Dana Sue still clung to the hope they’d gotten it all wrong. “Maybe it’s just back-to-school jitters, or maybe she’s eating the cafeteria food at school,” she suggested. She wondered if Maddie’s son might have noticed something. “Could you talk to Ty? He might have some idea. They don’t have any classes together, I know. Annie told me that much today, but maybe they have the same lunch hour.”
“I’ll ask him,” Maddie promised. “But I’m not sure teenage boys pay the slightest bit of attention to what girls are eating. They’re too busy scarfing down everything in sight.”
“Try,” Dana Sue pleaded. “Obviously I’m not getting anywhere talking to her. She just gets defensive.”
“I’ll do my best,” Maddie promised. “I’ll ask Cal, too. You can’t imagine the kind of gossip my husband overhears in the locker room. Who would have guessed that a baseball coach would know so much? He may be the school’s best resource for staying on top of what the kids are up to. Sometimes I think he knows when students are in trouble before their own parents do. He certainly did in Ty’s case.”
“I remember,” Dana Sue said, recalling how concern for Ty had drawn Maddie and Cal together. “Thanks for checking into this, Maddie. Let me know what you find out, okay?”
“Of course. I’ll give you a call later tonight,” her friend promised. “Try not to worry too much. Annie’s a smart girl.”
“But maybe not smart enough,” Dana Sue said wearily. “I know this kind of thing can happen because of peer pressure and all the role models these girls see on TV and in the movies, but Annie also has a lot of issues thanks to her dad running around on me.”
“You think this has something to do with Ronnie?” Maddie sounded skeptical.
“I do,” Dana Sue told her. “I think she convinced herself it wouldn’t have happened if I’d weighed a hundred and five. Of course, I haven’t weighed that since seventh grade.”
“You’re also five-ten. You’d look ridiculous,” Maddie said.
“Probably, but it might be kind of fun to test the willowy look on the men in Serenity,” Dana Sue said with a wistful note. Then she added realistically, “But it’s never going to happen. No matter how hard I try these days, I can’t seem to lose more than a pound, and that never stays off long. I’m destined to be tall, but frumpy.”
“Sounds as if Annie isn’t the only one who could use a body image lecture,” Maddie said. “I’ll get Helen over here first thing in the morning. When you come by to drop off the salads for the café, we’ll fix that thinking of yours right up. You’re gorgeous, Dana Sue Sullivan, and don’t you forget that for a single second.”
“Let’s just focus on Annie for the time being,” Dana Sue replied, dismissing her own food issues, as well as Maddie’s loyal attempt to bolster her spirits. “She’s the one who could be in real trouble, not me.”
“Then Helen and I will help you deal with it,” Maddie assured her. “Have the Sweet Magnolias ever let each other down?”
“Not once,” Dana Sue admitted, then hesitated as a distant memory came back to her and made her smile, temporarily wiping out her anxiety over Annie. “Wait. I take that back. There was that time you two left me twisting in the wind to deal with a cop after we played a prank on our gym teacher.”
“That prank was your idea, and we didn’t intentionally leave you behind,” Maddie corrected. “We thought you could run faster. We came back for you, didn’t we?”
“Sure, right after the cop called my folks and threatened to haul me off to jail if he caught me doing anything that stupid again. I was so scared I was throwing up by the time you came back.”
“Yes, well, there’s no need to dwell on ancient history,” Maddie said briskly. “We will be there to help with Annie, whatever she needs. You, too.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later, then.”
When Dana Sue placed the portable phone back in its charger, she felt the first faint stirring of relief. She’d faced a lot of turmoil, and had triumphed with Maddie and Helen by her side. They’d gotten her through her divorce and helped her open her restaurant when she hadn’t been convinced she could do it. Surely this crisis—if there even was a crisis—could be tackled just as easily if they all put their heads together.
Annie hated her physical education class. She was a complete and total klutz. Worse, Ms. Franklin—who weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet and had boundless enthusiasm for anything athletic—was always scowling at her, as if there was something wrong with her. Usually Annie scowled right back at her, but today she couldn’t seem to summon up the energy.
“Annie, I’d like to see you after class,” Ms. Franklin said, once she’d tortured them all by making them jog around the track. Twice.
“Uh-oh,” Sarah said, giving Annie a commiserating look. “What do you suppose she wants?”
“I doubt she’s going to ask me to go out for the track team,” Annie joked, still trying to catch her breath. She’d never been athletic, but lately even the slightest bit of activity left her winded, unlike Sarah, who looked as if the run had been no more than a stroll between classes.
Sarah, who’d been Annie’s best friend since fifth grade and knew most of her deepest, darkest secrets, studied her worriedly. “You don’t think she’s going to say something about you being out of shape, do you? Grown-ups get all freaked out if they think we’re not ready to compete in some marathon or something. I mean, who’d want to do that?”
“Not me,” Annie agreed, relieved that the odd racing sensation in her chest had finally eased a little and she was able to breathe more normally.
“Maybe she found out about you passing out and ending up in the hospital.”
“Oh, come on, Sarah. That was last year,” Annie griped. “Everyone’s forgotten all about it.”
“I’m just saying, if Ms. Franklin thinks you’re going to crash in her class, maybe she’ll let you out of it.”
“As if,” Annie scoffed. “Nobody gets out of P.E. without some kind of doctor’s note, and Doc Marshall will never give me one. Not that I’d ask. If I did, my mom would have a cow. She still gets all weird about me not eating the way she thinks I should.” She rolled her eyes. “Like the way she eats is so healthy. She’s packed on so much weight since my dad left, no man will ever look at her twice. I’m never letting that happen to me.”
“How much do you weigh now?” Sarah asked.
Annie shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Her friend regarded her with disbelief. “Oh, you are, too, Annie Sullivan. I know perfectly well you weigh yourself at least three or four times a day.”
Annie frowned. Okay, maybe she was a little obsessive about making sure that she never picked up an ounce, but she couldn’t trust the scale at home to be accurate. So she weighed herself again on the one in the locker room. And sometimes again, if she stopped by The Corner Spa to see Maddie. Even if she knew her weight to the last ounce, it didn’t mean she wanted her best friend to know. Besides, it wasn’t the number on the scale that mattered. It was the way she looked in the mirror. She looked fat and that was all that mattered. Sometimes when she saw herself in all those mirrors at the spa, she wanted to cry. She couldn’t figure out how her mom could even bear to walk into that room.
“Annie?” Sarah said, her expression worried. “Are you below a hundred? You look to me like you weigh less than ninety pounds.”
“What if I do?” Annie said defensively. “I still need to lose a couple more pounds to look really great.”
“But you promised you’d stop obsessing about your weight,” Sarah said, an edge of panic in her voice. “You said passing out when you were dancing with Ty was the most embarrassing moment of your life, and you’d never be in a position for that to happen again. You told everyone you’d keep your weight at least at a hundred pounds, and even that’s pretty skinny for your height. You promised,” Sarah emphasized. “How can you have forgotten all that? And you know it happened because you weren’t eating.”
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“I hadn’t eaten that day,” Annie countered stubbornly. “I eat.”
“What have you had today?” Sarah persisted.
“My mom fixed me a huge omelet for breakfast,” she said.
Sarah gave her a knowing look. “But did you eat it?”
Annie sighed. Sarah evidently wasn’t going to let this go. “I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over this. What have you eaten today?”
“I had cereal and half a banana for breakfast and a salad for lunch,” Sarah replied.
Annie felt like throwing up just thinking about eating that much food. “Well, good for you. Don’t come to me when you’re too fat to fit into your clothes.”
“I’m not gaining weight,” Sarah said. “In fact, I’ve even lost a couple of pounds by eating sensibly.” She gave Annie a chagrined look. “I’d give anything for a burger and fries, though. To hear my mom and dad talk, that’s all kids ever did back in the day. They went to Wharton’s after football games and pigged out. They went there after school and had milk shakes. Can you imagine?”
“No way,” Annie said.
The last time she’d eaten a burger and fries, she’d been having lunch with her dad. That was the day he’d told her he was leaving, that he and her mom were getting a divorce. Of course, after she’d witnessed her mom tossing all his stuff on the front lawn it hadn’t come as a huge shock, but it had made her sick just the same. She’d left the table at Wharton’s, run into the restroom and lost her lunch right there.
Since that awful day, nothing had appealed to her. Not the burgers and fries she’d once loved, not pizza or ice cream, not even the stuff her mom had on the menu at the restaurant. It was like her dad had yanked her appetite right out of her, along with her heart. Finding out that he’d cheated on her mom, then watching that huge, embarrassing scene on the front lawn, had pretty much killed any desire to ever eat again. Annie knew her mom had been right to do that, but it had left her feeling all alone and empty inside. Her dad had been the one guy who’d always thought she was the most beautiful, special girl in the world. She supposed he still did think that, but he wasn’t around to tell her. Hearing it on the phone wasn’t the same. No matter how many times he said it, she dismissed it because there was no way he knew how she really looked these days. It was just so much blah-blah-blah.
“It would be kinda nice to hang out at Wharton’s, though, wouldn’t it?” Sarah said wistfully. “A lot of the kids still go after school.”
“Go ahead and do it,” Annie said. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“It wouldn’t be any fun without you,” she protested. “Couldn’t we go just once? We don’t have to order what everyone else is having.”
Annie was already shaking her head. “Last time I went with my mom and Maddie and Ty, they all stared at me when I ordered water with a slice of lemon. You’d have thought I’d asked for a beer or something. And you know Grace Wharton gossips about everything. My mom would know in an hour that I was in there and didn’t have anything to eat or drink.”
Sarah looked disappointed. “I guess you’re right.”
Annie felt a momentary twinge of guilt. It wasn’t right that her hang-ups were keeping her best friend from having fun. “You know,” she said at last, “maybe it would be okay. I could order a soda or something. I don’t have to drink it.” Her mood brightened. “And maybe Ty will be there.”
Sarah grinned. “You know he will be. All the cool guys go there after school. So, when do you want to go?”
“Might as well be today,” Annie said. “I have to go see Ms. Franklin now. I’ll meet you out front after I’m finished and we can walk over.”
Wasting money on a drink she wouldn’t even sip was a small price to pay to spend an hour or so around Ty. Not that she was fooling herself by thinking he would pay the slightest bit of attention to her. Not only was Ty a senior, he was a star on the baseball team. He was so beyond her reach. He was always surrounded by the most gorgeous girls in his class. He seemed to like the tall, thin ones with long, silky blond hair and big boobs. Annie, at only five foot three, with chestnut curls and no chest to speak of, couldn’t compete with them.
But she had one thing none of those girls had. She and Ty were almost family. She got to spend holidays and lots of other special occasions with him. And one of these days, when she was thin enough, when her body was absolutely perfect, he was going to wake up and notice her.
2
It was hotter than blazes working on the roof of yet another house in yet another new subdivision, this one outside of Beaufort, South Carolina. The sun was pounding down on Ronnie Sullivan’s bare, sweat-drenched shoulders, and under his hard hat, his head was soaking wet. His work boots felt as if they each weighed a hundred pounds.
In the past two years Ronnie had worked more construction jobs around the state of South Carolina than any man with good sense ought to. The more physically demanding, the better. He was pretty sure if he kept it up much longer, the sun would bake his brain completely, especially since he’d decided to concede defeat to his receding hairline and shave his head.
After all these months of taking any job that was offered, then going back to a cheap motel room for a cold shower, and out to some bar for an icy beer and greasy food, he was exhausted, physically and emotionally. But no matter how exhausted he was when he tumbled into bed, it was never enough to chase away the nightmares and regrets.
There was no question in his mind that he’d blown the best thing that had ever happened to him—his marriage to Dana Sue. Worse, he’d done it stupidly and carelessly, not even once thinking of the consequences until it had been too damn late.
Years of heat exposure, from a lifetime of working construction, was the only possible explanation for his idiotic decision to have a fling back in Serenity—the gossip capital of the South—practically under his wife’s nose. It had taken about a nanosecond for her to find out he’d slept with some woman he’d met in a bar after work. One time, dammit, but nobody in Serenity was handing out passes for freebies. Once was more than enough to rip his life apart.
Dana Sue hadn’t given him even a minute to explain and beg her forgiveness. She’d tossed two suitcases filled with his belongings on the front lawn, not even caring that half the contents were falling out all over the place. She’d screamed that he was lower than pond scum, that she hated him and never wanted to see him again. The entire neighborhood had witnessed his downfall. A couple of women, showing their solidarity with Dana Sue, had actually cheered her on.
Ronnie had wanted to stay and fight for their marriage, but he’d known Dana Sue long enough to recognize that stubborn, fiery glint in her eyes. He’d left, knowing he was making the second-worst mistake of his life. The first had been that tawdry, meaningless, one-night affair.
Before he’d gone, he’d taken his little girl out to lunch to try to explain things to her, but Annie hadn’t wanted to hear his explanations. At fourteen she’d been just old enough to understand exactly what he’d done and why her mother had been so furious. She’d listened to him in stony silence, then gone into the restroom and stayed there until he’d had to send Grace Wharton in after her.
Since he’d left, not a day had gone by when he hadn’t regretted hurting Dana Sue or putting that devastated look in his little girl’s eyes. Falling off the pedestal Annie’d put him on had just about broken what was left of his heart.
During the divorce proceedings he’d fought for visitation rights, but Helen had kept them to a bare minimum. Not that it had mattered. He’d spent more than a year trying to maintain some kind of contact with Annie, but she’d hung up on every call and refused to see him when he’d tried to arrange a visit. He knew some of that was out of loyalty to her mom, but a good bit more was her own disappointment and anger. For a few months now, she’d at least taken his calls, but the conversations still tended to be stilted and uninformative, nothing at all like the heart-to-hearts they used to have.
Sin
ce Dana Sue and Annie weren’t that eager to see him, Ronnie hadn’t set foot in Serenity again, coward that he was. But lately he’d been thinking more and more about going home. He wasn’t cut out for a vagabond’s life. He hated living in motel rooms and moving from place to place in search of work. He’d been on this last job for the better part of a year, but it still wasn’t the same as settling down. Even the freedom to make a play for a woman when he felt like it had worn thin. He figured there was a certain amount of irony in that.
The truth was, he missed being married, especially to Dana Sue, who’d stolen his heart when they were fifteen and hadn’t let loose of it yet. Why he hadn’t had the sense to realize that a couple of years back, before he’d done something so totally stupid, was beyond him.
Thanks to his recent talks with Annie, he knew his ex-wife hadn’t found someone else. Of course, that didn’t mean she’d take him back. If he did return to Serenity, he was going to have his work cut out for him trying to win her over, but maybe two years was long enough for her to have cooled down just a little. She might not pull a shotgun on him on sight. At least he hoped not. He knew for a fact she could hit a tin can at fifty feet. If she aimed for him, she wouldn’t miss.
And even if she hit him, as long as she didn’t hit anything vital, so what? He had it coming. And, hell, he thought with a grin, what was life without a little excitement and risk from time to time? He just needed an excuse to get his foot in the door. If winning Dana Sue back was meant to be, he figured one would come along sooner or later.
At quitting time, he climbed down off the roof, grabbed a bottle of water and took a long swallow, then doused himself with the rest of it.
Thanksgiving, he decided, with the first real anticipation he’d felt in two long years. If fate hadn’t handed him the right excuse by then, he was heading home and taking his chances.
Dana Sue and Maddie took their iced tea—unsweetened for Dana Sue, which was practically a crime in these parts—onto the shaded brick patio out back of The Corner Spa. At eight in the morning the air was still a reasonably pleasant seventy-five, but the humidity and bright sun promised a scorcher by day’s end. It would be another couple of months before that humidity loosened its grip on South Carolina, probably just in time for Thanksgiving.
A Slice of Heaven Page 2