Or was she so self-involved that she just thought everyone cared about what she was up to when in fact, no one was paying attention? She wasn’t sure.
“So, you and Joe Dawson seem to be getting along.” It was a statement more than a question from Laurel. It seemed she wanted to connect with Lovey in some way. Maybe because they were the only two at the church this morning who were close to the same age. The rest of the women, clustered near a large pile of clothes they were sorting, were much older.
“Yes, we are.” Lovey wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal to Laurel about Joe. She didn’t really want to talk about Joe. She was dying to ask about Royal. She decided to tread lightly and see what she could uncover. “I saw you speaking with Royal Duval the other day after the service. Are you two friends?”
Laurel seemed to smile with satisfaction. Maybe she wasn’t the only one looking for an opportunity to talk about Royal. Lovey’s stomach knotted as she waited for Laurel to respond.
“I’ve known Royal since we were kids. She’s a real character, that Royal. She definitely marches to the beat of her own drum, if you know what I mean.”
Lovey was trying to discern judgment from Laurel’s comment, but she didn’t hear reproach in Laurel’s voice, only playfulness.
“I do think I know what you mean.”
Lovey tried to envision Royal as a youngster. She pictured a towheaded child, dressed like a boy, playful and carefree. She contrasted that against her own experience as a child. She could call forth the feelings she’d had as a young girl, seated quietly on a hard church pew, listening to her father in the pulpit. There had been no tolerance for distraction or fidgeting. Sit up straight. Shoulders back. Be seen and not heard. And all the other admonishments little girls endured so that they would grow up to be the Southern belles their parents desired.
Lovey ached to share her true feelings with someone, but she didn’t know Laurel well enough to know whether she could be trusted.
“She was pretty upset about you and Joe.” And there it was. Laurel had made the first genuine move toward honesty.
Lovey looked down at her hands in her lap trying to decide how much to say. Her emotions were so raw, so near the surface, that she feared even trying to share the smallest amount of her true feelings would cause the dam to burst and she’d lose total control. The last thing she wanted was to dissolve into a crying heap on the floor of the fellowship hall.
“She was upset?” That was lame, but she wanted Laurel to share more.
“Yeah, I don’t think she knew you and Joe were seeing each other. It’s a terrible thing to see the person you care about with someone else.”
A knot formed quickly in Lovey’s throat, and she knew there were tears in her eyes when she looked at Laurel. “I was—” The words died as her voice was choked by tears. She stood abruptly and went to sit in one of the small Sunday school rooms off the main fellowship hall.
She was crouched into one of the tiny kid-sized chairs when she felt Laurel settle into the seat beside her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Lovey shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”
“There now, there ain’t nothin’ that can’t be fixed here. Why don’t you just go talk to Royal?”
Lovey shook her head again. “I can’t. She’d never speak to me after the things I’ve said to her.” She leaned back and let out a long sigh. There. She’d finally said something real about what she was feeling. She drew in a shaky breath.
“You don’t know that until you try.”
“Why are you so interested in what’s going on with me and Royal?”
“I have my reasons.” Laurel smiled and patted Lovey’s arm. “I have my reasons.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
It was probably past midnight when Royal stepped out of the car and walked toward Frank Mosby and a small group that gathered around Mason’s car. Ned exited the passenger side and followed along on her heels.
“I figured you wouldn’t show, Royal,” Mason yelled in her direction.
“And here I figured you for the no-show,” Royal yelled back at him. She took another sip from the flask she had in her jacket pocket.
Mason Griggs was a regulation asshole. He spent weekends at his grandparents’ place outside of Dawsonville. His daddy had money, and Mason made sure everyone knew what a glamorous, exciting life he led in Atlanta. He loved rubbing everyone’s face in it whenever possible, tonight being no exception.
“Royal, don’t do this. You’ve got nothing to prove to this jackass.” Ned was leaning into her, talking to her in hushed tones.
“I’ve got this, Ned.” She brushed him off. “It’s time someone put him in his place. And I’m in just the mood to do it.”
Royal approached the small cluster of folks with Ned trailing on her heels.
“We run wide-open. The first one to the turn wins.” Mason had been drinking also. His words were a little slurred.
“What do I win?” Royal needed just a bit more motivation than putting Mason in his place. She decided she wanted a trophy, a reward of some kind.
“Whoever wins gets a date with me.” Vonda Harris draped her arm over Mason’s shoulder with flirtatious flair.
Royal took another swig from her flask. Vonda Harris loved to pop a cork and had a reputation for going around with lots of boys. She was pretty, but not the settling down type.
“I could show you a thing or two, Royal Duval. And I’d have a good time doin’ it.” Vonda twirled a finger in Royal’s direction as she hung on Mason’s shoulder. The low-cut opening of her dress dipped low to reveal a distracting view of her cleavage.
Royal winked at Vonda. “I might just show you somethin’, Vonda.” She took one more sip of whiskey before she turned toward her car. She pulled her car up in line with Mason’s.
“I’ll start you off,” Frank offered.
The car bumpers were lined up with each other on either side of the dirt road. Royal depressed the accelerator and her V-8 roared.
Mason cranked up the car his daddy had recently purchased for him. It was a tan roadster with a ragtop. It was also equipped with a V-8 but without the special modifications that Ned had made to Royal’s.
Royal figured fair was fair. He didn’t ask and she didn’t offer. Everyone knew she was the better driver. He was stupid to call her out.
Ned leaned into the driver’s side window. “Royal, don’t do this. You’ve been drinkin’ and you’re just being bullheaded. Don’t let your hurt feelings over Lovey make you do stupid things.”
Royal shoved Ned’s arm out of the window. “Shut up, Ned. This has got nothing to do with Lovey. Just go stand on the sidelines like you always do.”
She saw the hurt look on Ned’s face, but she didn’t care. She was in a bad mood, and driving fast and showing the insufferable Mason Griggs who was the better driver would be the only cure for her ill temper.
Frank stood between the two cars with raised arms. A few other onlookers, including Vonda, stood on either shoulder to watch. Both drivers revved their engines.
“Ready! Set! Go!” As he shouted go, Frank dropped his arms, and the two cars lurched past him in a cloud of dust.
The heavy Ford blasted down the straightaway, pulling ahead of Mason’s roadster. Royal white-knuckled the steering wheel as she fought to pull ahead of the other car. Visions of Lovey flashed through her mind and anger knotted in her chest. It had been two weeks since she’d seen Lovey, and with every passing day, the hurt of it just kept expanding. She felt the sadness of their breakup like a creeping web of cancer spreading to her bones.
Distracted momentarily, she realized she’d let Mason slip up on her. She gave the Ford some gas, but Mason matched her speed. Then, without warning, he swerved into her. She glanced over at him, but he seemed to be struggling with the weighty car at such a great speed. He bounced into her again, and this time the right front tire of her car caught a ridge of raised dirt at the shoulder, and she realized
she was going off the road.
A tree flashed in her headlights just a split second after the car left the roadway, over the shoulder and slammed at full speed into the base of a gnarled, leafless oak. Her forehead cracked loudly against the steering wheel; blackness enveloped her senses.
❖
Days and days had passed with no word from Royal. Lovey wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Did she think Royal would pursue her? She’d made it pretty clear what she was going to do. She’d left Royal with every impression that she would accept Joe’s marriage proposal and that they should both move on with their lives.
Joe had been very attentive to her since he’d popped the question, no doubt expecting her response to be yes. Lovey cared for Joe, but she knew he did not fulfill her. Lulled by the familiar, she lapsed into vague discontent. Joe made her feel safe, but unsatisfied, which somehow made her not feel safe at all. Had she made a terrible mistake?
On days when she felt particularly sad, she carried Royal’s borrowed handkerchief in her skirt pocket. The soft linen square reminded her of the only time she’d known for sure she was truly happy. She held the fabric to her face and was transported far away.
She was doing just that one morning at the kitchen table when Cal interrupted her thoughts.
“Are you all right, Miss Lovey?”
“What?” Lovey was a bit startled. She’d been so lost in her own mental wonderings that she hadn’t heard Cal come in. “I’m fine.”
“I know it ain’t none of my business, but you seem real sad lately. I worry about you.”
“You shouldn’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Can I make you something to eat?” Cal regarded her with a tender expression on her face.
“I’m not hungry, but thank you, Cal. It’s kind of you to offer.” She was sure that Cal noticed the handkerchief with Royal’s monogram on it. She’d forgotten to hide it from view.
“Are you and Royal not friends anymore?”
For a moment, Lovey was at a loss for words. No one besides Laurel had asked about Royal. She didn’t even know how Cal knew to ask. Maybe she and Grace were friends and Grace had mentioned it.
“I’m not sure what we are anymore, Cal.” She gave Cal the first honest answer she’d given anyone lately. She was a shell of her former self, falling back on her practiced behavior as a preacher’s daughter of saying only what she was supposed to and doing only what was expected of her. Emptiness surrounded her like a cloud. This was worse than losing George, which she’d had no control over. She’d brought this on herself. She’d chosen in direct conflict with her own desires and she was miserable because of it.
“I think Royal is having a hard time too.” Cal fidgeted sheepishly, rubbing her hands together in front of her plump frame as if she wasn’t sure she should be saying what she was saying.
“What do you mean?” Lovey wanted to know and didn’t want to know at the same time. Not knowing certainly wasn’t keeping her from thinking about Royal anyway.
“She’s been acting a little crazy. Drinking more. She wrecked her car.”
“She wrecked her car? What happened?” Fear seized Lovey’s chest like a vise at the thought of Royal, hurt, and her nowhere close by to help.
“Grace said Sam told her that Royal was drag racing and run through a ditch and into a tree. She hasn’t been able to drive for work. Ned and Sam have been tryin’ to fix the car.” She paused for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. “Royal is a right mess if you ask me. She’s gonna get herself killed if she don’t snap out of it.”
“Was she hurt?”
“She just banged her hard head.” Cal began to put away the groceries she’d carried in. “Maybe you should go see her, Miss Lovey. You might be the only one who could talk any sense into that crazy head of hers.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Cal.” So Grace knew that she and Royal had been involved in some way. Apparently, so did Sam and now Cal. She felt a little exposed, but not judged. She excused herself and moved to the porch.
In another few weeks she’d begin her teaching appointment. She had always enjoyed teaching, but she was dreading it now. Seeing the hopeful faces of children look up at her for inspiration would just make all of it worse. Would it be as easy to lie to them as it was to lie to herself?
Chapter Twenty-nine
Royal leaned on the hood of the old Model A Ford truck. “What do you mean I’m not driving?”
“I’m taking this load myself. You’ve been reckless lately, and I don’t need you on this run.” Wade hauled the last crate to the truck bed and pulled the tarp over it. “Whatever is going on with you, Royal, figure it out. Until then, you’ve got no car and you sure aren’t driving this one.”
She leaned back and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Fine.” She said the word, but she knew she was anything but fine. Royal was rattled and off her game. Ever since the night she’d wrecked her car she’d been a mess. Hell, she’d been a hot mess ever since Lovey walked out of her life. And now she’d given Wade the perfect window to cut her out of the one thing she liked doing. Driving.
He was up to something. He never wanted to drive before. She was suspicious that something else was going on and that her recent behavior was a convenient excuse.
Royal stepped back out of the way as Wade pulled the heavy truck through the wide barn door. Dust billowed behind the dark auto as he gave it gas and headed down the dirt drive to the main road.
There was an old wooden crate nearby, and after she watched the taillights fade, she turned around and put her boot through the wood slats. Then she picked up the splintered remnants and slammed it against the wall. She was looking for something else to destroy when she heard her grandfather’s voice behind her.
“Hey, now! What are you doin’?”
Royal turned on her heel, breathing hard. “Nothin’.”
“It didn’t look like nothin’ to me.” He moved to the opening of the barn door, moonlight reflecting on his face. He must have come through the door at the back of the stalls, but Royal was making so much noise during her fit of rage that she hadn’t heard him.
“You need to deal with this anger before it gets you in trouble.”
“I’m dealing with it.”
“Well, I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Thanks.” The last thing Royal wanted to do was talk. She was angry and on edge. It was past nine, and Royal needed to be anywhere but here. She decided to walk into town for a drink. Maybe if Ned were around he’d be up for a drink too.
“I’m gonna walk into town. I’ll see you later.” Royal waved a hand at her grandfather as she strode toward Ned’s house in the dark.
❖
The Mill was a cacophony of loud male voices and piano music when they arrived. Ned followed Royal to the rough, wide plank bar, and she ordered them both a drink. Whiskey for her and a beer for Ned.
Royal leaned back against the bar and scanned the smoky room. She saw some faces she recognized and some she didn’t. There were a few women scattered about the room, protectively hovering next to their men. As if Royal would ever even look at a woman again. Could any creature be more hurtful than a woman? She didn’t think so. And it would be a frosty morning in hell before she ever trusted her heart to another one.
She drained her glass and banged it on the bar, signaling for a refill.
“Hey, slow down there, Royal. If you get too drunk you know I can’t carry you home.”
“Don’t mother me, Ned. I know my limits.”
“Yeah, the other night you knew your limits all the way into that oak tree.”
“Shut up, Ned.” Royal watched as June approached from the other end of the bar with a half-full bottle.
“You okay, Royal? Why don’t you go easy on this tonight?” June gave Royal a concerned matronly once-over.
“Don’t you start mothering me too, June. I already got one mother and his name is Ned.” She patted Ned’s shoulder and she and June sha
red a laugh.
“I ain’t laughin’, Royal.” Ned stewed over his beer.
She was just about to take a sip from her freshly filled glass when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Joe Dawson. Fuck you, Joe Dawson were the first words that came to mind. Luckily, she didn’t say them out loud. Wasn’t it enough that the whole damn county carried his family name? Wasn’t it enough that he’d stolen Lovey right out from under her damn nose? She postponed her next sip, setting the glass on the bar and turning to face him. Ned, who’d only been partially aware of all that had been going on between Royal and Lovey, stiffened beside her protectively.
“I need a word with you, Royal.” Joe had obviously gotten quite a head start on her in the drinks department. His speech was almost slurred.
“Thanks, but no thanks. Shove off, Joe.” She turned her back to Joe, resting her elbows on the bar, her boot propped on the railing along the front.
“I need to have a word with you. I ain’t kiddin’, Royal.” He put his hand on her shoulder again, and before she could turn and take a swing at him, Ned slid his slender frame between them.
“Come on now, Joe. I don’t know what’s up, but why don’t we just settle down here? I don’t think Royal’s in the mood to talk.” Ned held both of his open palms in front of him as a sign of non-aggression. He would have physically been no match for Joe’s muscle mass and height anyway.
“It’s okay, Ned. I’ll handle this.” Royal downed the remaining brown liquor in her glass and motioned with a jerk of her head for Joe to join her outside.
Ned whispered urgently as he followed her out the door. “Royal, don’t do this. Let’s just keep walkin’ and go home.” He tried to grab at her arm, but she pulled away, barely able to contain the anger she’d been carrying inside for weeks.
“Go home if you want to, Ned. This doesn’t have anything to do with you anyway.”
Ned followed Royal out to the alley behind the Mill where she turned to face Joe. “So what’s so important that you have to talk to me right now about it?”
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