Set the Night on Fire

by Laura Trentham

  She took a step back as if his words had packed a physical punch. Then, as if he’d applied jumper cables to her, she sprang into life, crashing into him. He wrapped his arms around her and would have been content to never let her go again.

  “I didn’t know that,” she whispered in his ear.

  “You do now.”

  “I love you too. It scares me how much.”

  “I’m scared too, Ella. After talking to Wyatt and Jackson, I think it’s supposed to be scary. And exciting.”

  “Your brothers.” Dread weighed her voice. “Won’t they be upset if you don’t take Landrum’s offer?”

  “They don’t know about Landrum’s offer.”

  She pulled back enough to put them nose-to-nose. “I thought you boys voted on everything.”

  “This is between you and me and no one else. But I’m not too worried. They like you. More than they like me most days.” His attempt at teasing her didn’t lighten her expression.

  “What happens now?”

  It was a good question. And one that could have many answers. He stuck with an easy one. “How about we take things day by day?”

  * * *

  She buried her face in his neck and nodded. His answer felt a little like a cop-out, but she didn’t want to delve any further into the future than he did. The ground they’d already covered was immense and left her reeling. He loved her. Not only did he love her, but he loved her more than his precious garage.

  “How about we start with tonight?” she asked with a naughty lilt.

  His breath shuddered out. “You read my mind.”

  The softness of the night gathered around them. The scent of the magnolia sweetened the loamy air coming off the river in the distance. Contentment washed over her.

  “Will you come home with me?” he whispered.

  “My bed is closer.” She looped her arms around his neck and leaned back.

  “Yeah, but…” He shot a look toward her massive back deck.

  When she’d bought the house, she’d planned to buy a grill and decorate with potted flowers and plants. The deck was still bare.

  “Are you worried about Megan? I have a lock on my bedroom door.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just your house is so … so … big.”

  The truth hit her like a slap upside the head. “You hate my house.”

  “I don’t hate it.”

  “But you don’t like it.”

  “It’s cold. Impersonal. Nothing like you.”

  She took his meaning, and it had nothing to do with the thermostat. Her house had no personality, and she hadn’t done her part to bring life and memories to the wood and brick.

  He continued. “I know my house isn’t up to your standards. It’s too small. There’s plenty of land though. We could add on. A sunroom in the back. An extra bedroom. Whatever you want. Although, it might take a while to save up the money.”

  She slipped a hand to his chest and grabbed a fistful of cotton. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” He sounded as surprised as she felt.

  Knocking down walls together negated the inherent casualness of taking things day by day. She should tear off in the opposite direction in terror. Instead, she tightened her hold on his shirt. “Okay. Although you might regret asking once you see how much closet space I’ll need.”

  “You can have it all. I don’t care.”

  “Mack, there’s something you should know.”

  He tensed against her as if expecting a blow. “What?”

  “I’m kind of rich.”

  “I don’t want to use the money you got in your divorce.”

  “I started Magnolia Investments after my divorce, and I’ve doubled my money. Even this house”—she gestured to the stately mansion—“was bought because I’ll make a profit when I sell it. I didn’t buy it because I thought it would be a home. It was an investment.”

  He chuckled and tightened his hold. “So you’re the mysterious donor. I should have guessed. I don’t give a damn about your money, by the way. I want you because you’re stubborn and passionate and aren’t afraid to put me in my place.” In his voice was a truth she’d been searching for all her life.

  When men handed compliments her way, they landed in the charming and beautiful categories. Not Mack. He saw a different woman when he looked at her. The real one. Messy and sometimes unsure but fierce. And fiercely in love with him.

  “You really do love me.” Her laugh scared a roosting bird out of the branches of the magnolia. As if finally on the same wavelength, they fit themselves together and strolled toward her too-big, cold house. “What am I going to tell Megan?”

  “She’s not moving in with us.” An edge of warning was in his voice.

  “Of course not.” It was premature to think about selling the house anyway. Too many what-ifs circulated in her head. Having a safe place to retreat if things went south would be smart. “Let me throw some essentials in a bag, and we can head over the river.”

  “We’re going to lock the doors, pull the drapes, and ignore everyone. I promised you a sunrise.”

  Before they left the moonlight for the artificial light shining through her windows, she stopped him and pulled him down for a kiss. Even though they’d been together that morning, she was starved for his touch. The events of the day had ripped them apart, and she’d experienced the start of a life without him, hating every moment.

  But he’d come to her and laid everything on the line for her—the garage, his heart—and she would never take that for granted. A thrumming urgency had her pulling away, taking his hand, and quickstepping toward the house.

  She left him waiting in the den while she threw an assortment of clothes in a suitcase. As she was packing up her toiletries, a soft knock sounded.

  “Come in.”

  Megan shuffled in. “Are you leaving for good?”

  Ella paused and propped her shoulder in the bathroom doorway. “I’m going over the river with Mack.”

  “Is this because of me? I can get my own place.”

  “Of course not. I might eventually sell this place, but you’re welcome to stay until then. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. Right now though, I want to be with Mack. I love him.”

  “I’m happy for you.” Megan glanced away, but not before Ella noticed the tears in her eyes.

  Ella hesitated a moment before pulling Megan in for a hug. “It’s going to be okay. Not tomorrow, or the next day, but eventually.”

  “I know.” A laugh skittered out of Megan. “If you survived and even thrived after leaving Trevor, I can too.”

  Ella pulled away. The smile on Megan’s face was strained, but hope flickered. “You certainly can.”

  “I’ll lock up after you guys leave and keep an eye on the house until you decide what to do. If you want, I can work on staging it for the market.” Megan was quieter and more circumspect than the woman who had landed on her doorstep. Hard times either broke a person or applied a maturing lacquer. Ella was gratified to see Megan fell in the latter category.

  “That would be fabulous.” Ella looked around her bedroom. It already felt like it belonged to someone else. She walked out without a second’s hesitation.

  “Ready?” Mack took the suitcase out of her hand.

  She nodded and closed the front door behind them. She’d be back to get the rest of her things, but a chapter of her life was ending. An important chapter. She followed Mack in her car, the trip spanning only a few miles, but crisscrossing years of her memories.

  She loved Mack and followed him not because she was deferential or meek, but because she knew what she wanted and was ready to grab hold as his equal. They would disagree and fight, but Mack would never belittle her or intimidate her into submission.

  By the time they reached his house by the garage, her past had realigned itself in the background. The future was what mattered now.

  They didn’t speak. Didn’t have to speak. As soon a
s the door was shut and locked, she pushed his T-shirt up and off. He fumbled the zipper of her jeans down while shuffling backward toward the bedroom. Grabbing the open flaps of her waistband, he forced her to walk with him.

  Not that she fought him or the destination. Her shirt floated to the floor of the hallway. Her bra was left hanging on the doorknob. It was a race to see who could get their jeans off faster. He won and was waiting on his back in the bed, his grin barely discernible in the dim room.

  She crawled over him and lowered herself until they were welded as close as the metal he loved so much. It was a moment she would always remember. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.” He slapped her butt, and she squealed with surprised laughter.

  Their lovemaking was wild and a little rough, as if he too realized how close they’d come to screwing things up. The night passed in long talks, fits of sleep, and bouts of sex until the sun rose, casting an orange glow around the room.

  She was reeling from the roller coaster of emotions, her mind jumping from path to path with no grounding logic. “I wonder if Grayson knows.”

  “Knows what?” His hand played in her hair.

  “Knows all of this happened because of him.”

  He stilled before hugging her close. “I’d like to think the people who’ve gone before are looking down with pride.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yeah. Not sure how Pop would have reacted to us reconciling with Mom, but I hope he knows it doesn’t make us love him any less.”

  “Of course, you don’t. It’s not like we have a finite amount of love to go around. The room gets bigger. You’ve made room for Willa and Sutton, right?”

  “You’re right.” He kissed the top of her head.

  Her eyes fluttered close on a wave of contentment. She tried to open them to watch the sunrise, but they refused to obey. “I like the sound of that.”

  He murmured more words, but she drifted away, safe in his arms and knowing that they had time to share everything. Maybe even a lifetime.

  Epilogue

  The next weeks passed in a blur for Ella. While Mack was elbows deep in car restorations, she was neck deep in planning the car show fundraiser for Marigold and Dave. They’d scaled back from a weekend to a full day’s worth of activities, with thoughts to expand in future years.

  It had taken time for Marigold to come around to accepting the idea of a fundraiser. Ella cajoled and Mack ordered, but finally, it was the common sense voice of Dave who swung the tide. They couldn’t afford to not take the helping hand.

  Still, Marigold insisted on working with Ella as much as her schedule allowed. Ella was grateful not just for the extra pair of hands, but also for the burgeoning friendship. Through Mack, Ella had met another layer of Cottonbloom—one that threw backyard cookouts, not wine-and-cheese mixers.

  She moved in both worlds, the only constant being Mack. He was at her side during social events in Cottonbloom, Mississippi. Well, if not by her side exactly, then holding up a wall while she greased wheels and solicited donations.

  Jackson, Willa, Wyatt, and Mack were gathered in the office while Ella ticked off items from her to-do list.

  “T-shirts?”

  “They made me sweat, but I got the order in yesterday,” Willa said. River gave a little bark from her side as if she knew she was somehow involved.

  “Hazel and Hy have the bake sale coordinated through their church group.” Wyatt rocked back on two legs of the chair, his foot on the side of the desk. “And I took care of getting permits with Gloria and her counterpart on the Mississippi side. We have a hundred cars registered to take part in the judging, but my guess is more will show up to be seen and to see what else is out there.”

  “I have booths lined up to advertise our services, with brochures and postcards and magnets to take home.” Jackson was propped against the back wall, his arms and feet crossed.

  “I have the food and drink carts booked and ready. They’ve all agreed to give ten percent of profits back to the Dave Dunlap Fund. Mack, did you finish making out the judging forms?” Ella looked up from her list.

  “I did. The four of us will judge and confer as needed. What time do you want to present the awards?” Mack paced in the open space behind her chair.

  He had gotten progressively more agitated as the days ticked down to the car show, but Ella couldn’t pinpoint his nerves to the actual show or the fact his mother and Ford were expected down.

  “I’m thinking right before dinner on Saturday. Hopefully, that will encourage people to stay to eat and enjoy the music,” Ella said.

  Delmar Fournette had volunteered the services of his bluegrass band for Saturday night, and Ella had jumped at the offer.

  “I’ll get the numbered tags for the car entries printed this week and triple-check everything, but I think we’re in good shape. Anyone have issues to discuss?” Ella tilted the clipboard into her chest and tapped her fingers on the back.

  After a unanimous shake of their heads, everyone got back to work. The pressure was on to complete the Corvette for Landrum’s friend in time for the show. For the rest of the week, last-minute details kept Ella busy from morning to night. Still, she and Mack found time to talk in bed after making love.

  “I can’t believe the show is tomorrow. You nervous?” Mack ran his fingers up and down her spine.

  Ella was face down on the bed where she’d collapsed. She turned to the side and pulled the sheet up under her arms. “Yes, but I’ve thrown enough parties that I’m expecting to have to put out unexpected fires. You can’t anticipate everything that could go wrong. What about you?”

  He flopped back on the pillow and covered his eyes. “I’m keyed up.”

  “Is it because of your mom and Ford?”

  “No. Partly,” he qualified with a sigh. “What if things go to hell?”

  She snuggled into his side. “They won’t.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You’re too stubborn to let it.”

  * * *

  Mack chuckled, but an electric energy manifested itself during the night, driving him out of bed before the sun rose. Which was saying something, considering Ella was naked under his covers. His mother’s and Ford’s return to Cottonbloom did worry him, but the decision he’d made regarding Ella and the garage struck him with even more anxiety.

  Mack didn’t slow down until after the award for Best in Show was given out to a father-son duo and their ’64 Corvette Stingray. By Mack’s reckoning, they not only raised twenty thousand dollars for Marigold and Dave, but if even a fraction of the people who’d expressed interest in using the garage for their restorations followed through, they would be booked for the rest of the year, not counting their usual work.

  While the official part of the car show was over, Delmar’s bluegrass band kept the energy humming. If anything, the crowd swelled with locals interspersed among the out-of-towners. Mack stepped back and surveyed the scene. It was incredible what Ella had organized. A rousing success by anyone’s estimation.

  “You should be proud of yourself, Mack.” His mother had come up without him noticing.

  “It was Ella. I would have never come up with this idea or been able to execute it.” He snuck a look at his mom.

  She had been nervous on her arrival that morning, but the aunts had welcomed her home and Mack had found himself hugging her before considering the ramifications. It had felt good though. Like the universe was righted. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.” While a formality remained, a warmth he remembered as a child drew him to her.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend much time with you today.”

  “I understand. We have tomorrow and beyond.”

  The aunts had planned a lunch the next day for his mother and Ford, and Mack was both excited and nervous to have his family back under the same roof after so long.

  She patted his arm. “I’m going to have some of Rufus
’s barbeque before he runs out. I’ve never found any better.” He watched her weave through the crowd, an achiness in his chest.

  “She’s a good person.” Ford had taken their mother’s spot at his side. He too was watching her.

  “She is. I wish…” Mack shook his head.

  “I know. Me too. But wishes aren’t worth a fairy’s fart. All we can do is accept our mistakes, forgive ourselves, and move on.”

  Mack shifted to face Ford. “Since when did you become so wise?”

  A grin flashed. “Since therapy.”

  Mack laughed and threw an arm around Ford’s shoulders. His laugh petered into an awkward silence. “I’m sorry I was—”

  “Can we stop apologizing? Because if you keep going, then I’ll have to take a turn, and we’ll be here all night.” Ford sent a half smile in Mack’s direction.

  Mack gestured at the bag in Ford’s hand bearing the Quilting Bee’s name and logo. “Are you going all Zen and taking up knitting or something?”

  “No. I got something to decorate my new place.” Ford reached into the bag a pulled out one of Mack’s metal magnolia blossoms.

  Heat suffused his face. Ella had talked him into selling his creations on consignment in the Quilting Bee. Jackson and Wyatt had been surprised to hear about his hobby but had kept their ribbing to a minimum. Still, he wasn’t exactly comfortable revealing this side of himself. He mumbled, “I do it as a stress reliever.”

  “It’s cool, bro.” Ford ran his thumb along one of the petals, his voice dropping as if he too was confessing something uncomfortable. “It reminds me of home. And you guys. It’ll have a place of honor on my desk at work.”

  Mack cleared the emotion from his throat. “You’re staying for lunch tomorrow, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. I’m looking forward to fatted lamb.” Ford strolled off, his laughter trailing. Mack smiled.

  His pop’s death had spun his life into chaos and uncertainty. Now, almost two years later, he was a better son and brother and lover because of the changes. Urgency had him scanning the crowd. It was now or never.

  He spotted Ella close to the raised platform where the bluegrass band played. He made his way toward her, pasting on a smile and shaking hands, but inwardly cursing the delay. Finally, he reached out and touched her shoulder. She swung around. The smile that came to her face lit her from within. And it was for him.