Again, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  He wondered when she would get around to that. He knew this had to happen, but now that it was happening, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “What’s the matter, Grey? You look a little uncomfortable. Too much to have to actually talk about it? ’Cause we never did you know?” Cammie challenged.

  “No, we didn’t because you left before we had the chance,” he said.

  “Really? I should have stuck around for more of your shit?”

  “I—” he didn’t even get a chance to speak.

  “Would it have changed anything? Would Deb have been less pregnant? Would you both have been less deceitful? Would you have done anything different if I’d stuck around?”

  “Cammie, I—” he tried again.

  “No, I didn’t think so. And just so you know, Grey, I’m good with marrying a city slicker. Nothing about him reminds me of you or this place. Coming back here wasn’t such a mistake. I’ve been able to get closer to my family again and come to terms with all the awful stuff that you put me through back then.”

  This attack from her was long in coming and much deserved, and he knew it, but felt powerless defending it. “I hope you know I never meant to hurt you. And Samantha’s name—” He floundered.

  “But you did hurt me, didn’t you? You ruined my life for a long time, made it impossible for me to trust anyone. And Samantha’s name is just the icing on the whole thing.”

  Grey approached her then, unable to stand the raw hurt in her voice. She didn’t move. So he put his arms around her from behind and buried his face in her neck. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t make a sound. They stood that way for a few precious moments, sharing her pain, his pain, then she broke away with a small sob. Grey heard her footfalls running up the stairs a moment later.

  “Way to go, genius,” he said aloud to the now empty kitchen.

  *

  Things were settling down to a dull roar now that Mom was home and truly on the mend. After a full two weeks in the hospital, she’d begun intensive physical therapy three days ago, her mule’s constitution shining through, according to the doctor and therapist. Cammie could see the light at the end of the tunnel, as far as heading back to Virginia Beach. Since she’d stuck it out this long, another week or two wouldn’t hurt. The Pecan Pie pageant was coming up, and with Mom’s slight setback, she wasn’t really ready to host that, so Cammie would stay and handle the pageant.

  She’d been trying her best to dodge Grey while they went about their business, but lately, he seemed to be more in her space than not. He wasn’t the easiest person to ignore within four walls, especially when certain situations required them to communicate or be together in the same room. His nearness caused blips in the radar of her day. She disliked blips.

  Since her outburst at him the other day, neither of them brought up the elephant in the room. They both pretended like it hadn’t happened and proceeded with awkward caution when they did come in contact.

  Cammie forced herself to engage with residents when she ventured into town; she smiled, said hello, and put forth an effort at normal. Maybe it helped stifle some of the knowing glances and whispers behind her back. Now, it seemed, she was beginning to gain some sort of acceptance within her hometown again. Folks were now smiling and nodding instead of stealing sneaky looks her way when she passed.

  Cammie, finally relenting to her sisters’ ceaseless peer pressure, figured a little fun wouldn’t hurt. So, she headed upstairs to try and find something to wear for the big night out.

  She nearly cringed at the idea of heading to a bar alongside that bunch with the intention of letting loose. Hopefully they’d all be on their best behavior and not go out of their way to embarrass her. They’d dubbed her with the nickname, grandma, though Cammie believed she’d come down here more forward-thinking and slicker than all of them combined, but really, somebody had to behave like an adult.

  As soon as she stepped foot in her bedroom and made to close the door, a stampede of high heels and boots within a cloud of Calvin Klein barreled up the stairs. “Cammie, honey, we’re here!”

  Oh, God. She had to give it a try, “I’ll be down shortly.”

  The door burst open, “Are you kidding? We’re here to make sure you don’t go out looking like a granny tonight.” Hands on her hips, Emma was a sight to behold. The term cougar just developed a capital C and an exclamation point at the end. She was stunning. Perfect hair, accessorized to the max, decked out in jeans, and high wedged heels, she all but growled. And she was gorgeous. A former Miss Alabama, she’d done them all proud. Clearly, she still had it.

  The sisters chatted, giggled, and drank wine all while layering Cammie in makeup, clothing and local gossip. Her hesitation to survey their work was more a pitiable dread as the brutes dragged her before the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Her sisters were lovely women, she couldn’t argue with that. Each had some crown or title of most this or that to claim from her glory days. Her style was typically more understated, that was all.

  “Okay, honey, open your eyes.”

  Positioning her features in the most pleasantly surprised mask just before catching sight of herself would likely be her best bet. But when she finally did open her eyes, Cammie was really excited at the result. There was color on her eyelids, a shimmery cinnamon tone with liner and some miraculous mascara that made her nondescript eyes appear mysterious and heavy-lidded. “Wow.”

  They’d slid her into a pair of dark denim jeans so snug Cammie wondered she could still draw breath and a fitted tank of deep bronze with a silk overlay in the same color. The sleeves were capped, showing off her trim upper arms. Because the blouse was deceptively simple, they’d accessorized it by pairing a long string of tiny shimmering crystal stones with an updated carved, ivory cameo hanging below her breasts.

  “This is gorgeous.” The sisters all eyed one another knowingly.

  “We missed your birthday this year. The outfit and the necklace are gifts from us all.”

  “Oh—I couldn’t accept them.” Cammie had some really great clothes, but Emma had an awesome sense of style that she didn’t personally own. She’d never have chosen the ensemble herself, but boy did it work.

  “Oh—you will accept them. None of us are skinny enough to squeeze our asses into those jeans, thank you very much,” Emma replied for the group.

  She hugged each one, hoping not to destroy the wonderful makeup job. “So, where are you wild things taking me this evening?”

  “It’s a secret. You just grab your handbag and come with us, sister dear.”

  Her nerves returned. Even though she was dressed for a big night out, she hoped she could hold up her end of the fun. When had she become such a stick in the mud?

  Making certain Mom was comfortable before they left with the promise to call Junior two doors down if she had a problem, they kissed her and headed to the front door. As Cammie stepped outside onto the wide porch, she didn’t have long to wonder at their mode of transportation. Ben was waiting in his black Range Rover to escort his sisters on their evening’s adventure.

  “Ladies,” he bowed gallantly with a grin as he opened front passenger door for Cammie to climb into. The others piled in before he had a chance to get there.

  “Thanks,” she said just before he shut the door and made for the driver’s seat.

  “Everybody buckled up?” He turned toward his older sisters in the back and waggled his eyebrows in the way only he could since childhood, making them all shriek with laughter.

  “Ben, I swear all you’d need is a cigar and we’d call you Groucho,” Jo Jo dried her eyes, trying not to smudge her mascara.

  “Ready to rock and roll, girls?”

  “Somebody really should tell me where we’re headed,” Cammie laughed.

  “Don’t you dare, Ben. It’s a surprise, remember?” Emma reminded him.

  “Oh, come on. You know I hate surprises.”

  “A little Friday night trip down memory lane—a good one, don�
�t worry,” said Jo Jo.

  Now she was worried. Memory lane around here usually involved Grey. But she kept her mouth shut. There weren’t that many places to go in Ministry.

  Dusk was settling as they arrived in Cheyneyville. She’d begun to suspect their destination not long into the journey. As teens, the cool place to go out was Cheyneyville, because it was the closest non-dry town in the next county bordering Okaloosa. Remaining such, it was also home to the nearest country and western bar. Shit Kickers, with a boot replacing both ‘I’s so as not to offend, boasted live music and a legendary dance floor. For a small town, it was big—stuff.

  Cammie turned to her family members and said dubiously, “This frightens me.”

  “It damned well should.” Ben laughed. “No worries, I’m to be your designated driver this evening, so feel free to enjoy yourselves however you see fit. But I draw the line at vomiting females in my car. I will put you out on the side of the road if anyone shows signs of a vomitous expression, understood?”

  “Is vomitous a word?” Maeve asked.

  “I’m certain you get my meaning. Oh, and no strange men. I promised the brothers-in-law that while they are caring for your offspring, you will behave in that respect.”

  “Woo-hoo, I haven’t been out to a bar in a coon’s age. I’m ready to get my drinkin’ and dancin’ on.” Emma, having slickly exited the car, shimmied up to the entrance with a combination two-step and bootie-shake that had Cammie cringing with apprehension at what madness the next few hours might hold.

  “There she goes. We can’t stop her now that she’s revved up and ready. Just gotta join her. C’mon girls.” Cammie was grabbed in a vice grip by the two remaining sisters with no hope of escape.

  “Fighting it is hopeless, you know, so you may as well shake the starch out of your panties and let loose. The Cammie we remember knew how to have a good time.” Ben’s parting shot rang in her ears as she was half-dragged in the wake of Emma.

  Emma knew how to have fun. Weird how she’d never scratched the surface again relationship-wise though. Not even the most casual of dinner dates. But the men loved her.

  *

  Grey hadn’t planned on going anywhere tonight. In fact, if his old buddy, Jake, hadn’t stopped by this afternoon and given him a hand, hauling building materials and guilting Grey into accompanying him here, Grey wouldn’t have considered stepping foot anywhere near this establishment. But Jake had other plans—the plans involved dragging Grey to a boot-scootin’ dance hall.

  Spotting the darkest, and farthest, stool from the music and mayhem, Grey parked himself in hopes time would pass quickly. Jake—being Jake, was snapped up and dragged out to dance by a lovely young female, not two steps inside the front door. Grey had waved him on his way reassuringly, despite weak protests on his own behalf.

  As Grey’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and his half-full beer began to do its job, he took notice of the crowded bar area. The young crowd was out in force; a vast array of men and women in tight jeans, drinking beer and keeping a keen eye out for either a dance partner or someone to partner until morning. It appeared several lucky couples had already found success for the evening. Good for them.

  *

  “Why, Cammie, can’t nobody say you forgot how to two-step, and that’s a fact,” her dance partner, Lloyd, a former high school classmate, remarked as they whirled around the scuffed wooden floor. He’d been one of several familiar faces she’d come across since they’d arrived.

  She’d given up, and given in. “Thanks, Lloyd, I’d forgotten how much fun this is. I don’t think anyone could forget how to two-step. It’s so easy.” The name of the dance itself should clue one in to the simplicity.

  “Aw, Cammie, it’s just ’cause you such a natural. Not everybody can do it like this, you know?”

  She glanced around, realizing in about a second that, indeed, there were less than capable two-steppers all around. “I guess I’d never really thought about it.”

  The song ended much too quickly. Not because she couldn’t bear to part company with Lloyd, though he was a handsome fellow and a good dancer, but because she was truly enjoying herself. Approaching the rather large table where her sisters and brother had taken on several others, she noticed a little ripple of shifting eyeballs. “What’s going on?”

  Ignoring her, Emma said, “You sure were cuttin’ a rug out there with Lloyd, girl. Whoa, I haven’t seen you dance like that in years.” She smiled brightly.

  Cammie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at them, then repeated, “What’s going on?”

  “Might as well tell her. She’s bound to hear it in here or see for herself,” Maeve said.

  “Tell me what?”

  Jo Jo stood, linked arms with her, and began leading her in the direction of the small bar over in a far corner. Just before they came too close, she pointed through the throng. Cammie followed her sister’s line of vision and she spotted Grey sitting alone at the bar.

  He was sipping a longneck and appeared to be brooding. Nothing like the hottest guy in the bar sitting there like he was waiting for her. Well, hell. She couldn’t very well go back to having a good time with her people without at least saying hello, could she? It didn’t seem very nice, especially since he appeared fairly miserable hanging there by himself. Maybe she would wait a little while and then come back—

  At that moment, his head snapped up and he caught her staring through the crowd. Her feet instantly became blocks of cement, and utterly unmovable. Crap.

  He smiled then and raised his beer in salute to her, slapped a bill on the bar, nodded to the bartender. Within a half a second he was closing the distance between them without breaking eye contact with Cammie. She tried again to move, feet still frozen, rooted to the floor.

  She straightened her shoulders, realizing a getaway wasn’t happening at this point. The intensity with which he bore down was intimidating, but maybe she’d asked for it with her surprised expression he’d caught her casting in his direction.

  “Cammie,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm, his firm but gentle grip seared her bare upper arm, calloused fingers directed her to a less visible spot away from her family and interested onlookers.

  What the hell was her problem, anyway? She had a fiancée. And she and Grey had been in near contact for these past weeks without major incident. Why should this moment be any different? She allowed herself to be maneuvered to a more private area.

  He was only slightly manhandling her, but she wasn’t sure she didn’t like it—just a little.

  Grey stopped as they reached a small area where a few couples danced in a darker corner, seemingly unaware of anyone else. The bar was laid out like an octopus with four arms, with several small bars and dance floors stretching out like appendages from the main area. Cammie and Grey stood toe-to-toe as an old, slow George Strait song began. Before she realized what was happening, she was wrapped in his muscular arms, breasts pressed against his chest, swaying softly to their song.

  She’d consumed a couple of longnecks, resulting in a lovely tingly sensation. Combined with the soulful country ballad playing, reminiscent from their dating years, perhaps it was no wonder she was experiencing more than a little emotional and physical sizzle of electricity. Considering she’d always been wildly attracted to Grey, she might want to rein herself in. She inhaled the scent of him, closed her eyes, and fell back in time.

  Dear Lord. Why did he make her feel like this? What was it about him that caused the young girl who’d loved and trusted him with her whole heart to take over without even a struggle from older, smarter her who’d thrown in the towel the moment they’d locked eyes?

  At this particular moment, she couldn’t think, only feel and remember what it’d been like with Grey.

  *

  Grey’s desire to touch Cammie, to taste her, went beyond rational. It was the vital result of two adults who’d spent ten years craving what they’d missed: the scent, the taste, the feel of the ot
her. But it was also a deep down visceral emotional remembrance as well. He’d loved her since he’d had his first pimple. God, he’d missed her.

  The conflict of anger, desire, frustrated longing all presented in this full-body clash. Every one of his senses remembered. He couldn’t control the emotions from rising to the surface once it began. Grey once again grabbed Cammie’s arm and tugged her out the side door of the building.

  Once outside, Grey pressed into Cammie against the cinderblock wall. He could feel her softer form yield to his harder, more demanding one.

  Like ten years and a gigantic mistake had never happened, she was right there with him. She impatiently jerked up his shirttail and her hands slid underneath, burning his bare skin, kneading and touching him, driving him crazy.

  Cammie moaned into his mouth as their bodies fused against the hard, cold wall. His need for her nearly sent him over the edge right then and there. Oh God, could this really finally be happening?

  She felt so good, so hot. It was how things were between them a lifetime ago. They’d been young, but had waited until college before making love. So frustrating, but incredibly worth it. That was how he felt now. So worth the wait.

  “Oh, Grey. I—” She kissed him again, with all the longing and enthusiasm he’d believed gone forever.

  One hand cradled the back of her head, protecting it from the hard bricks behind her, his other thumb gently stroked her cheek as he went in for another soul-wrenching kiss. It wasn’t enough. He placed a hand at the small of her back, pulling her hips forward, aching to feel all of her against him. His erection was such an obvious physical sign of his desire for her, not to be ignored.

  “Aahh…” She leaned her head back and stared into his eyes, her expression perplexed, but so sexy. Her lips were swollen from their kisses, and he could see the desire there, too.