Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance)

by Pace, Alicia Hunter

  “They did an article when it won that award,” Will said. Will wasn’t too excited about having his picture taken and talking about his work, Arabelle had discovered.

  “Yes, but now they want to show how it’s functioning as a community asset.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Brantley said. “At least I’ll get to see my wife for a few minutes.”

  Miss Caroline met Arabelle’s eyes. “Arabelle, dear, would you like to join us?” Ever the lady, Miss Caroline never invited part of a group anywhere. If she had been asking Brantley to drive her for a root canal, she would have invited Will and Arabelle. Mimi had been the same.

  “Oh, no. Y’all go ahead. I’m going to get a glass of wine and find Avery’s artwork.”

  “Are you sure?” Will asked.

  “I’ve been navigating rooms alone for years. We’ll catch up when you’re done.”

  Will leaned toward her and she thought he was going to kiss her but he whispered in her ear, “Bid a thousand dollars on Avery’s tree on the cabinet door. No one else is taking that home.” Did he really think anyone else would want it? Of course, it might be the only way some of them would be able to get anything handmade by Will Garrett.

  Arabelle watched her husband go, talking to Brantley and Miss Caroline as he went. People spoke to him right and left, and he responded easily. It sure hadn’t taken him long to turn from near recluse to social butterfly.

  She worked her way to one of the smaller rooms where the cash bar was set up. She ordered a glass of Pinot Blanc and added a tiny, cellophane, beribboned bag of cheese straws. That ought to hold her until the Missy appointed dinnertime.

  She was about to pay when a voice behind her said, “Bourbon and branch and I’ve got the lady’s.”

  She turned to protest but instead broke into a happy smile.

  “How are you, young lady?” It was Tiptoe Watkins, the local cemetery owner, piano tuner, and amateur philosopher. “How’s your daddy and mama?”

  “They’re great. And so am I.”

  He picked up his drink and gestured to one of the small tables. “Would a pretty lady keep an old man from drinking alone? My wife is in that art room fighting it out with Sophie Ann McGowan over some picture of a vase of flowers.” He led her to the table and settled her into her chair. “Tell you the truth, my money’s on Sophie Ann. She’s meaner than my Carol Jane. I found that out when I escorted her to her debut. But now, that’s not very gentlemanly of me to say, is it?”

  Arabelle laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me—not that it’s a secret. Miss Sophie Ann’s reputation precedes her.”

  Tiptoe let out a breath and shook his head. “Isn’t that the God’s honest truth?”

  “What have you been up to?” Arabelle asked. “I noticed you rescheduled your physical with me a few weeks ago.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be in next month, like I said. Nothing wrong with me anyway. Never has been.” That was true. “Carol Jane and I went down to Georgia for my niece Bailey’s wedding to Polo MacNeal, the baseball player. It was some fancy do, let me tell you. Couldn’t swing a dead dog without hitting a baseball player or some ESPN guy. But she was beautiful. And happy—they both were. As a happily married man, there’s nothing I like better than seeing a happy couple. It’s good to see you happy.”

  Was she? She seemed happy now because this man, who was a hunting buddy of her father’s, never failed to delight her. But was she happy overall?

  “Will’s a lucky man,” Tiptoe said, “and I’ve got to say, when I heard he was joining your good family, I was almost as pleased for him as I was for seeing Bailey end up where she was supposed to. He’s a good man and he deserves to finally have a family.”

  Finally? “It is sad that he lost his parents so young,” she said.

  Tiptoe took a sip of his drink and gave her a long look. “Will doesn’t talk much about his past, does he? Never did. Truth is, he never had any parents to speak of. He raised himself. That boy worked from the time he was fourteen years old to put clothes on his back. His daddy worked at the mill and plenty of millworkers did better by their kids. But he was never one to worry much about what his boy needed. And his mother was just defeated. When you saw her around town, you always got the idea that she didn’t know if she was coming or going. I never saw any bruises on Will and believe me I looked for them. No. It was more a case of neglect than anything.”

  Surely it had not been that bad. “I know he worked summers at the country club,” Arabelle said. But lots of kids did. Brantley Kincaid had caddied there when he was a teen.

  Tiptoe nodded. “And he sacked groceries at the Big Starr. His first job was for me, mowing grass and cleaning off graves. He did that from the time he was fourteen until he went off to apprentice to that woodworker. Of course, he came back not needing to mow anybody’s grass, even his own.”

  “I didn’t know he had to work so hard,” she said slowly.

  “He’ll be a good daddy to your little boy, too. I’ve watched people for years. Those who have sorry parents turn out one of two ways—they end up acting just like them or they turn into the best. He’ll be one of the best. You can tell by the way a boy cleans off a grave what kind of man he’s going to turn out to be.”

  Before she could respond, Tiptoe looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Well, would you look at that! There comes Carol Jane and she’s smiling. I believe she beat out Sophie Ann! If you’ll excuse me, Miss Arabelle.” He got to his feet and tipped his invisible hat. “Thank you for the company.”

  “And thank you for the wine. Congratulate Carol Jane for me.”

  “Hmm. Wonder how much this is going to set me back?”

  “Brantley Kincaid says Junior Leaguers are never cheap.”

  “That’s the truth,” Tiptoe said. “I married one and raised two.”

  And he was gone, leaving her to ponder the life Will had had. And her heart broke just a little.

  • • •

  Will pulled out a chair for Arabelle at the large round table where Missy, Harris, Luke, Lanie, Brantley, and Nathan were already sitting.

  “Where are Lucy and Tolly?” Arabelle asked.

  “Who knows?” Nathan said. “Who knows where they’ve been all week? I am good and tired of Hearts for Art.”

  “You said it, brother,” Brantley said.

  “That’s what happens when you marry do-gooders,” Harris said. “You go for weeks without their company.”

  “I don’t know how you’d know,” Brantley said. “Of course, I’m sure Missy spends an equal amount of time and energy stirring up trouble.”

  Missy took a swat at Brantley. “I give back to my community. I about killed myself being Bon Jovi in the Follies not too long ago.”

  Brantley smiled and lifted his glass in a toast. “Yes you did, Melissa. And I am eternally grateful. The sight of Lucy in those leather pants changed my life. I apologize.”

  “I might forgive you next week. Or I might not,” Missy said. “Bring me a present and we’ll see.”

  “You’ve already forgiven me,” Brantley said. “You adore me.”

  “I do not,” Missy said but her face told a different story.

  Missy and Brantley had been friends since they were babies and shared a bond like Will would never know. But Avery would have that. Someday he would be sitting at a table like this bantering with the offspring of these people. He might even marry one of them.

  Will addressed Lanie. “Did Avery do okay? He didn’t cry when you left?”

  “No,” Lanie said. “He was so busy playing with John Luke and Lulu that he hardly noticed me.”

  Will nodded with satisfaction. That was how it was supposed to go.

  “Here come Lucy and Tolly,” Arabelle said.

  They moved across the room like they were in a foot race but pausing now and then to smile, pat a back, or answer a question.

  Like the other volunteers, they wore heart scattered white aprons with the words Hearts for Art embroidered in r
ed across the front. Brantley and Nathan sprung to their feet and settled their wives into their chairs.

  They groaned in harmony. “My feet hurt,” Lucy said.

  “Mine too,” Tolly said. “But it’s nearly over. We’re closing the doors at ten. We’ve got a cleanup crew and all Lucy and I have to do is count the money.”

  “That ought to take a while,” Brantley said.

  That was the truth. Will had lost count of what he’d spent between Avery’s artwork, a sculpture that Arabelle had admired, and the miscellaneous other things.

  Will’s tension from the night before ebbed as they ate spaghetti, followed by cheesecake. A violinist appeared and played “My Funny Valentine” and all the men contributed to the tip jar that the girl set on the table.

  “That’s it,” Will said. “My last cent. Arabelle, we have to go. And don’t breathe. We can’t afford any more air.”

  “It’s past time for us to get our boy anyway.”

  Luke stood up. “Wait. Can you give us just another minute? I promise this won’t cost you. This is from Lanie and me.” He left the table and returned with a bucket of champagne and another of sparkling cider.

  When Luke lifted the champagne from the bucket and began to work it open, Will noticed the label said Dom Perignon. He’d never tasted it, but he’d bought it for clients. Pretty fancy. They were probably going to toast Tolly and Lucy.

  Lanie rose and handed the champagne around and some sparkling cider for Will and Lucy, who said, as tired as she was, she’d fall asleep if she drank any alcohol.

  Luke remained standing and raised his glass. “Something special happened in our family this week and in this family of friends. Lanie and I got a new nephew and Will and Arabelle a son. And you all got a new baby to love. We’ve all been loving him for a while and I know the legalities don’t matter to hearts. But I’m the uncle and I love the law so … ” Luke smiled and gestured to the flute he held.

  The razor sharp cheese grater returned in full force. Will looked at Arabelle and she looked at her hands.

  “Given that Avery is so young, Will and Arabelle didn’t want a party but I think they will forgive me for taking a moment to celebrate. Avery came to our family at his birth when my cousins Sheridan and David adopted him. Tragically, they left us and him all too soon.”

  Arabelle was stony faced and her jaw was set. If the napkin in her lap had been a living creature, she would have choked the life out of it.

  “But,” Luke carried on, “even in tragedy, we can find joy. I have never been prouder of my sister. She changed her life completely to be a mother, when being a mother was the last thing she was expecting. I know something about good mothers. I have one. And there are no finer ones than the women sitting at this table.” He laid his hand on Lanie’s shoulder and gave her a soft look. “Arabelle, I’m proud of you. And, Will.” Luke closed his eyes for a second. “I’m a careful man and it’s no secret that I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the speed of this relationship.”

  Everyone laughed a little—everyone except Will and Arabelle. The right thing to do would be to reach over and take Arabelle’s hand. It might give her comfort and it would look right to the others. But he couldn’t. He was being celebrated for a lie and the grater was spinning at warp speed.

  “I had come around some by the wedding,” Luke said, “but I still wasn’t in much of a toasting mood. I am now. I have seen what a good father Will has become in such a short time. I see how he loves Avery and my sister. And how she loves him.” He raised his glass. “To Will, Arabelle, and Avery Garrett—living proof that it doesn’t take blood to make a family. Just love.”

  “Here, here,” everyone murmured.

  Will only pretended to drink.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was way past Avery’s bedtime but instead of being manic and grumpy, he was sweet and clinging.

  “I walk?” he whispered as Arabelle zipped his jacket.

  “Not this time, pal.” Will looked wistful and sad when he lifted Avery over his shoulder. Something had changed in him during Luke’s toast.

  “We’ve got the stroller,” Arabelle reminded him.

  “I’ll take him,” Will said. “Can you push the stroller?”

  She almost made a joke about her capability of pushing an empty stroller but Will didn’t seem like he was in any mood for a joke. She put Avery’s craft project—a heart-shaped plaque with his handprints and a photograph of him blowing a kiss—in the stroller storage compartment and followed Will and Avery out the door.

  “Sorry about Luke’s toast,” Arabelle said. “I didn’t know.”

  “Uh huh,” Will said.

  No luck with conversation there. Well, whatever was bothering him, he was just going to have to get over it.

  “Avery,” she said, “did you have fun tonight?”

  “I blow bubbles. Lulu blow bubbles. Emma blow bubbles. John Luke blow bubbles. Beau blow bubbles. Jiffy blow bubbles … ”

  She decided to try again with Will. “Do you think they blew bubbles?”

  “Seems like. Do you have a pacifier over there? I think he’d go to sleep if he had one and if we stop talking.”

  Ouch. Wordlessly, she fished a pacifier out of the diaper bag and put it in Avery’s mouth. They walked the remaining block in silence. It was only when they reached Heavenly Confections and Arabelle reached into her purse for her keys that Will spoke.

  “We’ll all ride home in my truck and I’ll bring you to your car in the morning. You’ve been drinking.”

  That was technically true but she’d had only half the glass of wine Tiptoe had bought her and no more than a couple of sips at dinner. Add in a heavy pasta meal and—well, what did it matter? The night was weird enough without debating blood alcohol levels with the child of an alcoholic. She climbed into the cab of the truck as Will settled Avery into the car seat.

  “Sound asleep,” Will said quietly as he slid behind the wheel. Arabelle did not view this as progress toward conversation as much as a warning to be quiet.

  She complied.

  Once at home, they moved quietly into the house. A few times in the past, Avery had fallen asleep in his clothes and they’d learned how to work in tandem to change his diaper and get him into pajamas without waking him. Will gently lifted and she removed overalls. Will removed a wet diaper, handed her a dry one, and sprinkled powder. And so it went like clockwork until Arabelle covered him with a blanket and Will put Jiffy, a board book, and a plush fire truck in the crib for Avery’s early morning playtime. If only they could move together so easily all the time. Of course there was another place they moved together easily.

  Bed. Maybe they could banish this awkwardness there.

  But once they stepped into the hall outside Avery’s room, Will spoke.

  “Arabelle, I’m going out to the shop for a while. You go ahead to bed.”

  But they hadn’t gone to bed separately since they’d started having sex. Even the night they hadn’t made love right away, he’d woken her a few hours later.

  “But—” But what? “It’s late.”

  He nodded. “I’m wide awake and I have some stuff to do.”

  “Look, Will. About Luke’s toast. It wasn’t my favorite part of the night either.”

  “Not your fault. Get some sleep.”

  And he was gone.

  Arabelle slept little and fitfully. She wasn’t sure if she was already awake or if the sounds of Will on the stairs wakened her. It was almost five. When he didn’t come to bed, she got up and looked across the hall to see him leaning over Avery’s crib. The tortured expression on his face would have ripped the heart out of Cruella de Vil herself.

  She watched him for almost a full minute before he looked up and saw her. Wordlessly, he came toward her. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “No. I was awake.”

  “Still or already?” he asked, stepping into their bedroom.

  “Still, I guess.” She followed. Was he going to bed
now? Was she supposed crawl in with him?

  Best to let him take the lead on that. She sat on the side of the bed and waited to see what would happen. He let himself down in the chair across from her.

  She looked down to hide her disappointment and confusion. He was gripping something in his fist. “What’s in your hand?” she asked.

  “Oh,” he said absently and handed her the object. It was an alphabet block, intricately carved with an A. She turned it in her hand to see pictures of an apple, an airplane, and—oh, a perfect likeness of Avery.

  “Will. This is exquisite,” she said, their troubles forgotten for the moment.

  “Yeah? I’ve been working on it. I had the A, the apple, the plane, and Avery but I couldn’t think of what to put on the last two sides until it came to me last night.”

  “What did you pick?” But before he could answer she turned the block and saw two more likenesses, both perfect and both totally unexpected.

  “It’s me. And Jiffy. But Jiffy doesn’t start with an A.”

  Will nodded. “I know. But as long as it has taken me, with that, working a few minutes here and there, he’ll be married by the time I get to J. So I thought I should put what he loved best.”

  “Then you should have put your picture,” she said.

  “Will doesn’t start with an A.”

  “Neither does Jiffy,” she countered.

  “No,” he said quietly. Then he looked up and let those moss green eyes fall into hers. “Arabelle, why did we get married?”

  She didn’t think; she didn’t pause. “Because you blackmailed me.”

  He closed his eyes and went white. “Yes, I did. And that’s the reason, I guess—the real reason. I thought it was because we wanted to give Avery a life with two parents and a normal, stable family.”

  “It was that, too,” Arabelle agreed. “And I shouldn’t have said that about the blackmailing. We’ve agreed to let it go.”

  “But we haven’t,” Will said, meeting her eyes again. “I haven’t. I don’t understand why but I can’t forgive you. I thought I could. I have always been able to let go of the past and, more than that, I thought I could do anything for Avery. But I can’t forget the lost time, can’t forget the missed milestones.” He looked at the floor. “Christmases. His first birthday. His first step.”