Just then Pastor Jenkins appeared from his position near the interior doors, dressed in black with a white collar. “Welcome, my dear. I’m so pleased to see so many of our fine townspeople here to share as we celebrate the life of your wonderful father.”
The rabbit hole was definitely nearby. I gripped Beth’s hand. “Um . . . thank you?”
I received a benign smile in return. He turned and led us toward the front of the chapel. “I thought you might like a few moments alone with him before the service began. Such a wonderful, caring man. He donated the money for our playground equipment, you know. And made certain the Sunday school program had all the supplies it needed. Always so generous. It will be difficult to find a benefactor to replace him.”
I would have clung to Beth, if only to prove I was still in Moreover and hadn’t been transported to Bizzaroworld, but she peeled my hand off her arm and deserted me to follow the pastor toward the casket. The open casket. One final item in an endless list of details that Olivia and I did not agree on, yet once again I ended up conceding. One day when I regained my sanity I’d ponder the reason for that. For now, I found myself inching ever closer to the raised box positioned amid an obscene array of floral arrangements.
From where I stood, however, the man lying inside appeared hale and hearty, and my hands instinctively moved to the lip of the smooth, cool wood when they started to shake. He was familiar and larger than life—which apparently, he was . . . until he died. But I didn’t remember this man at all. Mrs. Appleby had done a good job with the makeup. He appeared as though he’d only drifted off for a nap.
There were so many flowers that the air was thick with the sweet scent of their blossoms. The shuffle of people moving about the church behind me filtered through my consciousness as I stood at the front of the church peering into the casket.
It had been many years since I’d seen Cooter last and if I didn’t look too intently I could imagine him as the kind of guy who could cause a little girl to have a daddy crush. The kind of daddy who would laugh and tease and teach a young daughter to ride a bike and a teenager to drive his old truck. But I knew better, didn’t I?
I knew what kind of daddy he really was.
“Where the hell have you been, missy?” Cooter’s roar echoed through the neighborhood.
“Daddy, you’re still home!” My heart dropped, then thundered when he threw open the front door and stepped onto the landing. I stopped dead in my tracks. Deke had been walking beside me from his truck toward my darkened house and stopped at my side.
Looking back, that was probably what set Cooter off, seeing as how the shotgun came out once he noticed Deke’s jacket slung over my shoulders in the cool night air. In the light of the open doorway the squalor that was my home when Cooter was alone for more than twenty minutes was plainly visible. Dirty dishes were piled on the table beside a stack of discarded newspapers. A shirt was strewn over the back of the sofa we used to divide the cramped space into two rooms. Every reason I never invited friends to visit was now on display for the neighbors’ viewing pleasure. A glance at Deke confirmed he was still distracted by the shotgun being waved in his face.
“You want to see tomorrow, asshole? You get the hell away from my girl and off of my driveway.”
Deke pushed me behind him and raised his palms, then spoke with his voice calm “Sir, if you don’t mind putting—”
“Boy, this gun’s not just for rabbits. Now, go!”
My daddy and his legendary temper had been a source of embarrassment my entire life, but I doubted I’d ever get over the humiliation of this. Pointing a gun at my friend? I peeked out from behind Deke’s shoulder. “Daddy, put that away. Please! I was at work!” I’d only been at Ruby’s diner like always, serving the late-night customers until I was certain he was passed out for the night. I usually made the walk alone, a mile and a half home because I didn’t know how to drive. “All Deke did was give me a ride; it’s dark outside.”
“You stupid, missy? Bad things happen to girls at night. People get hurt at night!”
The air beside me stirred with a whoosh. Ruby in a cloud of Obsession and elaborate black organdy snapped me back to reality. The aging thespian may have left her acting career behind when she moved from New York City, but she brought the wardrobe with her. The plumed hat she wore was certainly vintage.
With a tilt of her head that dipped a peacock feather into my face, Ruby gazed into the casket at dead Cooter. “Look at him lying there so strong and peaceful-looking. Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”
I just stared—at Ruby, who watched Cooter as if she was waiting for him to stand up and invite her to dance. But Cooter wasn’t going anywhere.
Elsie walked up and stood between us. “Just look at ’im. Tall enough to reach the top shelf or change the light bulb in the kitchen ceiling. Strong enough to get the lid off that big jar of dill pickles.”
I angled my head and raised an eyebrow. Her voice could almost be mistaken for wistful. I took a deep breath to keep from imagining her naked. With handcuffs. It was definitely time to head west again.
But hadn’t I been thinking along just those same lines?
Daddy crush. Broad, muscular shoulders to cry on when a cute boy called me hateful, hurtful names, all while he patted my back with those big, strong hands. Features that opened up and brightened when he tugged at my pigtail and teased.
Jesus, I was truly losing it today. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw my father smile. And if he’d teased me even once since the day my mama died, well, that memory was lost, too. Nope, this was mean old Cooter packed away in the pretty box Deke and I picked out. Just to make sure, I reached in and poked his shoulder. Yep, he didn’t budge.
“Aw, now sweetie.” Ruby’s eyes were tearing up. Jesus! “Your daddy would want you to go on with your life. He wouldn’t want you to mourn him overmuch.”
That was it. The woman was delusional—or rehearsing for Broadway—but enough was enough. “Ruby.” I gave my daddy another poke. “I don’t think he needs to worry about me—or anyone—wasting time mourning over him.” Poke. No movement. So far, so good. “And I have every intention of moving on with my life.” Poke. Poke. Still as a stone. “I’ve got another six hours in this town and then I’m heading back to my life.”
I gave him one last prod, just to be certain.
“Dixie, stop that!” Elsie swatted at my hand. “Why do you keep stabbing at him that way?” She peered into the casket. “Does he have something on his suit jacket?”
“Um, no.” I peeked in to confirm there wasn’t. Nope, clean and pressed. I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling. “Not a speck on his clothes.” I gave both women a smile full of innocence before responding, “I just want to make sure he’s really dead.”
Elsie gaped. Ruby broke out in laughter. “Oh, he’d get a hoot out of that, wouldn’t he Elsie? Oh, lordy, woman, pick up your chin.” Ruby lifted it for her with a pair of thick fingers. “George had a quick sense of humor. He would have seen the fun; more likely, been the instigator.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulder as the organ music changed and the congregation claimed their seats. “Girl, you remind me more and more of your daddy as the days go by.”
Elsie took my hands and gave them a sympathetic squeeze that seemed to threaten her composure. “George was so compassionate and caring. So generous. He was always the first to offer his assistance to a body in need.” She let go of me to dig in her purse for her hanky. “He’s at peace knowing you came home to give him the send-off he deserves.” She paused to dab at her eyes. The tears rolling down her cheeks were now turning her dusting powder to a cakey mess.
I closed my eyes to keep from rolling them.
The pastor took his place at the pulpit and the two older women found seats nearby, leaving me to slide into the end of the front pew, far too close to Cooter’s open casket. Like a toddler who’s distracted by those seated around her in church, I craned my neck to get a peek at the few
poor souls with nothing better to do on a Tuesday morning than attend a service for a foul-tempered geezer.
Except he wasn’t a geezer; many men Cooter’s age were still in their prime. And according to the citizens of Moreover, he was an active member of the community. Well liked. Respected. I faced the front again as a parade of strangers all waited patiently for a turn to extol the virtues of a man I never knew. My limbs were leaden and my heart ached as though it were being twisted in someone’s fist. My eyes burned. And my lungs . . . why was it so hard to catch my breath? I craned my neck again to gauge the distance to the doors. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t stay and let everyone believe I was the grieving daughter. Who the hell was the man they were about to drop into a hole in the ground?
Just then a band of black-suited gentlemen, along with Gus in his overalls and church shoes, advanced up the aisle in a loose formation. I found myself trapped . . . in my seat, and at a funeral I had no desire to attend as they lifted my father to their shoulders and carried him outside and to the waiting hearse.
That was it. Somehow, Cooter Barnes had managed to earn the love and respect of the good people of Moreover, Tennessee, but I didn’t have to watch. As kin, I was expected to exit the building first. I did. Without looking back or sideways I flew through the doors, down the steps, and across the lawn until I was in the parking lot that covered the church’s back property. There, I halted to catch my breath and find two minutes’ peace. The chatter of guests was already close behind me.
I swatted at whatever was tickling my cheek and my palm came away damp. Rapid footsteps neared and a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind. “I’m here. I’ve got you, princess.” Deke. Instinctively, I clasped my hands around his hard forearms. My chin dropped to my chest. It would be so easy to melt into him. To let him catch me. To let him prop me up and support me while I gave in and was weak. So easy, and such a bad idea. He stole away any decision and turned me in his arms. Eyes clouded by tears, my arms found their way around his neck and clung.
My chest heaved with the effort to hold off the unwelcome sobs that wanted to wrack my body. Where had this come from, the unexpected grief? “Dammit, Olivia! She should be here, not me. I can’t do this.”
Deke’s hold tightened at my back as tears escaped faster than I could dash them away. “There’s a reason she had you come, Dixie. You’re his daughter.”
I’d driven myself to the church, but there was a limo waiting to deliver me to the cemetery. “I’m not prepared to play the anguished offspring.” The role was both foreign and uncomfortable. It had been too many years since Cooter was anything to me except a person I easily left behind. Deke loosened me by degrees, only enough to meet my gaze, and I leaned back in the circle of his arms as he searched my eyes.
“I would have sat with you inside and held your hand if you asked.” His mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “You don’t always have to act so tough.”
My entire body relaxed. I was melting. He was catching me. “I wish that was true, but it feels as if I have to wear armor whenever Cooter’s involved.” I straightened my shoulders. “And we’re expected at the gravesite soon. That ought to be a barrel of fun, don’t you think?” The procession of cars was already moving past us, the good folks who knew and respected George Barnes undoubtedly relishing in the police escort now that Frank Peterson was over the worst of his deadly virus.
I cast a glance at the town car waiting for me. The driver opened the door and stood beside it. Deke lowered his brows and narrowed his eyes. “Let me drive you. Let me . . .” After a false start, he moved his hands to my shoulders. “I don’t want you to do this alone. I want to be there for you. Please.”
My heart stuttered a warning. I took a step back and he dropped his arms from around me. I missed the security of them immediately. Such a bad sign. He indicated his truck, parked in a space close by.
“Come on. Climb in. We’ll ditch the parade and take the long way.” He cupped my elbow to lead me across the asphalt, but my feet wouldn’t obey. He halted without pressuring me to move forward, though it was the most important thing for me to do. His thumb rubbed my wrist as methodically as a metronome, as if he understood it would calm me.
“Do I really have to go? Cooter won’t miss me.” The sudden laughter in Deke’s eyes mocked me.
“You’re right; how would he know? But what about all those people you’ve come to know again over the last few days? You planning to blow them off?”
“Yes. No. Damn it!” And it would only be moments before he started asking about Olivia.
After several long minutes, I lifted my gaze to his and glared. “I made the arrangements. I went to the church. I can do the rest. I feel like a hypocrite, but nothing bad lasts forever, right?”
He only smiled. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve always got you.” I focused on the warmth of his caramel eyes and the honey in his drawl rather than the reason we were here and where we were going. His digit traced back and forth, back and forth, and my labored breathing eased. At his hand signal, I stepped over the curbing and let him lead me toward his truck.
Cooter may have let me down repeatedly over the course of my life, but I could always rely on Deke. I could count on him to stand beside me when I needed a friend, then hold me closer when I needed a lover. That knowledge wreaked havoc with my heart.
But it would get me through today.
“So, earlier.” I waved my finger in the vicinity of her face to indicate her earlier tears. “Not a reaction I recall while discussing Coot.”
She glanced at me, her eyes cloudy. “We’re all born alone, right?”
An interesting lead-off. I looked her way, then back through the windshield as I steered around a curve. “Sure.”
“And we die alone.”
“Alone. Technically speaking.”
“And if we live a miserable, lonely existence between those two days it’s nobody’s problem but our own, right?”
I began to see the light. “Cooter hasn’t been your problem for a long time, princess.”
She straightened her shoulders, her posture rigid in the contour seat. “He needed me to leave so he could change his life. Now everywhere I turn, I find a friend of George’s. Nobody even calls him Cooter anymore.”
Her dad had changed his life after she left. Improved it. Wasn’t the obnoxious asshole she grew up with. That would be a lot to adjust to in a few short days. “Did he ever try to contact you after you left?”
Her lips slammed together and she turned to stare out the window again; her long hair hid her face.
“Not much to see out there but corn stalks, princess. Look over here at me.”
Her eyes slid shut and she huffed out a sigh, but she turned and drew a knee up into the seat.
“Did he try to call? Or write to you? Ever?”
Her eyes slid away before she gave me my answer, and she dug around in the glove box, but her single, silent nod confirmed my suspicion. “Maybe he was sorry for the way he treated you. Maybe he was looking for a way to get you back here so he could show you himself.”
She snorted. Or maybe it was a sniffle. With the light fading and the switchback up ahead, it was safer to keep my eyes on the road than check.
“Son of a bitch!” I thrust my arm up to use as a shield when a handful of Corn Nuts peppered the windshield and then bounced back at me.
“Jesus, Dixie—”
“Son of a bitch!” Her voice rose until she was shouting as she pelted the interior of my truck. “Son. Of. A. Bitch!” At last she ran out of ammunition, thank God, but her eyes still raged. Apparently, she was still making him her problem.
She slumped into the seat. “Why do I even care? That man did nothing except tear me down.” Facing forward, she brushed crumbs from her lap. “Maybe I needed to move on with my life, too. Maybe I needed to leave to do that. He just made it easier.”
Pieces of the Dixie puzzle were falling into place. I reached across the console and pa
tted her shoulder—a chickenshit move. “You’re not like him, you know.”
She turned her widened eyes on me. “Are you kidding? We’re exactly alike. I’m alone. I don’t have anybody. If I were to die today who would care if I only had a plain pine box?”
“Are you kidding me? You have lots of people, Dixie. You have your aunt—” That time she did snort. “You have all your friends on the coast, your clients, the people you work with. You even have people here.” I sucked up my courage, reached across and took her hand. The jolt up my arm had me regretting my daring. I gave her fingers a squeeze and put my hand back on the wheel. “Cooter was lucky to have you this week. No matter what happened in the past.”
She stilled, and the desperate longing I witnessed in her expression had me yanking the truck to the shoulder in a shower of dust and gravel. The sudden move drew her attention and she reached for the grab handle. When the vehicle had stopped, she lifted her wrist to check her watch. “Deke, if you need to pee, you’ll have to wait. The service is scheduled to begin any minute.”
I took a moment and a slow breath before I responded. This was my Dixie huddled in the seat beside me staring out the windshield. My princess, and she owned my heart. But before I was free to offer it to her, she had to know her own heart. “Dixie, why did you come back to Moreover?”
Her eyes narrowed into an impatient glare. “Dammit, Deke. Now is not the time—”
“Just answer the question!” Her head snapped my way.
“I already told you. Olivia—”
“Fuck Olivia. I know you. She may have insisted you come; you may have let her believe you were only letting her have her way. For argument’s sake, let’s both agree I know better. Now . . . Why did you come back to Moreover?”
The sadness I witnessed earlier was back. She slumped down in the seat, her eyes clouded. “My dad loved my mom so much. . . he was always laughing and teasing her. He used to tease me too, and play with me. He took me for treasure hunts in the woods.” She lifted her tear-filled eyes to me. “I have happy memories of him. I have happy memories of living in that little house, of living in this town.”
Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1) Page 17