Jane Austen Girl - A Timbell Creek Contemporary Romance

by Inglath Cooper

  “Grier,” he said, her name ragged on his lips.

  “Will you hold me?”

  He folded her against him and leaned back against the headboard. “Forever if you want me to.”

  Lying there with her cheek against his chest, she wondered if even that might not be long enough.

  “We think we know a person. But we only know what we see. We can’t know what is hidden.”

  Grier McAllister – Blog at Jane Austen Girl

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  The funeral was simple. No service. Just a graveside memorial with exactly four people in attendance. Grier, her mother’s friend Hatcher, Bobby Jack and Andy.

  The pastor spoke what were supposed to be words of comfort, only to Grier, they weren’t. They felt empty and hollow.

  Among the few things recovered from her mother’s room at the retirement home had been a note requesting that this service be exactly what it was. Plain and to the point.

  She didn’t cry. She listened to the verses the pastor read, absorbing each word. She stood by the grave, dry-eyed while his words fell like a rain too late to save the harvest.

  Grier wanted to absorb them, take comfort in them, but the truth was she knew she didn’t deserve the comfort.

  When the service ended, the pastor walked over. “If there’s anything I can do for you,” he said, “please, just call.”

  “I appreciate that,” Grier said.

  Bobby Jack and Andy each hugged her, neither saying anything. She suspected they had no idea what to say.

  “Thank you for coming,” she managed. “I think I’ll stay a bit.”

  “We’ll wait for you,” Bobby Jack said.

  “No. Please. I’m fine. I’ll call you in a while.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, but she could see in his eyes that he was worried about her.

  Bobby Jack reached out then to where Hatcher stood just to the side of Grier and shook his hand. “Can we give you a ride back to town, sir?”

  Hatcher shook his head and said, “Thank you, Bobby Jack. But that yellow taxi over there’s for me.”

  They left the graveside then, heading for the truck, Bobby Jack reluctant, Andy slipping her arm through his as if to lead him on.

  Grier folded her arms across her chest and turned to Hatcher. “Thank you for coming today.”

  “Your mama and I got to be pretty close friends over the past couple of years.”

  “I’m glad she had you,” she said.

  Hatcher looked off across the graveyard and then with a troubled expression, said, “I might be overstepping my bounds here, but I can see you two didn’t get things tied up before she passed.”

  Grier looked away, feeling the instant sting of hot tears. “No. I guess we didn’t.”

  “We had a lot of long talks,” Hatcher said. “I think you should know your mama would have given anything to be able to go back and change some of her choices. But you know we don’t get to do that in this world.”

  “No, we don’t,” Grier said.

  “She loved you. And there wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t hear her say something about you. Something you used to like to do. Or something you were good at.”

  This surprised Grier. It would have been easier to think that her mother had closed her out of her thoughts in the years since she left Timbell Creek.

  Hatcher drew in a deep breath and leaned hard on his cane as if it weren’t easy for him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Just old.”

  “Would you like to sit for a minute?” Grier sensed that Hatcher wanted to talk, and she knew somehow that he was the last lifeline she would ever have to her mother.

  They sat on two folding chairs next to the casket, Grier holding Hatcher’s elbow as he cautiously lowered himself onto the seat.

  The sun felt warm on her face, and the sky was a beautiful clear robin’s egg blue. From somewhere, Grier had a flash of memory, a day very similar to this one when she and her mother had gone to the public beach on Clearwater Lake. Grier must have been five. Maybe six. This memory of her mother was one in which she had been so young with a beauty unmarked by the ravages of alcohol.

  “She told me a few things she never actually told you,” Hatcher said in his raspy voice.

  “What things?” she asked.

  “Did you know that she was accepted to the Atlanta School of Design?”

  Grier frowned and tilted her head. “No. What do you mean?”

  “Her senior year in high school. That was her dream, I guess. To be a designer. And she had planned to go there on scholarship, actually.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  He hesitated a few moments before saying, “Because she became pregnant with you. Your father, the boy she was dating, wanted her to. . .not have you, I guess. That wasn’t something she would ever do, she said. And at first she still planned to go to school. But right after she had you, your grandparents were killed in that car wreck, and your mama all of a sudden didn’t have anybody to help her. She let the scholarship go. I think maybe she thought in a couple of years she could go back to that dream. But it just didn’t work out that way. Your mama never touched a drop of alcohol until she was twenty-three or so. She went out on a date with some guy who basically got her drunk and took advantage of her. She said she hated what the alcohol did to her, but it was kind of like once that button was turned on, it would always get the best of her, even when she had every intention of resisting it. I don’t guess anyone can understand that better than I do. I had a good wife. Great kids. And I threw all of it away. I can’t even explain my own addiction to the stuff. Much less your mama’s. I just know what kind of hold it had on me. And from what she told me, the same is true of her. Being an alcoholic doesn’t excuse wrongdoing, and your mama did some serious suffering after you left home.”

  “That was two of us then,” Grier said softly.

  “I don’t doubt it. But she was a different woman from the one you knew who drank. I tried a bunch of times to get her to go up and see you. But then when she became sick, it really wasn’t an option anymore. I think she was too ashamed to face you.”

  Tears welled up in Grier’s eyes and tipped over to slide down her cheeks. “I wish I could—”

  Hatcher reached over and took her hand. “I know, honey,” he said. “But you can’t torture yourself with that for the rest of your life. Your mama understood why you left home. And why you never came back. She knew she was to blame for that. Sometimes, we don’t get to tie it all up with a pretty bow. But we need to make our peace with it. And I think Maxine did that. She forgave herself. Maybe there will be some comfort in that for you.”

  The sobs came up out of her before she realized they were even there. Once they started, Grier had no power to stop them. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and cried like a broken-hearted child.

  Hatcher reached his arm around her shoulders and tucked her up against him, smoothing his arthritic hand across her hair. “There now. It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if people never

  had to feel sadness?”

  Andy – age eight

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Bobby Jack and Andy rode the first ten minutes back to town in complete silence.

  “That was really sad,” Andy said, staring out the window.

  “Yeah,” Bobby Jack agreed. “It was.”

  “Why do you think Grier didn’t come home for so long?”

  “Some really hard stuff happened to her that shouldn’t have, things that didn’t have to happen.”

  “You mean something Ms. McAllister did?”

  “Yeah,” Bobby Jack said.

  Andy was quiet for a couple of minutes. “I guess people shouldn’t stay mad at each other about stuff. Even when it seems big at the time.”

  Bobby Jack glanced over at her, saw the serious exp
ression on her face and said, “No, honey, I don’t guess we should.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. For being so mean to you.”

  “Andy. About what you heard me say to your mama on the phone that night. . .you’re the best thing that ever happened to either one of us. Nothing else matters except that.”

  She glanced out the window, bit her lip. “You mean that?”

  “With all my heart. And I’m sorry for saying anything that might make you think otherwise.”

  She leaned over then and put her head on his shoulder. “I forgive you.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder, smoothed his hand across her silky hair. “And about that contest. I might have been a little unreasonable.”

  “No. Actually, I think you were right. That contest isn’t something I would ever have wanted to do except for-” She broke off and then added, “I kind of wanted to show Mama I could do something like that.”

  “I know,” he said.”

  “I’m going to drop out,” she said.

  “You don’t have to do that, Andy.”

  “I want to.” She looked at him and smiled a soft smile. “Besides, I’ve already had a date with the duke.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, smiling bigger. “I have.”

  “What does Kyle think about that?”

  “I doubt that he would know without asking one of his cheerleader girlfriends.”

  “Is that jealousy I hear?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s not.”

  “You forget I’ve known you both since you were as high as my knee. And I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not the same Kyle anymore.”

  “Maybe he thinks you’re not the same Andy.”

  She was quiet for a couple of miles, and he could see she was thinking about what he’d said.

  “You and mom really ought to mend your fences.”

  Bobby Jack’s response was nearly automatic. But Andy was right. Life was short. Whatever had happened between him and Priscilla, Andy was smack dab in the middle of it. He’d never thought about it until now, but it could not be an easy position to be in. Being the tug rope between the two people she loved most.

  “I’m sorry, Andy,” he said. “I think your mama and I both need to grow up a little.”

  “Where each other is concerned, maybe just a little.”

  “When the night is dark and seems as if

  it will never end, just remember the morning is never far ahead. Light will triumph.”

  From a book Grier once read on hope and healing

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  When Grier let herself into her room at the Inn later that afternoon, she found a vase of white roses on the dresser. She scooped Sebbie up off the bed, gave him a longer than normal hug and then went over to pull the card from its perch among the stems.

  I want to be here for you. Whatever it is you need. Just call me and I’ll come.

  Bobby Jack

  Grier wanted to. She really wanted to. So much so that she had to force herself not to pick up her phone and call him right then.

  But what would be the point, really? Bobby Jack lived here. She no longer did. And she didn’t know how she could ever belong here again. The sooner she left and got back to the place where she did belong, the better for everyone.

  Grier felt as if everything she had come to believe about herself was completely wrong. She had run away all those years ago for reasons that anyone would understand. She knew that. And yet she also knew that she would live the rest of her life knowing that her mother had asked for forgiveness and she had not given it to her. For that, Grier didn’t think she would ever forgive herself.

  IT WAS NEARLY nine o’clock when the knock at the door woke her. She sat up on the bed, still wearing the clothes she’d worn to the funeral that afternoon.

  Sebbie barked once. She rubbed his head and got up to see who it was.

  Gill stood in the hallway, a box of chocolate in one hand, a bottle of red wine in the other. “I figured one or the other might help a little.”

  She tried to smile, but felt her failure. “Thank you, Gill. That’s really nice.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Um, I’m okay, I guess. How is everything going with the selection process? I’m really sorry for dropping the ball.”

  “Everyone understands. And it’s going fine. One of our favorites dropped out though.”

  “Who?”

  “Andy.”

  The news surprised her at first, but then, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all. It had never seemed like something Andy wanted to do for herself. And maybe it was best that she’d figured that out. “I think she might have won it,” Grier said.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  “So what else is left?”

  “They’ll announce the winner in the morning, and then it’ll be back to New York to film the rest of the show. I don’t think we’ll need you again here, but we’ll need you back in the city to tie it all up.”

  “No problem,” Grier said. “I’m heading back tomorrow.” The words felt final. And sad somehow.

  “You’ll be all right to drive?”

  “I’m good.”

  “If you change your mind, I can cancel my seat on the plane. I’ll be happy to drive you.”

  “I really appreciate that, Gill. But I think it will do me good to have the drive to sort a few things out.”

  “Okay. Well, you have my number if you need me.”

  “Thanks. Goodnight.”

  “We need each other. Nothing more

  important to admit than that.”

  A line from Bobby Jack’s favorite song

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Bobby Jack had been calling her for three hours. Apparently, she had her phone turned off because voice mail picked up immediately.

  By the time he pulled up in front of the Inn, he’d convinced himself that something was wrong. He knew how hard Grier was being on herself, and he’d conjured up at least six different scenarios by the time he got to her door.

  He knocked once, hard. “Grier? Are you there?”

  Two full minutes passed before she finally came to the door. Her hair had come down from the clip she’d had in it earlier in the day. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she’d been crying.

  “I’ve been worried,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t really want to talk to anyone.”

  “And I just needed to know you were okay.”

  She nodded, pressing her lips together, and then tears welled up, and she was suddenly crying and shaking her head. “Bobby Jack, please. I’m kind of a mess.”

  “All the more reason for me to stay,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He turned the lock, then led her over to the bed where they sat on the edge. “Let me take care of you,” he said. “Okay?”

  She turned her face into his shoulder as if she didn’t want him to see her pain. “Don’t be kind to me,” she said. “I think I might actually break if you are.”

  “Then let me be here to pick up the pieces.”

  “I don’t deserve—”

  “Yes, you do. So let me.”

  And with a small sob, she did.

  “Do you think we might kiss each other sometime and if neither one of us likes it, just go back to being best friends?”

  Kyle to Andy – Fifth grade

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Andy walked into the kitchen to find a note from her daddy taped to the refrigerator.

  Have gone to check on Grier. I have my phone on if you need me.

  Andy heard the rattle of Kyle’s truck in the driveway. She started not to answer the door, but her own truck was parked outside, and she suspected he would just keep knocking until she answered.

  She yelled, “Come in,” from the kitchen, and he did, walking through the foyer to stop in the arched entra
nce with a look she’d never seen on his face before.

  “Is your daddy here?”

  “No, he isn’t. Why do you want to see him?”

  “I don’t want to see him,” he said. He walked straight to her, slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her up, setting her firmly on the kitchen counter.

  “Kyle, what in the world are. . . have you lost your mind?” She tried for outrage and heard her own failure.

  “No,” he said. “I haven’t. And be quiet.” He leaned in then and kissed her, exactly the way she’d always imagined him kissing her.

  Every thought of protest in her head shut down like the nightlights at the high school football stadium after a game. She put her hands on his chest, his very wide, very well-muscled chest. Slid them around his neck, snagging her fingers into his dark hair.

  They kissed until they both had to stop for air, pulling back to look at each other, breathing fast and heavy.

  “Do you know how many years I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked, looking straight into her eyes.

  She shook her head. “How many?”

  “Too many,” he said. He ducked in, renewed the kiss, and Andy felt the heat of it all the way down to her toes.

  “Why’d you wait so long?” she said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

  “Heck if I know. I guess I was intimidated.”

  “Intimidated?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You can be intimidating.”

  She laughed then. “That is like the very last reason on earth I would have expected you to give.”

  “Andy. You’re smart. And beautiful. And you’ve got a mind of your own.”

  “That Jane Austen girl thing then,” she said.

  “My Jane Austen girl,” he said. “Not his.”