Fetching Sweetness

by Dana Mentink

Twenty-Five

  It took a lot of talking and cajoling until Evonne agreed to take possession of Bert cum Sweetness and return to Big Thumb without having Stephanie or Rhett arrested.

  Agnes graciously invited Evonne and the police officer to settle on the patio while Evonne placed a called to Uncle Gene, who burst into a crying fit so loud everyone could hear his hysterics on the phone. Agnes went to the kitchen to fill a pitcher with ice water. Stephanie followed her in. Time to put on her big-girl, I’m-a-real-literary-agent-hear-me-roar pants and get the job done.

  “Mrs. Wharton, I’m sorry about the mix-up, but I did follow the intent of our agreement. I hope you will allow me to take possession of the manuscript.”

  Agnes didn’t look at her, fussing with some glasses on a tray. “About that…”

  “Klein and Gregory can get you a lucrative contract with any number of publishing houses. If any other agency has agreed to represent you, we can beat their services. I promise.” She stopped, abandoning her pitch. “My brother and I read Sea Comes Knocking cover to cover dozens of times. It touched us and inspired us to be literary agents.”

  Agnes stared. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “You and your brother?”

  She blinked back tears and nodded.

  “You’re in business together because of my book?”

  “Ian died when he was sixteen, but he would be so thrilled, so overwhelmed to know that I am here now to represent you, and that your second book is ready to launch into the world. We spent hours imagining what happened to you and Jedd after he left on that rainy night.”

  Agnes chewed her lip. “I had no idea. I mean, they’re just words on sheets of paper. That’s all.”

  “Not just words. They were your life. Yours and Jedd’s.” Stephanie’s voice broke and she hoped Agnes hadn’t heard. Then again, maybe it would be okay to let some emotion in, to show Agnes how much her story had touched others.

  Agnes sighed, deep and low. “In high school, I was in love with a boy named Jay Peter Simmons. He died in a motorcycle accident our senior year.”

  “You put flowers on his grave back in Big Thumb.”

  “Yes, I do that every year. That’s why I was there and arranged to meet you. During our meeting, I was going to explain things. Clear the air finally. Get you people to stop hounding me.”

  “Explain what things?”

  “My book, Sea Comes Knocking.” She circled the rim of a water glass with her finger. “It wasn’t a memoir.”

  “Wasn’t…what?”

  “It’s fiction.”

  Fiction? Why was Agnes making no sense? “It’s a memoir. It says so right on the cover,” Stephanie said stupidly.

  Agnes rolled her eyes. “You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

  “Yes, you can. People do. All the time. What are you talking about? Your story about you and Jedd…”

  “There is no Jedd!” Agnes snapped. “I wrote the story after Jay Peter died. On a lark I sent it to Klein and Gregory, and somehow they got the idea it was a memoir and signed me. I needed the money. I was too embarrassed to correct them.”

  Stephanie’s brain felt flabby and slow. “But…Jedd and baby Violet? The cabin in the mountains?”

  “All made up, honey,” she said quietly. “It kind of snowballed.”

  Stephanie stood there breathing hard. Her mind whirled from the impact. Damage control! her mind screamed. What would Mr. Klein say? “We can tell the truth now and market it as fiction. Your writing is so lyrical, so moving, people will buy it anyway. When the second book comes out…”

  “There is no second book,” Agnes said, pulling a box from the drawer. “I just told you that because you all kept sending me letters and pestering me about it. Then in Big Thumb I needed you to find my dog, so I let the charade continue.” She sighed. “I’m really not a very nice person.” She thrust the box at Stephanie.

  Stephanie looked inside at the sheaf of papers, all blank pages.

  “There is no second book?”

  “No. I’m not a writer. I never wanted to be. Sea Comes Knocking was just a way for me to work through my grief when Jay Peter died. I never intended to write anything else, and I never will. The book earns enough to keep me living comfortably, and that’s sufficient.”

  “But my brother and I…”

  Her face softened. “I didn’t know people would be so…invested. I never meant to trick anyone or to lie. It’s just made up, words on pages. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” She cocked her head. “I didn’t realize how powerful a story could be until just this moment.”

  A memoir that wasn’t, the book that launched her dream, Ian’s dream. Made up. She looked up to see Rhett watching from the doorway, his face grave.

  They stood staring at each other until Rhett put his hand on her shoulder. The gesture broke the spell.

  And then, somehow, the strange party was ushered out of Agnes Wharton’s house. The police officer got behind the wheel of his car, and Evonne shook hands with Stephanie and Rhett.

  “I am very sorry for upsetting Uncle Gene,” Stephanie managed. “I’m going to apologize to him personally before I fly back to New York.”

  Evonne laughed. “That won’t be necessary. This is going to make a great story when I write it up.” She turned to Rhett. “I’ll be calling you for some quotes, okay?”

  Rhett’s eyes narrowed.

  “It’s the least you can do after the trouble you’ve caused,” Evonne said firmly.

  Rhett grumbled something.

  A great story. For sure. It had all the components save one…a happy ending. Stephanie knelt to say goodbye to Sweetness.

  “I’m going to miss you, Sweetness.” Tears unleashed themselves, hot and unexpected. The dog licked her face, unconcerned at the mess she’d made of her entire adult life. Sweetness flapped his ears and allowed her to caress the satiny spot behind each one. No book, no dream, no plan, no Sweetness.

  “And I even managed to become a dognapper along the way,” she whispered, her cheek against his bony head. “I’m sorry for taking you away from your family. You must have missed them so much.”

  Sweetness went still. His tongue stopped its relentless licking, and he simply stood silent in her arms, accepting the love she gave and holding back none of his own.

  Rhett knelt next to her to add his own canine caresses. “You’re a good boy, Sweetness. You take care of Uncle Gene, okay?” He gave the dog his chewed spatula, and they watched as Evonne and the police officer got him settled and then drove away.

  Stephanie shaded her eyes against the brilliant sunlight. The door of 1 Eagle Cliff Road was shut firmly behind her. She was untethered once again, like the moment the bus had deposited her in Big Thumb and driven away with all her earthly possessions, like the moment they’d told her Ian was dead.

  “Can I give you a ride someplace, Stephanie?” Rhett said. “Maybe we could head back to Dappled Acres.”

  Why, exactly? What was waiting there for Stephanie Pink? She should go home. But her New York apartment seemed as though it might be in a different universe, a moon around a planet that was caving in on itself, sending everything skittering out of orbit. Her life plan, the destiny she’d written for herself, was based on a flimsy fiction, a made-up story, a cosmic mistake. How perfectly ludicrous.

  How perfectly Stephanie.

  Rhett moved next to her and reached out his hand, stopping before he made contact. Her face was so rigid and tense, he worried that the slightest touch might just shatter her into jagged pieces. She stood ramrod straight. “It’s getting late and you must be hungry.” It was lame, but he wasn’t sure what else to offer. “It’s…are we…do you want to talk about it?” He was fairly certain that was what a sensitive person would say.

  She bit her lip and looked at him. “Rhett, I’ve spent years and years chasing a box full of blank paper.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Well? What do you have to say about that?”

/>   “I’m trying to think. I don’t want to be an insensitive blubber head, and this off-the-cuff stuff doesn’t usually show me in my best light.”

  She let out a harsh laugh. “It’s not like you could make the situation any worse. Just don’t tell me this is God’s plan for me, okay?”

  The anguish in her eyes made him want to gather her close. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out. I’ve experienced that feeling often recently.”

  “But you knew all along that my plans were misguided.”

  He winced as he recalled their conversation in the trailer, his typically brash words. “And it doesn’t have to be your life’s work to preserve a plan your brother cooked up when you were teens, either. You aren’t frozen there, in that time, just because he died then.”

  He blew out a breath. “For some reason, it’s always easier for me to see the flaw in someone else’s plan than in my own.”

  “You were right. You should be glad.”

  “But I’m not. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry for it.”

  She looked at her shoes, scuffing one toe in the dirt. “Why did you come up here?”

  “Well, I didn’t want you to get arrested, for one thing.”

  “And the other thing?”

  He shifted, rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. “This might not be the time.”

  “It’s the perfect time.”

  “No, no. I’m pretty sure it’s not. I have terrible timing with women. Just ask my sister. Karen would say this is absolutely not an appropriate time.”

  “Rhett, stop babbling and tell me.” She eyed him. “You look…different. Relaxed and…taller.”

  He chuckled. “I think that’s because a huge weight is off my shoulders.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He cleared his throat. “I…I’ve decided to stick around with Karen and help her get the orchard going again.”

  She gaped. “Why?”

  “Because you were right.”

  “I was? About what?”

  He kicked at a rock on the ground. “I finally saw what was alive in the orchard, in my life, and I realized I’ve been trying to make God fit into my plans instead of the other way around.”

  He saw that his words spurred a storm of feelings. He tried to imagine what she was thinking. Why should he stand there and spout off hard-won wisdom about God when her life had just fallen apart? He’d said it all wrong. Again.

  “Well, good for you.”

  “Stephanie, I—”

  “No, really. I’m thrilled that you’re embracing God’s plans for you. Personally, I don’t want Him mucking around in mine. Recently I’ve sort of tried to, you know, open my mind on account of you and all this and Mrs. Granato.”

  He had no idea who Mrs. Granato was.

  “But you know what?” Her eyes shone with tears. “That was a mistake. I’m looking around here, and I don’t see hope and a future. I have a dead brother and a smashed wedding cake, and my big shot at the career I’ve planned for just got blown to smithereens. I don’t want God interfering.”

  “I think maybe love looks a lot like interference sometimes,” he said quietly.

  She shook her head so hard the hair whipped her cheeks. “God took my brother, and just now He took away my dream. I don’t like the plans He has for me, Rhett. He doesn’t love me.”

  “Yes, He does.” Rhett caught up her hands and then locked eyes with her. “And so do I.”

  He’d said it. Now he watched, breath stilled, as his future unfolded before him.

  Twenty-Six

  Stephanie’s eyes widened, and her lush fringe of lashes sparkled with tears that had not yet fallen. Those eyes were the loveliest thing Rhett had ever seen. He discovered that he’d forgotten to breathe.

  “You love me?” she whispered.

  His insides clenched, and he went light-headed. He could deny it, say it was love in a friendly, people-who-shared-a-ludicrous-journey kind of way. Instead, he let himself believe the truth that was anchored deep down in his bones and braided around the cords of his heart. He nodded slowly, ready to utter the bravest words he’d ever spoken. “Yes, Stephanie Pink. I love you.”

  He took her hand and leaned in, brushing his lips over her cheek and finally finding her mouth. He kissed her, slow and sweet. Ribbons of joy welled up, leaving him no doubt that Stephanie was the woman God made for Rhett Hastings to love. He’d had to turn his life upside down and shake out the pockets and climb aboard an old trailer with a couple of nutty dogs to do it. He’d had to face his darkest sin and ask humbly for forgiveness. Such a long and convoluted journey, but worth every moment.

  When he lifted his head, she looked at him in awe. “Why? Why do you love me?”

  He struggled to make his mouth explain the fullness of his heart. “Because you are a dreamer. You see promise in wrecked things.” He swallowed. “You saw the promise in me.”

  “That doesn’t make me lovable.”

  “There are many more reasons, Stephanie. You’re smart and funny.”

  She shook her head. “Plenty of people are like that. The Chain Gang’s full of women of that ilk.”

  “You use words like ‘ilk,’ you say kind things, and you dream about opening a bookstore that will delight people of all ages.”

  Her head fell. “Stupid dream.”

  He crooked a finger under her chin and lifted it until he could once again face those shimmering eyes. “It’s a Stephanie Pink dream, and that makes it perfect.”

  She stared at him, her brows drawn.

  He trailed a finger across her cheek. “And you know how to make exotic delicacies out of bologna and white bread.”

  She did not smile. Dread burgeoned inside him, but he kept on.

  One of his fingers caressed a silken strand of her hair. “And you are a tender soul in a calloused world, a person who makes others shine brighter because they are near you.”

  Stephanie sighed. “Rhett, you’re a good man, and I think…that I love you too.”

  His heart soared. Love you too. “Then you’ll stay here?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  No. It could not be no. “If it’s because of your job…”

  She put her hands on his shoulders until he stopped talking. “Rhett, I’m a dreamer without a dream right now. I can’t make plans with you because then I’d be following your plans instead of mine. But I’m happy.” Her fingers drifted down his arms and she squeezed his hands. “I’m really happy that you’ve found your way.”

  “His way.”

  She let go, a flicker of anger tightening her mouth. “I’m not ready to go His way. Maybe I never will be.”

  “You don’t have to be ready right now,” he said, desperate to convince her. “I wasn’t for a very long time. God’s patient, that one I’m sure of.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I’ll never forget you, Rhett, and I hope you and Karen will love your new lives. It’s time for me to go find mine.”

  He couldn’t bear it. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. She kissed him back, and then she cupped a hand to his cheek with a soft sigh. “Thank you for everything.”

  Thank you. And goodbye. He was numb.

  “If it isn’t too much to ask, would you take me to the nearest bus station? I need to stop in Big Thumb and apologize before I fly back to New York.”

  Practical. Tie up all the loose ends. His heart throbbed with agony. What could he say? How could he make her understand? If he was Agnes Wharton, he could pour his love and tenderness into words so eloquent she would never leave him. He would weave her into his story with an unforgettable plot twist. But he had no clever words, no exquisite turn of phrase to prove to her that his love ran deeper than her hurt, her doubt. He saw the certainty in her eyes, the finality of her decision.

  “Yes,” he said faintly. He went to the truck and opened the passenger door for her.

  The front seat seemed cavernous without Sweetness sprawled between them. Stephanie stared ou
t the window as Rhett drove the truck down the mountain, leaving Agnes and her box of empty pages behind.

  The apology session started with Uncle Gene waving a ladle and rattling off angry phrases in Portuguese while Sweetness-Bert licked Stephanie on every square inch he could access. It ended with a gracious acceptance and a feast of Bert’s famous corned beef and egg scramble, along with an invitation to sleep in a tiny guest room/office above the diner.

  The next morning after another of Uncle Gene’s specials, she found herself filled to bursting, sitting on a bench that passed for the Big Thumb bus stop. Sweetness snored at her feet, also filled with scrambled eggs. Uncle Gene peeked out the window of the Cup of Mud every so often, probably to make sure Stephanie had no intention of committing another dog abduction. She was, after all, from New York City.

  How odd she felt, sitting on this little bench, staring at the quiet, tree-lined street without a single car to be seen. The New York City bustle seemed such a distant memory, though she would be back there in the wee hours that very day.

  Back there. Briefing Mr. Klein about the whole debacle, which was surely not her fault. There simply was no book, no story, but there would be other authors to pursue, and she knew eventually she would see her name on that office window. Klein, Gregory, and Pink.

  She caught her reflection in the empty store window. Was she that small? That ordinary? A woman sitting with a dog at a bus stop in a rural nowhere. Her plans with Ian had made her feel removed from such an ordinary life. They had been her close companion for all the years since his death. She’d been pursuing a higher purpose, an uncommon calling, she’d believed.

  Funny. How she’d give up all her glamorous notions and visions of success just to have her brother sitting next to her on that ordinary bench in that nondescript town, a million miles away from New York City.

  “But Ian’s not here,” she muttered savagely, earning a poke from Sweetness. “You took him away, God.” Her eyes filled. “You hurt me.”

  The sun warmed her face, and her fingers found the little book Mrs. Granato had given her a lifetime ago upon her arrival in Big Thumb.

  I know the plans I have for you…