Again, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  “What?” Her tone was breathy.

  He must have picked up on her discomfort, because he placed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, obviously struggling with his own desire. “I want this as much as you do, but I think I hear your sisters heading this way.” He stepped back suddenly and turned toward his toolbox, bending over as if he was searching for something.

  Sure enough, the two mother hens found them in the library looking for all the world to be discussing the flooring. With the weekend done, Cammie was up to her eyeballs in Evangeline House duties. Since very little catering had been done of late, Cammie spent time unloading serving pieces and going over recipes in the kitchen. She had a couple of mid-week meetings scheduled with clients as well.

  The Chamber of Commerce’s monthly luncheon was set to take place in one of the ballrooms as well as the Little Miss Pecan Pie Princess Pageant committee meeting, Thursday evening in one of the smaller, less grand rooms. Cammie fell asleep that night contemplating a bunch of sticky little princesses with ginormous teased hair. She couldn’t wait to meet their mamas. What she tried not to think about was Grey. And the two of them together.

  One of Cammie’s new duties, it seemed, was to care for Lucy if the school called while Maeve was at work. Normally that would have fallen to Mom, and so now it did to Cammie. Lucy called in a tizzy having forgotten her lunch. Apparently, Lucy was now a vegan, and such offerings weren’t currently available at her school cafeteria. Cammie assured Lucy she would bring the food to her in time and made her way two doors down to Maeve’s house. Using the key from the hook in her mother’s laundry room, she found the prepared lunch in the refrigerator, and headed toward the same elementary school Cammie had attended eons ago.

  It was nearly lunchtime by the time she arrived. To avoid the rigmarole in the school office, Cammie headed straight into the cafeteria. She could ask forgiveness from school administrators later if necessary. She was certain Mrs. Weed, the nasty old battle-ax, still sat at the front office, and would do her damnedest to give Cammie a demerit for disregarding procedure.

  Scanning the utilitarian tables, partially filled with boys dressed in beaten up, baggy jeans and girls in tight clothing, and many wearing makeup far too early than they ought for such youngsters, she located her niece entering from a far door from the hallway with swarms of other hungry students. Most of them were headed toward the food lines. Lucy came further into the large room toward a group of tables. Cammie started toward her, hoping to hand off the lunch before the hormonally challenged crowd of children converged upon the space.

  Just as she and Lucy made eye contact, a ruckus to the right drew both their attention. Samantha, obviously trying to make her way laden with a lunch tray, purse, and jacket was surrounded by three larger girls. They were taunting and pushing her within their circle. She appeared so frail and helpless within the tight ring of bullies. Cammie and Lucy both reacted immediately, heading as quickly as possible toward Samantha, but not before the precariously held lunch tray had been tipped down the front of her adorable top. Of course today’s lunch would be spaghetti.

  The bullies melted away before Cammie could reach Sam. Lucy bent down and picked up her purse and jacket. Samantha’s head was bowed in utter humiliation and she was crouched low to the floor. Cammie looked around for a teacher, trying to process how something like this could occur while in a supervised area. It had happened so quickly. Someone must have notified a teacher on duty, because one was bearing down on the scene.

  Cammie knew she wasn’t Samantha’s favorite person right now, but she must try and help if she could. “Honey, do you want me to call your dad?”

  Sam looked up, quickly recognizing Cammie. Her furious green eyes blazed with anger, “This is all your fault! Stay away from my daddy!” she shrieked at Cammie. Her frail shoulders shook with rage. She’d obviously directed whatever emotions this incident had ignited using Cammie as the target of her angst.

  Cammie blinked uncomprehendingly. Lucy looked horrified that her friend would attack her beloved aunt with such a vengeance. “Why are you yelling at Aunt Cammie? Sam?”

  “You didn’t know, did you? She’s the reason my mom is dead. Now everybody’s heard about it because their parents have been talking. Those girls were calling me a—a freak show because my mom wrecked her car into a pole. They said my mother was—was crazy.” Samantha was sobbing in earnest now.

  The school counselor appeared in moments and just happened to be a former classmate. She barely spared Cammie a glance though, focusing instead on Samantha’s state of anguish. “Poor thing. She’s been through so much. Look at you with spaghetti all over your pretty clothes.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Cammie asked, trying to control her own tears.

  “I think your being here is upsetting her. I’ll take her to my office and call her father. You know, it’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened since she’s been back. Children can be very cruel.”

  “So can adults.” Cammie took Lucy by the hand and walked toward the empty end of one of the tables. She appeared shaken.

  “I don’t understand, Aunt Cammie.”

  “It all happened a long time ago, honey. Samantha’s dad and I dated just before he married her mom. People sometimes say things they shouldn’t, and I think Samantha must have overheard some gossip about her dad and me. She’ll go home now and get her bearings, but don’t let what happened between her father and me ruin your friendship. It will be hard, but she really needs you right now. Promise?”

  “Uh, okay. But what did she mean that this is all your fault?”

  “It’s far too complicated to go into right now, but we will spend some time talking about it at home. Okay? It isn’t like it sounds. I didn’t have anything to do with her mother’s death, so please don’t think that I did. Everything that happened was before Samantha was born or Mr. Harrison married her mom.”

  Lucy stared at her and nodded slowly. “I’ll go sit with my friends and eat. Thanks for bringing my food,” she waved and walked off, a baffled expression on her young face.

  By the time Cammie returned to her car, she noticed Grey’s truck pulling in to the parking lot near her.

  She rushed up to meet him. “Grey, I’m so sorry. Samantha overheard terrible things and believes Deb killed herself because of me. When she saw me, she really melted down.” Cammie wanted more than anything to help. “If there’s anything I can do?”

  His expression was pure granite. “You’re probably the last person she wants to see right now. It’s best we stay away from one another for awhile.” He turned on his heel and stalked toward the front office where Mrs. Weed was sure to be waiting.

  Cammie stared after him in shocked silence as he stalked toward the school office entrance. Really? Did he think she was here to harass his daughter? She shook her head in bewilderment.

  She thought about calling him later to try and make him understand why she’d gone to the school—that she’d was only delivering Lucy’s lunch when the situation with Samantha had occurred, but she was stubborn enough to want him to think what he wanted. Still, she thought as got into the car, there’d been enough miscommunication between them to last a lifetime as far as she was concerned. She would give it some consideration. Maybe she just didn’t want him to think ill of her?

  If becoming a parent made a person behave the way Grey had earlier, she wanted none of it. Life was hard, and the way Cammie’s heart hurt for his child was painful enough. It didn’t seem to matter to her anymore that Samantha was also Deb’s daughter.

  Cammie returned home and tried to focus on returning a few calls and e-mails. How had things become so complicated in such a short amount of time? This trip thus far had been an extension of the hair-fire nightmare; beginning the morning she’d arrived to face Grey in her underwear. Things had pitched steeply downhill from there.

  She wanted to return to her former life. The one that included a loving fiancé who didn’
t accuse her of foul intentions toward young children or hurt her beyond belief. The one where she called her mother once a week to check in. She would sort the career thing out sooner or later. She missed her beach house and her boyfriend. The sooner she got out of Misery, the better.

  *

  Samantha had finally worn herself down and was now sleeping. After watching her stare motionless for a long while at the wall in her bedroom, Grey had brought hot chocolate, and suggested they talk about what had happened at school today. She’d come unglued.

  Following the temper tantrum, the tears, and the accusations, Grey was every bit the emotional wreck Sam appeared. They both had an appointment this Tuesday with a family counselor who was new on the edge of town. The necessity for Sam to see someone about her intense emotions was becoming dire, even before today. She seemed so—broken.

  Maybe coming back here wasn’t the right thing for either of them. It seemed an ideal solution at the time. His large restoration project had wrapped up, and he could take some time to help his father around the old house, and slow down his work pace. Grey’s plan included spending more time with Samantha. He’d been at his wits end, grasping for a solution to ease the guilt and despair as he watched Samantha flounder day after day without her mom.

  He would keep the appointment with the family therapist and go from there. No telling what can of worms it would open up, but if it helped them all find some sort of peace and closure in the long-term, he’d be willing to put forth the time and money necessary.

  They both only had one life to live. Hers wasn’t too late to rescue and rebuild. His—well; time would tell.

  Grey quietly shut the door to Sam’s room, then made his way to the kitchen in search of coffee. If he got lucky, he might avoid having to try and explain this afternoon’s train wreck with his daughter.

  Finding his dad sitting at the bar, reading the newspaper, felt right on par with the rest of the day. Norman raised his shaggy brows and inquired above his glasses at Grey. Shit. They were co-parenting now, he and his father. And his father was quite good at it, Grey was finding out. But he hadn’t any issue with expressing his opinion when he felt the need. But his dad was also a wealth of support to Grey.

  “Hey, Dad.” He felt twelve again, and required to spill about the broken glass at the barn from the baseball incident.

  “You mind sharing what was happening in there with my granddaughter? Sounded like an exorcism might be required.”

  “Closer to it than you realize.” Grey explained about the incident at school with Cammie.

  “Have you and Cammie had a conversation about this?”

  “I told her we’d need to keep our distance from one another.”

  “How do you plan to do that while you’re working for Maureen?”

  “I’ll do as much outside work as possible and take a week off until she leaves town. I can’t be around her if it’s going to hurt Sam.” Grey knew it would kill him, but Cammie was not a good influence on his daughter right now. He still wondered what exactly had happened at school.

  “Since when do kids get to say who you get to spend your time around?” His dad asked, and Grey felt the question like a punch. “I get it that she’s upset, but she misunderstands the situation. She needs the facts. And.” His gaze narrowed. “While you’re at it. Samantha’s built her mama up to be some kind of saint that she wasn’t.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “We all know Deb loved her daughter—kind of like a doll or a possession. But, son, you were the one who cooked her meals, helped her with her homework, and kissed her skinned knees—still do. Her mother put her on a pedestal and spoiled her something fierce when she wasn’t shouting and throwing things. You’re her anchor, don’t forget that.”

  “It’s a hard thing to communicate to a nine-year-old. She remembers things in her own way.”

  “Are you still planning to keep the appointment with the counselor?”

  “Definitely. I don’t see that I have a choice, especially now.”

  “Good. Years ago, I would have told you it was all nonsense. Now, I can see where this confusion has to be sorted out. I know these mind doctors train to help people make sense after such a shock to the system. Don’t worry, Grey, we’ll all be here to help her.”

  Grey ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. What a damned mess all this was. In some ways, with Deb gone, it was over—the emotional manipulation and drama that had been so much a part of daily life. For now, the days could pass without that sort of upheaval. He knew his wife had been sick. Nevertheless, her illness had metastasized into all their lives. With her gone, he could hope for a cure.

  Later that night, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, Grey remembered that awful night as if it was yesterday. The day he’d been released from his marriage and Samantha had lost her mother. Deb had gotten angry with him for another perceived slight, a small and insignificant thing that caused her to seek solace in her favorite pastime—drinking.

  He’d assumed since it was getting late and Samantha was already asleep that he would avoid more conflict by leaving Deb to her bottle and heading up to bed. Deb typically had slept it off in the downstairs guest bedroom anyway. He’d not anticipated her decision to leave the house once she’d had too much to drink that night.

  She’d only done that a couple times, and then, she’d driven just down the street to the convenience store for something. But that last time, they’d never discovered her intended destination, or if she’d even had one. The accident involved only Deb and an immovable electrical pole. No one called it suicide, only a tragic accident involving alcohol.

  What a mess it all still was. If he thought for a moment Samantha’s issues would simply resolve themselves, then waiting this out might be the path of least resistance. But this latest incident and her response really concerned him. He would see what the counselor had to say. That meant seeing her himself as well as Samantha. Great. More analysis of the disaster he’d made of his life.

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  Cammie woke up with a headache from lack of sleep. Lack of sleep and too much brooding, tossing and turning. She should call Jason down here and spill every bit of this to him right now. He would understand. And he would support her and help her deal with it all. But she hated emotional dumping. It was, after all, her mess.

  One foot in front of the other. Right now, this instant, called for coffee and aspirin. Pulling on her robe and slippers, she stepped out into the still-darkened hallway and padded to the kitchen. Searching the cupboards for the aspirin, she didn’t hear Jo enter. “Good morning, sunshine!”

  “Oh, my God, Jo, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here so early?” Cammie put her hand to her throbbing head.

  “I’m out of coffee. Easier to get it here than the store this early.” She must have noticed Cammie’s discomfort. “Honey, you okay? Are you dizzy or sick to your stomach?” Cammie felt her sister’s touch beside her in an instant—sensed the concern in her voice.

  “I’m fine. Just had a bad night.”

  “Yes, your eyes are puffy. Everything alright with Jason?”

  “Who—oh, yes, things are fine with Jason.” It took Cammie a moment to catch Jo’s drift.

  “What’s going on then? Don’t say nothing—it’s obviously something enough that you’re head is hurting from crying during the night.” Jo’s hand was on her hip and she wouldn’t back down until Cammie cried ‘uncle.’

  Cammie told her what happened with Samantha at the school. She was surprised the whole family hadn’t yet had a conference about it since it also involved Lucy.

  Jo Jo looked as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t make up her mind.

  “What is it you want to say?” Cammie demanded.

  “Honey, we haven’t really talked about Deb and how she was, really. We touched on it a few times, but never really got into it.”

  Cammie didn’t know what that mea
nt. “No. Obviously we’ve never really discussed Deb.”

  “I know she was your best friend growing up, but we all saw something disturbing in her that I don’t think you ever did. Nobody ever said anything because you had such a soft heart and a blind spot where she was concerned.”

  “They were poor, but I didn’t think my family held that against her,” Cammie said.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. One time Mom brought it up, but you got so stinkin’ mad that she never did again.”

  “I remember Mom saying she was after Grey when we were in high school.” Realization dawned on Cammie. “Are you trying to tell me she was after him all along?

  Jo Jo threw up her hands. “Cammie, that gal was no good. She was Looney Toons. I’m sorry to say she was just hangin’ on to you because you were popular and could get her near the boys she wanted to screw.”

  “Josephine Laroux! What an awful thing to say about a dead woman.” Cammie was appalled by her sister’s lack of decorum.

  “Are you upset that I said it, or that it’s true?”

  “Both!” That was true enough.

  Cammie had known Deb was less—inhibited than most young girls when it came to guys when they’d been teens. But she’d been her dearest, most trusted friend.

  When Deb had revealed how Grey had taken advantage of her in the barn after she’d been drinking heavily—after Cammie and Grey’s big fight. It was as if a bright light had just been turned on. “Oh, my God. She lied to me.” Funny how time and maturity brought clarity to a situation in a single instant when one took a moment to really re-examine. A ten year old irredeemable situation.

  “Honey, had it never occurred to you that she’d made a play for your boyfriend when he was sad and upset?”

  No, it hadn’t. She’d blamed him a hundred percent. “No, I guess not. It—doesn’t matter, does it? He married her even after she miscarried.” Her head was really pounding now.

  “No, it doesn’t matter. But now you can understand how young and immature you all were and maybe just forgive him already.”