by Susan Sands
Junior had arrived to instantly shuffle Lucy into a waiting pickup. Evidently, there was urgent homework waiting for her along with dinner and preparations for bed.
Cammie guessed they’d gotten the alert from the message she’d left on Maeve’s phone that she’d taken Lucy out for ice cream with Grey, so it wasn’t overly surprising the sister brigade had banded together for whatever it was they’d decided needed inquiring about. Ducking into the powder room while the rest headed upstairs gave her a moment before she faced them.
Cammie figured she may as well go on up or be dragged out of the bathroom. She could hear them talking and laughing—anticipating. Taking a deep breath, she headed upstairs toward her mother’s bedroom.
Maeve took the lead as soon as Cammie entered. “Lu Lu from the ice cream shop called and said the two of you were arguing at the table, and you looked ready to fall to pieces.” This from Maeve.
“Yeah, honey, we’ve been sittin’ here dying to know what the heck’s going on between y’all.” Emma shamed her for making them wait—classic.
“Cammie, are you alright?” Jo Jo tried to be patient and kind but Cammie detected an edge to her voice.
Cammie stared mutely around her at the curious and concerned faces of her sisters. Her eyes filled, she hiccoughed, and then she burst into tears. She sobbed and wailed while they patted, soothed, and murmured softly comforting words and sounds.
“Its okay, pumpkin, let it all out—then you can tell us what happened,” Maeve soothed.
“Shhh—baby,” Emma cooed.
That hadn’t happened in—never in her life, as far as she could remember. Resistant to showing her emotions in front of others, her family included, she was horrified. What the hell was wrong with her? No doubt they were as baffled by this behavior as she was. Cammie dared a glance through her wet lashes.
Still hiccupping a bit, she accepted several tissues thrust her way and did her best to blow her nose and dry the remaining tears.
She heard a giggle. It was Emma.
“What?” She snuffled.
“Honey, you might want to go into the bathroom and…um, freshen up a bit.” She bit back a grin as she said this.
“Yes, dear, I think that’s Emma’s way of implying you look like dog shit,” said Jo.
“I would never say such a thing,” Emma huffed.
“Of course you wouldn’t, darling,” Maeve said.
“We’ll hear all about it when you get back,” Jo Jo said.
When Cammie saw her reflection, she understood. Dog shit, indeed.
She returned to the bed scrubbed clean and prepared to spill. One of the girls had efficiently whipped up bloody Marys for everyone.
“Now, what went on with Grey this afternoon that’s got you fallin’ apart?” Jo Jo asked.
“Well, duh!” said Emma.
Cammie sighed. Her resistance was futile. “Nothing really happened. It’s just that everywhere I go, people recognize me. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s alright, really. And the stuff with Grey, that’ll be alright, too. I—just don’t typically cry like that, especially in public.”
“Well now, first off, honey, we’re not public, so a good ugly cry is okay, and at some point all the deep down stuff finds its way out—” Maeve cut herself off from her rant and cleared her throat prettily. “I mean, maybe we haven’t really thought about how Grey’s being here might bring back some of the old hurt.”
Cammie closed her eyes, took a deep swallow of the bloody Mary, opened them then let it all out. “I’ve been so far away from this for such a long time, you know?” She shook her head, trying to understand the outburst of emotion. “I knew how badly he’d hurt me, I just didn’t know it would still hurt and I didn’t know seeing him with his and Deb’s daughter would have this effect on me after all these years.”
“It’s because he’s a rat bastard, honey, that’s why you’re mad,” drawled Emma, whose history with men was legend—legendarily tragic.
She knew Emma didn’t really think that about Grey. “This whole thing makes me uncomfortable is all—having him here at the house. It’s like I suddenly seized up when he was talking to me about having Samantha around.”
“Have the two of you ever just talked about what happened with Deb?” Jo Jo asked.
“No, I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say to me at the time. There wasn’t any excuse for what he’d done. It wouldn’t change anything now.” She lowered her head, for a moment, allowing herself to remember how his betrayal had injured her to her soul.
“True. You can’t get your girlfriend’s best friend pregnant, then say, ‘Please try and understand,’” Maeve said.
“It’s just so strange. He’s the same, but different. I guess I tried really hard to not think about it.” She hated exposing herself this way to her sisters, as supportive as they’d proven themselves. Vulnerability wasn’t comfortable for Cammie.
“Maybe you should ask yourself what kind of friend you had in Deb back then? She was always so jealous of you, you know.” Jo said.
Jo had suggested something Cammie hadn’t wanted to dwell on. “Deb is dead, and I don’t want to discuss her now. I can’t see any way to excuse either one of them.” Cammie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Maybe she would just go with the rat bastard theory and move on.
Wait. They’d distracted her from what she’s really wanted to address with them. There were other things bothering her before all this had gone down with Grey today. The kitchen. Nobody had explained what the hell was going on around here with the kitchen and heaven knew what else. She had them all here, and it was time for answers. Grey Harrison wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
Time to kick the hornet’s nest.
She cleared her throat, wanting to make sure her voice was clear and they knew she meant business. “I want to know from the three of you what the hell is going on around here and why nobody told me about the mess in the kitchen or the house falling apart before I came down.” There.
They eyed one another as if to figure out who would lead here. “Like we told you before, you’ve been pretty busy with other things.” Maeve took on the oldest sister mothering role.
“This is my home, too, you know,” Cammie defended.
“We don’t hear from you much these days,” Emma said, not meeting her eyes.
“What are you all trying to say—that I should never have stepped foot out of Mayberry, Alabama? That I’m no longer part of this family? You don’t think I had a good enough reason to leave?” Cammie spoke what she believed they’d not said.
Jo spoke up for the group, always the bridge between the older and younger siblings, and the family peacemaker. “Cammie, we know you got your heart broken and were humiliated to show your face around here, but that was an awful long time ago. Maybe people don’t forget in a town this size, but they move on. It’s been nearly ten years, honey. And this is still our home, whether or not you think we’re the sharpest tools in the shed for living here and loving our choice.”
“And, baby girl, we do miss you,” Maeve added as a buffer to Jo’s last statement.
Cammie’s lip quivered. She’d just been called out for being a prissy absentee sister. They really didn’t understand. “None of you had done to you what Grey did to me in front of the whole town. You weren’t laughed at and humiliated.” She almost took it back when she thought about Emma’s history.
“Honey, I know more than anyone that bad things happen to good people all the time—especially when we’re young and don’t know any better than to wear all our emotions right out there like a red flag in front of a charging bull.”
“I’m sorry y’all don’t think I’ve been a good daughter, or sister, or aunt for that matter. But it’s always been hard to come back here and hold my head up when everybody I see is whispering behind my back. Especially now, after what happened with Jessica.”
“Mom thinks you’re a wonderful daughter. And there’s no better sister and aunt,” Jo Jo
reassured her. “We just wish you could enjoy being here more and not worry so much how people in this town react. When you breeze in from the big city after not coming around, it just gives them something fresh to sink their teeth into. If you’d come more often, you wouldn’t be such a big deal.”
Emma rolled her eyes and said, “Girlfriend, I still live here and God knows some shit went down way back that shocked even the most liberal-minded around these parts—though I know that’s not saying much. So, I get it, but I don’t, you know?” Emma had a point. She’d had awful things happen, and she’d rode out the storm right here in town.
Jo Jo and Maeve nodded, though Cammie knew it had been huge for Emma to even reference her past. Nobody discussed Emma’s downfall. It simply wasn’t done—especially by her.
“And Jessica Greene is an A-number one bitch wagon and everybody knows it. You’re famous around this town,” Maeve said, likely trying to push through Emma’s discomfort.
Cammie could agree completely with Maeve’s assessment of Jessica, but added, “Infamous and a laughingstock is more like it.” Cammie couldn’t change what had happened in her recent professional life. But she’d rather be anywhere but here to experience the consequences.
“But all of you, my entire family, conspired to keep me out of the loop. You didn’t tell me about the house or about Grey being here before I got back.” She shook her head. “That sounds like you decided not to tell me in case I changed my mind about coming home.”
Again, they either cast downward glances or avoided her eyes.
Emma finally spoke, “You’re right. We wanted you to come home for you to mope and feel better, and we thought you wouldn’t if you knew Grey was back in town, and especially if he was working here at the house. Lord knows, you’d have had every right to refuse.”
Maeve put a hand on her shoulder. “Truth is, we needed your help to get things back on track, we just didn’t tell you how much help we needed,” Maeve said.
“We never meant to hurt you, Cammie. But we couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t come home. This is where you need to be, with us, for lots of reasons,” Jo Jo added.
She skewered them again with a pissy glare. “Mostly for your own selfish purposes because you need slave chef labor. I think you all suck,” Cammie said.
That was the best she could do for now.
They nodded and agreed that they did indeed suck, patted her and hugged her, then left her to her mood.
It would be easy to sit here and sulk about all the wrongs dealt her. But if she was honest, and she usually tried to be, her sisters had been right about some of it. Cammie had stayed away for selfish reasons. She’d hurt her family. But they’d hurt her by not taking the time to understand her need to escape from here and take time to heal. True, she’d fled the scene after Grey’d blown her out of the water, and except for the quick holiday visits home, she’d not looked back.
Cammie had thought her emotional outbursts over for the year after what had happened fifteen minutes ago as tears threatened again. She wondered if she might have a brain tumor or something that had drastically changed her personality.
Drying her eyes, she retreated to the privacy of her bedroom, where she worked to find a tidy box in her mind to lock up this wellspring of unexpected messy emotions. They had to go away somewhere and leave her to her mission at hand—taking care of Evangeline House and getting the hell out of here.
She saw she’d missed a call from Jason. Cammie would definitely burst into tears if she talked to him right now. She texted him a quick goodnight and promised they’d speak first thing in the morning.
*
He called back first thing in the morning. “Hey, hon, how are things?” he asked.
“I wish I had a teleporter like in Star Trek, and I’d have you beam me back up there.”
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound so good.”
“Things are a mess down here. My family tricked me into coming back so they could take care of me while I’m “recovering” from my disaster. But I swear I’m going to have to put in a month’s worth of work in a couple weeks on this place. Can you believe they manipulated me like this?” She omitted mentioning anything about Grey. There wasn’t any reason to bring that up.
“Sounds like they care about you and wanted to make certain for themselves that you were alright. You have time to spend with them now. It’s a gift, and I think it’s a good idea, Cam. You’ve been really stressed lately.”
“What does that mean?” Cammie demanded.
“Whoa. Nothing, except that I think you could use a little downtime to slow your pace and hang with your family.” His voice was soothing, in the way one would speak to a mental patient on the edge.
From his perspective it probably sounded reasonable. “I guess you’re right, but really, things here are a disaster; the house is falling apart and Mom let the kitchen staff go.”
“So sorry, Cammie. Maybe they really do need you. If anyone can dig in and set things to right, it’s you, and I’m sure your siblings know it.”
Cammie sighed. Jason had yet another point. She was maniacally organized and handled projects with a single-mindedness that allowed for no interference until the job was done. And yes, her siblings and mother were well aware of this talent/flaw in her makeup. “You get points for your insights, smarty-pants,” she said, smiling into the phone.
“You see? It’s the rainbow after the storm,” Jason laughed.
“You have no idea.”
They hung up and Cammie felt better, calmer after their conversation. Jason had cheered her up, as usual. That was why she loved him and planned to marry him. He made her world make sense. He was gorgeous, funny, kind, and had a kick-ass future.
She’d omitted any mention of Grey, not because she had anything to hide from Jason, but because she wouldn’t know where to begin a comprehensive explanation. Grey was the past. Jason was her future.
Jason knew a version of her back story with Grey, but not his name or the whole sordid tale. She hadn’t wanted to appear too damaged when they’d met, and after things progressed between them, it hadn’t seemed to matter.
Someday, she told herself, she’d be able to come home, make eye contact with folks in town without knowing looks, and meaningful sympathetic glances. Up ’til now, this small town’s long memory continued, just like in an old rerun of Andy Griffith she used to watch at her grandmother’s knee as a very young child.
Everybody’s famous in a small town, or maybe they die famous. Wasn’t that a song or quote? Well, it was true.
Between her past and this recent press, she may as well be a walking neon sign. For now, Cammie was headed to the kitchen. It was the one place where she commanded complete control, no matter the situation.
She planned to tackle the things she could begin to resolve. The kitchen’s lack of food and supplies had nothing to do with structural issues. Mom’s cutting staff and persistent back pain had prevented her from preparing quantities necessary for large events. Cammie had no such physical disability—cooking was her passion. Some people painted or waxed poetic to express creativity and emotion. Cammie baked, sautéed, sliced, diced and souffléd. She especially loved crafting Southern foods with her own special twist.
Jo Jo worked part-time answering the phone, and she’d agreed to pick up a few more hours while mom was recovering. This would allow Cammie time to focus on putting the kitchen to rights. Jo’s skills leaned more toward bookkeeping and secretarial. Her youngest child, Susie, was in preschool three days a week until one o’clock. Dirk was in the third grade. So, while the kids were in school, and on the weekends, Jo helped out. The others had jobs outside the Evangeline House, so they lent a hand whenever possible.
Mom had outside catering lined up for the booked events, but Cammie wanted to have a closer look at exactly what those arrangements entailed.
She would make certain the food served at the upcoming functions would equal or surpass Evangeline House’s previ
ous standards. The events this time of year were scheduled in the two main ballrooms, outdoors or under tents, as the weather was predictably mild. There was always a backup plan in place for when Mother Nature didn’t cooperate, though.
Fortunately, this week’s bookings were minimal, due to Mom’s surgery and everything happening with the house. The entertaining wing was deemed solid for formal parties and could also accommodate smaller meetings, showers, and teas.
Cammie took a few minutes to meander through the twenty-three-room home/mansion of her childhood on the way to the kitchen. The old wood and beeswax smells drifted into her nostrils and memories of growing up in a noisy household full of laughter and arguments among family members permeated her emotions.
Meandering the rooms and hallways, she realized how hard over the past ten years she’d worked to block out her life here. Not wanting to remember, because she would have pined for her home. It had been easier to look ahead. Admittedly, she’d had a wonderful childhood in this beautiful, old house, full of adventures and people who loved her.
She avoided the area toward the rear left corner of the house upstairs and to the back center where there were obvious cracks in the molding and settling dips in the floors that showed evidence of instability and were already blocked with large sheets of plastic and caution tape Grey and his crew had put up.
The old sunroom, a connecting hallway, a couple third floor bedrooms and the library were deemed currently at risk.
The many bedrooms—every one was special in some way, either a sibling’s bedroom at some time, or the backdrop of a childhood experience. Old houses, especially, held their character, Cammie thought. People lived and died in them over the decades. Houses truly absorbed life and the character of the occupants through time.
The memories from her childhood and teen years seemed as if they’d occurred ages ago, and she wasn’t the same girl, was she? She hadn’t thought she was until she saw Grey yesterday. Long suppressed memories had boiled back up to the surface in a rush of painful emotion. She’d wanted to shriek at him and demand why he’d made such awful choices, never really allowing her any closure—leaving her heartbroken and grieving his loss.