Possibilities: A Contemporary Retelling of Persuasion

by Debra White Smith

  “I—we—I drove Mr. and Mrs. Grove home to get some sleep. We’re going to take some of her things to her in the morning. If she continues to improve, they’ll move her out of ICU tomorrow.”

  “So she’s improving?” Allie asked.

  “Yes. I said she was still paralyzed from her neck down, but technically that’s wrong now. She’s actually regaining some movement in her arms and fingers.”

  “Really? That’s great!” Allie said and genuinely meant it. As much as losing Frederick hurt, Allie still couldn’t wish ill upon one so young and so alive.

  “Yeah.” Frederick gazed past Allie. “The doctors are saying the legs are another matter. That might never happen.”

  “Oh.” Allie crossed her arms, hugged herself, and stared at the laptop.

  “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt you,” Frederick stated, his words stilted. “I—we were all concerned about you, but I can see we shouldn’t have been.” A new thrust of accusation hurled his words straight into her heart.

  Her legs shaking, Allie tightened her self-hug and didn’t even look at Frederick. When the door banged shut, she looked up. He was gone. Despite Brent’s presence, Allie could hold her emotions no longer. A sob tore from her throat. She covered her face and collapsed onto the couch.

  Muttering an oath, Brent plopped beside Allie and gently patted her shoulder. Somehow that gentle pat grew into a full-blown hug, and she was crying in his arms.

  “That jerk!” Brent muttered. “If you want me to, I’ll chase him down and—”

  “Nooooooo!” Allie wailed. “It’s okay! Reeeeaaaallllly!”

  “Yeah, it looks okay to me,” Brent growled. “He had no right!”

  “But I should have at least—at least called today, and I-I-I didn’t!” Allie hiccoughed and inched away from Brent.

  “Here, darling,” he said and Allie accepted the wad of tissue he offered. After a few blinks, she recognized the Kleenex box from the end table.

  “This has been the worst day ever!” she wailed.

  “And all because of that creep, right?”

  When Allie didn’t answer, he continued, “What has he done to you, Allie? He didn’t . . . hurt you in any way, did he?”

  Allie looked up to see a protective light in Brent’s eyes she never expected. “No.” She shook her head. “Not unless you count my heart,” she blurted and realized she’d said too much. Allie jumped up and balled her fists. “Brent, I don’t mean to be rude,” she stammered, “but I really need some—some time alone.”

  “Of course you do, sweetheart,” he crooned and stood. “I totally understand. I’ll just talk to you about the email later.” Brent wrapped his arms around her again for a brief hug before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead and then on her cheek.

  In her weakened state, Allie didn’t have the strength to resist when he finished with a lingering brush of his lips against hers. “I’ll be here for you, honey,” he breathed against her ear. “Just call me anytime, you hear?”

  Despite her overwrought emotions, Allie’s feminine alarm system swung to full operation. Keeping her head lowered, she stiffened and backed away.

  “I’ll just let myself out, okay?” Brent purred and squeezed her hand.

  Allie nodded.

  “But if you need someone to talk to in the night,” he lifted her chin and bathed her in an adoring gaze, “you call me.”

  She nodded again, barely comprehending his words.

  “It’s a deal, then,” he said before stepping through the front door.

  The second the door clicked shut, Allie hurried forward, turned the deadbolt, and stumbled back to the sofa. She flung herself against the pile of pillows and allowed her emotions to flow. This time she was as genuinely ashamed of herself as she was hurt by Frederick.

  To some degree, Frederick’s exasperation was warranted. Allie hadn’t done anything all day long but lounge around, cry, sleep, and lick her wounds. This morning, she couldn’t even talk herself into pitying Louise. She pictured the young woman strapped to a wheelchair for life and tried to imagine how she would feel if she were paralyzed. The panic. The anger. The desperation.

  “Oh, God,” Allie groaned and buried her face into a pillow, “please forgive me for being so selfish. I’ve thought of no one but myself. I’m not the only one who’s been hurt here. Please, Lord, please help Louise . . . and help Frederick help her.” Allie dug her fingers into the pillow and wondered if she’d survive losing him a second time.

  Frederick ran toward the bridge that spanned the creek between the guesthouse and the Groveses’ mansion. When his boots slammed into the wooden floor, the narrow bridge shivered. Gulping for air, he slowed to a stop. He grabbed the handrail, doubled over it, and stared into the stream merrily jogging among the rocks. The full moon cast gold dust upon the wavelets, and the water looked warm and inviting. But when Louise had talked Frederick into wading a few days ago, he’d learned the inches-deep water was anything but warm and inviting.

  A chill started in Frederick’s soul and shook his body. He looked toward the guesthouse, whose lights were visible through the maples and oaks lining the creek. When he’d seen the Rolls-Royce in Allie’s driveway, he’d suspected the vehicle belonged to Landon Russ. Frederick recalled that she’d driven a Rolls years ago. He’d never forget the times she stepped out of the luxury car and barely acknowledged him in the mansion’s yard.

  Even though Frederick believed he’d have to face Landon, he wanted to see Allie badly enough to put up with her snobby aunt. He’d been overcome with the need to explain everything and prayed Allie would understand. As he knocked on the door, Frederick had convinced himself that maybe Landon was spending the night, had already gone to bed, and Allie would be up alone. Then Brent Everson answered the door, and Frederick had never been so disgusted to see that church wolf. From there, the whole thing went sour.

  Frederick straightened and rubbed his face. He writhed in the memory of his accusations and wouldn’t blame Allie if she never spoke to him again. There wasn’t a kinder soul on the planet, and he understood her need for some space from Louise.

  “I’d feel the same way,” he admitted and wondered what had possessed him. One word surfaced in his mind: jealousy. Even though he’d chosen to marry Louise, he still didn’t want anyone else to have Allie—especially not Brent.

  He looked toward the Grove mansion, in full view from the bridge. Inside, a grief-stricken set of parents had already declared him a saint and vowed their undying loyalty. He was dubbed a hero by the national press after he returned from the war. But the one person who mattered most probably thought he was a cad right now. He rested his elbows on the railing and stared into the gold-lined water.

  Fleetingly, Frederick thought of throwing himself off the bridge and drowning. Then he reminded himself that the water was only inches deep, and he’d have to find a spot between the rocks to immerse his nose and mouth. Somehow drowning lost its theatrical appeal when the victim had to work to die.

  His chuckle was involuntary . . . so was his eyes’ stinging. Frederick clenched his teeth and rammed his fist against the handrail. He bolted toward the guesthouse, but stopped as abruptly as he began. Whirling back around, Frederick faced the mansion. The lighted yard and balcony implied that all was well; the owl’s soul-chilling hoots belied the light and echoed through the night like an omen of doom. Frederick pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and swallowed the agonized cry swelling from his spirit.

  “Oh, God!” he cried and fell to his hands and knees. “Oh, dear God!” The grass’s cold dampness seeped between his fingers. What have I done? What am I doing? Is it the right thing? “Jesus . . . help me!” he groaned. Frederick rolled to his side and then to his back. He pulled his knees up and rested his feet against the earth at an angle that ended the twinge of pain in his lower back. He stared at the black sky full of stars and the moon’s satin glow. Warm tears silently flowed down his temples and trickled to his ears until Freder
ick no longer saw the stars or the moon. All he could see was the darkness.

  Twenty-Eight

  “What are you doing?” Macy’s question exploded upon Allie and shattered the focus she’d maintained all morning. One mission and one mission alone had driven her since she awoke at seven: Get packed and get away from Grove Acres.

  Allie observed her sister. Arms folded, Macy stood on the edge of her yard. Her silent accusation reminded Allie of a five-year-old who’s mad because her elder sister is going away to college and leaving her stranded.

  “I’m going to stay with Aunt Landon for a while,” Allie replied and dropped the last duffle bag into the opened trunk.

  “You mean you’re leaving for good?” Macy’s canvas shoes crunched along the graveled drive until she stopped within feet of Allie.

  “Yes. For now.” Allie refused to show even a little doubt. Macy could fall into a pity party and pouting session that had a way of changing the stoniest of hearts.

  “Weren’t you even going to say good-bye?” Macy’s voice broke, and she raised her hands.

  “Of course,” Allie said, keeping her tone as practical as possible. “I was just getting my car loaded first.” She pointed to the trunk full of her belongings. “Just so you know, I left a few things in the freezer. I tried to get everything, but I’m out of room in the cooler.” She pointed to the ice chest.

  “Why are you leaving?” Macy pressed, her words now steady.

  “I just need a change of scenery,” Allie replied, and glanced toward the guesthouse. When she’d arrived here weeks ago, Allie had welcomed nature’s haven. Now she couldn’t get away fast enough.

  “But who’s going to be here to pick up the boys if I’ve got a headache or I’m sick?”

  Allie’s gaze flicked over Macy in her white shorts and red-striped sweater. The red sandals finished off an outfit that heightened Macy’s color, brought out the highlights in her hair, and made her look like the picture of health.

  “I don’t know,” Allie said. “Who picked them up before I came? Martha?”

  “Sometimes,” Macy said. “But she isn’t here right now because of Louise. I had to go pick them up yesterday. Where were you, anyway? I tried to call you. Your car was here, but . . .”

  “I was here,” Allie admitted and shut the Mercedes’ trunk. “I just wasn’t taking any calls.”

  “Oh. Well,” Macy snapped. “Isn’t that convenient!”

  Not as convenient as a perpetual headache, Allie thought but didn’t vocalize her remark. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her linen shorts and dabbed at the perspiration along her forehead. The sun burned high and promised today would offer a preview of the coming summer. All cool spring breezes were off.

  Allie marched toward the porch to retrieve her final bag. Macy followed.

  “Just so you know, I sent some flowers to Louise this morning,” Allie said. “I called and they said she’d been moved from ICU and could receive flowers now.”

  “I know—I mean about her being moved from ICU,” Macy said. “She’s doing better, but we’re all still really worried about her. Charlie’s there now. He spent last night up there. I stayed home and got the kids off to school. We’re going to take turns spending the day with her. Tomorrow will be my day.”

  “Great!” Allie picked up the makeup case and didn’t express how glad she was that Macy was thinking of someone else and actually taking her sons to school. Usually Charlie dropped them off, and Macy foisted pick-up duties onto whoever was available.

  “I’m sure Louise is thankful to have such strong support,” Allie said, her words stilted.

  “Yes. We all want to be there for her.” Macy eyed Allie, who looked away. “Frederick’s been a lifesaver. He’s been up there most of the time, too. But he drove the Groves back home last night, and they went back to Atlanta this morning. The doctor says they might be able to move her to a hospital here in Macon in a few days.”

  “Great!” Allie repeated and walked toward her vehicle. The way the conversation was going, Allie wouldn’t be surprised if Macy announced that Frederick and Louise had set the date for their wedding.

  Macy matched Allie’s swift pace. “You’re leaving because of Frederick, aren’t you?” she asked.

  Keeping her head bent, Allie hid her shock and refused to acknowledge the question.

  “I don’t know what was going on with you two, but it looked to me like you were getting awfully cozy. Then Louise breaks her neck and Frederick is suddenly devoted to her.”

  Halting, Allie looked Macy in the eyes and stated the facts before she even realized what was spilling from her mouth. “If you want the truth, Macy, Frederick and I nearly got married ten years ago.”

  Macy’s mouth dropped open.

  “And, yes, we were on the verge of getting back together, and yes, his engagement to Louise is the reason I want to get away from here. Happy now?” she challenged.

  Macy stared at her sister. Allie held her gaze and didn’t blink.

  “You’re not yourself,” Macy blurted. “I’ve never seen you like this! What’s gotten into you?”

  Striding the few feet to her vehicle, Allie doubted the wisdom of telling Macy everything. But she’d released the unadulterated truth, and it was too late. No telling who all Macy would tell or how long it would take for Louise to find out.

  Allie swung around and nearly bumped into her sister. “I shouldn’t have said all that,” she admitted. “Promise me you won’t repeat it.”

  “I promise.” Macy looked like she was in court, pledging to solemnly tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but.

  Oddly, Allie believed she really meant her promise. The fact that Macy had told no one—not even Charlie—about the Eltons’ financial crisis added to Allie’s optimism.

  “Good,” she affirmed and walked to her Mercedes. “Because I’m really not doing well.” Allie opened the back door and set the case on the seat near the piles of luggage.

  Her eyes threatened to go teary, but Allie refused. She’d cried herself to sleep two nights in a row. Her forehead and teeth hurt because of the pressure on her sinuses. Allie had taken a non-drowsy antihistamine and a couple of aspirin that were just now taking effect. Unfortunately, there was no pill for her heartache, and Allie hoped she could maintain her wits enough to concentrate on driving.

  She closed the back car door and opened the front one. After retrieving her purse from the driver’s seat, she dug out the keys and pitched her bag into the passenger seat.

  “You aren’t even going to say good-bye to the boys?” Macy asked, her voice wobbly again.

  Allie rested her forehead on the top of the open door and gripped the side. “Yes. I had planned to come see you now and tell you I was leaving. Then I was going to see if it was okay if I took Barry and Bart to lunch—if the school would let them go. If they couldn’t leave campus, I was going to go pick up a pizza and surprise them at school.”

  “Oh,” Macy replied. “Of course the school will let them go for something special like this—especially if I call ahead or go with you.” Macy checked her watch. “It’s eleven,” she said. “They don’t have lunch for another hour, but if I went I’m sure I could get permission for them to go now and take a long lunch.” The pregnant request hung between them.

  “Want to go with me, then?” Somehow Allie managed a genuine smile.

  Macy brightened and nodded. “Sure!”

  “Well, go ahead and get in.” She pointed toward the passenger side.

  “Okay, but can you drive me back home quick to get my purse?” Macy asked as she rounded the car.

  “Of course.”

  Even though Macy could be trying, she was still Allie’s little sister, and Allie was beginning to think she might miss her. She settled behind the wheel and gazed at the pine guesthouse. The place looked like it came out of a brochure for a Swiss resort, and she realized she’d miss the house, too.

  The invader coon waddled through her mind and
Allie chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Macy asked as she moved Allie’s purse from the passenger seat to the console and plopped into the car.

  “You need to get someone to fix the pet flap on the guesthouse’s back door,” she explained. “There’s a coon that keeps getting into the house.”

  “Oh my word!” Macy slammed the passenger door. “Did he come in on you?”

  “Yes. Ate my Cheerios and my cornflakes.” Allie nodded.

  Macy squealed and covered her mouth, her eyes bulging. “That is too funny!”

  Allie laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is now. But at the time it was highly exasperating. The thing is like a big rat with lots of fur.”

  “Stop it!” Macy wheezed. She rapidly stomped her feet and cackled.

  Cranking the ignition, Allie looked at her sister and caught a glimpse of the carefree little girl Macy once had been. But she hadn’t been the same since their mother’s death, and Allie wondered if she’d ever gotten over that shock. In some ways Macy seemed frozen at age twelve.

  Looking back, Allie suspected that Macy’s getting married so young might have been linked to the death of their mom. From the time Charlie Grove took an interest in Macy, his mother had lavishly pampered her. She still did. Allie couldn’t remember a time when Martha had ever voiced a negative remark about Macy except in regard to the way she and Charlie handled the twins. And that was usually so subtle Macy had no clue that her mother-in-law disapproved of her. Martha had become the mother Macy so desperately needed, and Charlie Grove was a ticket to having that need met.

  As this reality settled upon Allie, she focused on the guesthouse porch and wondered about her own life . . . her own choices . . . and how her mother’s early death had affected her. In seconds, Allie felt as if God had placed a mirror in front of her soul and bade her to look closely. What Allie saw took her breath.

  I’m thirty-five, she thought, and I’ve never been my own woman because . . . because . . . She groped for the underlying reason and finally stumbled upon a theory. Because I’m scared to death to go against my family because I’m afraid I’ll lose them just like I lost Mom.