Flight of Fancie

by Linda Rettstatt

  Fancie turned in her seat and took hold of Mikayla’s elegant hand. “You’re both right. It’s gonna take me a while to get past this, but getting out of town and soaking up the sun won’t hurt. That’s for sure.” She grinned. “You’re all my sisters, you know that. All of you.”

  Mikayla squeezed her hand once, then sat back. “Maybe you should try some dark chocolate next time.”

  “Maybe I will. You have someone in mind?” Fancie peered over her shades.

  “We’ll go shoppin’ in Savannah.” Mikayla winked at her.

  Fancie, Ashley, the twins, and Mikayla had been friends since kindergarten. Fancie knew someone always had her back. This time, it meant more than she could say.

  “You need to call Tripp and thank him for defending your honor,” Chastity said. “I’d have paid good money to watch. Next time he needs to give me a heads up.”

  Fancie sighed as she thought of her baby brother. He’d bestowed her nickname when he started to talk but couldn’t pronounce the letter R. She became Fancie and the name stuck. Tripp had always been quick to enter the fray, always ready for a fight. And that got him into trouble on a regular basis. What worried her most was how heavily Tripp had been gambling and drinking over the past year. The three things could only lead to deeper trouble.

  “I wish he’d have stayed out of it. But, you’re right, it would have been worth the price of admission just to see Tripp wipe that smug look off Graham’s face. What did I see in him? And where were you all while I was falling into that pit?”

  Charity glanced over at her. “I do recall a conversation we had about a year ago. I think I suggested there was something weird about Graham.”

  “As I recall you said ‘men that good lookin’ always have a hidden agenda.’ Which, by the way, did nothing for my self-esteem. Thank you.” Fancie sighed. “I really don’t get it. This came out of the blue. A month ago, Graham was all excited about looking at houses. He even commented on rooms that would make a perfect nursery. Then, wham, we’re ‘not a good fit.’ There’s got to be more to it.”

  Chastity cracked her gum. “Yeah, he’s seein’ someone.”

  “What?” Fancie turned to face Chastity.

  “He must be. Think about it. He’s all set to get married, all starry-eyed and happy. The next thing you know, you’re not a ‘good fit.’” She made finger quotes around the last words. “He’s fittin’ into someone, you can bet on it.”

  “I don’t think that’s helpful for Fancie,” Ashley said. “Let’s forget about Graham and just have one hell of a non-honeymoon.”

  Charity turned up the radio and the women sang along until Carrie Underwood began Before He Cheats. Fancie reached over, slammed her thumb against the power button and they rode in silence. Her mind swirled with the possibilities of Graham being involved with another woman. She mentally ticked off every single woman in town between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-four and came up blank.

  As they approached Atlanta, Charity said, “I need a break. Let’s get lunch. Then it’s someone else’s turn to drive.”

  “I’ll drive,” Ashley said. “This car is gorgeous.”

  They collectively shouted, “No!”

  Ashley had the ability to clear the streets ahead of her classic Mustang convertible. Everyone in town knew to get out of her way. She had a glove box filled with citations for everything from parking violations to running red lights, speeding, and failure to yield. Fancie had laughed long and hard at the last one. She’d never known Ashley to yield to anyone or anything—a trait she mostly admired in her friend.

  “I haven’t gotten a ticket in three weeks,” Ashley complained.

  “Your car’s been in the shop for most of that time because you ran it over that cement curb in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly,” Chastity said.

  Ashley moaned. “My baby’s never gonna drive right again. I hope Daddy thinks about that and gets me a new one for my birthday next month.”

  “You are so spoiled,” Mikayla said.

  “Only since the divorce,” Ashley added.

  Mikayla tsk’d. “Oh, please. Your parents divorced when we were in the sixth grade. And your daddy’s still payin’ for it.”

  “I’ll always be his baby girl.” Ashley grinned.

  Charity pointed to a sign. “There’s a Cracker Barrel and an Applebee’s. Got a preference?”

  “Applebee’s,” Fancie and Mikayla said in unison. “I need a drink and it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Fancie said. “You don’t need me to drive.”

  “Uh-oh,” Charity said. “Reality is setting in. Applebee’s it is.”

  Fancie picked at her grilled shrimp and spinach salad. “Do you all think I’m annoying?”

  “What?” Mikayla turned and stared at her. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what I did to make Graham change his mind.” She waved to their waitress and lifted her glass.

  “You didn’t do anything. Fancie, you’re the easiest person in the world to get along with.” Mikayla stabbed at a shrimp and lifted it from her salad. “Do you have any idea how much you changed for that man? How much you gave up because he wanted things a certain way? Graham is a complete jerk.”

  Tears stung. “The complete jerk I loved. What am I going to do now? I already quit my job.”

  Chastity patted her arm. “You’re going to hold your head up high and get on with your life. Show him he doesn’t have the power to take you down.”

  “I’m not so sure about holding up my head. This is so embarrassing.”

  Charity patted her other arm. “Then we’ll take turns holding it for you. Fancie, do not let that man rent space in your life for free. Kick the litter over that pile of crap and move on.” Ever since Charity started volunteering at the local animal shelter, her comments were often pet-related metaphors. Lately she’d been poop-scooping the yard and outdoor runs.

  Fancie began to relax. Well, that was putting a positive spin on it. She was working on her third Margarita when Mikayla asked for their check. “We want to get to Tybee before dark, don’t we?”

  Fancie gulped her drink, then immediately regretted the action as pain shot up through her right eye and her brain exploded. “Ouch. Brain freeze.” She pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth—something that was supposed to ease the pain. It didn’t work. She pressed fingertips over her eye and waited. “Oh, that hurts.”

  Charity moved the glass away from her. “You’ve had enough of this anyway. Come on, we’ll strap you in and let you sleep this off the rest of the way.”

  Fancie settled in a corner of the luxurious leather back seat, rolled up a beach towel to use as a pillow, and slipped into blessed oblivion. Before long, she was lost in a dream. She was back in Columbus and walking down Main Street—naked. Everyone in town lined the streets, pointing and laughing. At the end of the street, a blue ribbon stretched across her path and, on the other side, stood Graham, also proudly naked except for a crown. “You’re not the King of me….”

  Someone jostled her. “Fancie, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  She opened her eyes and blinked. Her mouth felt dry from the alcohol. She tried to swallow. “I was naked and Graham was the King.”

  “Huh?” Charity stared at her, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

  Fancie sat up and reached to the cup holder for a bottle of water, taking a long drink. She explained the dream. “He was just standing there in his crown and wearing that damn smug smile, like he was the prize at the end of a race.”

  “He’s a lot of things, but he’s no prize,” Charity said.

  Looking out the window at city surroundings, Fancie asked, “Where are we?”

  “Savannah. We’re almost there. I suggest we get settled in and then a few of us can pick up groceries.” Ashley withdrew a piece of paper from her purse. “We have to stop by the realty office and pick up keys. I’ll direct you, Mik.”

  Mikayla nodded, her eyes on the road. “Sound
s like a plan.” She navigated the streets of Savannah and across the salt marshes leading to the barrier island. “This is beautiful.”

  “I haven’t been here for a few years, but I remember the house sits practically across the street from the ocean. Okay, turn right at the next corner. Island Realty should be on the left,” Ashley directed. “Park right there.”

  She went inside and returned shortly holding out the keys. “Here we go. Let the non-honeymoon begin.”

  The house, a quaint cottage with a wide screened front porch, sat across the street from the beach. Fancie climbed out of the Chrysler and stretched, taking in the view. “This is wonderful.” Her eyes misted. “Thank you. Every one of you. Not what I had planned for tonight.”

  “Aw, Fancie. We know. And we’ve already discussed this. If you need to cry, you cry. Don’t worry about us. You go ahead and grieve.” Chastity wrapped her in a hug.

  “Thanks. Right now I just need to relax and sleep off lunch.”

  “You and Ashley get the place opened up. Charity, Mik and I will find a grocery store. Any special requests?” Chastity asked.

  With a shopping list in hand, the three women left in search of supplies.

  Fancie investigated the first floor. Floor to ceiling windows faced the street and the ocean. The inside was much more contemporary than the outside. A gas fireplace graced an accent wall of pale turquoise that offset the white of the other walls. A reading nook had been set under the staircase. Pale coral pillows added a splash of color to the white sofa. A glass-topped distressed wood coffee table and two overstuffed chairs created a cozy semi-circle facing the hearth.

  “Your uncle has wonderful taste,” Fancie said.

  “His partner’s an interior decorator,” Ashley replied.

  “I didn’t know your uncle was in the decorating business.”

  Ashley grinned. “He’s into Edward who is into decorating.”

  Fancie frowned, then got the point. “Oh.” She and Ashley opened windows to air out the stuffy cottage.

  An hour later the others returned laden with groceries. After unloading the trunk of the car and deciding who would share which rooms, the women gathered in the living room.

  “Let’s break open a bottle of wine.” Charity headed for the kitchen. “Mik, you wanna help? We bought chips and sandwich fixings, too. We figured it’s too late for a big meal tonight.”

  “You want the air conditioning on, or shall we leave the windows open? There’s a nice breeze tonight,” Ashley said.

  “Fresh ocean air, please.” Fancie opened the front door, breathing in the ocean scent. She closed her eyes and listened to the surf. The hurt of Graham’s rejection snuck up on her and tears stung her eyes. She swallowed hard, determined not to let him ruin this time with her best friends. Or the rest of her life.

  Someone came up behind her and reached around to offer a glass of wine. “I’m not sure I need anything else to drink.”

  “Just enough to have a toast.” Charity lifted her glass and the others followed. “To Southern women who don’t require a man to define us.”

  Fancie sipped, holding the sweetness in her mouth for a moment before letting it warm her throat. Was that what she’d done—allowed Graham to ‘define’ her? She started to voice the question but realized she was just too weary for the discussion that would follow. Taut muscles began to relax. She set the drink aside and curled in one of the chairs. “Too bad it’s summer. A fire would surely be nice.”

  “There’s a fire pit in the back yard, along with a grill. Maybe tomorrow night we can have a barbecue and then light a fire out there,” Ashley said. Then she glanced at Fancie. “You call Tripp yet? I’m dyin’ to know what happened.”

  Fancie shook her head, nibbling on the corner of a turkey sandwich. “I’ll call tomorrow.” She stood and stretched. “I’m exhausted. I have to turn in.”

  “Don’t worry about leaving a light on. I’ll find my way when I come up,” Chastity said. The three cousins had been as close as sisters growing up. Chastity won the coin toss to decide who shared the room with Fancie. “Are you sure you don’t want the room to yourself? I can sleep down here on the sofa or bunk in with Mikayla,” Chastity said for the second time.

  “I’m so tired, I won’t even know you’re there. That king-size bed is massive. We could all sleep in it. Mikayla’s room only has a double.”

  “Okay, but if you need some space or time alone, you just tell us,” Chastity said.

  “Thank you. Y’all are the best. Goodnight.”

  Fancie changed into a pair of boxer-style pajama bottoms and a tank top and crawled beneath the cool, crisp sheets. A near full moon sent a shaft of muted light through the window. She heard the muffled voices of her friends, an occasional laugh, and she smiled. This could have been the worst night of her life considering it was supposed to be the happiest night. The little spurts of sadness and hurt stole her breath, but she would be okay. If she had any doubt about that, she had only to listen to the voices coming from downstairs. Those women would make damn sure she was okay.

  Fancie woke some time later with a start, momentarily unsure of where she was. She turned her head and saw Chastity sprawled on the other half of the huge bed, snoring softly. She eased out of bed and tiptoed into the hall. The house was quiet. The soft glow of a night light lit the hallway. Fancie crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. She located the glasses and filled one with water. The alcohol had left her thirsty.

  It was a little past three in the morning and she was wide awake. She opened the front door and felt the cool night air prickle her skin. A cotton blanket lay folded over the back of the sofa. She wrapped it around her shoulders and carried the water out onto the front porch, settling into one of the cushioned wicker rocking chairs. Crickets chirped and sang in the darkness to the backup of ocean surf. The night was otherwise quiet. She pulled her legs up and wrapped the blanket around her, closing her eyes.

  A rustle soon jolted her to full alert. It was followed by the sound of footsteps and a male voice. “Barney! Come on, I know you’re out here.”

  A motion-sensored porch light came on from the house next door casting a long dark shadow. “Barney, this isn’t a game.”

  Fancie leaned forward to stand, grimacing at the creak of the wicker. The man stopped and looked over at her. “Hi. I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”

  “That’s okay. I was just going inside.”

  “You didn’t see a little black mutt anywhere, did you?” He walked toward the porch. He was tall, maybe six foot, and lean, with longish hair.

  “I didn’t. I’m sorry.” She reached down for her water glass.

  “Darned dog can’t understand why he needs to stay inside. He’s not familiar with this area.”

  “Yes, well, if I see him, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. I’m Luke Campbell. I’m staying next door.”

  “Francine…er…Fancie Hollensby.” She tugged the blanket closer for cover. “I hope you find your dog.”

  “Oh, he’ll turn up. Always does.”

  Fancie hurried inside, rinsed her glass at the sink. She turned on the reading lamp and found a copy of The Secret Life of Bees. She read until the sky outside turned a pale pink on the horizon. As she approached the open front door, a soft whine sounded. She peered down to see a small black dog sitting outside the screen door, demanding admittance. “I’ll bet your name is Barney.”

  She started to open the door to step outside, but the dog took advantage of the opening and slipped in, brushing against her leg. He ran into the house, crossed to the center of the living room, sat and scratched vigorously behind one ear.

  “You shouldn’t be in here.” Fancie knelt and petted the dog’s head. He stretched up and licked her cheek. She laughed. “Thank you. Now I have to get dressed to take you home.” She left him in the kitchen with a slice of deli turkey that he sniffed but refused to eat. “Have it your way, but we’re fresh out of steak. Don’t go anywhere.”
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  She hurried up the stairs and tiptoed into the bedroom. Chastity laid face down on the bed, arms and legs spread-eagle, sleeping soundly. Fancie grabbed her jeans and a sweatshirt and tugged them on over her pajamas, then picked up her sneakers. When she opened the bedroom door, Barney sat outside, panting and wriggling. To his credit, he did not bark. She looped two fingers under his collar and directed him back down the stairs. “Okay, buddy. Let me get my shoes on.” She sat on the sofa to pull on her sneakers and the little black dog leaped into her lap, his body vibrating against her chest. She hugged him and pressed her cheek to the top of his silky head. “Oh, it’s okay. I’m going to take you home.”

  When she knocked on the door of the neighboring house, she hadn’t given thought to the time. It couldn’t be much past six a.m. She couldn’t just leave the dog on the open porch. He’d wander off again. She knocked a second time and heard rustling inside, then cursing.

  The door swung open and Luke stood there wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. His hair—tawny brown she could now tell—was tousled from sleep and his eyes barely open. “Yes?”

  “I have your dog.” She pointed down at the animal. Barney sat up in a begging stance and woofed.

  Luke blinked as if confused, then his eyes widened. He scooped up the little dog. “Where was he?”

  “Outside my door this morning. I offered him turkey, but he declined.”

  Luke ruffled the dog’s ears. “He’s more of a red meat guy. Thanks for bringing him over.”

  “You’re welcome. I didn’t think about the time.”

  “Not a problem.” He hesitated before asking, “Do you want coffee?”

  “Oh, no. Thank you. My friends will be getting up soon and we’ll have breakfast together. I was just going to take a walk on the beach first.” She reached out and scratched the dog under his chin. “Nice to meet you, Barney. Maybe next time I’ll have steak on hand.”

  The beach was nearly empty. As she strolled and listened to the gentle roll of the surf, she closed her eyes. Each time, an image appeared. Luke wearing only pajama bottoms and an adorable smile. Her eyes snapped open. Here she was, running off to nurse a broken heart, and all she could think about was the guy she’d just met? What was wrong with her?