Again, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  “You know I don’t really like her that much,” Samantha said.

  “I know you’ve heard things about her that upset you, and I don’t blame you for your reaction to those things.” Grey reasoned.

  “But I don’t think people should be mean just because they get embarrassed and blame the wrong person. It’s not fair. Things should be fair when they can be.” Samantha said, brows knit.

  “When they can be, they should,” Grey agreed with that logic wholeheartedly.

  “But it wasn’t fair for Mom to die. I mean, it wasn’t fair for me.”

  Grey didn’t move a muscle. She hadn’t had an outburst in quite a while, and he wasn’t certain where this thread of conversation might lead. “No, Sam, it wasn’t fair to you. None of the bad things you’ve gone through were fair. And none of them were your fault.” He gently reached over and lifted her chin with two fingers, peering into his daughter’s eyes. It was vitally important she comprehend this.

  She nodded, “No, Daddy, none of it was fair. And it wasn’t your fault either. Was it Cammie’s fault? Did Mom think she was the reason you didn’t love her?” She hadn’t burst into tears—yet.

  The question hovered. It was a question no child should ever have to ask, but Deb had never been private about her fears or insecurities. How to answer this very pivotal question honestly?

  “Mom thought she knew about my feelings, but she just believed something and wouldn’t listen. No, pumpkin, there’s really no one to blame. It’s sad and awful, but it’s nobody’s fault.”

  She heaved a big sigh, “I know sometimes Mom was hard to understand.”

  He nodded. “Sometimes she was,” he agreed.

  “Okay.” Then, she put her headphones back into her ears and transferred her attention to her phone, where she shuffled through her playlist.

  Subject closed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  Maureen had allowed Anna to fuss over her, help unload the car, stock the refrigerator, and check to make certain the bed linens were fresh before shooing her away to visit her cousin across the lake when they’d arrived. “You sure you’re gonna be alright over here all by yourself, Miss Maureen?”

  “I’ve got your cell number programmed in, along with Daisy Mae’s written right here next to the microwave. You go on; I don’t like the idea of your driving on these winding roads this close to dark. It makes me think of my poor Cammie when she had her accident a few weeks ago.” Maureen tried to control the small shudder, but when she pictured her daughter’s near miss, it made her shaky all over.

  “I know. I think about it too sometimes, how scary that must have been for her. But you don’t worry for me. I’ll be fine except for worrying about you.” Anna leaned over and hugged Maureen. “And thank you for allowing me this little bit of a vacation. My momma would have my hide should she find out.”

  “I’ve got this covered, honey. It’s our secret. The doctor said the only things I can’t do are lift heavy objects and drive. I won’t be doing either, I promise.” She smiled as she waved Anna out the door and down the front steps. Standing on the porch, watching her drive away, Maureen suddenly realized a couple of things: At some point a man would arrive, and she would finally get answers to one of the great mysteries of her past. She could only hope his arrival didn’t open up the can of backwash she’d just as soon forget entirely.

  Making her way back inside, Maureen stopped a moment to admire the interior of the cabin. The structure was somewhat enormous, truth be told, and intended to house two or three families vacationing together at any given time. It was crafted of solid Pine logs, and had been updated throughout the years. So, even though it was aging, it didn’t seem outdated. There were scars on the beams left behind marking the families who’d come and gone, which added character to this old lady, who still maintained a cozy, welcoming presence no matter how long one stayed away.

  Catching herself in the mirror, Maureen wondered how she’d become such an old woman. She knew, obviously that years passed and changes occurred, but marveled to still be the same deep down, but see such a different reflection. Tires on gravel wrenched her out of her musings. Dear Lord, he was here.

  Not certain what to do, Maureen began straightening pillows, she smoothed her hair, then she heard the knock. Her stomach flipped, heart pounded.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. “Maureen, you in there? It’s me, Howard.” He called though the screen. She’d left the heavy door open, allowing air to flow even though it was a bit chilly.

  Yes, it was Howard. He sounded the same, almost. Deeper, gruffer, but she recognized the tone of his voice. He really was here.

  “Hello? Anyone there?”

  She found her voice, somehow, and managed to answer, “I—I’m coming. Just a moment.”

  She caught her own eye in the mirror as she made for the door, but recognized that expression. It was one that Maureen thought long gone from her facial arrangements.

  He was still tall, from what she could see through the screen door. Her hand faltered.

  “You gonna let me in?” Howard flashed her a smile through the metal mesh. His face was weathered, but those eyes were still dark, cobalt blue like a midnight sky. He’d always had a magnificent head of hair, thick and dark, now steel grey, and just as thick. How had he kept his hair? She figured him to be around sixty-five.

  “I’m not sure that I should.” She replied, while carefully cataloguing him through the barrier. This was a good way to begin, Maureen decided. Slow and easy.

  “Fair enough.” They both stared at the other for a moment. It had been such a long time. She wondered what his thoughts were about her.

  “Where are you staying?” She asked.

  “Just outside of Ministry,” he answered.

  “I’m surprised you remembered how to get here.” It was something to say. And it was a challenging drive, to say the least.

  “Like I could forget.” His voice became smooth as silk, remembering.

  “I mean, there are lots of small roads and turns and such—” She began.

  “Like I was just here yesterday.” His words said one thing but his eyes, even through the screen door, conveyed another message.

  “Would you like to come inside?” Maureen was moved to action by her discomfort.

  “Thought you’d never ask.” He stepped inside as she pushed the door open. He lightly skimmed her body with his as he moved past. She tingled from head to toe, little spikes of energy igniting her pulses. This wasn’t a sensation grandmothers experienced. It must be a sin. He had been her sin, always.

  Once inside, she motioned for him to sit on the large chair and a half, while she perched on the edge of the sofa. He nodded and sat, but his eyes never left her face for a moment.

  “Why are you here?” There, she’d said it.

  “I had to see you.” His eyes caressed her face, as if he was remembering everything.

  “Again, why?” She tried to ignore his unnerving stare.

  “I’ve missed you.” That was really enough. His words tore through her, while she fought the emotions.

  “We were kids about to get married and you left me at the altar with a note. I spent my life with another man. I have grandchildren. Why are you here now?” Maureen still wanted and needed his explanation.

  “I wanted to marry you, Maureen, to spend my life with you. You were the love of my life.”

  “It doesn’t matter now, but why didn’t you marry me, if you cared so much?” She worked to maintain her reasonable, detached tone.

  “My mother was ill, had been having heart scares, and told me that if I went through with the wedding, it would kill her.”

  “How did she find out? We were marrying in secret.” She asked.

  “The judge who signed the license was a friend of Daddy’s.” He hung his head.

  “So, you chose your mother over me.” Maureen couldn’t imagine a mother placing a child in the position to choose her happiness over his, but
certainly understood hard choices when it came down to taking steps to ensure your child’s future. In fact, she had done a few things on behalf of her offspring she wasn’t particularly proud of.

  “I was young and her only child; we were very close. She used my guilt to control me.”

  “Desperation often causes mothers to take less than honorable actions.” It wasn’t an absolution, but she hated to hear that kind of dejection and regret in anyone’s soul. “I heard about their accident. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, it broke my heart all over again. I was grief stricken after losing you, and then their deaths nearly sent me over the edge. I went back for you, but found out you’d already married and were expecting. So, I joined the military and was sent overseas to fight. It seemed the thing to do.”

  She didn’t want him to know that she’d researched his military career. If he wanted her to know about his torture and captivity, he could enlighten her.

  “I realize your choices put into effect a terrible set of consequences, but I’ve had a good life. My husband was a wonderful man. My family means everything to me.”

  “I envy you that.” She could tell he really did.

  “Do you have a family?”

  “No. I never married.”

  How sad.

  “What did you do after the military?”

  “I healed for a long while, then I worked for the government for many years—unfortunately, I can’t share details of my employment, sufficed to say, I traveled extensively and I’m now retired with a pension.” And that, clearly, was all to be said about that.

  “I hope you’ve found some happiness along the way.”

  “Some, here and there, I suppose. But I’ve never forgotten about you.”

  “But I’m an old lady now.”

  “You’re beautiful. Just as I remember. It breaks my heart to look at you and what I’ve missed all these years.” His eyes were suspiciously moist.

  “What could you possibly want? Here? Now?”

  “I want another chance.” He wanted her.

  She only shook her head, realizing that even if she entertained the idea of allowing him into her life, he would never forgive her for not telling him about his daughter. He’d missed a lifetime of being a father, loving her; watching her grow. And how would Maeve ever forgive her? He had a granddaughter.

  It was better to grant him his absolution and send him on his way, none the wiser for all their sakes, or maybe, just for her sake. This could send the world, as she’d constructed it, tumbling down around them. And she was far too old to rebuild both a house and her life.

  *

  There was winning, and there was winning. Cammie was awarded the Alabama State Pecan Pie Festival’s Best Pecan Pie award this year. This was no small accomplishment, considering her competition had been finessing their recipes for years, hoping to bring home the trophy. Aside from Shelia Sue, none had ever won twice. Several were well known chefs from fine restaurants all over several states. So, it was a very big deal.

  “She stole my recipe, y’all! You know she did,” Jessica Greene stood up from her seat among the judges as soon as Cammie’s name was announced as the grand prize winner.

  Cammie’s gut had been warning her all day that the woman was up to no good. What could Jessica possibly have to gain by this outlandish lie? The other judges turned very serious and questioning glances toward Cammie. The crowd’s gasp of horror let Cammie know she was instantly guilty in the public’s opinion, no matter how strongly she might contest her innocence. Plus, they had no idea what lengths the contest board went to ensure the integrity of the contest.

  The contest director moved forward and whispered into Jessica’s ear, but the woman wasn’t to be silenced. “I want everybody here to know that she’s a cheater and a phony.” She wagged her pudgy finger toward Cammie. “You have some gall to steal my recipe and enter it in such an esteemed competition? You’ve made a mockery of me, yet again. I won’t have it!”

  The other judges and board of directors were horrified at such a display. The famous Jessica Greene was surrounded by the group, much to her protestations, but not before the crowd began to buzz with this most enticing bit of juicy news.

  The director insisted on continuing with the scheduled proceedings and celebrations.

  Mayor Tad Beaumont announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to get this all sorted out. Our contest is pretty foolproof when it comes to this type situation. I’m certain there’s been a misunderstanding. Please feel free to visit our local vendor booths and enjoy the festival.”

  Cammie knew she was covered, because she’d typed her recipe on her computer as soon as she’d settled on the final details, which showed her exact ingredients and amounts. This proved her conceptual copyright to the recipe, unless Jess could come up with an exact duplicate of the recipe from Cammie’s brain, which she could not. Cammie smelled justice heading her way, in the form of pecan pie. But first, a quick visit with Jessica Greene.

  But what about the restraining order? Well, it wasn’t exactly a restraining order, more a clause in her contract they’d written in upon her hasty exit from the network. They’d added that little tidbit after the incident, notarized it within about thirty seconds and she’d signed it on her way out the door. It had been the only way to retain her full pay and benefits through the term of her contract when they’d let her go. Because who knew where’d she’d land, or when?

  It stated that she not seek Jessica out. But Jessica had most definitely sought her, of that Cammie now had no doubt. After Cammie had slunk away in shame following the televised debacle, Jessica kept taunting her on every talk show and venue possible. Now, she’d turned up here, in Cammie’s home town. The coincidence was simply too much.

  Cammie turned and nearly butted heads with Jessica, who now stood not two inches from her face. It was a little too late to pray for peace, and after the foul woman had just accused her of cheating in public on her own home turf, well, enough was enough. But making a nasty scene wasn’t Cammie’s style, so she’d try to avert one if possible.

  She took a deep breath. “Jessica, I’m not sure why you’ve come here, but you are about to ruin your career by accusing me of cheating and stealing your recipe. Because you know I didn’t.”

  “Well, of course you did. How else could you have come up with something so wonderful on your own?”

  “So that’s it. You’re threatened by me?” Cammie was incredulous.

  “How preposterous. Me? Honey, they call me the queen.”

  “How many of your messes did I fix while we worked together?”

  “I can’t imagine what you mean.” But Cammie could see by her expression that she was correct.

  “Listen well, Queen. I’ve got that recipe on my hard drive. The original. If you have a copy, you’ll have to produce it simultaneously to prove anything—which you can’t. And honey, I know you’re dying to figure what that ingredient is you can’t identify. You will look the fool, and when my contract expires, I plan to write an expose about our time together. Wouldn’t that be illuminating?”

  Jessica opened her puffy lips to speak, but no sound emerged. Then, she tried again, her Southern accent a bit less brash. “Fine. I won’t say you cheated again if you won’t rat me out to my fans.” She sighed, a great heavy puff of breath.

  Cammie narrowed her eyes at the pathetic woman. “For now, retract your accusation, and say you were wrong. And I don’t mean that you made a mistake. Admit you were wrong about me for setting your stupid hair on fire, which you know I didn’t, and for stealing your recipe.” Cammie stared, waiting.

  She could tell that Jessica would rather set Cammie’s hair on fire than admit to any such thing, but being ridiculous wasn’t the same as stupid. The woman wasn’t stupid. “Alright, but you have to promise not to write a book about me and tell everybody what a bad person I’ve been to you.”

  Cammie considered that. “I’ll sign off on that, but you’ve got to knock
off the talk shows. You’ve had your ten minutes of blazing fame; can’t you just be satisfied with your television show, cookbooks, and all the rest?”

  “I said I wouldn’t call you a cheater. I’ve got a couple more shows already booked. What am I supposed to do about that?”

  “Use the opportunity to say that you’ve had a change of heart, and that you realize your mistake in believing that I caused your accident—because we both know I didn’t. And people will find out eventually, and you’ll look the fool. Show your graceful side and do some good for once. It will help us both.”

  Jessica fisted her hands at her side, clearly bested. “Alright. But you’d better not write that book if you know what’s good for you. You’re a nobody and I’m the Queen.”

  “Thing is, you’ve made me a somebody. Who knows what I might do with it? So, thanks for that.” Cammie smiled and held out a hand to shake on their semi-agreement.

  “Well, we’ll go back out there now, I guess. For now, we’ll say, “No comment until things die down.”

  “No. You’ll say that we’ve made up and that you made an egregious mistake, and you’d like to apologize to me and to the planning committee.”

  “Fine.”

  It was a fine, fine ending to the whole scenario. To her whole awful year.

  *

  It was decided. The siblings, sans children and spouses would surprise mom at the cabin by driving up early Friday morning. Evangeline House was hosting a couple events during the day Saturday, so they would return late Friday evening. They all wanted to check on Mom, and it had been far too long since they’d all been together at the cabin. It would be great fun.

  They would drag out old photo albums and spend time remembering favorite tales for retelling. Sneaking this little slice of family history might be good for everyone, considering the connection of the cabin with their Dad’s death. It hadn’t ever been the same there since. The bad memories had mixed with the good from then on. This might be a healing experience for all. Emotional, but healing.