and crashing on the sofa in a nearly comatose daze. Laundry, ironing, and the never-ending household chores just didn’t get done when Lucinda was away. There just weren’t enough hours in the day.

  He greeted his childhood friend as the waitress, Brunelle Thompkins, slid a fresh mug of coffee in his direction with a bright smile. He sipped from the hot mug, brooding over his situation. Lucinda was a godsend, but he felt guilty. Especially because he almost resented the few times she went away to visit family in North Carolina.

  He’d offered many times to pay for help, but Lucinda wouldn’t hear of it. She said his kids needed family and no hireling could take her place. Joe thunked his mug down on the laminate counter, sloshing some of the hot liquid over the side and scalding him. As he sucked the burned spot on his finger, he remembered that Sarah Frances had her clarinet lesson today and that the instrument was at the moment sitting on top of the TV in the family room.

  “Looks like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet. Rough night?”

  Joe sent Sam a disdainful look. “Thanks. Not that you look any better.”

  With a mock look of hurt, Sam said, “Cassie’s been waking me up practically every hour when she goes to the bathroom.” He sent Joe a wry grin. “Good practice for when Sam Junior or Juniorette arrives.”

  Joe stared into his cup. Softly, he said, “Yeah, I remember those days.” He took a sip of his coffee but didn’t say anything else.

  Sam regarded his friend for a moment in silence. “If you’re still not sleeping more than three nights a week, let me know and I can prescribe something to help you.”

  Being best friends with the town doctor did have its advantages, especially with six children who were always coming down with one thing or another, but access to easy prescriptions wasn’t one Joe would allow himself to take. “No, thanks. I appreciate it, but I can deal with it on my own.”

  Sam moved his mug out of the way to allow Brunelle to place a plate of eggs, sausage, and cheese grits in front of him.

  Joe eyed Sam’s plate. “Why don’t you just shove that stuff directly into your arteries?”

  Sam picked up the saltshaker and sprinkled it liberally over his plate. “Hey, leave me alone. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, Cassie’s put us both on this health food diet. It’s just about killing me. This is the only decent meal I get all week.” He speared a bite of sausage and put it in his mouth, chewing with relish.

  When Brunelle appeared to take his order, Joe pointed to Sam’s plate. “I’ll have the same as him.”

  “Excuse me?” Sam stopped in midchew.

  “Hey, I’m allowed. I ran five miles this morning with the football team. And I haven’t had a meal that I didn’t pick up at a drive-through window or that came in a box in two weeks. I figure I deserve this.”

  Joe sipped his coffee and watched Sam eat without speaking for a moment while the door chimed again and three teenage boys wearing Walton High School letter jackets strolled in. Two girls from the high school, who were drinking coffee and nibbling on dry toast at the opposite side of the counter, giggled as they sneaked glances at the boys.

  “Hey, Coach Warner,” the tallest boy greeted Joe, and stopped by his stool. “How’s it going? Great run this morning, huh?”

  Joe took his time watching Brunelle deliver his breakfast, before turning around to face the boy with the closely cropped brown hair and olive complexion. “Hello, Rob.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  Rob glanced back at his two companions. “Homeroom isn’t for another twenty minutes. Have to have my java first.” He grinned broadly, revealing perfect white teeth.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you from it.” Joe took a bite of cheese grits and chewed thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face.

  Frowning, the boy said, “No, sir,” then sauntered away with his friends to a nearby booth.

  Sam grimaced. “You were a little rough on the kid, don’t you think?”

  “Hmmph. He’s not a kid. He’s a two-hundred-pound pile of muscles, testosterone, and jawline guaranteed to render senseless any girl over six and under sixty. And it’s ninety degrees outside—why in the hell is he wearing his letter jacket?”

  Sam glanced back at the boys now crowding the booth with their broad shoulders and meaty biceps. “He asked Maddie out, didn’t he?”

  Joe said nothing but scowled at his companion.

  “She’s seventeen, Joe. Soon she’ll be leaving for college. What are you going to do—send her to a convent?”

  “I’m not Catholic.”

  “Like that would stop you. You can’t keep her under your wing forever, you know.”

  Joe glared steadily at his friend. “Do you think I don’t know that? But what am I supposed to do? I’m just a guy, and unfortunately, I know how guys think.” His voice broke a bit, and he coughed to cover it. “She needs her mother.”

  “We all miss Harriet, Joe. But don’t fool yourself—you’re doing a terrific job wi
th those kids, and you’re all Maddie needs right now. Just don’t smother her in your desire to protect her. It will only backfire, especially with her. She’s too much like her aunt Cassie for her own good.”

  Joe snorted softly. “That’s for damned sure. But there’s so much about raising children that seems to require a woman’s touch. I’ve been waiting for Lucinda to notice that Sarah Frances needs to start wearing a bra, but she hasn’t said anything yet. I guess I’ll need to bring it up.”

  Sam looked at his friend for a long moment. “I’m suddenly hoping that Cassie has a boy.”

  Joe slid his plate away from him, eyeing the boys in the corner again. “Hrm. You’d just be trading in one set of problems for another.”

  A rush of warm air fell over them again as the front door opened and two men in suits sauntered in. Joe averted his gaze and reached for his wallet. “Great. Just what I need this morning—a dose of Stinky Harden. I’m leaving.” He motioned for Brunelle to bring him the check.

  Sam stared openly at the two men waiting for a table to open up. “Why do you think he’s so hot to run for mayor all of a sudden? It’s not like he’s ever had any interest before.” He turned back to Joe. “He’s got the look of somebody who’ll play dirty—probably got that from all those years living in Atlanta. Not that he’ll be able to find any dirt on you. You’re so clean you squeak.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “I’m too busy to get into trouble. Kind of hard to do anything bad when you’ve got a small child wrapped around each leg.”

  Sam scooted his stool away from the counter and leaned back, pushing his plate away from him. “Well, if you’re looking for trouble, you won’t have to go that far. That Paris woman over at my place—good gravy, Joe. I can see why you felt you couldn’t leave her at Dad’s gas station.” He gave a low whistle to emphasize his words. “If I weren’t a happily married man, I might even be interested.”

  Joe almost spit out his coffee. “I’m not. She annoys me, that’s about it. And she’s hiding something. She claims she doesn’t come from anywhere and doesn’t have any family. How is that possible?”

  “And she paid her rent in cash. Yeah, I gotta agree with you there—she’s definitely hiding something. But I like her. I don’t think she’s trying to pull one over on us. I think she just wants to be left alone. But man, she is one good-looking woman.”

  Joe tried to flag down Brunelle one last time. “I’m not interested. I’m too busy and she’s not my type anyway. I’m not that desperate for a roll in the hay.”

  A voice piped up behind them. “What’s this about a roll in the hay? Joe Warner, I’m shocked to hear you speaking like that.”

  “Good morning, Stinky.” Joe threw a ten-dollar bill on the counter, no longer willing to wait for his check. “I was just leaving.” He scooted out his stool and stood.

  Stinky looked at him with mock disappointment, his round face looking deceptively cherubic. “What a shame. I thought I could join you and talk about why I’d make a much better mayor for Walton.”

  Joe moved past him. “Would love to, but I just remembered that I forgot to floss. See you later.”

  Sam followed, and when they got to the door, Joe turned around to see Stinky staring after him, a calculating look on his face. Thankfully, there was nothing of substance behind his comment regarding a roll in the hay, or he knew that Stinky would be all over it like white on rice, using it to his best advantage.

  Then the image of Suzanne Paris hit him so suddenly that he stopped, almost causing Sam to crash into his back. Stinky had just given him another reason to stay away from her. He shook his head as he held the door open for his friend. As if he even needed one more. Her sad, wary eyes and ridiculous toe ring were enough reasons for him.

  Suzanne stood facing the house, her eye focused in the viewfinder. She hugged the cold black camera with her hands, finding her comfort in this place of still pictures. This was her world—a world of perfection and noninvolvement, a world she could walk away from as soon as she’d snapped the picture and before her feet had the chance to leave footprints in the grass.

  She zoomed the lens to capture the delicate fan of the window over the front door, then moved in for a close-up of the wisteria vine climbing the mailbox with fragrant curves. A warm breeze raced across the front yard, making one of the rockers on the front porch creak. She took a few pictures of the empty chair, tempted to sit in it. But she knew if she did, she might never want to get up. There was something about this place that reminded her of that stuff she’d read about in a magazine this morning—kudzu. A leafy green vine that grew while you blinked, taking over old barns and fields in the course of a week. Already she’d found Walton—and the inhabitants she had already met—very much like kudzu vines. Suzanne looked down at her feet. She had to remember to keep them moving.

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made her turn around, and she spotted Lucinda sitting behind the wheel of an improbably fuchsia convertible. The sun sparkled off of cat’s-eye rhinestone glasses. Her bright red hair was piled high, the color clashing with the scarlet of her blouse. But nothing was as dazzling as the smile Lucinda sent her as she put the car in park. For all her flamboyance, Lucinda Madison was as genuine as they came.

  Suzanne waved and smiled in return, her enthusiasm waning slightly when she spotted the two car seats in the back. In one of them sat Amanda, the streaker from the gas station store, and next to her was the little boy with no fashion sense. However, it would seem that today his ensemble of pressed blue jeans and cotton pullover with the large fire truck emblazoned on the front had been chosen with a lot more care than the previous one.

  Lucinda climbed out of the car, groaning slightly. “My goodness, I’m creaking like a rusty hinge this morning. And please excuse me if I have soap bubbles flying out of my ears. I was awake until two a.m., up to my eyeballs in laundry detergent, washing clothes.” She turned toward the car and smiled at the two children in the backseat. “Harry and Amanda, I’m sure you remember Miz Paris from last night. Can you say hello?”

  They stared at her blankly, matching wide blue eyes scrutinizing her openly. Lucinda walked toward Suzanne. “They’re a little shy at first with strangers, but after they get to know you, you’ll be wishing for earplugs.”

  Suzanne held up her camera. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to put this inside and get my purse.”

  “Sure, honey. Take your time.”

  Suzanne raced inside. After hiding the camera under the bed and shoving her canvas bag on a high shelf in the closet, she pulled out several bills she’d stashed under a loosened corner of the rug and shoved them into her backpack.

  When she came outside, Amanda shouted, “Aunt Lu, I need to go potty.”

  Lucinda went to the car and unbuckled the car seat. “Can we use your bathroom, Suzanne? I’ll take her if you’ll watch Harry.”

  Nodding, she said, “Sure—but go upstairs. The one on the first floor is missing a toilet. I think it’s the one sitting in the backyard.”

  Amanda must have thought that uproariously funny, because she began snickering, holding her hand over her mouth.

  Lucinda gave her a gentle tap on her head. “I think somebody had a slice of silly pie for breakfast. Come on, let’s find that bathroom.”

  Harry and Suzanne were left alone to assess each other. Harry apparently found something lacking, because he began to wail as soon as Lucinda and Amanda disappeared behind the front door. Suzanne looked around for a reprieve, helpless. She tried speaking to the child, even reasoning with him, but he refused to be quiet. She glanced nervously at the nearby houses, wondering if anybody would call the police and charge her with cruelty to a minor.

  Near defeat, she made a face at him, complete with crossed eyes and her index finger tilting her nose up like a pig’s. His crying settled to soft hiccups. When she tied her hair on top of her head like a bow, he chuckled with a surprisingly deep-throated rumble.

  They were both smiling at
each other when Lucinda and Amanda emerged from the house, his tears the only telltale sign of any unpleasantness.

  Harry snorted, his chubby finger pushing at his nose, making Lucinda look at him oddly. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing along the children to the Piggly Wiggly. They didn’t have preschool today and Joe’s at work and the older children are at school. They won’t be any bother.”

  Suzanne slid into the passenger seat as Lucinda buckled the little girl into her car seat. “Please, don’t worry about me. I just appreciate the lift.” She examined the woman sitting next to her, noticing the surprisingly soft skin, with only fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. It was a beautiful face full of generosity and goodwill, sharpened slightly with what was undoubtedly a strong sense of intuition. Definitely a face she’d need to capture on film before she left.

  Lucinda settled herself behind the wheel and adjusted her seat belt before moving the car onto the street. “Don’t think anything of it. I’m just glad I could help.”

  “How come you don’t have pictures on your refrigerator?” Amanda’s voice piped up from the backseat.

  The question startled Suzanne. “I, um, I guess because I don’t have any.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then, “Don’t you have any children to make you pictures?”

  Suzanne turned to face her and shook her head. “Nope. It’s just me.”

  Lucinda sent her a quick glance. “Have you always been alone, honey?”

  Her hands plucked at her gauze skirt before she answered, “I . . . I don’t like talking about myself.”

  The older woman stared out the windshield. “I’m real good at keeping secrets and I promise I won’t tell anybody. But it seems to me you might could use somebody to talk to.” Her voice softened. “Is it man trouble?”