Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance)

by Pace, Alicia Hunter

  “I’ll get the boys down,” Arabelle offered.

  “Thanks,” Lanie said. “I’ll lie down and read with Emma. With any luck she might just drift off.”

  Finally, Avery and John Luke were asleep and Arabelle wondered if Emma was. She stopped outside Emma’s door to listen. No. She was chattering away.

  “Tell me about the party, Mommy.”

  This had been Emma’s favorite topic this week. Though she’d been told numerous times, Lanie patiently acted like it was all new information.

  “Well, there will be a puppet show. That’ll be fun. And balloon animals. And you can get your face painted. You know how much you like that. Remember you a have a pretty new outfit to wear—giraffe spotted leggings and a shirt with a picture of a giraffe.”

  “’Cause Avery likes Jiffy.”

  “Yes. That’s right. Just like you love Purr Kitty.”

  “Are we eating giraffe cake?” Emma asked, even though she knew the answer.

  “Yes!” Lanie said. “Want to know a secret? It’s not made of giraffe. It just looks like a giraffe.”

  “Silly Mommy! People don’t eat giraffes.”

  “Uh. No,” Lanie said hesitantly. “I’m sure they don’t. Anyway, we’ll have ice cream, too. And little giraffe-shaped chocolates that I made at the shop. But before that, Daddy and Uncle Will will roast hotdogs over the fireplace.”

  “I want to roast my own. I know how.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see. If there’s a grownup who’s not too busy to help you.”

  “Me and Beau, we’re the biggest. We can do our own.”

  “Like I said, Emma, we’ll have to wait and see. This isn’t a promise.”

  Arabelle was about to get on with her chores with Emma opened a subject impossible to walk away from.

  “Miss Lucy’s growing a baby in her tummy.”

  “That’s right. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “It’s going to be a girl baby this time.”

  “Is it? Maybe. We have to wait and see. We have to wait all the way through the spring and summer. Then, in September, we’ll see that baby.”

  “And it’s growing in her tummy right now?”

  “Right now.”

  “Lulu grew in Beau’s mommy’s tummy.”

  “Yes,” Lanie confirmed.

  “So did Beau.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did Kirby grow in Miss Tolly’s tummy?”

  Lanie laughed. “No, Emma. Miss Tolly isn’t old enough to have grown Kirby. But when he was a teenager he didn’t have anyone to take care of him, so Miss Tolly did. She and Coach Nathan love him just the same.”

  “Baby Avery didn’t grow in Aunt Belle’s tummy.”

  “No. But she loves him just the same as if he did. Like Aunt Tolly loves Kirby.” Except not like Tolly at all.

  “John Luke grew in your tummy.”

  “Yes, he did,” Lanie confirmed.

  “And I grew in your tummy,” Emma said emphatically.

  Arabelle’s breath caught. What would Lanie say?

  “No, Emma,” Lanie said with kind firmness. “We’ve talked about this. You know that you grew in your Carrie Mommy’s tummy. And do you remember what else?”

  Emma’s little voice came out thoughtful. “She didn’t want to leave me but she had to go to heaven.”

  “That’s right! And, honeybee, she loved you. She loved you so much. And she loved your daddy so much. And I am so lucky because you know what I think? I think she looked down from heaven and thought, ‘There’s someone who I think would love my Emma. I think she could be a good mommy to her.’ And I do love you, Emma. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t grow in my tummy like John Luke. I am your mommy. I will always be your mommy and you will always be my sweet honey bee.” Lanie’s voice broke.

  And something broke in Arabelle. She’d never heard Lanie talk about Carrie before, had assumed she never gave her a thought or wanted Emma to remember her. But then, when had she given Lanie a chance to talk about anything?

  “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

  “Two reasons, I guess. Partly, I have happy tears because I love you so much. And sometimes I cry for your Carrie Mommy because she doesn’t get to be here with you.”

  Arabelle had cried plenty over Carrie for her own loss, but never for what Carrie had lost. Shame washed over her.

  “Did you know my Carrie Mommy? Do you love her?”

  “That’s a funny answer. I didn’t know her but I love her just the same. And I’m always going to do my best to help you know her and love her. We can look at the book with the pictures again if you want to.”

  And Arabelle, who had known Carrie, had never done one thing to ensure that Emma remembered her or loved her, had never assured Emma that Carrie had loved her. Yet, here was Lanie doing those very things.

  Emma yawned. “No pictures today. We looked yesterday when you showed me the bride dress that I can wear if I want to.”

  “And only if you want to. Your Carrie Mommy would want you to wear a dress that makes you happy. You might wear that dress. You might wear the one I wore when I married your daddy. Or you might want a brand new dress all of your own.”

  “I was a good flower girl.”

  “The best,” Lanie agreed. “Someday you’re going to want to know more things about your Carrie Mommy. You never have to be afraid to ask. Daddy, Aunt Belle, Grandma, and Grandpa will all be so happy to tell you everything you ever want to know.”

  “And you? You’ll tell me?” Emma asked. Because Lanie was really the person Emma wanted most. And in view of all this, who could blame her?

  “I’ll tell you what I know. But remember, I didn’t really meet her or talk to her. But when the day comes when you really, really wish she could be with you and you feel sad because she can’t, I’ll cry with you and I’ll hurt with you because you are my own little girl.”

  Why was Lanie saying all this to Emma, who could not possibly understand what she meant? It was a nice sentiment—noble, in fact—but wasn’t such a heavy topic better saved for a time when Emma was older?

  Almost as if Lanie had read her thoughts, she answered the question. “I know I say that to you all the time and you might not understand it yet. But when the time comes, I want you to remember.”

  Truth settled over Arabelle like ice and fire. Was it possible?

  What if you didn’t save heavy thoughts? What if she told Avery the truth? What if she told him today, and every day, until the day came when he understood? By then, the news would be old hat, a part of his life—just like these things Lanie was telling Emma. And maybe, under those conditions, he wouldn’t hate her or feel unwanted. But could she do it? Should she?

  Lanie went on. “Never be afraid to let me know you love her. There’s room in your big heart for your Carrie Mommy and me.”

  Was that true? Was it possible to have a new life and loves without betraying those who had loved you first? Was it that simple? Had she needlessly spurned the friendships that had been laid at her feet because she thought that would mean she hadn’t loved Carrie and Sheridan?

  “So I have two mommies,” Emma went on. “My Carrie Mommy who watches after me from heaven and you. Right here.”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “So it’s better that I didn’t grow in your tummy. Better than John Luke ’cause he doesn’t have another mommy.”

  Lanie laughed. “No, Emma, it isn’t better. And it isn’t worse. It’s not about better. It’s about what’s true.”

  Apparently, Emma lost interest then. “Can we make lollipops? Just you and me?” Emma asked.

  “No,” Lanie said. “The syrup is very hot. We’ll do it when you’re older. But we can make truffles. You can roll them in balls and then in nuts or coconut or pretty sugar. Whatever you like.”

  “When? Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. If you like.”

  Lanie and Emma continued to prattle on about truffles but something Lanie had said kept reso
nating with Arabelle.

  About what’s true.

  Arabelle stumbled to her bedroom and closed the door. About what’s true. She collapsed on the bed. Wasn’t that all Will had ever wanted? That, and to forgive her? He had really wanted that but he couldn’t. And all of a sudden she knew why: because she hadn’t been sorry.

  She let her eyes wander to her bedside table where she had placed the exquisite block Will had made for Avery and her snowflake box. She kept meaning to take the block to Avery’s room and put the jewelry box on the dresser. But who was she kidding? She was a woman of action. She’d left those things there on purpose because they were part of Will and she wanted them near her when she slept.

  She picked up the block and ran her finger over the carving of Avery’s likeness. There was something special about this that surpassed even the most celebrated of Will’s other work. All the talent, passion, and attention to detail were there but there was something more, something indefinable. She turned it in her hand and looked at the other carvings.

  Then it hit her. It wasn’t indefinable at all. Will had made this with love, love for his child. If she closed her eyes and let her mind go blank, she could feel it—though her scientific mind told her that was impossible. Wood couldn’t emit love. Or could it? Maybe it could, if it was a powerful and special love that had been placed there for safekeeping.

  With shaking hands, she put the block aside and picked up the box with the hundreds of delicate perfect snowflakes. What had he said when he had given it to her? “Once, a long time ago when we were teenagers, you told me how much you love snow.”

  And he had remembered. She raised the box to her heart and closed her eyes. Yes. The feeling was there, just as it was in the block.

  She let her mind connect to her heart and allowed herself to remember.

  The night he’d found her crying at the country club, he’d taken her to his sanctuary, where he didn’t allow strangers and negativity, though there had been nothing positive about her that night.

  “This is just the kind of room I imagined you in back when we first knew each other, back when we were kids,” he’d said that day after their wedding.

  And the day she had left, “You know I remember when you were a teenager, sitting by the pool at the country club. You were always smiling, always happy. You laughed all the time.”

  A collage of memories went through her heart and mind—the way he’d looked at her the day he’d hurt his hand, though she had rejected him over and over, the longing in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking, and the sweet tenderness in his lovemaking.

  In the end, he’d given up his dream of an idealized idea of a family, because he thought it was best for her and Avery. More than that, he was willing to walk away from the sanctuary that was his home and let them have it.

  About what’s true. The feelings swirled and combined to reveal that truth.

  Will loved her. He’d always loved her.

  And she loved him.

  She wanted to be with him and it wasn’t about Avery, or what people thought, or convenience.

  She reached for her phone, and then changed her mind. This should be done in person. She could go to the house but he’d be here soon. When he arrived, she’d take him aside and tell him of her epiphany. With any luck, she’d be back in his bed—her bed—tonight, with Avery across the hall where he belonged.

  Meanwhile, she had other unfinished business.

  She hurried down the hall just as Lanie stepped out of Emma’s room and closed the door.

  “Finally!” Lanie said. “She may not nap long but anything is a bonus. Are the boys down?”

  But Arabelle didn’t answer. She just stood before this woman who was so loving, so giving, who had taken her into her home and tried to be her friend. And in the end had been a better friend to Carrie than she, Arabelle, had been.

  “Arabelle?” Lanie gave her a worried look. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, Lanie! I have been so wrong!” And for the first time since she’d found out Avery had not been on the plane with Sheridan and David, she burst into tears.

  And Lanie held out her arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Will filled his coffee cup for the third time and headed for the chair in front of the fireplace—though in spite of the cold, he hadn’t bothered with a fire today. He hadn’t bothered with food either. As he passed through the dining room, he tried not to look at the table where he, Arabelle, and Avery had eaten their meals. Cheap piece of crap. He should get rid of it. It wasn’t like he had a use for it anymore. He’d moved the highchair into the kitchen and fed Avery there when the boy visited.

  Visited—one of the saddest words in the English language.

  He let his eyes wander to Avery’s artwork that he’d hung over the mantle. The cabinet door with the tree was flanked by the two smaller pieces—also trees, he was pretty sure. The arrangement looked good. He’d made frames for the small pieces from wood that matched the door and decorated them with matching hardware. Lucy would approve.

  Avery’s second birthday. Though she hadn’t said so, he could tell Arabelle thought he’d gone overboard with the puppet show, the face painting, and all. She was probably right. Avery would have been just as happy with some cupcakes and a new truck. He had insisted on all this hoopla because he thought it would make up for missed time—but the fact was, nothing ever would.

  Maybe it was time he stopped dwelling on what he’d missed before he cheated himself out of the present and future.

  If only he knew how; if only he could stop missing Arabelle so much.

  He wanted to bring Avery home to spend the night here tonight but he couldn’t ask that of Arabelle. It wasn’t fair. Her parents were coming and this day had to hold bad memories for her.

  Someday she’d meet someone who wasn’t a cold bastard and could offer her comfort.

  He glanced at his cell phone. Almost noon. He’d told Arabelle he’d be over early to help. Was this too early? The party was at two. By the time he got Avery’s gift loaded and drove there, it would be 12:20 or so.

  He stood up defiantly. Too early or not, it was his boy’s birthday and he was going. Avery’s gift was too big to wrap but he picked up the big roll of ribbon he’d bought and headed out to the shop.

  In spite of his heavy heart, Will smiled when he saw the wooden pedal truck he’d built. It was a replica of his own truck and it had turned out really nice. Avery would love it. He’d even installed a doll-sized car seat in the back and made a little license plate, but instead of letters, numbers, and the words Sweet Home Alabama, he’d painted a picture of Jiffy. He wasn’t sure if Avery was too little to actually pedal the truck but even if he couldn’t yet, he would love sitting in it. And Will could push him.

  He was a better carpenter than bow maker but his sorry attempt at decoration would have to do. He was reaching for some packing quilts to protect the little truck for the trip to the farmhouse when someone knocked on the door.

  No one ever came here without an invitation except Brantley. It was probably him, though Will’s desperate, pitiful heart hoped for Arabelle—no matter what she’d done.

  But when he threw open the door he could not have been more surprised if he’d found Batman riding a unicorn sidesaddle.

  • • •

  Almost one thirty. Where was Will? He’d said he’d be here early. Maybe they should have had a conversation about what early meant. Of course when they’d made that plan, she hadn’t known she’d have this epiphany and be desperate to talk to him.

  The puppeteers were set up, likewise the face painter/balloon girl. The caterer had enough hotdogs on roasting sticks to feed an entire village of hobbits, plus every condiment and side item imaginable. The cake was adorable and Sandy had not only delivered it but had refused to charge because she felt guilty about Avery getting the peanut butter cookie at the Bake Shop.

  Arabelle’s parents and Susie had been here for an hour and the bo
ok club girls and their assorted spouses and offspring were already here because they always arrived at each other’s parties early. For the first time, Arabelle did not find being included annoying.

  Her conversation with Lanie had been short but life changing. They were going to have a lifetime of conversations now. Lanie had been amazed and appalled that she hadn’t known that Arabelle and Carrie had been so close. It had been somewhat amusing to hear Lanie curse and call Luke an idiot man for not telling her.

  Now, if only Will would get here. The other kids and their parents would be arriving soon and then there would be no time to get this straightened out. She’d texted twice but he hadn’t answered.

  Maybe it was time to call. Just as she reached for her phone Lanie rushed into the room. “Arabelle, the caterers iced down the adult beverages with the juice boxes on the back porch. Is that what you intended?”

  Damn! All they needed was a bunch of drunk toddlers.

  Once that was solved, she went in the pantry and pulled out her phone. After three rings, it went to voice mail. “Will, where are you?” she demanded. She hoped he’d know the angst in her voice was from frustration, not anger. It was 1:52 now and the doorbell was ringing. Maybe it was Will. She hurried toward the door, only to be headed off by Emma.

  “Aunt Belle! Avery took off his shoes! He’s got a sock in his mouth! Yuk!”

  Yuk, indeed. After noting that it had been the Josephs at the door, Arabelle scooped up Avery, his shoes, and started up the stairs for saliva-free socks.

  “Mama!” he protested. “Want my daddy!”

  “Me too, Avery. Me too,” she said.

  And she began to worry.

  At two fifteen all the guests had arrived, the kids were settled watching the puppet show, and Susie was bossing the caterers around.

  Still no Will, and he still wasn’t answering his phone.

  She checked to be sure Avery was still happy sitting in her mother’s lap watching the show before motioning for Luke to step into the mudroom with her.

  “I’m worried about Will,” Arabelle said to her brother.

  “He’s probably just running late,” Luke said. “Have you called?”