by Rebeca Seitz
Her breath caught in her throat.
He must have heard her swift intake because he turned to look at her. “The thing is, I don’t think either of us is ready for what would come after.”
Who cares?
She stamped the thought out. She was not her mother.
She was not! “You’re right. Coming out here is not smart.” What a surreal sensation, saying the exact opposite of her desire. “We’re both intelligent adults, though, and we can figure this out.”
“I think an intelligent adult,” his smile held chagrin, “would have walked away after the very first notes of that song.”
“Well, I couldn’t very well do that. I think they’d have noticed me clocking out before the song was through.”
“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have noticed me.” His gaze dropped to her hand, and she felt his touch just as sure as if he’d actually grasped it.
“I would have noticed.”
“Would you?”
A curl fell across her face as she nodded. He needed to know. “I would.”
He stared at the curl. She held her breath. Would he right it? She hoped he would, prayed he wouldn’t. Because one touch, just one very slight brush of his hand against her skin, and she’d be gone.
“Okay.” He looked away. “Then we agree that we’ve got a rare thing here and we should be smart about it.”
She blinked at the shift, telling herself to be grateful she’d avoided such a huge sin. “Right.”
“I’ve got an idea.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’m not an exhibitionist.”
“Good for you. I am, but I’m not sure what that has to do with this conversation.”
He squinted. “You’re an exhibitionist?”
“Hello? I’m an artist! I make a living by putting my thoughts and feelings on display for the whole freaking world to see. You met me while I was pouring emotion through a microphone.”
“Good point.” He smiled at her, and his dimples just about did her in. “My idea might not be such a great one, then.”
“We’ll see. What is it?”
“I was thinking, if we limit our meetings to public places, then there’s a really good chance that, though we’re not going to stop wanting it, we won’t be able to do anything about it.”
She thought about that for a second. It was a good plan so long as they didn’t meet anywhere that Stars Hill citizens would be. Then she could keep seeing him, maybe even eventually introduce him to the sisters as a friend. Maybe incorporate him so fully into her life that …
What? His wife will magically disappear? Fade into the background without a whimper?
“Hmm, where are we gonna meet that we won’t run into folks we don’t want to see?”
He shrugged. “Nashville’s a big town. There are lots of places.”
“True.” She fiddled with her bracelets, thinking. “Okay, I think that’s a good plan. Safety in numbers.”
“Your exhibitionist tendencies not withstanding?”
“I’m not that kind of exhibitionist.” She swatted him on the shoulder. “Dirty mind.”
“When I’m with you, yeah.”
Her pulse quickened again. Public places. Definitely. See? There was always a solution when intelligent adults put their minds to work. No need for her to give up such fabulous conversation.
No need at all.
Six
Darin shut the fridge and tossed a can of Coke over to Clay. “You think she’s seeing somebody else, man?”
Clay popped the top and guzzled caffeine, then swallowed. “Tandy’s worried about her. That’s all I know.”
“Can’t you get Tandy to tell you anything? Come on, help a brother out!” Darin jerked his head toward the living room, and Clay got up to follow him.
“You know I’ve got your back, Darin. I just don’t think she knows what’s going on.” Clay picked up the remote from the coffee table and hit the button to turn on the big screen.
“Maybe not, but she’s got a good idea or she wouldn’t have called a scrapping night.”
Clay shrugged. “I think the scrapping night might be so they can do some digging. You know, tag-team Kendra.”
Darin shook his head and swigged his Coke. “Man, am I glad I don’t have a bunch of sisters.”
Clay channel surfed. “Leave me to my own problems. I hear you.”
They watched the television for a minute, then Darin said, “I think there’s somebody else.”
Clay looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Darin studied the top of his Coke can. “I don’t know. She seems distant sometimes. Like, I call her, and I can tell she’d rather be doing something else besides talking to me. It wasn’t like that before, but it is now.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“So she can kick me to the curb?” Darin took a drink, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Long as I play dumb, I’m still in the game.”
“Do you want in the game? I mean, you think she’s cheating on you.”
“Have you met this woman? I don’t care who I’ve got to beat. I’m in.”
Clay turned back to the television. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Tell me about it.”
* * *
TANDY WATCHED THROUGH the kitchen window as Joy made her way across the yard to the porch. At just before six on a warm August night, the glow of daylight was barely fading, warming Joy’s pale skin and making her seem healthy and alive.
“Hey, T! I’m here!”
“In the kitchen!” Tandy pushed a small black button, and a light turned on inside the oven. Mmm, that’ll add an inch to the waistline. But who cares?
“What are you making? Should we let the neighbors know the kitchen’s about to blow up?”
“Very funny.” Tandy turned from the oven to face her sister. “I’m making brownies. Thought we might need some chocolate courage.”
“Excellent idea. She’s not here yet?”
Tandy shook her head, reaching up and releasing the clasp that held her copper curls. She gathered the tendrils that had escaped, twisted them with what she’d released, then piled it all back on top of her head and secured the clasp. As soon as this wedding was over, she’d have Joy chop it all off. “Nope. I hope she shows up.”
“She wouldn’t miss a scrap night. You called it, right?”
“I did. But I think she was with him when I called. She talked to somebody before saying she’d come.”
“She ran a scrap night by this man? This must be more serious than we thought.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
They turned at the sound of Meg’s voice. She entered the kitchen and boosted herself onto the counter. “We’ve got about five minutes. Is there anything either of you hasn’t told me?”
Tandy and Joy looked at each other and shrugged. “Nope.” Tandy opened a drawer and pulled out an oven mitt. “I can’t figure out when this started. She seemed fine when I moved home.”
Meg pulled her legs up into an Indian-style position. “I think maybe before you came home for the visit back in May. She was getting a little distant then.”
“Really?”
“Now that I think about it, you might be right, Meg.” Joy took glasses down from the cupboard. “Until you came home, Tandy, Kendra spent quite a bit of time on the road to Nashville. I think she went there at least once each week.” She pulled milk from the refrigerator and began filling the glasses.
Tandy pulled brownies from the oven and put them on a cooling rack. “And no one thought to tell me this before?”
Meg shrugged. “She seemed fine after you came home. We hoped whatever it was had gone away.”
“Well, it didn’t.” Tandy didn’t even try to make her tone less grim. “So if you’re right about the timing, this little relationship has had about six months to grow.”
Joy straightened even more t
han her usual perfect posture. “That’s a long time. I don’t think any of her episodes has lasted longer than two months, three at the outside.”
“No way has this been going on right under my nose.” Tandy shook her head. “Ken and I have spent umpteen hours together planning the wedding. I’d know if something was up.”
“Perhaps she ended it.”
“And this is a new one? So fast?”
“Or it started back up.”
Though Meg’s offered explanation made more sense, it didn’t make Tandy any happier than the alternative.
A car door slammed outside, and Tandy peered out the window. Kendra. She turned back to her sisters. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
* * *
KENDRA BOUNDED UP the porch steps, still riding the wave of emotion Harrison had stirred in her. The man had an amazing way with words. And the widening of his eyes, the shocked look he sometimes got when he spoke those fabulous words, let her know they were sincere. This thing between them, right or wrong, surprised them both.
Having a man to talk to—an intelligent man who knew hurt and talked about it with her—was such a gift. He was so honest and … real.
And married. Don’t forget that, girl. Married.
She shook her head. Why keep bringing that up? It wasn’t as if she were doing anything wrong. All they did was talk!
The tempting smell of baking chocolate coaxed her toward the kitchen.
“Hey, y’all.” The air felt heavy with unspoken words, and she shot a look at Tandy. Nothing seemed amiss, but Tandy had been the one to call the scrap night, so she was probably the one with the problem. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing yet.” Meg hopped down from the counter. “We were waiting on the brownies to cool before we got into anything.”
Despite the fabulous odor wafting from the tray of brownies, something definitely didn’t smell right. They were all giving her looks of pity and curiosity.
You’re just being paranoid. This is about Tandy.
“Let’s just take ’em upstairs to cool and get some scrapping done.”
“Great idea, Kendra.” Joy put the oven mitt on and picked up the brownies. “Grab that tray of glasses, and we can all head upstairs.”
Kendra did as directed, growing more disturbed by the second. Joy and Meg weren’t looking at Tandy; they were looking at her.
She followed Joy out of the kitchen and up two flights of stairs to the converted attic that had been Momma’s old scrapping studio.
The big square table Daddy made stood proudly in the center, their layouts still sitting atop it from where they’d quit scrapping last weekend. That was one of the best things about scrapping in Momma’s studio—no need to clean up before next time. Just leave your pictures where you wanted and know that the next time you came up those steps everything would be just as you left it.
Comfort in the unchanging.
Kendra settled on her stool and took stock of the layout before her. Pictures of her and Tandy hanging upside down from the caboose in the park were cropped and layered on red cardstock. Background paper of orange and red polka dots made the green grass in the picture pop. She reached for a length of white ribbon and began finishing assembly of the layout, glancing every now and then at the Becky Higgins sketchbook that lay open to her left. It took a few minutes before she pulled out of her scrapping reverie enough to realize the sisters were shooting looks at each other.
“Okay,” she put down her paper, “that’s enough. Somebody say something.” She walked over to the brownies and began cutting, knowing without being told that the chocolate was meant to be fortification for whatever lay ahead. “Tandy, you called the scrap night. What’s up?”
Tandy cleared her throat. “Ken, look, you know we love you.”
Nothing good starts that way.
“And it wouldn’t be right if we thought you were going to get hurt and didn’t do anything about it.”
Kendra spun around, mini spatula still in hand. “Y’all think I’m going to get hurt? By who?”
“Whom.” Joy’s correction was quiet.
Kendra waved the spatula, dropping little bits of chocolate. “Who, whom, whatever. What’s going on?”
Meg sat very still, hands crossed neatly before her, the mother of concern. “Are you seeing anybody?”
“You know I am. Y’all have met Darin. I thought you liked him.”
“We do like him.” Tandy shifted on her stool, and Kendra’s stomach clenched.
“It’s the other man we’re a little worried about.”
They knew. Her heartbeat pounded, and she forced a smile. “What other man?” Best not to blurt out an admission of guilt. Gotta find out how much they know first.
“Oh, come on, Ken,” Tandy pleaded. “Don’t be coy. Joy saw him this morning on the sidewalk.”
Stupid of him to come to Stars Hill like that. I knew someone would see. She placed brownies on napkins and laid them before each sister, letting the silence lengthen while she thought of a response.
“So Joy saw some man on the sidewalk, and I’m all of a sudden a cheater?” She pulled a brownie from the pan and went back to her stool. “Thanks so much for your belief in me, sisters.”
“Kendra, you know we believe in you.” Meg played with the corners of her brownie. “Just like you know you’ve got a history that demands we bring this up.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us were adopted near birth, Meg.”
Whoa, cool it there.
Meg stared at her. “I’m not talking about your childhood, Kendra. None of us would ever think less of you because of the stupid choices Sylvia made. How could you think I’d do that?” The clock on the wall steadily ticked off seconds as Meg looked down. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “I’m talking about the various men that have paraded through your life.”
“I’m over thirty years old, Meg. If a few men hadn’t paraded through my life by now, I’d suggest you question my sexuality, not call me a cheater.”
“Kendra, you know we only have your best interests at heart.” Joy’s soft voice calmed Kendra’s rising panic. “If you say you’re not seeing someone other than Darin, then we’ll believe you. I’m afraid this is my fault. I saw a strange man this morning outside the office and thought that’s why you left so quickly.”
No more Stars Hill visits. “Why didn’t you just ask me, Joy? You didn’t have to call a scrapping night. Or—check that—call Tandy to call a scrapping night.”
“We thought you might be heading down that path again.” Tandy slid off her stool and went to get another brownie.
“What path?”
“You know, the one where you decide you only deserve a man who will mistreat you or take advantage of you, so you hook up with some lowlife.”
“I do not have a pattern like that.” Kendra popped a bite of brownie in her mouth to stem the flow of defensive words.
“Sure you do.” Meg nodded. “You’ve had it ever since high school. Though I’ll happily admit you haven’t fallen into it for a couple of years now.”
Kendra chewed on her chocolate. Did she have a pattern of choosing a horrible type of man? Sure, she’d had a lot of boyfriends over the years. It was to be expected, though, that she’d date a lot between high school and now. How else could a woman go about finding Mr. Right these days? At least she wasn’t out barhopping every night, trolling the night clubs, on the prowl.
She swallowed. “I have no idea what you guys are talking about. So I date a lot.” She shrugged. “Most healthy, red-blooded single females do.”
Tandy came back to the table. “Normally, I’d back you on any man you want to date. But every now and then you seem to go off the edge and end up with somebody who leaves us wondering what in the world you’re thinking.”
Kendra started shaking her head before Tandy even finished. “You’re wrong, girls. Just wrong. I’ve had my fair share of poor choices, but there’s no pattern. You’re making a mountain out of
a molehill, and what’s worse, we’re wasting valuable scrapping time here.”
Joy laid her hands, palms down, on the table. “In that case, I’d say we table this discussion for now and get to the scrapping.”
Kendra tried not to show her relief. As hypersensitive as they seemed to be today, the sisters would jump on her in an instant if she looked like she’d dodged a bullet. “Great idea. Did anybody have a chance to pick up the new Uhu glue rollers at Emmy’s yet?”
“Oh, shoot!” Joy said. “I knew I was forgetting something when I left there this morning. I was in such a tizzy thinking you’d left with that handsome stranger—“
Kendra raised a hand. “Okay, let’s not go there again. I’ll run by Emmy’s tomorrow and get enough for all of us. I’m really, really sick of these that we’re using.” She reached out and snagged a glue roller from the tool turnabout in the center of the worktable. “But we can make do for one more day.”
As her sisters focused on their layouts, Kendra kept watch out of the corner of her eye. Thank goodness. It looked as if they were mollified.
For now.
How much longer until one of them brought it up again, though? As she cropped a set of pictures from the Iris Festival parade a few months ago, she tried to come up with a solution. One that would keep her from having to admit her sisters were right. And that would keep her from having to cut off all ties to Harrison.
Not that she shouldn’t cut ties to him. She should. Of course she should. But there was the conversation, the intense conversation about everything from politics to religion, personal feelings to future goals. Having Harrison to talk with was like having a living, breathing diary that listened and gave good feedback. Who could give that up? Besides, why did that have to be wrong?
It didn’t have to be. They had a plan. Public places only.