by Ava Miles
John Parker had seen her need for self-discovery even then? Before she had? “He did?”
Rye’s mouth tipped up. “He sure did. But I can promise you one thing. You have a talent that staggers me, and I wouldn’t change one little bit of the gardens, not for the world. Besides, the work makes you happy, and that’s all I really want.”
She squeezed him tighter than usual. “Oh, Rye, thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”
He kissed her cheek. “Well, you took the steps, honey. Besides, if not for you, I wouldn’t have gotten Tory back, now would I?”
“No, you pretty well had made a mess of that one,” she said with a small smile.
“Then let me help you a little with J.P. Stay with him. You might not like the way he approached the situation, but you can work on that with him. You won’t find a better man, and if it makes the kids feel safe again, what harm could it do?”
“Yes, we’ll do what they want,” she said in a whisper.
“Good. I’ll go tell Rory it’s all settled. He made me leave him in the bathtub because he didn’t think you were convinced in spite of what you said earlier. We need to keep him young, Tammy, because he’s as old as dirt already.”
She knew that. “I’ll talk to him too when I put him to bed.”
“You can trust John Parker, Tammy,” her brother said.
And as he pulled her in and rocked her back and forth, she only whispered, “I know that,” and even though it scared her, the words came straight from her heart.
Chapter 22
John Parker threw another log onto the massive woodpile and reached for the axe. He stilled when he saw Hampton Hollins walk past Clayton, who was talking on his cell phone on the patio, and head across the yard toward him, something carried aloft in his hand. Using his T-shirt, he wiped off the beads of sweat trailing down his face.
When Hampton neared, John Parker realized he was holding a shot.
“Thought you could use another drink.”
John Parker rested the warm axe against his thigh and knocked back the liquor in one gulp, welcoming the burn. “Thanks.” He handed the glass back to Hampton. “So you overheard.”
Hampton’s mouth twitched. “It was hard not to with both of you raising your voices. I’ve never known Tammy to do that. It was nice to hear.”
Well, he was glad it made someone happy. “I lost it. I simply lost it. No disrespect to your daughter, sir, but sometimes she really pushes my buttons.”
“Indeed.” Hampton walked over to the woodpile. “That’s an awful lot of cut wood for July.”
“Yes, sir. Rye and I needed to hit something, so this had to suffice.”
“I can understand that.”
Since he wasn’t sure what Tammy’s daddy wanted to say, he went for the direct approach. “Are you planning on putting me in my place for talking to your daughter like that?”
Hampton crossed his arms over his white polo shirt, looking unaffected by the heat and humidity like only a traditional Southern gentleman could. “No, I think you were completely right. It’s horseshit for her to worry about inconveniencing people at a time like this.”
The mild swear word had his insides relaxing. “And what about the other thing I said?”
“Well, she’ll have to decide for herself about that, won’t she?” A slow smile appeared. “Any reason I should worry about you, son?”
He’d never been ashamed of his roots, but he wanted to spell things out. “Well, I suppose some would say I come from across the tracks. Had my daddy take off. My mama raised us alone for some time. We’re not what you’d call blue-bloods, and I know where Rye’s from.”
“None of that so called fine upbringing made my children happy growing up. In fact, it mostly made them miserable. We’ve all learned a lot about being a family in the year since my heart attack, but I expect you know that.” He traced the rough lines of a piece of kindling on the woodpile. “When I look at you, I see a man who loves my daughter and treats her children like his own. Not to mention that my son thinks of you as a brother. How could I think you weren’t good enough?”
John Parker picked up the axe. “Well, Rye thought it might be too soon for her.”
Hampton extended his hand, and John Parker handed the axe to him. “There’s not a lot of clear-headed thinking going on right now.”
Sound advice to his mind. “You’re not what I expected, sir.”
“That pleases me to hear, son. I’m tired of everyone knowing what to expect from me.”
John Parker could only admire how much Hampton was willing to adapt at his age. Men from his generation didn’t often compromise.
“Tammy told me you’ve separated from Mrs. Hollins. I’m deeply sorry, sir.”
“I appreciate you saying that, son.”
Hampton’s face fell, and even though he disliked Rye’s mama, John Parker couldn’t help but feel compassion for the man. Separations were hard no matter how right they were.
“It meant a lot to Tammy, sir, you standing up for her against her mama.”
“So, she told you. That’s telling, don’t you think?”
When he felt her pushing him away, he needed to remember how much she’d confided in him. Her daddy was right. It was telling.
“Well, Margaret was wrong. And cruel. She wasn’t that wrong-headed when I married her, you know, and the cruelty…well, that’s harder to untangle, but she wasn’t always like that either. For a long time, I ignored the changes in her because it was the easiest way to avoid upsetting the apple cart and keep my home intact. All it caused was a rift with my only son and a frozenness in my daughters. It’s a damn shame. I decided to change, but my wife doesn’t see the need.” He shook his head, deep grooves cut into his mouth now.
“It’s a brave act, sir, and one your children respect and admire.”
“That makes it worthwhile. Their forgiveness is more than I could have ever hoped for. As for Margaret… It’s time for her to live with her mistakes. I won’t be a party to making my children unhappy, and that’s what she continues to do. And her refusal to see what Sterling Morrison is baffles me. Suggesting Tammy should let those children anywhere near Sterling or give him back her wedding ring, well, it’s simply outrageous.” As if his blood pressure was rising, he took some deep cleansing breaths.
“From what Rye said, he was a right son of a bitch.”
Hampton turned the axe then and studied the blade, which winked in the fading sunlight. “I was planning on telling Rye something about Tammy, but now I think you’re the best person for me to tell. Tammy recently confessed to Margaret that she didn’t receive her frequent sprained wrists from tennis or dressage.”
He’d known from Rye there had been some abuse in Tammy’s marriage, but he hadn’t fully taken in the way it had decorated her daily life.
“I thought you might want to know that as you move ahead with her. She’s got feelings for you, son. It’s as plain as day, but she’s got issues too, ones she’s buried deep inside except for an unguarded moment with us in Memphis over a year ago. She told us then he would sometimes hurt her, but I didn’t know about the depth of the abuse until she made that disclosure to her mama.”
He made himself turn away and study the horizon so the man wouldn’t see his face when he asked the question eating at his insides. “Did he hurt Rory or Annabelle, sir?”
“I don’t rightly know, son. We tried to ask, but she just shook her head and left the room, like it was too painful to contemplate. I suspect she isn’t completely sure.”
John Parker asked for the axe again and positioned another log on the block. “I appreciate you telling me, sir.” His voice was cool as a mountain stream, but inside his blood ran like bubbling pools of molten lava.
“Okay, enough of this serious talk. Tammy tells me you’re a golfer.”
The radical change in conversation warmed him a little. Tammy had spoken about him and his hobbies? “Yes, I am.”
“
What’s your handicap?”
“Right now, it’s a four. You?”
“Mine’s a three. We should play the next time I come to town. It would be nice to go out with a friend of the family who appreciates the game. Rye still hates it after I made him play growing up.”
“He could join us and drink beer from the golf cart,” John Parker said to temper the regret he heard in the man’s voice.
Hampton slapped him on the back. Looked him in the eye. “That he could. Good talking to you, son.” Having said his piece, the man walked slowly back toward the house.
Well, wasn’t that interesting? Somehow he instinctively felt the stamp of Hampton’s approval. His mama always said there was a silver lining to every cloud.
Daylight was dwindling, and while his hands burned from the budding blisters on his palms, he cracked a log in two with one clean, forceful strike to its center. Thinking about Tammy having to use tennis or dressage injuries as an excuse for her husband laying his hands on her cracked his heart just as surely.
She’d experienced an ongoing rash of violence since reaching adulthood. It was making her strong, but he finally realized how important it was for her to speak her mind and be heard, to make her own decisions. Living with a lack of control in one’s life made it all the more important to feel there was something to hold onto. He had felt the same when his daddy had left them.
As he split more logs, he made a vow to support her decisions, even if they were completely at odds with his own.
Chapter 23
Amelia Ann let herself outside into the quiet night and crossed into the moonlight garden Tammy had created. Enclosed on three sides, it offered privacy, and that was something she desperately needed right now.
Annabelle’s screams and sobs still sounded in her ears. The little girl had awoken from a nightmare, and Amelia Ann had sat holding her hand while she shook uncontrollably in her mama’s arms.
Rory, who’d insisted on sleeping in his mama’s room with his sister, had put a protective arm around his sister too. But there’d been no mistaking how his little body trembled as he’d said over and over again, “It’s okay, Annabelle.”
It wasn’t okay. They were just little kids, and she felt powerless to help them right now.
The moon was high, casting long shadows in the garden. She took a breath, and then another. The hurt in her chest was expanding, the pressure crushing. Oh God. Those poor little babies. The tears came first, and then she couldn’t hold back. She started crying. For Annabelle and Rory and all the violence they’d experienced that had stolen their innocence. Even now the thought of what Sterling might have done to them both enraged her and broke her heart.
She’d been right to call that tabloid from her beauty shop in Meade to tell them about Sterling paying one million dollars for the divorce and giving up any rights to custody. Having known Tammy all her life, she’d feared her sister might go back to him. Abused wives did it all the time; she’d read that in a college textbook. For years, she hadn’t believed her sister’s excuses for wearing long sleeves at the height of summer or her many sprained wrists. But she hadn’t known what to do. How to even ask the right questions.
When Rye had essentially bought Sterling out of his marriage to Tammy and custody of the kids, she hadn’t believed it was enough to keep the man out of their lives. She’d made sure Tammy could never go back to him by publicly shaming them both with that tabloid article. Sterling deserved it. Heavens, it wasn’t nearly enough of a punishment for the bastard.
And the kids would be safe, she’d told herself as she’d dialed the number. She and Tammy hadn’t been friends then, so it hadn’t been as hard to share the news with Gunner Nolan as she’d expected.
But her sister had changed so much since leaving Sterling and Meade behind. They were growing close now, even though Amelia Ann still didn’t always understand her.
And as for her deep, dark secret? Well, it was like a forgotten cigarette stub burning its way through the carpet, leaving its mark.
She couldn’t escape what she’d done, and she prayed every night her family wouldn’t find out. Rye would be furious with her, Daddy shocked, and Tammy? Well, the betrayal would slice her sister clean open.
And as their new bond had strengthened, she’d stopped blaming Tammy for being Sterling’s punching bag. Amelia Ann still didn’t understand how she’d just accepted her lot without doing anything to change it. And if he’d hurt Rory or Annabelle… How could a mama ever knowingly put her children in a violent situation?
And here they were again, but this time the blame could only be assigned to one person—an unknown outsider. Yet the kids were more terrified than she’d ever seen them.
When she was a lawyer, she was going to help take kids away from abusive parents. Encourage abused women to leave their husbands. There was this insidious stereotype that abuse only happened in the projects and among lower income families. She knew better. She was going to target higher income women who were involved in abusive relationships, while working with lower income cases pro bono whenever possible.
She hoped working at a prestigious law firm like Kelly, Prentice & Stacks, which had a well-known family division, would give her some ideas for her own future law firm. It would be a high-end boutique, the kind of place a wealthy, abused woman married to a powerful man would walk into for help getting a divorce. She had waited a long while before helping her sister, but now she would spend her career helping women like Tammy ensure that their kids grew up in safe homes.
Planning for her future excited and motivated her, but after Clayton’s revelation, she knew Rye was still pursuing the leak. The lurking fear she’d be found out had wrapped around her like a spider’s silk, and even work couldn’t completely distract her from thinking about it. Her nightly prayers were urgent now. She kept tossing and turning about confessing, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. God, she’d put herself in a corner, and this time the tears she cried were also for herself.
Cigar smoke wafted over her as she inhaled jaggedly, trying to repress her tears, and then she felt warm hands settle on her shoulders.
“There now.”
It was Clayton.
Mortified he’d caught her crying, she tried to move away. “Leave me be.”
He pulled her back against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Shh, honey. It’s okay.”
Is that what all men said to women when they cried? Is that why Rory had known to say it to Annabelle? That thought only brought more tears.
“Please go,” she pleaded. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
His large hands turned her and fitted her against his hard chest, his strong arms curling around her. “I think I can handle it.”
Her face pressed into his shirt. “You already think I’m a little girl.”
“Not just now. Go ahead and cry. You deserve it.”
His permission set her off, and soon she was crying uncontrollably. His hands stroked her back in an easy rhythm, sometimes cradling her neck or fingering her curls.
“It’s…so unfair.”
“I know, sugar,” he said, increasing the pressure of his hold, like he was trying to draw her pain inside him.
She spent a long time breaking apart in his arms. Finally quiet, she lay against his chest, exhausted from all that emotion. Taking a few deep breaths, she finally pushed back.
“I’m sorry. I’ve gotten okay with having a good cry, but I normally don’t inflict it on others.”
“Don’t apologize for being human, Amelia. It happens to all of us.”
Even though the moon was nearly half full, casting its ghost-like rays on the sharp angles of his face, there was a gentleness in him now.
“Well, thank you. I soaked your shirt.”
“It’ll dry.”
His words made her shiver. Unsettled at the awareness she was feeling, of his dark shape and that gravelly voice she found so sexy, she rubbed her swollen eyes. “I must lo
ok a sight.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Clayton…” She trailed off, unsure how to respond.
“This rips at me too, but for different reasons. Rory reminds me of myself at that age.”
“He does?” she asked, shocked he would share something like that with her.
“My daddy died in a car accident when I was seven. He was on the road traveling to another concert. Mama and I were in the bus just behind him. He’d stayed on the other bus with some of his crew after the concert because he had a new song pouring out of him, and he wanted to nail it down. The driver didn’t see the deer until it was too late. He swerved out of the way, into the other lane. A semi-truck was going by. Five people died that night.”
Dear God, was all she could think. More tears welled up, but this time they were for him.
Her hand rose to his chest, her touch one of hesitant connection, willing comfort.
His jaw clenched. “I cried into my dog’s mane more nights than I can remember. It pulls at me, seeing Rory do the same.”
“I’m sorry. About your daddy.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said hoarsely, but even she knew the hurt wasn’t gone.
He was feeling it even now.
Some losses were simply too big to get over.
She put her arms around him this time, giving him the comfort he’d given her earlier.
For a moment, he softened into her embrace. Then his body tensed, and he said, “You don’t have to treat me like a kid. I’m okay.”
He carefully disengaged her arms from him and stepped back. His face was stark in the moonlight, so she stepped forward and traced his jaw.
“So strong,” she said. “Now I understand.”
He grabbed her hand to stop her from touching him. “No, you don’t.”