Billy Ray slapped lazily at a mosquito. “Don’t worry about it I need to stretch my legs a little.”
“I’m surprised Joel’s not sleeping over the garage himself, with Cal gone.”
“He would be, but he’s been sleeping poorly lately. He does better in his own bed. And Cal’s oldest boy is staying there after he gets off the late shift over at the tool and die, so we’ve got it covered.”
“Well, if you check the place now, I’ll send a man by around midnight, just to look it over till Cal’s boy gets there.” Doug punched Billy Ray on the shoulder; then he strolled toward his car.
“Hey, Doug.”
Doug turned his head. “Yeah?”
“It was a good party.”
In the rapidly dimming twilight Doug looked embarrassed. “Don’t get sentimental on me, Billy Ray.” He slid behind the steering wheel of one of the county fleet that was so well serviced by Joel Wainwright and gunned the engine. As he pulled out of the lot he serenaded Billy Ray with two blasts of the siren. Billy Ray knew he was lucky he hadn’t gotten a full thirty.
The stars were coming out by the time Billy Ray got back out on the open road. The temperature still hovered around eighty-five, but something about the disappearance of the sun made it easier to bear. The change in shift from day to night birds hadn’t gone smoothly, and the air was filled with song as they competed for dominance. Crickets chirped and whirred in harmony, and as the road wound by the Sassafras River, frogs joined in the symphony.
Billy Ray had come this way often as a boy. He and Doug had caught bass and trout in the river, and camped on its shores overnight. They had built rafts and floated them downstream into Moss Bend, and once, at thirteen, they had followed the river into the next county in hopes of running away.
He had never expected to spend his thirtieth birthday in the place where he’d grown up. Even at thirteen, he had believed that his destiny lay somewhere else.
But here he was. Still. Again. Perhaps always.
By the time he pulled into his grandfather’s lot on the outskirts of Moss Bend, he was more than ready to make the trip across town to his own house, where he could take off the shoes sadistically pinching his toes and strip down to his boxer shorts. But he had promised Joel he would check the garage. After law school he had come back to River County to be near his grandfather, and he was determined to stay until Joel met his Maker. The least he could do was make sure that everything was secure.
The garage took up the equivalent of three city lots. A boxy white office building sat at one end, with an attached wing extending along the roadside, where the cars were serviced. Cars and trucks filled the surrounding parking lot, which was shaded in places by gnarled old trees that Joel steadfastly refused to cut down.
Toward the back of the complex the trees were thicker, and because of the distance from the road and the small forest, security was sometimes a problem. Several weeks ago someone had crept on to the property when Cal was sleeping and stripped a Chevrolet of its hubcaps and hood ornament. Joel suspected a neighborhood teenager with the same model Chevy, but so far, the boy hadn’t admitted a thing.
Billy Ray parked on the roadside directly in front of the office and closed his door quietly. If any of the locals were up to mischief, he had probably already scared them away, but now he played the game by the rules, prowling silently through the lot, peering into windows and around the sides of cars, even lifting the corner of a canvas tarp covering the bed of a pickup truck to peek inside.
He made a systematic sweep until he came to the area behind the buildings. Here only one dim security light shone, in deference to the neighbors, who had complained when Joel tried to install floodlights. This was the drop-off area for cars to be serviced the next day. Owners parked their cars and deposited their keys in a slot in the office door.
Billy Ray spent enough time at the garage to recognize some of the cars. Right now there was a beat-up station wagon that belonged to a waitress at the Peabody Luncheonette, and a 1970 VW van that was the pride and joy of an honor student over at the high school. There were three nondescript sedans that were too ordinary to identify at first glance, and one silver BMW that was the only one of its kind in the county.
Carolina Grayson’s car.
Billy Ray carefully passed his gaze over all the cars, but his eyes stopped again at Carolina’s. The Beamer had cost more than most county residents earned in a year. It was an exact replica of the one Carolina had demolished last winter when she ran off the highway after a Christmas party. Her husband Champ hadn’t survived the accident to help her choose a replacement.
Joel didn’t like to service certain models, and this one was among them. But nobody said no to a Grayson, not even someone as ornery as Billy Ray’s grandfather. If Judge Grayson showed up at the garage with a team of Clydesdales and demanded a tune-up, Joel would adjust their oats and braid their manes. A Grayson had always been in charge in River County, and some things never changed.
Billy Ray was at the garage to check for intruders, not to think about Carolina Grayson. But Carolina was a hard woman to just file away. They had graduated from high school together, and although their paths hadn’t often crossed in the years after River County High, she had remained in Moss Bend.
In high school Carolina had been a beautiful girl, a leggy blond vision with a million-dollar smile who had grown into a beautiful woman. She was one of God’s chosen, blessed with beauty, poise, wit and wealth. She had sailed effortlessly from childhood in one prominent River County family to marriage into another.
Until the accident that had claimed her husband’s life, her existence had been charmed—or at least it had appeared that way on the surface. She’d had a son and a daughter who were said to be as beautiful as she was, the affections of the Grayson family, and a husband who had distinguished himself in high school and college sports—which was better than graduating with honors in rural Florida. Champ had gone on to make a good living as the manager of a real estate development firm owned by the Grayson family. On the surface Carolina seemed to have it all, until the night she drove a car exactly like this one off the road and wrapped it around a tree.
Even then, she had been spared some of the problems of widowhood. After a month in the hospital she had moved in with the Graysons, and with their support and help, she seemed to be rebuilding her life. She did not have creditors at her door. She had household staff to see to her children’s every need. She had been guaranteed the best medical care and rehabilitation. Carolina would get through this bad patch in an otherwise perfect life, and someday she would find another man like Champ Grayson to take care of her.
“Still hurting, Billy boy?” Billy Ray asked the question out loud, and the sound brought him back to his surroundings. He was standing in the drop-off lot of Joel’s garage, thinking about a woman who had never been his. If once upon a time he’d had an adolescent crush on Carolina, he had been set straight by everyone who suspected it. Particularly her.
He started to move on. No one was on the premises, and now that he’d done his duty, he could go home for a cool shower. He had turned thirty today, and the least he should do was sit on his front porch, sip a glass of iced tea and think about the years ahead.
He would have done exactly that if he hadn’t noticed a wavering shadow behind Carolina’s car as he was turning to go. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it. The light was so dim that the shadows were deceptive. He wanted to believe he had fantasized what had looked like a hand extending from behind the car, the shifting of a body crouching beside the trunk.
He wanted to go home.
Billy Ray heaved a sigh as deep as the Sassafras River. “Somebody back there?” he called. “Because, if you are, you’re trespassing.”
He wasn’t surprised that the night only grew quieter. Even the crickets seemed to be listening.
“Look, come on out,” he said in a reasonable tone. “If you don’t, I’ll have to call the sheriff, and there�
�s nothing Doug Fletcher likes better than cracking a few teenage heads together.”
As he’d predicted, there was no answer. Billy Ray gave the intruder thirty seconds; then he made his decision. “Okay, I’ll knock a few heads together without Doug. See if I don’t.”
He started forward. He had no intention of making good on his threat. He wanted to give the kid or kids who were probably hiding behind Carolina’s car a good scare, nothing more. He suspected they would take off as he approached, and now that they knew the place was being watched, they would either be more careful or abandon the auto parts business.
When Billy Ray was five feet from the car, the shadow wavered again. A slender figure rose above the car trunk and skirted the side of the car. In the darkness Billy Ray couldn’t see clearly, but the intruder looked to be medium height, of slight build and dressed in dark clothing.
“Look, let’s not play games here.” Billy Ray stopped, and the figure stopped, too. “I’m damned sure I’ll win, unless you’ve got a gun. And if you do, blowing my brains out over hubcaps doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“Billy Ray…”
For a moment the voice tickled the borders of Billy Ray’s imagination. Then he realized why. It was a woman’s voice, as sultry and soft as the north Florida breeze. A familiar voice.
“Billy Ray, I…”
The figure slouched against the car. He was rooted to the spot, still trying to take in the fact that the voice belonged to Carolina Grayson. Then, as she started sliding to the ground on the other side of the car, he surged forward, clearing the BMW in seconds. Just in time to catch Carolina in his arms.
She was unconscious by the time he was on the ground with her body slumped over his legs. The night was hot, but she was hotter. In fact, she seemed to be burning with fever, and when he patted her cheeks, she didn’t wake up. Everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t had time to figure out what was going on. Now, before he could begin to put the pieces together, the car door flew open and a little girl pounded her fists against his back.
“Leave my mommy alone!”
At least the child’s identity wasn’t a mystery. Billy Ray reached up and grabbed her by one wrist, holding it as gently as he could. “Stop it now! Your mama’s sick, and I’m trying to help her.”
“I heard what you said! You said you were going to knock her in the head!”
“Hush, honey. I didn’t know it was your mama back there. I thought somebody was trying to steal her car.” When the little girl stopped twisting and trying to punch him, he released her wrists. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Catherine Waverly Grayson. Who the hell are you?”
If he hadn’t been so taken aback, he might have laughed. But as it was, there was nothing funny about the situation. “I’m Billy Ray. Billy Ray Wainwright. Your mama and I went to school together.”
“What’s wrong with Mommy? What did you do to her?”
“Not one blessed thing. Has she been sick?”
Catherine Waverly Grayson knelt beside him and began to smooth her mother’s hair back from her forehead. “She’s been coughing a lot, and she’s been in bed for days and days.”
“Why isn’t she home in bed right now?”
The little girl didn’t answer. Billy Ray knew that if he were looking at her, her lips would be sealed tight.
He leaned forward, pulling Carolina closer to his chest. “Carolina, can you hear me?”
The answer was a moan. As he watched, Carolina’s eyelids fluttered open and her eyes began to focus.
He hadn’t been this close to her for years. As she began to take stock of her surroundings, he assessed the changes. The years had been good to her, but they often were to wealthy women with time on their hands and money to spare. Her heart-shaped face was un-lined; her shoulder-length hair was expertly layered, so that even now it swirled artfully against her neck and ears. Her eyes were the same deep green, but they were clouded by shadows that hadn’t been there twelve years ago.
“Can you sit up?” he asked, once she seemed fully conscious. “You can lean against me.”
She managed a nod, and he helped her into a more comfortable position. He didn’t let her go. Any moment, he expected her to slump against him again.
He waited until she was settled before he spoke. “You’re sick. You need a doctor.”
“I saw…a doctor yesterday. I just have a cold. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look so fine to me, Carolina. Matter of fact, you look like a woman with a full set of problems. And one of them knocked you to the ground a few minutes ago.”
“Billy, I…”
He heard the tears in her voice, and he knew what they cost her. Carolina was eternally poised. He had never seen her show her feelings.
“Mommy, is he hurting you?”
Billy Ray had nearly forgotten the child standing at his elbow, the child who looked so much like her mother. He glanced at her and saw the naked fear on her face.
Carolina answered. “No, Kitten. No! Billy Ray’s…an old friend.”
“Told you,” he said, giving the child a reassuring smile.
“I don’t believe everything I hear!”
“Smart girl.” He nodded. “Neither do I.” He looked back down at Carolina. “For instance, I don’t think the doctor told you this was a cold, did he?”
Carolina didn’t answer. When it was clear she didn’t intend to, he went on. “Look, let me get you home. You have to get back to bed. What on earth were you doing here, anyway? Checking on your car? They’re pretty conscientious at Joel’s, but they don’t work after dark.”
“I…can’t go home, Billy Ray.”
For a moment he didn’t think he’d heard her right. Then he saw from her expression that he had. “You have to, honey. You’re sick. It’s either home or the hospital, take your choice.”
“I can’t go back. Please!”
Billy Ray knew desperation when he heard it. Now Carolina’s eyes had filled with tears. He found it discouraging that even with her cheeks flushed with fever and tears clouding her eyes, she was still a beautiful woman.
“Mind telling me why?” He edged away from her.
Kitten answered. “We’re running away.”
“I see.” Billy Ray didn’t take his eyes off Carolina. “Mind telling me why?”
Carolina’s voice was hoarse. “I tried to get the car started. Gabe brought it in…this afternoon. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. Not really.”
“Slow down.” Billy Ray tried to put her words together in a reasonable order. “I don’t understand.”
“There wasn’t anything…wrong with the car. Gabe brought it in for a tune-up, that’s all. They weren’t…supposed to get to it until tomorrow! But it won’t start.”
He thought he was beginning to see. “Gabe?”
“Gabe works for my grandfather,” Kitten said.
Billy Ray nodded as if he understood. “Okay. Gabe brought it in and left it for a tune-up. Why are you here now trying to get it started?”
Carolina didn’t answer.
Billy Ray continued. “Sometimes, if somebody leaves a valuable car in the lot, Joel removes a part or two. Just as a precaution. Your distributor cap is probably inside the shop somewhere.”
“Oh, God…”
“Carolina, what’s going on?” he demanded with a new note of steel in his voice.
“I have to get out of here. Can you find…the cap?”
“What have you done?”
“Done?” She looked confused.
“Honey, have you done something wrong? Is that why you’re trying to get out of here when you ought to be home in bed?”
Kitten socked him in the shoulder. Hard. “My mommy’s the best mommy in the world!”
He grabbed Kitten’s hand. “You’re sure not raising another little Southern belle here, are you, Carolina.”
Carolina began to cry in earnest. Billy Ray knew the tears weren’t for effect
. He realized with surprise that, despite all the years that had passed, he still knew this woman. She was the natural extension of the girl she had been, a girl he had ceased to believe in a long time ago.
But here she was again. Carolina Waverly. Alias Carolina Grayson.
He shook his head. He didn’t need this. He had made peace with his presence in Moss Bend, with his life, his status, his aborted dreams. He was thirty years old today, and he did not need round two with Carolina Waverly Grayson.
But even as he told himself to be careful, he gathered her closer. “Come on, Carolina. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Fix the car. Please. I have to get out of here.”
“I can’t do that, honey. You’re in no shape to drive. You’ve got to think about your little girl.” A wail started from inside the car as he finished his sentence. He shook his head. “Your kids.”
“Kitten…?”
“I‘ll get him,” Kitten said.
“I can’t go back.” Tears were sliding down Carolina’s face, but she plunged on. “I can’t, Billy Ray.”
Kitten opened the car door, and in a moment a toddler, hair curling in disarray, was wailing on the ground beside them.
Billy Ray knew a crisis when he saw one. He had one distraught female in front of him and another who would punch the life out of him if he let her. And now there was a screaming baby boy to add to the mix. “Is there someplace I can take you?”
“The judge…”
He knew the rest of the sentence. If the judge was looking for her, he would try her friends first.
Billy Ray had two choices, and they were as clear to him as every moment of the thirty years he had celebrated today. He could take Carolina to the Gray-sons’ house, despite her protests. Or he could take her to his place.
“Just tell me you haven’t done anything that could get me in trouble for helping you.” He leaned forward as he said the words. They were for her ears only.
Southern Gentlemen: John Rip PetersonBilly Ray Wainwright Page 14