by Talley, Liz
“Surviving’s not living.”
She inhaled and exhaled with a measured breath. “God, Henry, don’t you understand? I don’t want to love you.”
“Don’t or can’t?”
She paused, looked away from him. “Can’t. I can’t be what you want me to be. And I can’t love you. I’m sorry. But I can’t do it.”
She might as well have throat punched him and then reached down and ripped his heart from his chest. I don’t want to love you. I can’t love you.
Turning, he walked down the steps his guys had rebuilt a few weeks ago. They were sturdy now. Fixed. But the woman living in the house wasn’t. And might never be.
Leaving Sunny was something he’d done before. Last time a three-hundred-pound gorilla had tossed him out like a sack of rotten potatoes. This time all it had taken was her words.
When he got to the bottom, he turned back. “I won’t bother you anymore.”
“That would be best.” She crossed her arms, refusing to look at him. “I’m leaving as soon as I can manage it.”
The anger and hurt inside him leaked out like a deflated balloon. Being furious with her did as much good as being furious with Casper the Ghost Cat, who had bitten him when he’d tried to put him in a crate to take to the vet. When a creature was so hurt, so scared, so desperate for escape, there was no rationalizing with it. Sunny was convinced she didn’t love him, didn’t belong in Morning Glory, couldn’t hope for a life beyond the golden one she’d visualized for herself in California. He felt sorry that she wouldn’t allow herself to feel love.
“I hope life gives you what you want.” He walked back to his truck, trying to ignore the heaviness pressing on his chest. Tears raw in his throat, he climbed inside the cab and started the engine. Sunny stood barefoot on her porch and watched him. Her mouth was pressed into an angry line, but her eyes, even from such a distance, looked sad.
And just like he’d done on a spring day sixteen years ago, he drove away with a broken heart.
Three months.
Sunny had gone three months without seeing Henry, and truth be told, she’d cried herself to sleep more nights than not. Not wanting to deal with the emotion slamming into her at regular intervals, she’d done what she’d always done. She took her grief, folded it into an itty-bitty square and stuffed it into the empty box of her soul. And then she’d lain low.
With Fancy gone and her heart too tender to subject herself to caring for any more fosters, she’d bowed out of being on the Sunshine Animal Rescue board. Rosemary had taken her place. Sunny felt bad about it, but couldn’t handle being such an integral part of something she’d leave behind. With no job to encumber her, she’d spent the summer trying to occupy her empty hours around the house. She’d grown the plumpest tomatoes in the hood, built a flower bed that rivaled any in town, and helped show potential buyers the redbrick house that her aunt had put up for sale. Luckily her aunt had sold the house a week ago and was poised to move into the old Voorhees homeplace with Betty. Sunny was free to leave Morning Glory.
Problem was—she no longer wanted to leave.
Last week, Marilyn McConnell had talked her into coming back into the office and subbing for them for the first week of school. Seemed Melanie had decided to retire after all, and they needed someone to get the office ready for the new hire. Sunny secretly thought Marilyn was trying to lure her back into working as the attendance clerk… and she was secretly tempted.
And wasn’t that just a kick in the pants?
Sunny had not only fallen back in love with Henry Delmar, she’d fallen back in love with Morning Glory too.
Damn it.
“I’m a senior this year. And I’m starting defensive back. Not to mention, we got a shot at state hoopin’ this year. How you gonna go out to California when all this is going on? You gotta stay and watch greatness.” Woozy crossed his arms and lifted his chin, but his brown eyes twinkled.
Sunny shoved the can of peanuts she’d left in the bottom drawer into the trashcan. “I can watch you on the computer. Don’t they film the games?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the same thing. You’re going to miss your opportunity to be on ESPN and stuff. They going to tell my story one day, and you could have been my person.”
“Your person?”
“You know, the person that gives all the insight into a star’s early life. Like how they didn’t have any shoes and were shoved into lockers and stuff.”
“You have several pairs of shoes and wouldn’t fit into a locker.” She laughed.
“I’m just saying you going to be wishing you’d stayed to watch the great Woozy Jefferson.” He flashed her a red-carpet grin, folding his arms in a cocky pose.
“You don’t suffer from lack of confidence, do you?” she said, finally finding her smile. Today was the first day for students and her last day to sub for the county. She had to finish out the day, and then she could push out the doors of Morning Glory High and head for sunnier climes. She had reservations at several stops on her ride to California. She tried to bolster excitement for it but kept thinking about Fancy and how she’d love the coast. Or maybe the dog wouldn’t. And then she’d think of Katie Clare and Landry and how they’d love California. Or not. She wasn’t sure. And then she thought of Henry and how she really just wanted to stay here and make things right between them.
Because she’d overreacted. She knew that. But she didn’t know how to fix the words she’d said. She’d told him she’d never love him.
Hard words to step around.
“Doubt builds mountains you can’t climb, and I don’t need no mountains in my way.” Woozy smiled at her like a guru.
“You could probably market that and give seminars. Destroy your mountains.” Sunny shimmied her hands. It was advice she needed to take. If she wanted to make things right, she could stay and climb the mountain she’d tossed in her own path. Instead, she was running. She knew she was running… but she couldn’t figure out how to stop herself from carrying out the plan she’d adamantly clung to for so long.
“You think people would pay me?” Woozy asked, opportunity glistening in his dark eyes.
“Mr. Jefferson, class started three minutes ago. You better find where you’re supposed to be,” Marilyn said from the doorway, leveling Woozy with her patented administrator’s scowl.
“Aw, Miss M, it’s the first week. Be chill.”
Marilyn narrowed her eyes. “You want to chill in detention this afternoon?”
Woozy’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “No, ma’am. I’m gone. Later, Red.”
“Bye, Woozy.” A ping of sadness hit her. She really liked the kid and would miss seeing him most days.
“That guy’s gonna miss you.” Marilyn’s mouth curved up in affection. Everyone loved Woozy. He was just one of those kids who made you love him.
“I’ll miss him. And the school. I’ve enjoyed working here, and I’m glad you asked me to come back. I think I’ve got everything labeled and ready for whoever y’all hire.”
“California, huh?” Marilyn said, ignoring the words Sunny had spoken. The woman crossed her arms over her blouse, which featured little cat noses and whiskers. Her denim skirt had buttons down the front, and she was pretty much a fashion disaster. But Sunny couldn’t imagine Marilyn dressed in anything other than retro/feline/matron wear. It was her vibe. “Don’t they have constant fires… and mudslides?”
“Don’t forget earthquakes,” Sunny added with a smile.
“Yeah, those too. I mean, are you sure you want to go out there? I hear the people out there can be weird.”
“Weirder than the people here?” Sunny laughed, thinking about all the characters they had living in Morning Glory. “And don’t forget, California has beaches, mountains, and low humidity. The weather’s perfect where my friend lives. I’ll never have to use hairspray again.”
“Well, that’s a selling point, I guess. I still wish you’d stay and work here. You’ve done an amazing job. Even Melanie
said so.”
“Yeah, I liked the job.”
“We probably won’t fill this position for a few weeks, so if you change your mind, call.”
Sunny nodded. “Thanks.”
Twenty minutes later, she pulled her Harley into the driveway of her mother’s house. Every time she pulled in, she felt a glow of pride in the house and yard. The weed and feed had finally done its job, and the resulting thick grass grew where there’d once been weeds. The Indian hawthorns lining the front under her bedroom window had filled in, and the fresh-painted porch looked almost cheerful thanks to the large geranium squatting between the glossy black rockers. She’d spray-painted the porch light a shiny brass and bought a matching kickplate. Simple, inexpensive touches that created an almost hominess to a house that had sat sullen for far too long.
Greeting her on the doormat was a box.
Sunny opened the door and propped it open with her hip. “Mama, did you order something?”
“No,” Betty called.
Sunny stuck her head inside, trying to balance her things from her desk and pick up the delivered package at the same time. Betty wasn’t in the living room. The television wasn’t on, but she could hear music. Carly Simon. “Where are you?”
“I’m in my room.”
Sunny walked inside, set her things down, and peeked inside her mother’s room. Betty sat on the made bed, eating popcorn and typing with one hand on the old laptop Sunny had brought with her. “What are you doing?”
“Playing Words with Friends. It’s a game.”
“I know what it is. I’m just surprised you aren’t watching Bones.”
“Seen ’em all. I can’t talk now. This one is timed and Bob is really good, so I have to stay on my toes. In a manner of speaking, you know.”
Sunny blinked a few times. “I do.” Then she backed out of the room that was clean, bright, and smelled like Gain fabric softener. Her mother had brushed her hair and wore a bra. It was like a Christmas miracle at the end of summer.
There was no doubt about it, her mother had turned a corner. Oh, Betty wasn’t warm and fuzzy—more tepid and a heavy wool-blend—but she was definitely on a better path.
Sunny grabbed a small can of Coca-Cola from the fridge and tried not to think about cigarettes. She’d had a few after Henry left but then reminded herself that not smoking wasn’t about being a new Sunny or an old Sunny. It was about starting a new life, which included being healthier. So she’d tossed the supersecret hidden pack and bought a case of colas. Surely a Coke was healthier than a cigarette? And now she had a Coke addiction.
Kicking off her sandals, she went back onto the porch.
It was August hot, but the sun slanting in on the porch felt like a hug, so Sunny ignored the sweat gathering on her upper lip. She grabbed the package, which was heavier than it looked, and sank into a rocker. Her name was written with a flourish. Setting the can on the porch floor, she pulled at the clear tape.
No return label.
Weird. But not impossible.
She ripped half the box apart but finally pulled the contents out.
Then she gasped.
“What the hell?” she whispered to herself, running her fingers over the girlish bubble letters on the front.
Lying in her lap was the dream book.
Sunny and Henry’s Book of Dreams.
Beneath the title she’d drawn a yellow house, a big oak tree, and a rainbow. Henry had made fun of the rainbow. Rainbows aren’t permanent.
“But we are, baby,” she used to say. And then Henry would laugh and tickle her, kissing her nose, trying to slide his hands under her shirt like the pervert he was at age sixteen. No, not a pervert. Just a sixteen-year-old guy with raging hormones and a dozen poems written to her breasts.
Who had sent her this?
The last she remembered, the dream book had been under her bed, wedged under a slat. When she’d packed her things and left before graduation, she’d forgotten it. Which seemed crazy as important as Henry was to her, but she’d not been in the right frame of mind, and what would she have done with a silly binder full of wedding accessories and cute dog pictures anyway? That wasn’t going to be her life, so she stopped thinking about her dreams and the girl she’d once been.
She opened the book and the first page was pink with little heart stickers all over the page. In the center were the initials, HD + SV.
Lord.
Sunny flipped through the pages, pausing on the baby-name list, the decorating ones with the pictures she’d painstakingly cut from the pages of Better Homes and Gardens and Southern Living, and the ones with the gazillion wedding dresses. She and Alan had gotten married wearing blue jeans. No white lace and gauzy veil. No tiered wedding cake. No wedding shower gifts or honeymoon on the beach. And she’d damned sure had no cause to use the names she and Henry had picked out for their nonexistent children.
A teardrop plinked on the last page.
She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.
The front door flew open, and her mother rolled out onto the porch. “What’s that?”
Sunny looked down on her lap. “It’s nothing.”
Half of Betty’s mouth tilted downward. “Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” Sunny said, swiping at her cheek.
Betty made a face. “Cutting onions, huh?”
Sunny managed a choked laugh but nodded. “Something like that.”
Betty rolled closer, eying the closed book. She extended something toward her. “I found this in your room. Was sitting right out in the middle of the floor.”
Lacy’s charm bracelet dangled from her mother’s hand. Betty had wanted her fingernails painted, and Sunny had indulged her Sunday evening. The lilac nails were squared off and looked like an exact replica of Sunny’s own hand. Sunny took the bracelet and cupped it in her hand. “I don’t know how it got out in the middle of the floor. It’s been missing for months.”
“Dunno. The light caught it and I picked it up. Isn’t that Lacy’s bracelet? I remember she went to Paris and Eden raved over the pictures. Then she told me about Lacy’s dream bracelet.”
Sunny jerked her gaze to her mother’s. “What did you say?”
Betty nodded toward her clasped hand. “Lacy’s bracelet. It was like all the places she’d dreamed of going. When she went, she bought a charm.”
The whole dream thing threw her off. She and Lacy had that in common—dreams that would never happen. “It was Lacy’s, but Eden gave it to me.”
“Why’d she do that? You weren’t friends with Lacy.”
“Seems she and her friends believed Lacy wanted them to give it to someone with no hope.”
“So they gave it to you?” Betty sounded perturbed. “Well, that’s a little rude and presumptuous. Damn it. Rude. That’s the word I should have used.”
“What?”
“Bob skunked me on WWF. If I had used rude, I would have blocked him.” Betty slammed her good hand on the wheelchair arm. “But anyway, they should have given me the damn bracelet long ago. If people were looking for hope, I could turn out empty pockets. Though I don’t know, you’re pretty pathetic.”
“Why, thank you, Mother,” Sunny drawled.
“Eh, you’re better now, but you were rough there for a while.” Betty reached over and tapped the book lying in her lap. “Is this that book you had back in high school? The one you and Henry were always scribbling in like morons?”
“Yeah.”
“Who sent it to you?” Betty lifted her good eyebrow.
“I don’t know. It was just here. I don’t see postage, so I think someone must have brought it by. Maybe Henry?” Sunny rubbed a hand over the book, her heart vibrating with… hope. But Henry had walked away just like he had all those years ago.
No. He hadn’t walked away. She’d driven him away. Forced him to go.
“If he brought it, does that mean something?” Betty asked.
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Yes. I know.”
“So why are you sitting here crying over a book when you have a good man who loves you… and who you love back? I’m not blind. I know you’ve always carried Henry in your heart. And now we’ve spent months with you moping around here. You think I don’t see what you’re doing to yourself? Not letting yourself have any sunshine? You act like you want to live under a thundercloud for the rest of your life. Shit, Sunny. Don’t be me, baby.”
“I can’t go backward, Mama. I’m not the woman who should be in his life. He needs a woman who bakes chocolate chip cookies, wears cute seersucker dresses, and chairs things.”
“I think he had that already, didn’t he? Didn’t seem to stick, and why are you shortchanging yourself? You ain’t never been any of that, but that man would burn the town down if you told him to. I’ve never seen a man so in love with a woman.”
“God, Mama. Stop saying that.” She groaned, her heart aching at the words her mother threw at her. She’d thrown his love back at him. She didn’t deserve him. “I can’t. I mean, I thought maybe, but then I let his kid fall out of a tree and his wife nearly attacked me. It was all so… so… horrible. I just think I couldn’t have kids for a reason. I’m not made to—”
Her mother slapped the back of her head.
“Ow,” Sunny said, shrinking away from Betty. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you? I’m just trying to knock some sense into your fool head. If what you’re saying is true, why did I end up with three kids? I was about as unfit as a mother could get, and my womb was practically a sperm magnet. I could sneeze and get pregnant. The good Lord has nothing to do with you not being able to have kids, and you damn well know it. So stop using myths and superstitions as a reason to run away from love. For once in your life, Sunny, fight for what you want.”
Sunny smoothed her hair and stared at the book. Another tear slid down her cheek, and she wanted to sob, to punch something, to rip off her clothes and rail at fate.