Blood Ties - A Magnolia Novel

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Mr. and Mrs. Tuck, good to see you again. What wonderful friends you are to Cecil. Bringing your entire family here to enjoy his company. He just lights up like a Christmas tree when you all are here. Does my heart good to see you smile, Mr. Pickard.”

  LiAnn watched Carmella smile as she patted Cecil’s back, her dark eyes sweeping over the table. They lingered a bit too long on LiAnn, and she found herself returning the harsh gaze. A strange look crossed the woman’s face, almost like fear, but passed as quickly as it arrived.

  Did she imagine it? LiAnn shot a glance over to her mother, raising one eyebrow. Her suspicions were confirmed when Ruth returned the gesture. She noticed, too.

  “Nice to see you again, Ms…, oh, forgive me, I’ve forgotten your last name,” LiAnn answered, hoping her words sounded truer to the ears of others than they did her own.

  “You too, and its D’Nucci. Carmella D’Nucci. Now, I must apologize for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear how much you appreciate our little slice of Heaven here at The Magnolia. Looks like you are about finished with lunch, so would you like an official tour of the place?”

  LiAnn shook her head. “Thank you, but Cecil already gave a grand tour on my visit last week. I plan on spending my afternoon learning how to paint. I little bird told me Jimmy Calhoun is quite the teacher.” LiAnn noticed a look of concern, and maybe a hint of sadness, flicker behind Carmella’s eyes.

  Carmella scanned the room, glanced at her watch, then back over to LiAnn. “How fun, and yes, we count Jimmy as quite a prize here at The Magnolia. No other senior facility has an art teacher, much less one as renowned as Jimmy. Class may start a tad late, though.”

  “Oh, why is that?” LiAnn queried.

  “Jimmy is running late. But, he’s here now, upstairs in the art room. He had a bunch of supplies with him, since he plans on starting a new piece today.”

  A new face appeared next to Carmella, and LiAnn saw a look of playfulness in his face.

  “Well, thank goodness, ’cause I’m tired of starin’ at fruit! What I’m hopin’ is, that this here beauty will be our muse for the day. Darlin’, I could stare at you all day and never blink once, even if ya remain fully clothed!”

  “Mr. Wilson! You are just too much, you know that? What a way to make a first impression on Mr. Pickard’s guests. Ms. Tuck, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Wylie Wilson, The Magnolia’s unofficial prankster, and mouth of the south, which sometimes erupts.”

  LiAnn laughed, along with her father, but her mother looked beyond irritated, and Cecil blanched from embarrassment. LiAnn immediately liked the old man. Though he was a bit rough around the edges, she sensed his kind nature. It radiated from him. The man was just one of those who enjoyed making people smile, and the world needed more like him. LiAnn stood and extended her hand toward the man. “Why, Mr. Wilson, you do have a way with words. I’m afraid, though, I’m only here to have lunch with a family friend and attend class as a student, not the model.”

  “Dadgum, today just ain’t my day! Well, how about this? Would ya be willin’ to make an old man happy by sittin’ next to him in class? Give him some braggin’ rights to the rest of the old farts around here by bein’ seen next to such a beauty? I heard ya was an ex-cop, and boy howdy, that made my blood pound! I promise, I won’t bite, unless ya want me to.” Wylie winked.

  “Oh, you are bad, aren’t you? I might have to get my handcuffs out to keep you in line,” LiAnn teased, returning the conspiratorial wink.

  Wylie beamed from ear to ear, and then turned and spoke to Cecil. “Cecil, no wonder you sit around here like a bump on a log when they ain’t here! You’re dreamin’ about this here goddess, ain’t ya? You’ve been hidin’ her from us all this time, ya old miser! Oh, and darlin’, you can cuff me anytime ya wish. It will be somethin’ else I can cross off my bucket list: handcuffed and at the mercy of a gorgeous female cop.”

  Cecil shook his head in mock disgust, his cheeks actually turning pink. “Manners, Wylie. Manners! No wonder Seth gets so irked at you. Does that mouth of yours come with a filter?”

  “I’m warning you, Mr. Wilson. I like to play rough. And it wouldn’t count anyway. I’m retired,” LiAnn said with a smirk. The entire table laughed, and she patted the seat next to her for the old man to join them. Out of the corner of her eye, LiAnn noticed Carmella never moved from her position behind Cecil. She also noticed the smile on the woman’s face was faker than the acrylic nails on her fingertips. Her eyes focused on LiAnn again, and this time, LiAnn recognized the look.

  Hate.

  Carmella cleared her throat and said, “Well, it seems you all have a full table, so I guess it’s time for me to finish my rounds. Mr. Wilson, you behave around these ladies, especially since one is a cop! You surely don’t need any more run-ins with the law. It was a pleasure to see you all again. Hope you enjoy class with Jimmy, and come back for a visit real soon.”

  Before any of them could say a word, Carmella turned and was gone. She wound her way through the maze of tables and out to the foyer. The second she left, LiAnn felt the atmosphere change.

  Wylie lowered his voice and said, “I still can’t believe she’s back at work so soon. Then again, keepin’ the mind and body engaged will help her not think about her grief. Goodness, what a strong woman that one is.”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Wilson?” LiAnn asked, intrigued by the statement.

  Wylie continued. “Her son’s funeral was this past Saturday. Never seen a mother so, I don’t know the right word, stoic? I surely don’t know how she keeps a smile on her face. After I lost my boy, it took me months to come out of my grieven’ hole. The only time I saw her show much emotion durin’ the service was when someone sittin’ by her started to lose it.”

  The lightbulb went off in LiAnna’s head. “D’Nucci! She is the mother of the boy who was dismembered and burned, the one I heard about on the news, right?”

  Ruth gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my, I never put the names together! How could we have missed that, Junior? We’ve been here three times since his death, and never paid our respects to the woman! She must think we are rude. Cecil, why didn’t you tell us?”

  Cecil stuttered, “I…honestly, I didn’t know. I don’t watch TV, you know that Ms. Ruth. And, she never said nothin’ to me about it, and I don’t talk much to…”

  Wylie interrupted, “You don’t talk to anyone, really. Actually, Seth and I wondered if you even could talk. Seth thought you might have had a stroke or somethin’. We’ve been tryin’ for months now to bring you outta your shell.”

  Cecil bristled. “I keep to myself because I like it that way, Mr. Wilson. If I got somethin’ to say, I say it. Just haven’t been in the mood recently. You only came over here because two lovely ladies are at my table. So, stop tryin’ to rile me, or make me feel guilty for not chattin’ sooner. The door swings both ways, ya know.”

  LiAnn felt guilty at her previous assumption about Carmella. No wonder the woman cast off such a negative vibe! Her only child murdered in such a gruesome, horrible way. A shiver of disgust slithered up her back. If she ever lost Karina, she would die of a broken heart.

  She thought about what Mr. Wilson said about the woman being stoic. Hell, Carmella was beyond stoic. She was a hardened piece of marble. Back at work only days after burying her child? That wouldn’t be the case for her if Karina died, or, God forbid, had been murdered. There would be two caskets at the front of the church: Karina and hers.

  LiAnn couldn’t stand to think about such things, so she stood, extended her arm toward Mr. Wilson, and asked, “I’m ready to start making your friends drool, Mr. Wilson. Shall we head up to the art room and learn how to create a masterpiece?”

  “Darlin’, I was born ready,” Wylie gushed.

  “You two behave, now. Junior, I’m off to quiltin’ class with Betty. Cecil, try not to drain all the cash in his pocket today, will you?” Ruth admonished.

  Junior glowered at his wife, but Cecil gr
inned from ear to ear. Mr. Wilson tugged on LiAnn’s arm, leading the way to the elevator.

  Two hours and one ruined shirt later, LiAnn stared at the horrid collage of colors on the canvas in front of her. Though the shades were lovely, her rendition of an open Bible on top of a wooden table, nestled next to an old, blue jug filled with pink and yellow daisies, was nowhere near the real thing.

  Her artwork looked like she painted it with her toes. Blindfolded. Karina certainly didn’t get her artistic abilities from her. She glanced up and saw Jimmy was making his way toward her, stopping briefly at the side of each senior in the class, chatting with them about their creations.

  Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. The thought of letting someone see her colorful monstrosity was bad, but LiAnn would be beyond mortified if an artist like Jimmy took a peek. His beautiful work graced the walls, from the subtle colors of a late afternoon spring day, to the vibrant splashes of reds and oranges of the sun setting over the shimmering blue waters of the ocean. The man was beyond talented. He was gifted.

  Jimmy was chatting up Mr. Wilson, gushing over his color choices and brush strokes. The other participants were gathering up their supplies, gabbing about each other’s artistic talents as they left the room. One of the other men, what was his name? Seth? walked over to Mr. Wilson, and with just one negative comment about Mr. Wilson’s painting, the two men started arguing. Loudly.

  LiAnn had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Jimmy moved between the two men, admonishing them for acting so rude in front of a guest, and both men got up and left, grumbling insults at each other under their breath. Apparently, Mr. Wilson’s crush on her was short-lived, for he left the room without even one glance back.

  Thankfully, instead of coming over to inspect her work, Jimmy remained in his spot by Mr. Wilson’s empty easel. He smiled, big and wide, his eyes gleaming with humor. “So, I sense a bit of nervousness on your part. You aren’t quite ready for a critique on your work, are you?”

  “Oh, perceptive. No, I’m not. I mean, you just ate lunch not too long ago, right? Wouldn’t want to make you sick. It’s kind of a disaster. No, not kind of,” LiAnn answered, glancing back to the hot mess she’d created. “It is a disaster. I need remedial art class lessons. You know, start out with finger-painting or something.”

  Jimmy laughed. LiAnn sensed he was genuinely amused by her embarrassment. His tone switched once his laughter subsided. In a husky voice, he almost purred, “Ms. Tuck, the beauty of a piece of art isn’t created by the hands of the artist. It is generated from the eyes of the viewer. And, from my position, I’ve seen nothing but a breathtaking canvas, created by the hands of the gods.”

  No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Ever. LiAnn felt her heart skip a beat and blood rush to her face. Wow, he’s good. Move over, Casanova.

  His beautiful brown eyes lost the sparkle of humor, filling with the heaviness of attraction. While holding her gaze, Jimmy wiped his stained fingers on a towel in slow, calculated moves. Seductive. Sensual. Like his fingers were exploring her body, rather than wiping away the streaks of acrylic. The sensation was overwhelming, and something LiAnn hadn’t experienced in years.

  It took a few seconds to control her vocal chords. She swallowed hard and retrieved her purse from the floor. Unaccustomed to such raw displays of sexuality, LiAnn felt a bit unnerved, and completely out of her comfort zone. “What an appraisal on something you haven’t yet seen, Mr. Calhoun. Do you…do you mind if I leave it here and come back to work on it again next week?” Oh, great comeback, LiAnn. Your flirting skills are rusty. No, they flat out suck.

  Ignoring her words, Jimmy strode over and stopped when he was but a mere foot from LiAnn. He’d way overstepped the personal space bounds. She smelled his spicy cologne, mixed with a faint aroma of paint fumes.

  With a slight nod of his head toward the easel, Jimmy reached out and took LiAnn’s hands in his, using the towel to wipe the smudges of paint from her fingers. His hands were strong and gentle at the same time while he worked the cloth in slow, rhythmic circles. Jimmy’s burning gaze never left her face.

  “I would be inconsolable if you didn’t return next week, ma’am. Your beauty inspires me to do great things. Ones I haven’t thought about, or done, in years.”

  His magnetism and old-school charm was strong. It wasn’t like LiAnn was a stranger to being flirted with, especially in her youth. But the times before had all been rather raunchy, explicit. The brazen would-be suitors not shy about saying what they wanted to do with her full breasts and plump lips, among other things.

  The obnoxious men had been put in their place with a few, sharp barbs hurled from her mouth, along with the threat of bodily harm if they didn’t leave before LiAnn lost her temper.

  Jimmy was different. Though the heat radiating from him was intense, and full of just as much animal attraction as others had exuded, it was subtle. Intriguing. Downright sexy as hell, and something that knocked her senses off kilter.

  She saw the want, the need, the burning desire behind his hooded eyes. A pang of worry shot up her spine, wondering if hers reflected the same. His beautiful eyes also held a hint of sadness, no, loneliness. Her mother mentioned on the drive over that Mr. Calhoun was a widower, and several of the single lady residents of The Magnolia had tried to sink their claws into Jimmy when he first started volunteering. According to her mother, Jimmy never showed any interest in anyone, which left a trail of broken dreams for a last chance at a budding romance throughout the community.

  Her internal questions about whether Jimmy felt the spark between them last week had just been answered. They spoke volumes about what he was thinking. Her heartbeat went into overdrive as he continued to manipulate her hands in his own. It left her almost dizzy with emotions she didn’t know she possessed any longer. She surprised herself when she responded, her own voice low, husky. “I’m not one for leaving others disappointed, Mr. Calhoun. Guess this means I will be a full-time student of yours until I learn to master creating a piece of art. So, I will see you next week.”

  Jimmy brought LiAnn right hand to millimeters from his lips. His warm breath caressed her skin, sending a shiver of anticipation racing through her body. LiAnn expected him to gallantly kiss her palm. Instead, Jimmy’s voice was low, throaty, barely above a whisper. “Oh, I don’t believe waiting until next week will do at all. I was thinking about dinner. Tomorrow. I know the perfect, quaint Italian restaurant not far from here. Then I can take you on the scenic tour of Hot Springs. It is a place full of hidden mysteries. I hope it’s not too bold of me to assume you like Italian food? It is, after all, the choice of gourmet chefs around the world for sensuality in and on the tongue.”

  What am I getting myself into? No, no second guessing. You’ve spent your entire life doing that, and look where it got you. Alone. Take a chance, you fool. No more fear.

  “Not at all. I love Italian food. Always have. Shall we meet around seven?”

  17

  Adventures in the Woods

  “So, you sure you can get this hunk of junk running? Looks to me like it’s a waste of time. Maybe I should just call someone to come haul it off and then go buy a new one?”

  Karina watched with amusement while Bo worked on the rusty tractor. His feet were surrounded by a myriad of tools while he messed with the motor. Sweat glistened off his tanned back, which was minus a shirt–again. It seemed the boy had an aversion to T-shirts. Streaks of grease covered his hands, and there was a big smudge spread across his forehead where he’d swiped away a mosquito on his face minutes before. His thick, honey-colored hair started to curl around the edges of his neck and forehead. Dear God, but the scenery was fun to watch. At least his second visit to the farm she knew about ahead of time, and she was more presentable. A touch of makeup, hair pulled back into a sleek pony, and a bra to corral the girls.

  Bo produced a lazy grin. “Girl, you’ve got to learn to slow down some. This ain’t L.A. Southern folk take things slow and easy. Don’t
get your panties in a twist. I’ll get it fixed. Got plenty of time to get her up and goin’ before the sun sets.”

  Karina took a sip of tea and stared out across the fields. Acres and acres of overgrown grass and weeds awaited the dull blades of the old tractor. Though it was beyond entertaining to watch Bo work and trade barbs with him, they needed to get a move on. It would take hours to mow the acreage.

  The second the thought crossed her mind, the engine sputtered, coughed out a plume of black smoke, and roared to life. Karina watched as Bo straightened from his bent-over perch under the hood, slammed it shut, and shot her a wink. It was so sexy, it made her knees actually wobble.

  In a flash, Bo scooped up the tools, threw them back into the toolbox, and then climbed up and sat behind the wheel. He held out his hand and, feeling like a kid again, Karina grabbed it and climbed up next to him. A smirk of satisfaction crossed his lips as he slid on his hat and engaged the gears. Karina never said a word, she just leaned back, slipped off her new cowboy boots, stuck her bare feet on the dash, and let memories of her younger days flood her mind.

  One hour and two sweaty bodies later, the tractor sputtered and died. Karina glanced around, grateful at the amount of land mowed before it conked out. She expected Bo to start fiddling around with the controls, maybe grab the toolbox and open the hood, but instead, he jumped down and held out his arms for her to follow. Karina shot him a grin, turned, and exited the machine on the other side.

  “Well, guess we got the last bit of juice the old girl had in her,” Karina teased, patting the hot hood with her hand. “Time to put her out to pasture. Oh, wait, she’s already there.”

  Bo sidled up to Karina, his own grin full of all sorts of underlying tones. Pure, raw sexual availability was the dominant one. “City girl. I’ve got a lot to teach y’all, don’t I?”

  Karina swiped at a mosquito buzzing around her arm. She’d slathered herself in Gram’s idea of bug repellent, Skin-so-Soft, and to her surprise, didn’t have one bite on her yet. The little bloodsuckers swarmed, but didn’t land. “I don’t think I need to be a country girl to figure out our ride just croaked.”