After the Rain

by Karen White

  “I think everybody does.” She spoke slowly, trying to find the words to explain something that nobody had ever asked her about before. “I do, but mostly because I’m not used to being around lots of people. I think it also has to do with creativity. Most creative people need their space, and that’s fine. Just don’t go finding your space when you’re supposed to be in school. I call that counterproductive.” She spotted a small stack of folders on the porch, next to Maddie. “So, what did you bring to show me?”

  Maddie picked up the stack and held them on her lap, looking shyly at Suzanne. “Remember in the truck you told us you were a freelance photographer? Well, I take pictures, too. I mean, I know I’m probably not that good, but my art teacher at school says I am and that I should enter some contests. I just don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

  Suzanne looked expectantly at the stack clutched tightly in Maddie’s lap. “So you want me to take a look at them.”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind. I mean, just glance at them, you know. Just let me know if I’d be embarrassing myself if I let anybody else see them. Like in a contest.”

  Suzanne repressed a smile at the earnestness of Maddie’s expression. “Sure.” She extended her hand.

  Almost reluctantly Maddie handed over the folders. With deference, Suzanne opened the first folder and began thumbing through a collection of black-and-white glossy prints. The first few were obviously school assignments done without real imagination or skill but still with an impressive eye for shape and lighting.

  It wasn’t until she reached the bottom folder that she felt she held in her hands the true account of Maddie’s talent. Suzanne stared at the picture on top for a long moment, and she found herself holding her breath, the scent of the boxwoods suddenly overwhelming. The photo was of a dinner table completely set with plates, food, and silverware, eight chairs surrounding the table. Seven of the chairs were occupied, but the faces were deliberately blurred, hiding their occupants’ identities. The focus was the chair at the foot of the table. It was the only object in the photo that was completely focused and still—and heartbreakingly empty. It made her want to weep.

  There were more, each one showing a depth of emotion rarely seen in those as young as Maddie. It was as if in exchange for a mother’s life this gift had been given to her, a poignant recompense for a lifetime of absence.

  When she thought she could trust her voice again, Suzanne said, “These are good. Really good. Your art teacher’s right.” She looked at Maddie, the young girl’s face open and vulnerable. “Did your teacher tell you how to take pictures like this?”

  Quietly she said, “My mama gave me my first camera and showed me how to use it. She liked to take pictures, too, and was making an album for me when she died.”

  Suzanne looked back down at the photographs. She had never before had the desire to help someone, to give of herself without any expectation of receiving something in return. But there was something about Maddie Warner, in her quiet gravity, that tugged at Suzanne’s heart. Maybe it was because she did identify with the girl’s struggling soul. Or maybe it was because her feelings were only temporary, and any bonds would be easily and quickly severed as soon as she packed her bag and left Walton when the time came for a change.

  She looked into those beautiful green eyes, so different from Joe’s but not like the blue eyes of her siblings, either. Smiling at Maddie, she said, “If you’d like, I could help you with a few things. Your content is wonderful, but I think you could stand to practice a little more with lighting and shadow. And I could teach you a few techniques that I’ve used on jobs that you probably wouldn’t learn in art class.” She stacked the photos back into the folder, jostling them against her lap to straighten them. “But only if you’ve got the time after dinner—uh, supper—and only if your father says it’s okay.”

  She thought Maddie would explode with excitement. Impulsively she hugged Suzanne, startling her into knocking the folders off her lap. With unbridled enthusiasm, Maddie jumped up and began gathering the photos. “Oh, thank you. I . . . thank you! I know it will be okay with my dad, but I’ll ask him anyway. Can we get started tomorrow? I have to take Sarah Frances to basketball practice, but I’ll be back by seven. Should I come here?”

  Suzanne couldn’t stop her smile. “Sure, that works fine. Just make sure you check with your dad first.”

  “All right. Bye!” She ran down the path, forgetting the teenage amble that appeared to be so popular with her age group.

  After she slammed the front gate, Suzanne called after her, “One more thing—don’t smoke. If I ever smell smoke on your breath, the deal’s off, all right?”

  The girl stopped, her hand on her hip, and a petulant expression on her face. “What’s your problem with cigarettes? It’s not like I smoke every day.”

  Suzanne tried to hide her grin as she recalled the image of Maddie choking on the cigarette. “It’ll rot your lungs and it’s addictive. I have a real problem with anything that causes a person to lose control. Just don’t do it.”

  Maddie turned back around, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you later.” She walked a few more steps before calling back over her shoulder, “Thanks again,” then disappeared into the late-afternoon sun.

  Suzanne stayed where she was for a little while longer, playing with the necklace around her throat and wondering if she had ever shown such unbridled enthusiasm over anything. Maybe a couple of times, before she was fourteen. But never afterward.

  Eventually, she picked up her boxes and went inside to her solitary supper.

  Joe strolled into the Dixie Diner at eleven thirty-seven exactly, just in time to beat the noon rush. He scanned the sparse late-morning crowd, looking for the tall, slim form of a woman wearing artsy-fartsy clothes and badly dyed hair. Lucinda had said Suzanne took her lunch at this time, and he could find her here. He half hoped she wasn’t, remembering the scene in the lingerie shop, but knew he had to speak with her eventually.

  He spotted her at a booth by herself, huddled over a chicken-salad sandwich and reading the Atlanta paper. She wore her aloneness like a shield, making him even more reluctant to approach her. Moving forward, he stood next to her. “Is it okay if I sit?”

  She looked at him with startled eyes, and he wondered for a moment if she would bolt. She swallowed quickly, followed by a gulp of iced tea, before answering, “Uh, sure.”

  He slid in and folded his hands in front of him, his right hand playing with the wedding ring on his left. He hadn’t taken it off his finger since Harriet had put it there, and he could see no reason to stop wearing it now. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  A look of panic settled over her face again as she quickly closed the newspaper and shoved it onto the seat beside her, out of sight. Brunelle came by with two pitchers of tea and smiled at them, and something in her eyes made Joe squirm. It was as if she was pairing him with the woman across from him. He pushed back against his seat to separate himself as far as possible from Suzanne.

  “Would you like more tea?”

  Suzanne nodded. “Yes, please. And make it unsweet. I just can’t get used to the sweet tea that everybody around here seems to like.”

  Brunelle nodded and filled Suzanne’s glass, then moved to the next booth, a wide smile on her face.

  Joe watched Suzanne as she dropped the unsqueezed lemon on her plate and took a delicate sip from her glass. “You’re definitely not from around here.”

  She looked at him somberly. “I never said I was.”

  He looked back at her with unflinching eyes. “But you never said where you were from, either.”

  “I said I moved around a lot. That’s pretty much all there is to it.”

  A shadow seemed to pass over her eyes, making her seem more vulnerable than defensive. What was it about this woman that made him want to reassure her? He still wasn’t sure if he even liked her.

  “Look. I’m not here to give you the third degree. I wante
d to talk to you about Maddie.”

  Her mouth twitched. “Why? Does she need a bra, too?”

  An involuntary laugh escaped him. “No. I think she’s all squared away with her unmentionables for now. But thanks for asking.” He noticed the sparkle had returned to her unusual gray eyes, and he relaxed. “It’s about you helping her with her picture-taking. I’m not sure if an hour a week with you is—”

  She sat up straight, interrupting him in midsentence. “Oh.” She paused for a moment, like a strong wind gathering momentum. “I want you to know that your daughter is incredibly talented with her photography—or ‘picture-taking,’ as you call it. Even if you object to me giving her some pointers, I do think you should consider allowing her to pursue this interest. She could really go somewhere with it.” She paused again to take a breath. “I’m disappointed that you don’t take her talent seriously.”

  He stared at her, taken aback. “I beg your pardon? I never said any such thing.”

  “Well, you . . . you said you weren’t sure about your daughter . . .”

  He watched as the fire faded from her cheeks. “I actually came here to thank you, but I think she needs more than just once a week of instruction. She’s really fired up about this. I don’t know what you said to Maddie, but, well, she’s excited about something for the first time since her mother died.”

  Suzanne tilted her head, as if trying to understand a foreign language. “She is?”

  He placed his palms down on the table and stared at their backs, the gold band shining under the lights. “Yeah. Her mother died. . . .”

  “I know.” She said it quickly, eager to move on, like touching a bruise briefly so as not to make it hurt.

  Joe continued. “Well, Maddie seemed to lose interest in most things. She pretty much stuck to home, helping out with the younger ones.” He sighed and looked up. “I guess it’s my fault for letting her and not pushing her out more.”

  Brunelle stopped by the booth again to clear the dishes and leave the bill. Joe put his hand over it just as Suzanne reached for it. Brunelle saw their hands together and smiled again, making Joe groan inwardly. Brunelle was better than CNN when it came to broadcasting late-breaking news.

  Suzanne jerked her hand back. “I’ll get it. I’ve got money.”

  Joe leaned forward to pull out his wallet from his back pocket. “That’s not the point. I’d like to pay you for your time with Maddie. And this”—he held up the bill—“is just a thank-you.” He shoved a twenty and the bill over to the edge of the table. “I must admit I’m surprised, though. I thought you didn’t like children.”

  She frowned. “I never said that.”

  They stared at each other evenly for a long moment before Suzanne spoke again. “Well, then. I guess we’re even. Maybe we should both stop getting our exercise from jumping to conclusions and reaching for answers.”

  Joe laughed out loud, making heads turn in their direction. He spotted the editor of the Walton Sentinel, Hal Newcomb, huddled over a booth with Stinky Harden. They were both staring at him and Suzanne with barely suppressed curiosity. His amusement died quickly. This woman had a method of disarming him in the most unexpected way. Maybe it was the way she delivered her one-liners broadside and without the hint of a smile that caught him off guard. He felt almost grateful.

  A shadow fell over their booth. “Well, hey, Mayor Joe. I figure you need to keep hearing that name as much as you can for now. Won’t need it after the elections.”

  Joe felt a throbbing begin in his temple as he watched the fleshy man in the seersucker suit wink and turn his interest to Suzanne.

  She had grabbed the newspaper and was trying to slide by unnoticed out of the booth.

  “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”

  Stinky held out a meaty hand, making Suzanne pause at the edge of her bench. Slowly she placed her own hand in his and stood, towering over Stinky by at least a head.

  “I’m Charles Harden, soon to be mayor of this town.” His gaze took in the tall woman, pausing longer than necessary on her chest. He still gripped her hand, and Joe had the strangest urge to yank Suzanne away.

  “Suzanne Paris,” she said in a clipped tone. “Nice to meet you.”

  Still holding her hand in his, Stinky asked, “I hear you’re new in town, but I’m having the hardest time placing your accent.” He chuckled in his studied self-deprecating way. “I admit to being a bit of an expert on accents, but I have to say that I’m completely baffled. Where are you from?”

  Joe saw through Stinky’s dramatics and wanted to signal Suzanne to be careful. Because if she had something to hide, his mayoral opponent would dig it out like a raccoon in a garbage can.

  Suzanne didn’t flinch. “I’ve moved around all my life, so I can’t really say I’m from anywhere in particular.” She hoisted her backpack on her shoulder in an obvious effort to end the conversation.

  Stinky persisted. “So, how do you know Mayor Joe? Are you old friends?”

  Joe interrupted. “Nope. Just new acquaintances.” He glanced at his watch. “And we both have to get back to work. Wonderful seeing you again, Stinky. But you might want to go a little lighter on the aftershave next time. I think my eyebrows are singed.”

  Ignoring Joe, Stinky raised Suzanne’s hand to his lips and placed a quick kiss on it. “May I take this opportunity, then, to welcome you to Walton? I’m sure this town appreciates a beautiful new face. I know I do.”

  She pulled her hand away but plastered a smile on her face. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”

  Stinky’s gaze slid down to her chest, then back to her face again. Joe clenched his fist, ready to send one flying. “Actually, I know the perfect way to get you introduced around town. Our Founder’s Day Dance is next Saturday. It would do me proud to be your escort.”

  Knowing his bid for reelection would be over as soon as the first punch landed on Stinky’s well-fed and pompous face, Joe grabbed Suzanne’s arm and pulled her toward the door. He called back over his shoulder, “She can’t—she’s already going with me.”

  Oblivious of Suzanne’s protests or to all the heads turned toward them, he pushed her in front of him and led her out the door.

  CHAPTER 6

  Suzanne pulled her arm away as soon as they left the restaurant. “You’ve got a lot of nerve dragging me out of there like a belligerent child.” She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. “Next time you want to fight over toys in the sandbox, leave me out of it.”

  She stalked off in the direction of Lucinda’s Lingerie.

  “Hey, wait a minute. I’m sorry. Really.” His footsteps pounded behind her until he caught up and stopped in front of her. “That was a bit childish, I admit, but Stinky sort of brings out the worst in me. Besides, you should probably be grateful.”

  She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her way. “What for?”

  “For saving you from an evening spent with Stinky Harden. I can’t speak for myself, but I’ve heard others refer to dates with him as on a par with surgery without anesthesia. I think one girl had to spend time in an institution after a single evening. They say she was bored into a coma.”

  Suzanne stopped, trying hard not to smile. “Then thank you. Now, I’ve got to get back to work.” She headed up the two brick steps in front of the shop and tugged on the door handle.

  “Then I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday.”

  She turned around and froze. “Excuse me?”

  “For the Founder’s Day Dance.”

  She blinked twice. “I don’t think so. I already have a date with a book and my couch.”

  He put a foot on the bottom step. “Look, I’m not any crazier about going to this thing with you than you are, but I can’t show up without you now. It would look bad.”

  “That’s your problem.” She turned the door handle.

  “All right. I’ll be honest with you. Maddie’s going to be going with some high school jock, and the only rea
son I’m going is to chaperone her date. She’d find it a lot less objectionable if you were with me.”

  Suzanne stopped and faced him again. “But I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Ask Lucinda. Between her and Cassie Parker, they’ll come up with something.”

  He was close enough that she could see the fine lines at the corners of his hazel eyes. They were definitely laugh lines. He didn’t laugh a lot now. The lines were merely old ghosts of past joys, and they softened her defense. “Why are you asking me?”

  He shrugged. “Because I’m grateful to you. Because of Maddie.”

  “I see. I’m a pity date. How about I just pretend I’m sick and stay home?”

  He touched her hand, then dropped it just as quickly. “That’s not what I meant. Besides, you might surprise yourself by having a good time.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “And you won’t have to dance with Stinky Harden and end up in an institution.”

  She rolled her eyes, making him laugh. Sobering, he said, “And Maddie says you’re lonely. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to get out.”

  She pulled her shoulders back. “Just because I like to be alone doesn’t mean that I’m lonely.”

  Two men wearing overalls came out of the Dixie Diner and passed in front of Lucinda’s Lingerie, waving at both Joe and Suzanne. Joe watched them as they walked away, then turned back to Suzanne. “Maybe it’s not so much that you like being alone. Maybe it’s just what you’re used to and you don’t know any other way to be.”

  Without answering him, she pulled the door open, the scent of rose petal sachets drifting out onto the sidewalk.

  “I’ll see you at six on Saturday, then.”

  She let the door slam behind her.

  Maddie sat in the hair-washing chair at Bitsy’s House of Beauty with Aunt Lucinda on her left and her aunt Cassie on her right. Being with them was the closest thing she had to being with her mother. Not the same thing at all, but as close as she’d ever get. And better than just having a dad. Maddie winced, thinking again of the birds-and-the-bees speech her father had attempted when she turned sixteen, before enlisting the help of her aunt Cassie.