by Ava Miles
“Oh no! Poor Bandit.” She skidded to a halt in front of Rye and tugged on his jeans. He knelt down so she could pet the dog, her eyes filling with tears. She turned and hugged Rory, who patted her on the back with one hand and rubbed his wet eyes furiously with the other. Amelia Ann buried her face into Daddy’s shoulder while she battled her own tears. Tory had her fists clenched at her sides.
“Is he gonna be all right, Rory?” Annabelle asked quietly when they pulled apart.
Tammy’s little boy slowly nodded, reaching out a comforting hand to Bandit when the dog whined.
“Barbie and I will help you take care of him,” she told him.
“Thanks, Annabelle.”
Her body rigid with tension, Tammy walked over and kissed both her children on the head. “Let’s go set Bandit up. Then, we’ll get everyone a snack. We’ll find something extra special for Bandit since he was so brave. How does that sound?”
Rory simply shook his head. “He’s not hungry, Mama. He’s too sad to eat.”
Oh, you sweet, intuitive boy. How much of what he was saying about Bandit referred to how he felt himself?
Tory extended her hand. “That’s all right, Rory. He doesn’t have to eat now. Why don’t you and Rye show me what type of bed the vet wants for Bandit?”
When Rye stood, his jaw ticking, Annabelle tugged on his jeans again. “I want to go too.”
Tory held out another hand. “Then let’s go, you two. Tammy, why don’t you grab a drink in the kitchen?” she said. Tammy knew her sister-in-law was trying to give her a moment, and she felt a rush of gratitude.
The kids put their little hands in Tory’s and went with her into the den, following Rye. When they were out of sight, Tammy pressed a hand to her stomach. “Oh, God.”
Amelia Ann rushed over and hugged her, tears falling. “Oh, Tammy. It’ll be all right.”
She squeezed her before pulling away. “I want everyone to stop telling me everything’s going to be all right. I need some air. I won’t be long.”
She popped out of the house and ran to her garden, falling to her knees on the hot grass, unconcerned about the stains to her white Capris. She deadheaded flowers and pulled up emerging weeds with her bare hands. She tore out those insidious clumps of clover and the trailing crabgrass the way she wished she could excise her children’s scarring memories.
Her phone rang in her pocket, its Beethoven sonata a melodic contrast to her harsh breathing. The only people who called her besides her family were her gardening crew at John Parker’s, so she fished out her phone with her filthy hands.
It was Mama.
She wanted to hurl the device across the yard like a football, but she hit the button anyway.
“What do you want?” she snapped unceremoniously.
“Tammy? Honey, you sound beside yourself, and who could blame you? I was calling to check on you and the kids. I heard what happened…on the news.”
So Daddy hadn’t told her anything. Well, that was no surprise given that he wanted a divorce. She clawed into the hot dirt with one hand as her anger at her mama spilled through her, burning like acid. What would her mama have done to help them cope if someone had broken into their house growing up? The answer came too easily. She probably would have made them sleep in their own dark rooms, doors shut. Not caring if they cried out in the night.
“No one thought you would care, Mama.”
There was a gasp clear as day across the line.
“Do you think me that cruel?”
“You haven’t shown us much in the way of kindness, Mama. Why do you think you had to hear about something like this on the news?”
Silence for a long moment. “You sound like your daddy.”
“On that we agree. Mama, I don’t want to talk to you right now. If you decide you have something nice to say to us, feel free to call back, but otherwise…”
She hung up, and then she did what she really wanted to do. She hurled the phone as far as she could and uttered a scream.
Panting now, she yanked out more weeds, working so fast and furious they stained her hands green. “Dammit!”
She’d never sworn like that, and part of her felt light-headed. But it lessened the pressure in her burning lungs. She did it again, and this time she said something really dirty, something that would have made the ladies at church faint.
“Feel better?” John Parker asked from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder. “You don’t want to see me like this. Best head into the house.”
He didn’t move.
“You still standing there for a reason?”
He held up his hands. “I was just keeping you company.”
Her mouth scrunched angrily. “Why? We have guards all around the house.”
Again, he didn’t respond, just kept staring at her with that understanding gaze.
“You’re good at waiting me out.”
His mouth tipped up. “Some things are worth waiting for.”
“I just told my Mama off.”
“That explains the phone I saw sailing through the air.” He knelt beside her. “How did it feel?”
“Good,” she admitted, able to breathe more easily now. “Really good.”
Looking down at her hands, she took in the stains of green and fresh cuts laced with dirt. They’d never looked that way before—whenever she worked in the gardens she wore gloves. Somehow it felt wonderful to have gotten her hands good and dirty.
After a deep breath, she stood up. Her back ached so she stretched, like a sunflower reaching up to its nurturer in the big, blue sky.
“Let’s head inside. I think I’ve done enough damage here.” And for someone so unaccustomed to acting out, it was a shock to realize how incredible it felt.
No wonder people did it.
He didn’t touch her, and for that she was glad. She wanted, no needed, not to lean on him right now.
“Should I get your phone or will you?”
“I’ll get it,” she said and headed off to search for it in the grass, knowing he’d be waiting for her when she returned. And she was surprised by how wonderful that felt.
Chapter 27
Amelia Ann was coming down the stairs when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she called to everyone in the den.
Her smile faded when she saw their visitor. Clayton was back after whatever business he’d seen to and was wearing a white cowboy hat, which only added to his rough appeal. Right now she just wasn’t strong enough for the insults that always came with his presence. Especially after the way he’d let her cry in his arms the other night before pushing her away.
When she didn’t move aside to let him in, his eyebrow rose. “You gonna let me in, honey?”
“What are you doing here, Clayton?” she asked because she couldn’t help herself.
He stepped closer and chucked her under the chin like she was a girl wearing pigtails. “Amelia Ann, you sound like a woman whose crinoline is a little tighter than usual.”
God help her, but she had actually worn that hideous contraption to Meade’s Annual Civil War Remembrance Dance hosted by none other than Mrs. Augusta herself. “I’ll bet you know a whole lot about a crinoline.”
“I won’t deny that.”
She craned her neck to meet his gaze and saw the reluctant heat there. Even though it might be the last thing he wanted, that moment between them the other night had changed things. They might push and pull at each other, but it was only because he didn’t want to pursue the alternative—latching on and never letting go.
“I have something for your nephew and then some business to attend to with my boss,” he finally said and pushed past her.
For Rory? What in the world? Amelia Ann stalked after him.
“I’ll be good, Amelia,” he called over his shoulder.
It was like he’d read her mind. She huffed all the way to the den.
“Hey, Clayton,” Rye said, rising from the couch.
He flashed a slo
w smile to everyone sitting in the den, a much friendlier greeting than the one he’d given her, she noticed. By God, if he’d smiled at her like that, she would have melted into a puddle.
“Seemed to me like y’all needed some cheering up.” He crossed the room to where Rory was sitting on the floor next to his bandaged dog. “Hey there, bubba. Looks like you got your dog back. I brought Bandit over the Medal of Honor for Bravery”
Rory’s eyes sparked with an excitement that hadn’t been there for the past few days. “You did?”
Clayton hunkered down and gently stroked the dog’s fur and then tousled Rory’s hair—an action so gentle Amelia Ann drew in a breath. Gentleness wasn’t something she expected from Clayton, and she’d written his actions the other night down to a fluke. Yet here he was being all nice and sweet with her nephew and his injured dog.
As she watched in wonder, Clayton drew a medal on a blue ribbon out of his pocket.
“Oh, my gosh,” Rory whispered like he was afraid to believe this was happening.
Clayton pressed the medal into the little boy’s palm. “This is one of the medals the police give their dogs for bravery. I talked to one of the officers downtown, and we thought Bandit deserved one after how he protected y’all.”
She darn well knew the police didn’t do that for just any dog, so this must have taken some doing.
Rory’s face glowed, and he held the medal up for Bandit to see before carefully hugging the dog. “You hear that, boy? You’re a hero.”
Tears gathered in Amelia Ann’s eyes, and she even heard Rye clear his throat.
After giving Rory’s hair another ruffle, Clayton stood. “When he gets better, you can probably have your Uncle Rye attach that medal to his collar.”
The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks, Mr. Chandler. Look everybody!” He held the medal up and began running from one adult to another to show it off.
Rye walked over and smacked Clayton on the back, and it was clear her brother was as surprised by the gesture as the rest of them. “Thanks, man.”
Tory rushed up and wrapped her arms around Clayton. “If I wasn’t already married to this guy, you’d have to watch out,” she said, making all the adults laugh. “That was the nicest thing I’ve seen in a while.”
Clayton shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, and shrugged a shoulder. “It was nothing.” But John Parker and Daddy came up to shake his hand too.
“We’d better stop singing his praises. He’s flushing like a school girl,” Rye said and received a slight jab in the gut from Clayton as a response.
But even Amelia Ann could see the redness spreading across his cheeks, particularly when the kids both ran up to hug his knees, proclaiming the medal the best present in the world.
Then Tammy went over to him, the muscles in her face trembling, and Amelia Ann worried her sister would break down right then and there.
“Thank you, Clayton,” she said and hugged him.
He waved a hand and cleared his throat, his face burning even redder now. “Really, it’s no big deal.”
That left her as the only one who hadn’t fussed over him, but when she made a move to him, he turned his back on her, talking to J.P.
It hurt her deeply, and while she wasn’t surprised, she’d hoped for a different response.
The well wishes continued and suddenly Clayton’s eyes found hers, and there was a naked vulnerability in his gaze that stole her breath. They studied each other for a long moment.
She could have given up on a man fighting his attraction to her.
She couldn’t give up on a man who would give her nephew a medal for his dog and then turned beet-red from embarrassment.
Chapter 28
A week later, Rye and Tory were preparing to rejoin the tour in Dallas, and Daddy was going home to his new life. Amelia Ann had returned to work, though she’d taken to swinging by each evening. Tammy knew she was leaving work earlier than was expected of her, but when she voiced her worry about it impacting her sister’s internship, Amelia just laughed and said Clayton had smoothed things out. Something about that laugh raised alarm bells, but Amelia Ann flitted off before she could ask her what it was all about.
Following up on Clayton’s e-mail, Tammy called a few of her clients to reschedule their consultations for the coming weeks. She wasn’t going to let this nightmare stop her from doing what she loved, but she needed to keep her focus on her family for the moment. Over the last three days, they’d been moving what Tammy had called “the essentials” for her and the kids into John Parker’s house. He and Rye had joked she wouldn’t do well on tour since the number of suitcases of clothes and toys she’d packed stood taller than Rory and Annabelle combined. And that didn’t even include her necessities.
At their own insistence, the kids would be sleeping in the same room at John Parker’s house. Rye and John Parker had bought two twin beds and smooshed them together since Annabelle was still wetting the bed. Rory said it would be better this way since he could hold her hand when she was scared without worrying about his P.J.s getting all yucky. Tammy had kissed him on the cheek at that. The bright blue bedroom suited the children, and she and Tory had made it softer by adding glow-in-the-dark stars and constellations to the ceiling and putting up posters of the kids’ favorite cartoons. Nothing permanent, mind you, even though John Parker had said she could decorate it however she wanted.
When he suggested she take the bedroom closest to his since it was a softer tone of burgundy, she blushed, nodded, and ran off like her tail was on fire.
Yes, she knew he’d want to make love to her at some point. Part of her wanted to put it off as long as possible because she was still haunted by the ghost of her couplings with Sterling. Whenever she thought about how it might be different with John Parker, her ex-husband’s cruel voice taunted her, and she wanted to pound her head against the wall.
Why can’t you respond more?
Maybe if I’m rougher, you’ll like it.
It’s not my fault you didn’t enjoy it.
Every other woman I’ve been with loves this. What’s wrong with you?
And then she thought of all of the silent nights between them after he’d stopped reaching for her—how relieved she’d been even through the thick haze of guilt and shame about her failing as a woman, a wife.
It could be the same with John Parker, and the very idea sickened her. Would he stop loving her?
Part of her knew sex could…well, not suck, but she only knew that from books or movies, not from her own life. And everyone knew some women just didn’t care for it. Perhaps there was something wrong with her, something that made her eternally on that list.
But she was the new Tammy, and that meant discovering new things rather than succumbing to fear. She downloaded a few e-books on women’s sexuality and read them after the kids had gone to bed, almost worried someone would catch her, which was silly.
But books weren’t enough, so she summoned all her bravery and asked Tory to take a walk with her before she and Rye departed. Her sister-in-law just smiled and reached for her hand. The act was so loving and sister-like, Tammy knew she’d sought out the right person.
They strolled together to the river and sat on the bench Rye had installed there. On the rough wood, he’d carved his initials and his wife’s with a heart in between, a gesture both boyish and sweet. The heat was stifling, so much so it felt like it would give Tammy a glass of hot water for tea if she could wring it like a sponge.
“For a while now,” Tory told her, “I haven’t wanted to come out to the river, since this is how he got in. But Rye told me he wasn’t going to let that man take our favorite place away from us, so we came out here last night to go swimming.”
Tammy wondered if they’d gone skinny dipping. Part of her thought it might feel delicious, but she also feared some trout sucking at her skin with its ugly mouth. Or worse, someone catching her buck naked outside.
“So, I need to ask you something,” s
he finally said, and felt like her cheeks were as hot as the sun. “About…well, gosh, this is really embarrassing, and I’m beyond mortified…”
Tory turned on the bench and faced her. “Just spit it out. You know you can ask me anything.”
“Ah…well…it’s…about sex.”
Her sister-in-law’s mouth parted for a moment before muttering, “Oh.”
She cleared her throat. “You see, we never talked about it growing up, and…being married wasn’t the best reference…and now with John Parker… I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
Tory’s cheeks matched her red top now. “I see. It’s okay, Tammy. Tell me what you want to know.”
All of the questions she’d come up with would have filled at least a dozen note cards. Right now they were all blurred like the slurry in the river. “Do you like it?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. “I mean…I…ah…didn’t, and Sterling made me think it was me, but…”
“Oh Tammy.” Tory’s mouth was grim. “Sterling was a horrible man, and I’m so sorry he made sex…”
“Suck,” she supplied, and they both laughed.
“Yes, suck. We didn’t talk about sex in my family either, you know. My parents died before I was old enough to know, and my grandparents were old-fashioned. What I learned I read in books until I tried it a few times in college. I enjoyed it okay, but I didn’t feel any of the fireworks I’d heard about, but with Rye…”
She got that dreamy look on her face Tammy sometimes envied.
“It’s like that with Rye and so much more. There’s warmth and love and fun and passion, and honestly, both of us hate to go even a day without being together in that way.” Her laughter was self-conscious, and it ended quickly.
Her assurances allowed Tammy’s fists to unclench in her lap. “I’ve heard you laughing down here,” she admitted, “and I see the way you and Rye look at each other. I…knew it didn’t suck for you two.”
This time Tory’s laughter was free and loud. “I’m glad you could tell…and that you felt comfortable enough to ask me.”