Coming Unglued

by Rebeca Seitz

  “I know. I told you last night, she was at the diner with Darin—shoot, hang on a second.” Joy listened to Tandy shushing Cooper. The basset hound’s bark sounded like a cannon report in a closed room. “Anyway, she was in the diner but might as well have been on the moon for all the interaction I got.”

  “No, I mean, I know she’s in trouble.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I got to the SI offices this morning, and she was already here.”

  “How early?”

  “Before eight.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Sitting at her desk, working.”

  “Okay, that’s not like her, but I’m not sure it means she’s deep enough for us to intervene.”

  “And did I mention the hot stranger she just dashed out of here to meet?”

  “You may have forgotten that tidbit.” Joy heard the frown in Tandy’s voice. “How hot?”

  “The flowers were bending their heads in adoration as he passed.”

  “Oh my word. You’re right. She’s in trouble. Are you sure she left to meet him?”

  “I suppose it could be a coincidence, but he stood out there staring at the store, talking on his cell at the same time that Kendra got a call. Just after he hung up, she left.”

  “You haven’t seen him since?”

  “No.”

  Tandy’s sigh was loud over the phone wire. “What set her off? She hasn’t had an episode like this in, well, I guess I don’t know the last time.”

  “You were still in Florida. It’s been nearly two years. I thought maybe that was the last of them.”

  “Wait, I remember that. Meg called to put me on alert to come home, but then she said you and she handled it.”

  “Not exactly. The guy was employed as a truck driver, so he was only here for a few days. When he left, she came back to her senses.”

  “Maybe the hot stranger is another truck driver.”

  “Putting aside the fact that we shouldn’t be all right with any inappropriate man, I’m fairly certain that truck drivers do not walk around Stars Hill wearing the latest Tommy Bahamas and a Sig Sauer watch.”

  “You saw his watch?”

  “I think you’ve lost focus.”

  “Remind me to put more thought into my wardrobe when I’m around you.”

  “Your wardrobe is fine. I would have told you if anything was amiss. Although you could spend a bit more time on your nails.”

  “I’m starting a business. My nails are the least of my worries.”

  “You might reconsider that when your wedding day arrives. It will be here before you know it.”

  “How did we go from Kendra having a meltdown to my nails needing attention?”

  “We’re just good like that.”

  “Very funny. Okay, I feel a scrapping night coming on.”

  “You call Meg. I’ll be at the house around six tonight. I’ll need to make arrangements for Scott’s dinner.”

  “I can’t believe you still cook that man multicourse meals.”

  “He puts in a long, hard day. And I like cooking. What’s there to disbelieve?”

  “You’re weird.”

  “I love you, too. Call Meg.”

  “Will do. See ya tonight.”

  “Bye.” Joy touched the button on her earpiece and took stock of the display window. Bright orange and red zinnias sprouted from a Tiffany vase that she’d placed in the corner. Scrapbooking layouts were at varying heights, their numerous patterns and colors lending a crazy, party feel to the look. Joy bobbed her head and crept down out of the window. Much better.

  She packed leftover odds and ends back into the boxes, then hauled them out to her car. At least one thing in life was going according to plan—unlike her desire to have started a family a year ago. What was taking so long? Other women got pregnant the month they started trying, but not her. Here they were, twelve months into trying, and still the stick stayed stubbornly white every single month. It wasn’t fair. Her own sisters were proof of women’s ability to get pregnant even when they weren’t trying. Even when the last thing in the world they needed or wanted was a baby.

  What kind of God lets that happen, then doesn’t give a baby to the ones who desperately want one?

  Joy shook her head. Good heavens, she was standing stock still in the parking lot. With a sigh she got into the car.

  “Honey,” she could hear Scott’s sweet, reassuring voice in her mind, “you’ve got to stop worrying. Worrying only makes this harder.”

  He was right. She knew he was. The doctor told them that stress would make conceiving more difficult, but how was she supposed to not worry? What woman in her right mind would look at twelve months of failure and not experience at least a twinge of doubt?

  The time to see a fertility specialist had arrived. Scott wouldn’t be happy, and he’d buck at her decision, but he’d eventually go. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy.

  And right now only a baby could do that.

  * * *

  TANDY LAY ON the bed she’d had since being adopted by Marian and Jack, staring at the ceiling and petting Cooper’s big basset head. Cooper snored softly, lost in a doggie dreamland where he probably chased cats and birds and won.

  Kendra was off somewhere, right now, with a strange man. What if they were in an accident? What if she and whoever this guy was ran their car off a bridge or were hit by an out-of-control semi? Would anyone know to call Daddy? Or a sister? What was Kendra thinking?

  Tandy punched the speed dial on her phone and held it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Meg, it’s Tandy.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Four words. I said four whole words.”

  “Yeah, four words dripping in sadness. What’s wrong? Did Clay do something? Did Kendra do something?”

  “Looks like she’s falling further than we thought.” Tandy conveyed what Joy had seen at the office.

  “That sounds bad.”

  “Mm-hmm. Can you be here at six? I’m calling a scrapping night.”

  “Yep. Have you called Kendra yet?”

  “No. You think she’d answer? If Joy’s right, then she’s with that man right now.”

  “All the more reason to call. Interrupt whatever might be going on and give her a dose of reality.”

  “Good point. Okay, I’ll call her now. See you tonight.”

  “See ya.” Tandy punched the End button to ensure the call had disconnected, then dialed the shortcut number for Kendra. Joy was right: Her nails looked bad. She rolled her eyes—Now is not the time to think of your manicure—and held the phone up to her ear.

  “Kendra Sinclair.”

  “Hey, Ken, it’s me.”

  “Hey, me. What’s wrong? You sound down.”

  Because you’re probably sitting there with a strange man whose morals are lower than a slug. “A little. I’m calling a scrapping night. Can you be here around six?”

  “I’m not sure. Let me check my book.”

  Tandy heard muffled voices. Her book. Right. More like Kendra was checking with her mystery man to see if their little date, or whatever it was, would be over by six.

  “I should be able to make that.”

  Oh, goodie. You’ll be done with loser boy by then. “Great.”

  “Something wrong with the wedding?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I must be tired or catching your low blood sugar.”

  “Right. Well, see you tonight.”

  * * *

  KENDRA SNAPPED HER phone closed and turned her head. She’d caught a glimpse of herself in the visor mirror and liked the contrast of her dark spirals on the light-tan headrest. From the look on his face, Harrison enjoyed the view as well.

  She stifled a grin. His eyes were always on her, cataloging her every move. Her self-awareness heightened with each passing second.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Which sister was that?”

  “Tandy.”

 
“Ah, the redhead, right?”

  Kendra nodded. So nice to be known, to know that he listened when she talked about her family.

  “So what’s a scrapping night, and tell me again why it’s important that you be there instead of with me?”

  The air between them crackled at his reference to the night. Memories of intimate conversations shared beneath a star-studded sky made her breath quicken. “Only dire emergencies—think death or disfigurement—are grounds for missing a scrapping night.”

  “You have to go every time somebody wants to scrap?”

  “No, no, of course not. Just when someone calls a scrapping night. When a sister says, ‘I’m calling a scrapping night,’ it means she needs to talk about a problem or get something off her chest.”

  “Oh, kind of like calling an intervention or something.”

  “A little like that, yeah.”

  “Hmm.”

  The silence grew as they stared at each other. So much possibility in the air, a plethora of opportunity to fail or fly.

  Harrison was fire. Hadn’t she learned long ago that playing with that was dangerous? But Kendra wasn’t dumb. She knew the inevitable burn was coming; she just didn’t care.

  Or maybe I deserve a little burn every now and then.

  Nerves snaked their way along her spine as she stared out the windshield. The field before her, awash with high waves of cornstalks, held such beauty. A majestic oak rose in its midst, almost lording itself over the crop. Parked here, on a slight rise, she could make out the undulation of earth, see the incremental rise and fall of the plants as the gentle breeze made their golden tassels sway, as if the stalks were breathing in the moisture-heavy air around them.

  “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.”

  Momma’s voice! Kendra’s heart skipped.

  “If we’re silent, Kendra, even the rocks will cry out with their praise for the Lord.”

  Momma had loved how Kendra saw the world with an artist’s eye. She’d point out the presence of a Creator as they drove down the two-lane highway to home or walked down Lindell together smelling potted petunias.

  Momma. Such a good woman.

  Good but gone.

  Kendra looked across the field again, this time seeing only rows of plants. The magic of art had gone.

  “Your face is breathtaking.”

  She turned her head at Harrison’s husky whisper. “What?” Say it again.

  “I know it sounds like a line, but it’s true. When you look out there,” he pointed toward the landscape, “you go to another place, and your face takes my breath.”

  Her heart filled with his words. Words that conveyed how special she was. But he must not know her need for him. Men didn’t like to be needed, only wanted. Sylvia’s boyfriends had illustrated that lesson time and time again. The second Sylvia’s gaze turned from adoration to need, Kendra began counting the days until they woke up alone again.

  She’d never minded when her birth mother’s boyfriends left. It was easier that way; she breathed better with the knowledge that her nights would be uninterrupted and her days filled with silence. But Sylvia would always find another man, a new person to confirm what her mirror showed less and less of as each day’s hard living etched itself on her face. Sylvia was born with beauty but had squandered it with bad living.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Harrison’s hand brushed her face, and Kendra realized a tear had snaked its way down her cheek.

  She ducked her head and didn’t meet his gaze. Adoration. Not need. “No, no. Just—” she thought fast—“overwhelmed by the beauty of the surroundings.”

  “Hmm, me too.” He took his hand away, and she tried not to miss it. This thing between them was thick, a pull of something that she couldn’t quite place. Maybe God.

  No, that can’t be right. Her gaze snaked over to the simple gold band on Harrison’s finger, and her stomach went cold. No, not God.

  Yet this felt so right. So very, very right. How could something that felt this right be wrong? She pushed the feeling away, stuffing it in a corner of her heart with all the other feelings she wasn’t ready to analyze, and turned to Harrison.

  “How was your drive down? I can’t believe you came all the way to Stars Hill.” For me.

  He shrugged. “It’s just an hour.”

  She tried to keep the disappointment from her face. Did he say that so she’d know she wasn’t that important? Or because he was trying to hide how into her he was?

  “Still, you’ve never made it before. Did something happen?”

  “I was sitting at my desk, listening to that radio station on iTunes I told you about. Remember? The jazz one?”

  She smiled.

  “And that Al Green song came on.”

  Butterflies floated in her stomach as she remembered the night at B. B. King’s blues club in Nashville when she sang for him. She hadn’t known she was singing for him, but as soon as their eyes met, she knew. Their shared pain drew them together more powerfully than any narcotic and just as addictive. In his eyes lay the truth of the words she sang. How can you mend a broken heart? How can you stop the rain from falling down?

  The more she sang, the farther forward he had leaned in his seat and the stronger their bond became until, by the end of the song, it seemed only natural to put the microphone back in its stand, walk across the room, and sit down at his table.

  “Six months since you sang that song, doll,” his fingertips were soft across her face, “and threw my world for a loop.”

  “This is crazy, Harry. We both know how dumb this is.”

  “And yet I’m still coming after you, chasing you down the highway to Small Town, USA, just to get a few more minutes of conversation.”

  “Does she know where you are?”

  Pain filled his eyes but went away so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “She thinks I’m still at work, I guess. That song came on, and I just couldn’t sit there anymore. I had to come find you and see if I had made you something you aren’t.”

  “And?”

  “My mind can’t do you justice.” His fingers played with her curls, and she leaned into his hand. Their one kiss, three months ago the night she thought she’d ended this, was etched into her brain. A wrong kiss. Of course it was wrong, no matter how perfect it felt. And she wouldn’t do that again. Couldn’t do that again. The guilt had nearly been their undoing.

  But sitting here, just talking … what could be wrong with that? Just words, simple words, between two souls that had gone out into the world and been hurt by it. Nobody getting hurt, nobody the wiser.

  If only that had the ring of truth.

  “Harry, what keeps you coming? I thought we decided to end these get-togethers before she found out.”

  He dropped his hand and sat back in the seat, studying her. “I can’t stop, Kendra. It’s too soon to tell you words that I want to tell you. I’ve only known you a few months. Who can know a person well in a few months’ time? It’s too soon. I’m crazy for even thinking them. But when I’m with you, even when I’m not with you, I think them. And I can’t get them out of my head. I can’t get this out of my head. You.” He shook his head. “It’s just too soon, and I can’t wrap my mind around it.”

  He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her, but still she drank in the words. “Too soon for what?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  Yes, she did. But maybe if he said it, they could talk the situation through. “I’m not sure I do.”

  The tortured look on his face faded into a lazy grin.

  Do not kiss this man. You’ll ruin the best conversation you’ve ever had in your life.

  He leaned toward her, and the smell of his spicy aftershave wafted through the small space between them. Instinctively she drew in a deep lungful, needing to have some part of him. He stopped just short of her, their eyes barely two inches apart.

  “I can’t figure this out, Kendra. For the life of me, I ca
n’t get control. I see you, and I don’t care that I’m married. I don’t care about anything but looking at you, talking to you.”

  She put her hands on either side of his face and rubbed her thumb across the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow. Holding his face away from her own, she felt the tremble in her fingers and knew the intoxication he experienced. “I know,” she breathed, “but you are married.”

  His eyes closed, the tortured look returning, and she hated herself for bringing it up. Then loved herself for being strong enough to do so. Then hated herself again because why should she take up for a woman who obviously wasn’t taking care of her man? Then hated him for making her be the strong one.

  Oh yeah. She was a mess.

  His big hands came up to her shoulders and squeezed. “Oh, doll, where were you three years ago?” The anguish in his voice rang so real it hurt her. She’d give anything at this moment to turn back the hands of time. To find him before he ever met the woman he now called his wife.

  Before you met such a wonderful man as Darin … single Darin …

  Yes, but she didn’t have the same bonds of matrimony with Darin that Harrison answered to.

  He squeezed once more, and she felt it down to her toes. This was the electricity romance novels talked about. When one touch caused a sizzling throughout the body. That was what she and Harrison shared. She’d finally found it!

  With a married man.

  She swallowed hard. Yes, a married man. A man whose wife did everything wrong, granted, but who still shared his last name and his bed and his future.

  That’s about the kind of luck you deserve, Kendra.

  If only …

  What? Leave his wife? How pathetic is that? What about all those female empowerment books you read? How can you even consider treating another woman that way, causing her that kind of pain?

  Kendra shrank back from the shame. What was wrong with her? What was she doing? If the roles were reversed and her man were sitting in a car with another woman, wouldn’t she want the other woman to send him back home?

  I’d take care of my man. He wouldn’t need another woman.

  Harrison leaned back in his seat, taking his warmth with him, and she shivered at the sudden chill.

  “We’ve got to figure out a solution here.” His ragged voice betrayed the struggle he still fought within. “I know if I keep meeting you like this, out here,” he waved a hand at the expanse on the other side of the windshield, “where no one can see and we can do anything we want, then we’re going to end up doing what we want. And, God knows, Kendra, we both want it too much to keep denying it. You feel that, right?”