by Liz Talley
“Fine. Just a lot going on.”
“You going to the committee meeting this Thursday?”
“I have to. Hilda knows where I live,” she said, giving the woman in question a nod when she glanced this way. Abigail dreaded seeing Leif again. Maybe by Tuesday, she’d feel stronger. Maybe she’d be over this infatuation with him. After all, she couldn’t have really fallen in love so quickly. So, yes, what she felt was infatuation. That’s it.
“Could we step outside for a moment? I need to talk to you.”
Abigail blew out a breath. “Fine.”
She went where she always went when problems plagued her—the rose garden. Fancy had strung white Christmas lights around the perimeter, which would have been cheerful if the rosebushes had been full instead of spindly. She started walking the brick path. Cal fell into step beside her.
“Cold,” Cal said, rubbing his own arms. He was over six feet and still as broad as he had been in the days he played football. His rugged jawline made him even more masculine, yet the lines around his eyes lent him some vulnerability.
“That’s to be expected. It is the end of February. But I’m guessing you didn’t ask me out here to discuss the forecast.”
“No,” he said, frowning at her sarcasm. “I had hoped you might come to better accept me in your life.”
“You’re not in my life. You’re in Birdie’s.”
Cal made a noise in his throat and looked out at the dry creek bed at the rear of the property. “You remember the day we bought Laurel Woods?”
She didn’t know where he was going, but she would shelve the prickliness for the time being. “Of course. In April. Those daffodils had sprouted by the back door.”
“One of the happiest days of my life.”
“Really?” she said, trying to keep the bitterness at bay.
“You wore that pink dress—the one with the white flowers on it. You looked good in that dress, and I kept thinking I’d have to be careful so the men who stayed at the inn didn’t try to whisk you away from me.”
“Oh, please. I can see you brought your charm with you tonight.”
“That’s not my charm working—it’s my eyes.” He jabbed a finger at the brown eyes she used to tell him were the color of chocolate chips. “You were always beautiful. Why did I ever think what we had wasn’t enough?” He stopped and took her elbow, looking at her with a mixture of regret and hunger.
“Cal, we’ve been over this. We can’t go back. What’s done is—”
Cal’s mouth descended, capturing her protest. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him.
Abigail didn’t resist, but allowed the kiss. Maybe she needed to see if there were something there, or maybe she needed the closure, but either way, she didn’t push him away.
Cal tasted familiar. His lips were warm, not too demanding but not the least bit brotherly. She felt something stir inside her, a gentle awakening, before the realization that this embrace was wrong broke through.
Carefully she ended the kiss. She studied the man she’d once loved, the man she’d given herself to, the man who’d tossed her away.
“Abi,” he whispered, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. “We were so good together. I still want you, baby.”
Abigail caught Cal’s hand in hers, and pulled it away. She stepped back still holding his hand a moment before dropping it. “The key word in that statement is were, Cal. We’re not together anymore. I know you thought you could come home and convince me to give you another chance. But I won’t. You have to move on.”
“But what I did wasn’t about you, babe. It was me. I was screwed up.”
Abigail nodded. “I know. But I’ve learned some things about myself. I allowed what you did to me to happen because we were never equals in this relationship. I gave too much of myself. I sacrificed what I wanted to make you happy. No more.”
“Just give me another chance. I can make you happy.”
“You can’t because I don’t love you anymore, Cal.” Abigail looked him in the eye. “And you don’t really love me. If you did, you never would have left. Love isn’t selfish.”
“I’m sorry.”
Abigail twirled around, spreading her hands. The moon above cast a luminous, almost magical glow on frosted grass. “Look at this. All of this has been here for centuries. People have loved, laughed, cried and grieved on this land. We’re no different, Cal.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at her as if she’d sprouted wings.
“I mean, this is how it is. You don’t always get what you want. It’s the ebb and flow of life.”
“I don’t—”
“This time you’re not getting what you want. I’m not yours anymore. You had me and you tossed me away.”
Cal watched her as she lowered her arms and walked toward him. She took his hands, making the first move to touch him in over five years. He looked at their linked hands. “My daddy told me to let the anger go. I didn’t want to because it still hurt to see you and know you didn’t want me. But you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m over you, Cal. I’ve truly healed from the pain, and so I want to forgive you. Oh, there will be times it will be hard because I’ll always remember, but I want to let you and what we had go. Finally.”
“But—”
“No buts. We will never be in love again, but we can do as you suggested a few weeks ago—we can be grown-ups. I don’t want to be bitter anymore.”
After a few seconds of silence, he murmured, “Okay.”
“And that means you can no longer manipulate Birdie into thinking you and I have a shot.”
“I didn’t…” His protest died when she arched an eyebrow.
“Okay, I was jealous over that Leif guy and said things about him not being right for you. I didn’t help things for you. I exploited her wanting a family again.”
“You told her he was wrong for me?” Abigail asked, pissed, but also incredulous that Cal had admitted to being wrong.
“Only because I wanted to be right for you again. Look, I’ll fix this. I’ll tell her I shouldn’t have done that. But I’m not sure I can ever give up on you, Abi.”
“Abigail. And you’ll have to.”
For a minute or so they stood there, breath puffing white in the chilled air. The moon shone over them, a silent witness to the true end of Abigail and Cal.
“I’ll try. Like you. I’ll try,” he said finally before jerking his head toward the house. “Let’s go inside and warm up. I’ll drive Birdie home and talk to her. She’ll come around and adjust to all of this.”
Abigail felt relief flood her, along with something she hadn’t expected when it came to Cal. Peace. Forgiving Cal and gaining some form of closure had allowed her to…see who she’d been? Or maybe it was like having the stitches removed from a wound. The scar was there, but the acute pain no longer was.
She followed Cal inside, telling herself this was what she needed. Clean break with Leif. Closure with Cal.
She already felt stronger. And though her heart still ached over the most recent breakup, she knew she could heal. She’d done it before.
Just stiffen your lip and pretend the emotion away. Worked before. Will work this time. You don’t love Leif. It was sex. Nothing more. Say it enough and you’ll believe it.
But as she slid her coat on, Matt called, “See you Monday morning.”
“What?”
“You’re subbing for Mrs. Dyson, right?”
Shit fire. She’d forgotten that she’d promised to substitute for the pre-K teacher so she could go to a doctor’s appointment.
Which meant Abigail would be at St. George’s bright and early Monday morning…and she would see Leif…and it would not be better. Her shattered heart would still throb, pulsating pieces scattered at her feet. But on the surface, she knew how to play the part.
Chin up, don’t show the cracks.
Come Monday, she’d be heartbroken…but the world wouldn’t k
now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LEIF LEFT MAGNOLIA BEND for the weekend. He couldn’t stay because the Beauchamp wedding, small or not, was the talk of the town. He couldn’t risk bumping into Abigail or any of her family.
Leif didn’t want to see, hear, feel or think about Abigail.
He wanted to drink.
So he’d driven to Houston to visit a friend who had been doing sculpture work for several large companies in the downtown area. Daisy Reynolds was much in demand and the perfect person to buy him a drink, tell him to suck it up and get over the bourgeois concept of commitment.
Daisy didn’t believe in marriage or any other convention that said she had to follow rules…like making vows or obtaining a license or sitting in a certain place. For a woman with such a girlishly innocent name, she was fiercely defiant and always the first in line to lead protests or marches against tyrannical, narrow-minded bigots.
This meant the moment they bellied up to Daisy’s favorite bar in some high-class suburban area and Leif explained the situation between him and Abigail, Daisy didn’t hold back.
“Love? That’s total horse crap. We’ve gone over this before, but obviously you can’t comprehend that it’s impossible to be happy with just one woman. Men aren’t made that way.”
“Says the queen of one-night stands,” Leif said.
“So? I know myself, but you, my friend, are walking dangerously close to being stupid.”
“It’s stupid to want to fall in love?” He motioned to the bartender and ordered a Scotch.
“I’ll buy,” Daisy said, sliding out her credit card. “Open a tab, buddy. It’s gonna be a long night.” She looked at Leif. “And, yes, it’s stupid. For one thing, love is a concept people buy into in order to justify their actions.”
“You’re messed up.”
“I’m not the one with a broken heart, am I?”
“You have a point.” Leif took the glass filled generously with Johnnie Walker Scotch. They sat and drank, comfortably silent for a long while.
“I’ve never met a man who wants to fall in love as much as you. You’re like the antithesis of every man your age. You want to be tied down. It’s like something is broken inside you,” Daisy said when he was on his third drink, this one bought by a group of women wearing bridesmaids shirts. One had already asked him to give the bride a night she’d never forget.
Their silly antics made the concept of hating marriage that much easier for Daisy. She barely restrained herself from showing them her teeth. “How do they know you’re not with me? It’s not like I’m wearing my lesbian ID.”
“Maybe because you bought that woman at the end of the bar a drink and you keep growling at me?”
“I’m not growling. I’m lecturing.”
“One and the same,” Leif said, smiling at his old friend. Daisy might be a militant feminist lesbian, but she was his favorite militant feminist lesbian. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe something’s broken inside me,” he said, hoisting the drink toward the women and nodding his thanks. “It’s my mother’s fault. It’s always a parent’s fault, right?”
Daisy nodded. “I’m screwed up because of my dad. Yeah, it’s always someone else’s fault. That’s my MO.”
“She never told me about my dad and then she leaves me that cryptic plea while on her deathbed. I thought I was happy. I tried to make the thing with Marcie make sense, but a piece inside me was missing.”
“You definitely couldn’t fill it with that crazy bitch. Maybe you’re trying to fill it with someone and that’s the problem. You don’t need a woman. You need to find this guy who made the sperm donation, blow that town and come stay with me. Fill the hole with work…with beauty. You shouldn’t be teaching—you should be focusing on your art.”
But he didn’t want to focus on his work or move to Houston. He wanted to stay in Magnolia Bend. With Abigail. It wasn’t the same as it had been with the other women. There was something different between them, something more. It was as if they both needed each other. When he was with Abigail—hell, even when he wasn’t with her—he felt as if he’d found where he was supposed to fit.
But that was crazy.
Maybe Daisy had it right—he needed to do what he’d said he’d do, then get on with his life. He’d probably subconsciously attached himself to Abigail, glomming on to her as an additional reason to stay in Magnolia Bend, imprinting his desire to belong to a mixed-up emotional woman who was an integral part of the community. What he felt wasn’t real love, just a misplaced need to know his father.
Or something like that.
After all, he hadn’t taken psychology in college and had only a few episodes of talk shows to base that assumption on.
“I like Magnolia Bend,” he muttered.
Daisy snorted, her nose piercings catching in the light reflecting off the bar. “Why in the hell would you stay in some backwoods Louisiana town teaching snot-nosed brats when you could be here working with me? Or, hell, you could open your own studio and get a shit ton of contract labor.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I need to settle into my career more,” he said, concluding that Daisy, while fun to hang with for a weekend, didn’t understand him well enough for him to trust her advice. Daisy had already shifted her attention to the woman at the end of the bar, who was nursing the beer Daisy had bought her. The blonde wore a shirt thin enough to reveal she wore no bra. Daisy loved hot lonely women and chances were if the blonde played for Daisy’s team, he’d be heading to her apartment alone.
Two hours later, he went to Daisy’s apartment alone. He met Daisy and Felicia, the hot blonde, for breakfast the next morning before heading to Magnolia Bend.
“Forget that chick,” Daisy yelled as he reversed out of the drive. With a wave, he left, heading east, ready to focus more on finding the man who had fathered him and less on his heart.
But when he saw Abigail outside the teachers’ lounge Monday morning, trying to carry too many empty tissue boxes, his vows went out the window. Her scent crashed into him, awakening the hunger, and totally destroying the crap he’d told himself that weekend.
“Oops,” Abigail muttered, scrambling to catch the box falling from the top.
“Here,” he said, grabbing the plummeting boxes and taking another from the top of the stack. “Let me help you with these.”
Abigail straightened as the lounge door shut behind her. For a full second she froze like an animal catching the scent of a predator…or like a woman who hadn’t expected to face her whatever-he’d-been-to-her first thing in the morning.
“Uh, thanks,” she said, her gaze shifting left then right…but not falling on him. Like she couldn’t stomach looking at him.
“Sure,” he said, turning so he stood beside her. No need to act like two teenagers who had just broken up. They were both adults who had agreed to stop meeting for secret hookups. No big deal. He shoved the hunger for Abigail into its cage and allowed reason to take its place. “So where are we going with these?”
“Uh, the lower school building. Mrs. Dyson’s room. I’m subbing for the morning.” Her words sounded like an apology.
They started walking, Abigail looking about as comfortable as a missionary in a whorehouse while he pretended this was any other meeting. Just a normal day for two people who were acquaintances, nothing more.
“How was the wedding?” he asked, playing his part.
“Oh, very nice. Shelby looked pretty and John smiled a lot.”
“I would hope so.” He toed open the door leading to the walkway between the buildings, smiling at a few students standing outside. Two rushed to open the door of the adjacent building. Not snot-nosed brats. Just good kids.
“How was your weekend?” she asked, dutifully playing her role, too. Nothing to see here. We’re both just fine.
“I went to Houston to see a friend. She’s doing some work for one of the big places downtown and they were unveiling the sculpture.”
“She?” Abigail asked, tur
ning toward him before addressing the students. “Thanks, Lauren and Jordan.”
The students waved and jogged toward their friends, leaving him and Abigail alone.
“Daisy Reynolds. She’s becoming well-known in art circles. Lots of lucrative contracts so I made her buy the drinks.”
“Didn’t take you long,” she said, the hurt fuzzing the edges of her sarcasm.
“Come on, Abi. I don’t move that fast. Daisy and I go way back. I needed to get away, okay?”
“It’s none of my business,” she said, moving around a library cart left in the hallway. She’d thrown her shoulders back, assuming that same no-nonsense armor she’d had in place the first day he’d seen her in the office.
“Hey, Abi—”
“Abigail,” she said, turning stricken eyes from him. He caught the sadness within the green depths and it made him want to sweep those damn boxes from her arms, pin her against the wall and kiss the hurt away.
But he couldn’t because he’d broken things off…and they were in the middle of the pre-K wing.
“I want us to be okay,” he said.
She searched his face for a few minutes before her gaze hardened. “We don’t always get what we want. I learned that long ago.”
“So cynical.”
“It’s how it’ll have to be. You wanted space. I can now see that was a good decision. In fact, my good sense is finally in place.”
“What do you mean? You regret us?” Pain struck like a flash of lightning.
She thought they were a mistake?
No wonder she’d readily accepted his suggestion for a break. Hadn’t even tried to talk him out of it. All along she’d had regrets…wished they hadn’t started.
“I don’t know.” Abigail twisted the doorknob of the kindergarten room. “Look, I have to go. I think it would be best if we keep distance between us. We have the festival next weekend and after that it should be easier. Let’s just get through this.”
“I understand. I’ll keep my distance,” he said, nodding toward Mrs. Dyson’s room, “just as soon as I deliver these for you.”
He didn’t wait for her response. Instead he walked into the room, flipped on the lights and deposited the boxes on the nearest worktable. He wanted to get out of there before she saw the truth.