Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1)

by Ruthie Henrick

  My head began to spin. “Thank you again, Mrs. Hoffer.”

  “Elsie.”

  “Elsie.” I corrected myself as she poured coffee into matching cups. “But I imagine you must need to get home. I’m sure I can manage.” I wasn’t here for social hour; simply to check a task off my list.

  She already had the cake on a serving plate and set on the kitchen table. Steaming mugs followed. The aroma of warm spice finally overwhelmed me and I pulled out a chair. I was starving, and a sucker for home baking. And there was a good chance the coffee had me drooling.

  Accepting a healthy portion along with a fork, I let my eyes wander the counters and then the living room beyond. Everything was so clean and neat, you’d think it was the housekeeper’s regular day. Elsie hummed around the kitchen, straightening this and that. Why would she care about clutter in this house? Finished, she draped the damp kitchen towel over the sink.

  Suspicion began to dance about in my head. The unusually tidy house, her familiarity . . . “Elsie, do you clean for my daddy?”

  “Yes, sometimes I do that too.” Too? Were she and Cooter . . . ? Did they . . . ? The thought refused to gel. “Elsie, do you live here?”

  She laughed as she gathered up her purse. “Oh, good heavens no, dear. I have my own place just up the road.” Her hand flickered toward the cardboard milk carton as if to remind me she’d recently been there.

  “You seem quite comfortable here.” With Cooter? This was a riddle I needed to solve.

  Elsie paused with the outside door ajar and glanced around. “Of course, dear. It’s a nice, comfortable home.” She offered a friendly, somewhat encouraging smile, and left.

  Comfortable. Yes, it seemed to be. It hadn’t been this well-tended since before my mama left. And I wouldn’t classify it as nice, but I wouldn’t have been ashamed to live here. Pushing my plate away, I rose and ambled through the living room to where framed photographs covered every available surface.

  I poked my head in the bathroom; nothing out of place there. I stepped into Cooter’s room at the end of the hall, and noticed the backyard two-story building through the uncovered window. Cooter’s garage turned studio with an upstairs apartment. How much extra work would it be to clear that out?

  I turned my attention back to his bedroom, but there was no sign of a shopping bag anywhere. Whatever Elsie brought over, she found a home for. I closed the door behind me, backtracked to open the only remaining door and gasped as if the breath had been knocked out of me. I leaned against the door frame until my shaking knees were steady again.

  While the living room had been upgraded with leather upholstery and modern electronics, here I stood at the threshold to a time warp. The paneling I painted a pale mint green so many ages ago was still papered with oversized posters of Tim McGraw, Garth Brooks, and Johnny Depp. My twin bed was still pushed against the far wall and covered with the patchwork quilt I tucked back in before I departed, leaving only a note for my daddy to find when he returned home from work.

  Whether it was caused by the surprise transformation of my daddy’s house or by my to-the-bone weariness I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have the fortitude to remain here any longer; I was down the hallway and to the door within minutes.

  I paused before I hit the landing outside. Only a sucker would turn and look back, yet the temptation was irresistible. For once the house was clean and neat. Which should have been simple enough to accomplish, even for two people who shared it but didn’t necessarily live together. But there was something else, an impression I sensed as I stood there with the door wide open, letting out the bought air. The mama cat appeared and wound herself around my ankles, meowing for attention, and something warm and comforting settled around me. Something that had been sorely lacking in this house while I was a resident.

  It felt like a home.

  I should have guessed my morning would drag. How could it not when all I could think about was the upcoming evening? Dixie and me alone in my house . . . what could possibly go wrong?

  Oh, Christ, the list was endless.

  “Dude, you’re acting like your dog just died.”

  My buddy Blake had been sitting across from me for the past fifteen minutes, chuckling at every deep sigh and grumble I made while my lunch went uneaten. “Back off. My life would be easier if my dog just died.”

  Always the smartass, he pushed his empty tray aside and opened a binder, ready to take notes. “All right, I’m here for you. Tell Doctor Andrews all about it.”

  The cafeteria was crowded and noisy, one of the reasons I’d chosen to sit there. I didn’t want to talk about Dixie. Hell, I didn’t even want to think about Dixie right now. I had to get my act together before the entire day was a loss. “There’s no way I’m opening up like a damn girl.” I picked up my tray and dumped the trash on my way out the door. I had a granola bar in my desk that was more appetizing than today’s mystery casserole.

  Blake scrambled to keep up. “C’mon, be a pal. Somebody’s been stealing clothes off my ma’s clothesline; the most exciting thing in my life right now involves installing an electric dryer this weekend. I live through you.”

  “Blake, I like your mother, I really do. But I’m still not talking about feelings.” I strode down the corridor, pausing briefly to separate a young couple checking out each other’s tonsils—with their tongues—before moving past Blake’s classroom and into mine. Maybe he’d get the hint and detour into his own room.

  He followed me in and stacked his books on a corner of my desktop. “So, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

  So much for taking a hint. “You just can’t let it go.” He looked eager rather than ashamed, so I fished a granola bar out of my stash without offering him one and bit off the end. Maybe if I chewed slowly he’d get bored with this little game and leave. He took a seat at a front row desk and crossed his ankle over his knee. Looked like he was planning to wait me out.

  Ah hell! My chair creaked when I leaned back in it. “Shane saw Dixie today.”

  His foot hit the floor. “No shit.”

  I nodded. “Drove past her and Beth pulled over on the side of the highway.”

  “And he didn’t back up and run her over?”

  Trust Blake to drum up the resentment I’d been searching for all morning. “I passed them on my way into town, too. Then I ran into her before school.”

  His low whistle cut through the quiet room. “Tell me you invited her to turn around and leave the way she came.”

  “Not exactly.” I cringed as his eyes narrowed. “I invited her to dinner instead.”

  Blake surged to his feet. “Dude. What were you thinking?”

  Exactly what I was wondering. My shoulders lifted in a useless shrug. “I’m not sure there was a lot of thinking involved.” I leaned forward and braced my elbows on the edge of my desk. “One minute I was wondering why the Wilkey kid missed an easy question on yesterday’s quiz; the next minute, there she was—Bam!—agreeing to come to dinner.”

  Blake folded himself back into the student desk. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Because Deke, I was there to pick up the pieces the last time. Don’t want to have that fun again.”

  Blake found me the day after Dixie left, already cried out, already hungover. He missed the fun. Just drove me to the hospital so they could patch up the gash in my side; didn’t even ask where it came from.

  I pulled out two bottles of water from the little fridge in the corner of the classroom, tossed one to him, twisted the lid off mine and raised it in a toast. “I’m with you there. Cool and collected is the name of the game this time. We say hi, we eat, I usher her out the door.” I washed down the remaining granola crumbs and twisted the cap back on. “We’re not the kids we were back then. Hell, we probably don’t have anything in common anymore.”

  The bell rang and Blake rose and collected his books. “You want me and Donna to come over too? You know, for reinforcement?”

  I stuck out my fist and gave him a bump.
“Nah, dude. Cool and collected; I got this.”

  “Tell me all about it tomorrow. I want details.”

  Students filed in around us, chattering as they found their seats. “Sure. I’ll tell you all about it.” Like a damn girl.

  I left Cooter’s house and steered back along the two-lane, a thick stand of woods to my right, dappling the road with midday shade. As a young girl, the trees were a refuge, one of the special, magical places I’d go to escape. I spent entire days in my secret hideaway amid them, counting the years and then the days until I could ditch this tiny town. Now they only seemed as bedraggled and overgrown as the rundown homes and tired businesses that lined the twisting county road.

  I neared the covered wooden bridge over Hunt Creek and slowed the car to cross. I held my breath and tightened my grip on the steering wheel as the car bounced to the other side. Some things stayed the same no matter how much time passed. Take Hunt Creek Bridge, for example. The way my teeth rattled as the car clattered across, it didn’t seem anyone had wasted time or money updating the narrow structure in the years I’d been gone. But stuck here on the back side of town, it tended to get forgotten.

  It could have been the same for me, stuck out in the sticks with an absentee mama and a daddy who didn’t have the temperament for . . . anything, really, much less a teenage girl. Cooter was a presence in this town, but they could have easily forgotten me. Instead, they sheltered me, cared for me. Cared about me. Until the night I left without a hint of a good-bye.

  The little bell tinkled as I pulled open the door and entered Break an Egg. One more thing you could count on to stay the same. Small town people seemed to think they had to announce everything. Why was it anybody’s business who was new in town or who had a taste for lunch? I already missed the anonymity of the city.

  The interior was mostly the same as I remembered, pretty much how I expected it. Most small town residents were resistant to change, and Ruby embraced her role as a citizen of Moreover with more gusto than a Super Bowl beer ad.

  The vintage cash register stationed just inside the door had been a relic even back in the day. I passed it and threaded my way through the sea of widely-spaced Formica-topped tables to meet Beth in the far corner, then took the chair across from her. “So, did you solve this morning’s crime spree single-handedly, Deputy Williams?”

  Her grunt was pure frustration. “Old Mrs. Cleary claims she had a case of toilet paper stolen from her back porch.”

  “A case? That’s a lot of paper. Doesn’t she live alone?” Beth nodded and probably wondered why I remembered that detail. I did too.

  “Seems she’s stockpiling for the garden club’s entry in the Founders’ Day parade. Those biddies spend every summer huddled in secret meetings so nobody can copy their float design.” She paused when the server came by to drop off iced tea. “What do you think, Molly? Crazy Esther’s convinced Colleen’s Tuesday night book club took her box of TP to sabotage their parade entry.”

  The waitress chuckled, her wide grin displaying a slightly crooked front tooth. “I’d like to see Colleen lift anything over that belly of hers.”

  Beth snorted, then slumped back in her seat. “The sheriff wants us to start keeping a closer eye on the teenagers in town. Seems something goes missing or gets vandalized nearly every week lately.”

  “Oh, I doubt it’s the kids; we haven’t had a problem until recently. Probably some transient living in the woods nearby.” She laid a menu on the table near Beth and turned to face me. “Hi, you must be Dixie. I’m Molly.”

  My eyes flew to hers and I managed a surprised greeting as I accepted the menu she held out. It wasn’t so much that she knew my name, but that she seemed excited to meet me that nearly had me speechless.

  “Sorry to hear about your dad.”

  I regarded her closer. No smirk, no eye roll. Huh. “Thanks.”

  Molly had a pencil stuck over one ear. She pulled it out, tucked it back. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

  Beth gave her a smile. “Thanks, Molly.” But she was already gone. The place was filling up fast and keeping her on her toes. Beth slid her unopened menu to the edge of the table and lifted her gaze to meet mine. “Lunch is on me, but it’s gonna cost you.”

  I opened my menu and gave it a quick glance before I stacked it atop the other. Molly was back in an instant, took our orders and was off again. “Why do I have the feeling I’d rather pick up the tab for a couple of Caesar salads?”

  Beth was quiet for several long minutes. She was obviously working out something she wanted to discuss. With slow movements, she picked up her paper napkin and spread it across her lap.

  To give her time I took a sip of my tea, and nearly gagged. Jesus! I clamped my lips to keep from spitting out the syrupy liquid. How did they drink this? Beth pushed a glass of water toward me and grinned at what was surely a grimace on my face, then was distracted by a young couple who stopped by to say hello. Finally, she lifted her spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “The night you left . . . I swear, old Principal Turnbull,”—Beth waved vaguely toward the distance, and supposedly, toward the high school—“You remember old Mrs. T?”

  I nodded. “Who could forget? The woman was older than God’s Aunt Agnes.”

  Beth snorted. “Anyway, she finally died a couple of winters back.” She paused to align her spoon beside her plate. I took another sip of water. “I thought she’d have a coronary when you walked across the stage to receive your diploma and then kept on going.” Beth gave me a look of censure.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but what could I say? It was a little late to share my regrets after all these years. Besides, I’d apologized for years to both Beth and—

  “Anyway, I spent this morning remembering how things were back then and I just want to say . . . you don’t need to apologize to me anymore. I know you had lots of reasons for leaving and that’s selfish of me. I’m just glad you’re finally back.”

  It had always been the three of us, as inseparable as peas in the same pod. Cautious me, lying low until Coot was either lording over his minions or holed up in his studio; coltish and brilliant Deke, nose in a book as he waited impatiently to grow into himself; and kind-hearted Beth, smothering us both with attention to make up for what she lacked at home.

  Molly showed up with two plates loaded with burgers and fries. “Molly, wait!” I waved my hand. But the waitress was already gone.

  Beth just shook her head and waved it off. “Let it go. If Ruby doesn’t think we should eat a salad for lunch today, we don’t eat salad.” And apparently, she thought I needed to add a few pounds.

  I studied the plate before me. How long had it been since I splurged on red meat? It did look good. I grabbed the mustard and squirted a puddle for my fries, then dragged one through and ate it while I collected my thoughts.

  “There were plenty of things that happened before I left that helped make the decision.” I mostly blamed it on Cooter, but that wasn’t fair, or honest. Not that I ever worried what he thought. Beth and Deke were both Moreover natives, as I was. “You belonged here.” It was true. As much as the wild honeysuckle that bloomed in the summertime. “But Deke . . . he was made for better things—and he would have stayed for me.”

  “Which you thought meant you had to go.”

  I simply kept my eyes trained on hers. “I can only guess what made my mama leave, but my daddy threatened her if she ever tried to take me away from Moreover. Even when he was mean, she’d tell me to be a good girl and when I graduated I could live with her in her big, fancy house and go to college up north. She always acted like she wanted me. That was a tempting prize to dangle.”

  Beth nodded and lifted her glass for a sip. I’d always been faintly embarrassed by this town and its occupants. As a whole, they were simple, uneducated people, living a modest life. I wanted more. Over the years, Beth and I had talked, and yelled, and cried over this. It wasn’t a new subject.

  I reached for Beth’s hand across t
he table. “I am sorry. For all the worry I caused. For all the times I wasn’t here for you. I had no reason to come back. I don’t belong here.” I looked up and glanced around, but she knew I didn’t mean inside the diner. Here was Moreover.

  “Well, hell.” Her smile seemed forgiving, and the wink she added cleared my conscience. “You’re here now, and even though it’s only for Cooter’s funeral, I say we make it a girls’ week. What do you say?” She looked so hopeful, I could only smile.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Have you already checked in? Because if you haven’t, you could stay with me. You know, at my house.”

  What! “Are you kidding?”

  Beth’s eyes lit with excitement. “Of course not! It could be like a slumber party.”

  I’d never been to one before, and nearing thirty seemed an odd age to start. But Beth was practically vibrating with anticipation. Maybe this was a good way to make amends. I pretended to glower. “I’m too old to sleep on the floor.”

  For that statement, I got a look that clearly said duh and a chair wiggle that probably meant she’d launch herself at me given the slightest encouragement. “You always were a spoilsport, but fine. I’ve got an extra bedroom. We’ll eat junk food for dinner, drink too much wine, and sleep on pillow-top mattresses. We can even give each other facials.”

  It was tempting. More than tempting, actually. I hadn’t combined pizza and an estrogen-fueled late night gab session in, well, ever. My list of acquaintances in LA was endless, but the number of women who were true friends was embarrassingly short. It might be fun to play tweenager for a few days.