As Good as the First Time

by K. M. Jackson

  It was then that two older women walked out of Cartland’s Cart-Away grocery next door to the ice-cream shop. “Hey there, Joyce, looks like you’re getting around real good,” one of them said to Aunt Joyce, though her eyes were clearly trying to figure out who Liv and Drea were, while the other woman was much less circumspect in her perusal. She didn’t even go in with pleasantries.

  “Who’s this you got here with you, Joyce?” the other woman asked, getting right to the point of identifying the strangers in town.

  Aunt Joyce quickly pulled herself up to her full height, barely putting any weight on her cane as she gave the women a regal smile. “Lottie, Liz, you both must remember my nieces from New York, Anne’s girls, Olivia and Alexandrea. Why, when they heard that I was not feeling well, can you believe the both of them got in the car right away and just hightailed it down here to see about me? Silly girls. Both takin’ time out of their busy schedules, and away from their jobs, to come and see their aunt. I told them it was unnecessary, but there was no hearing it. Now, how lucky am I?”

  The women looked at each other skeptically in that covert southern way, but covered it with polite smiles. “Oh, bless their hearts. You sure are a lucky woman,” the first woman said. “I can barely get my kids to visit now that they’ve moved to Atlanta.”

  “A shame,” Aunt Joyce said, her voice full of sympathy.

  “And mine are always underfoot, but around doesn’t necessarily mean they are of any help,” the other woman chimed in.

  “Don’t I know it,” Aunt Joyce agreed. “Well, we have to be off. So much catching up to do.” She smiled wide. “But I’ll be seeing you girls, that is, when I have the time.”

  The ladies gave Aunt Joyce tight smiles and then smiled at Liv and Drea, the both of them expressing pleasantries and good-byes.

  “You know, you really were laying it on a bit thick there, Aunt Joyce,” Drea said as she got into the car.

  Aunt Joyce shrugged. “Eh, it’s expected. Besides, I have to listen to them go on day in and day out about their kids, their husbands, their bunions. At the least this way, with you all in town, they will be a little bit jealous and steer clear of me for a while. It’ll be nice to not have to hear them yapping.” Aunt Joyce grinned wider. “See, you girls are already doing me a huge favor.”

  Liv shook her head and started up the ignition. “We aim to please.”

  * * *

  Clayton Morris was all riled up. Normally a trip to Goode ’N Sweet was a nice and calming experience, one that left him with a sense of the community he loved and a sweet treat on top of it. But today with the fire and then running into Olivia Gale . . . calm was the furthest thing from his mind. Sure, Joyce Goode could be, at times, what some would describe as prickly, but Clayton knew that once you looked beyond her quills, she was essentially soft and sweet with a gooey interior. Much like her delicious sticky cream puffs. Though try as he might, he couldn’t even be distracted by a sticky cream puff today. His mind was in a whirl because any fire, even a small one and no matter how minor, or how much Miss Joyce tried to dismiss it, should give them pause. She was getting older, but still, it was unlike her to make a mistake. For as long as he’d known her, which was pretty much most of his life, she’d never made any type of mistake. Especially not when it came to her ovens, not in her kitchen. Miss Joyce was a master of baking precision, and she had the blue ribbons from all over the state to prove it. So he guessed he should be happy to see that she had reinforcements coming in.

  But Clayton was anything but happy. No, he was distracted, was what he was. And agitated and a complete tangle of rambling incomplete emotions. Sure, he’d put on a good face, or at least he hoped he had back at the shop, but come on, how could he be happy coming face-to-face with Olivia Gale after all these years? For so long he’d thought of how he’d react if he ran into her again. The chances had been highly unlikely when he lived in California and she in New York. Gosh, distance was wonderful. And in all his mental scenarios he’d play it cool and would hide his regret behind an easygoing smile while she’d be happy in her new life. Moved on well past him with a successful corporate type dude on her arm. He would smile and be happy for her. Or at least pretend to be. It would all be cordial and brief, they’d part with a peaceful closure, and never to see each other again. As the years went by, Clayton stopped playing that scene over in his head and let the image fade.

  Not once, for some stupid reason, had he imagined anything like today happening, and the possibility of her being back here in Sugar Lake. So close that he could reach out and touch her. And with a gaze so piercing and direct, he could tell immediately that, though time and distance had kept them apart all these years, time had done nothing to cause Livy to forget or forgive the fact that he wasn’t there that summer she returned to Sugar Lake, expecting to see him and expecting him to make good on the promises he’d made to her the summer before.

  “Hey, Chief, you gettin’ out of your truck, or you going to sit in there all day?”

  The sound of Braxton Lewis’s voice, his second-in-command, pulled Clayton out of his melancholy reverie and back into the present day. Embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, he quickly picked up his cell, pretending to be engrossed in sending a text. He nodded, fiddling with his phone for a moment more before getting out of his truck.

  Finally, Clayton hopped out of the cab trying his best to force the image of Olivia Gale to a recessed corner in the back of his mind as he reached for the stack of pies from Miss Joyce.

  “So, the lady gave you something sweet for this morning’s trouble?” Braxton said, stepping toward him from the side of the smaller fire truck, which was not yet fully back into its loading dock.

  “What?” Clayton asked, at first not fully catching Lewis’s meaning. “Oh, yeah. That she did.”

  Lewis took the pies from his hand, leaving him free to gather the rest of his gear.

  “Yep, seems, fair,” Lewis mumbled from over Clay’s shoulder. “By the way, did you happen to catch the beauties who came in to see her?”

  Clay couldn’t help his sudden pause. He swallowed, then tried to seamlessly and smoothly pick up his duffle as he turned back to Lewis, suddenly taking in the younger man’s smooth skin and broad shoulders. His slightly annoying and too cocky grin.

  “I did.”

  That grin went wider, and Lewis’s brows waggled as Clay squelched down on the irrational need to snatch the pies back out of his hands. “They didn’t look like tourists. Seemed like they knew old Miss Goode. You too. Are they kin to her?”

  Clay had to remind himself to stay neutral. He was Lewis’s superior and, though Lewis was a bit cocky, he was essentially harmless and one of his best men. Besides, what did it matter what he thought of either of Miss Joyce’s nieces? “No, they aren’t tourists, and yes, they are kin to Miss Joyce. Her nieces. They’re here to help her out for a bit. And yes, I do know them.” He probably didn’t need to add that last bit, but for some reason it just came out. Which caused him to wonder if his response sounded as stern as it sounded in his own head. The answer came to him by the way Lewis quickly sobered and his grin disappeared.

  He coughed. “Oh, ah. Knew them? I get it, Chief.” Lewis frowned. “Which one?” Lewis looked down, then back up. Catching Clay’s glare. “You’re right, that doesn’t matter.”

  Wait, did I answer out loud? Clay thought. He guessed he didn’t have to.

  Clay shook his head. “You going to take those pies to the back, or just stand here all day holding them?”

  Lewis looked down, as if just then remembering he had his hands full. The smile was back. “Yeah, sure. Sorry about that. On it, boss.” The gleam that had jumped back into Lewis’s eyes, not to mention the fact that Clay caught no fewer than two other guys eyeing the boxes too, let Clayton know the pies would barely make it to the back pantry with their wrappings intact.

  “You think those might make it till after lunch?” Clay yelled over Lewis’s shoulder.

 
; “Can’t promise you that, boss.”

  Clayton held back a replying grunt as he made his way to his office at the opposite corner of the building. Shutting his door as quickly as he could, he was relieved by the solitude of his small office, and he let out a long breath as the muffled sounds of laughter, jibes, and the general camaraderie of the crew on the other side of the door made it faintly to his ears. Going around to his desk to take his seat, he first gave a glance out his window, which looked mostly onto the crew’s parking area. But when he angled himself just right, he could also catch a glimpse of the passersby along Main Street and even see the old Redheart Theater, which now mostly ran only third-run movies and the occasional art-house pieces. It had long given up on the first-run features to the big multiplex out by the mall. Seeing the theater, his mind now of course immediately went to the times he’d been there on so-called dates with Liv. Frustrated, he told himself not to go there. Why waste the wandering energy? But the waste was in the fighting, as he leaned into it and for a brief moment smiled.

  Never quite formal dates, they were always group things, but Clayton knew them for what they were, and suspected so did Liv by the way they always ended up seated together shoulders touching, fingers grazing over the large popcorn he’d bought with extra butter because he knew she loved it so much. He laughed to himself then. God, he’d always hated all that extra butter. Wasn’t the biggest fan of popcorn either, but the off chance of his fingers meeting hers was worth the greasy mess of it all. Clayton focused his gaze as he craned his neck and could just make out the brown-and-pink awning of Goode ’N Sweet.

  What was she doing back here, and why now? Yes, he knew the reasoning, and sure, it made total sense. Her aunt needed help, but Miss Joyce had Rena, and there were plenty of other Goodes in the area. Why her? Didn’t she have a high-powered job that should be keeping her up in New York? Not to mention, what about a high-powered man who should be keeping her there too?

  Clayton ran a hand over his close-shaved head. There was no use thinking about any of this right now. Nor was it any of his concern. Nothing besides this morning’s fire and the pile of paperwork on his desk should be preoccupying him right now. He had files and budgets to go over and no time to worry about the Goodes or their problems. Now that Liv and her sister were in town, he was encouraged that there would be no more mistakes like the one Miss Joyce had made this morning. Anything else to do with Livia, well, that was in the past and long—or so he hoped—forgotten. His jaw clenched as once again the image of Liv and her sharp, way-too-direct gaze came to his mind’s eye.

  Was it really in the past though? And forgotten? That hope seemed now highly unlikely, he thought as he leaned back in his chair.

  There was no denying the immediate effect seeing her had on him. The way his heart seemed to stop for a moment and then quickly pick up pace, thumping out of control. Or the way, for the first time in a long time, he felt the strangest stirrings of excitement and a silly, irrational desire to smile.

  Clayton shook his head, hoping for some sort of clarity. Why should he smile over seeing her? It made no sense when every thought of her over the years only brought him intense feelings of regret and longing. She was the woman whom he’d always consider the one who got away. No, scratch that, the one he stupidly ran away from. Clayton knew that, deep down, he’d hoped he’d never see her again and have to face that fact. Despite all that, still today something in him bubbled up, filling him with inexpressible joy. He shook his head, trying to figure out a way to rally against his feelings.

  Once again, he had no time and no place for them. He was a single father with a daughter on the edge of puberty who was this close to trying his last nerve. No, there was no room in his life for personal angst or joy or the thought of second chances. That was the stuff of boyish dreams. And he was a full-grown man; he turned into one the day he made the dumb decision to leave Sugar Lake and enlist in the army, supposedly to pick up where his brother left off. That decision to leave Sugar Lake and the dreams he and Livia made were the foundation of where he was now. It was best that he took it for what it was and stood true in it.

  Chapter 6

  Taking that left and going over the old Wee Dee Bridge and passing into what was considered the “old town” side of Sugar Lake made it officially feel like coming home for Liv. Where there were signs of modernization along Main Street and in town, once they went over the railroad tracks and crossed the bridge, that’s when the first real view of the massive beauty of the lake came into focus and the true magic of the town took over. There was both a distinct buzz of excitement and a quiet stillness.

  Sure, Liv had pointedly chosen to ignore the massive cell tower she passed along the way and the not-so-inconspicuous cable company building. It was just a part of modern living now, she supposed. But no matter. Right now it was all about the beauty of the lake. The sheer size of it, the fact that she could see a few fishing boats bobbing lazily, even at this late hour in the day. How amazing it seemed that people could be doing that while back in the city the mere thought of such a thing would be chuckled at over a conference room table, then secretly dreamed about.

  As she drove, Liv remembered how she’d first learned to swim off a dock out in those very waters, then the image, unbidden, immediately came to mind of her jumping off those same docks, hand in hand, with Clayton Morris. The chilly shock of the cool water was not even able to bring down the temperature of her overheated young heart. God, she was so trusting in those days. And yet here she was so ridiculously stupid to think that coming back wouldn’t stir up better forgotten memories. How could she not have anticipated it? How could she not have anticipated him?

  Driving as if by rote, Liv let the car go where it seemed to want to go, GPS not even necessary as her body tuned in to the changes of the terrain underneath the wheels. Things got wilder and a bit rockier as they went along the lake’s winding roads, but that was parallel to life out here. Though it looked calm and serene, you never knew exactly what was going on underneath the ripples of the water or behind the picturesque homes and cabins that dotted the woods surrounding the lake.

  Liv pulled up and around to the front of the house, which was oddly situated on its side to afford a view of both the lake and the oncoming road. This was a kind of genius on the great-grands’ part since in their days the area was so heavily wooded, and times being what they were—heck, time still being what it is—you’d want to see whoever was coming onto your property well before they got there.

  Getting out of the car, Liv smiled as she looked up at the large front porch, happy to see that the old swing was still there where her grandmother used to sit for hours while she rocked and shelled peas or shucked corn.

  Their side of the lake was filled mostly with the originals , as they liked to call themselves. Early settlers of Sugar Lake, Olivia’s great-grands acquired the property back when no one saw the value of trudging through the rambling woods and rocky terrain in order to build their home. But now with new business coming to town that meant the potential for new residents. And looking out on the other side of the lake and the newly built McMansions, with their docks large enough to fit two or three boats at a time, they had to be running out of space quickly. Coming from New York where real estate envy was all too common she could just bet the view over to their side was starting to look mighty fine.

  Built in the late 1800s, the Goode home was a mix of both farm and lake style with hints of Victorian in its wraparound porch. It had a prime lake location—more prime now, Liv was sure, since so many tourists were recently finding out about Sugar Lake. Being that the house itself backed up to the lake with a beautiful, level yard going down to the old dock and a couple of acres going out the other way, well, it was something to behold.

  Liv hurried around the car to take Aunt Joyce’s arm to lead her up the few stairs to the porch while Drea pulled out some of their bags. “How in the world have you been handling the stairs every day?” she asked while her au
nt gripped the old wooden railing tightly.

  Aunt Joyce shook her head. “It’s not so bad, honey. I only have to do it twice a day. Besides, exercise is on my prescription list from the doctor, so it’s good for me to do this. Not to mention physical therapy. Which I’d like to know when I have time for while running the shop?”

  Liv didn’t think of this. “Well, we’re here now, so you’ll be able to make time for it.”

  Aunt Joyce pulled a face as well as pulled her arm away. “Now, don’t go getting too far ahead of yourself, missy.”

  Liv laughed and regripped Aunt Joyce’s arm. “Oh, don’t start, Aunty. We’re here to help, so you might as well accept it.”

  Aunt Joyce gave a begrudging grunt, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth as she did so.

  They made it up to the porch, and Aunt Joyce let out a long, slightly winded breath before she went to open the door. She stepped inside, letting the sisters follow. Taking in the sight and smell of the old, familiar living room, Liv let it envelop her senses in its familiarity. There was the matching love seat and sofa set astonishingly now sans plastic, from Bradford’s Family Furniture, a store long since shuttered, but popular down here back in the day. She could still recall how happy her grandmother was to get these new pieces and how proud she was to show them off to her friends and neighbors who came to view them as if it was an event. And yes, there was still the heavy oak coffee table and side tables, made by her great-grandfather, just because he could, and lamps from when she was in elementary school. Liv was glad to see, though, that the old, ditzy wallpaper had been taken down and replaced by fresh-looking creamy-white paint and that the heavy drapes that used to block out so much of the sun had been changed into light-as-air, barely there sheers that would let in the breeze from the lake. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the lake mixed with the house, the smell of coffee, and the scent of Aunt Joyce’s honey biscuits, which always seemed to linger in the air.