Closer To You (Tales of the Sweet Magnolia Book 1)
Page 15
The look on his face revealed how torn he was about what to do. He nodded, but she saw the concern in his eyes.
“She’s right, son. Sit down,” his father ordered with a dead calm.
“Thank you, one and all, for opening my eyes.” She brought her gaze back to Jake’s. “I wish you a wonderful future, Sheriff Sloan.” She left, choosing not to look back to see if he followed but knew what she would have to say if he did. Thankfully, she reached the buggy and was halfway down the lane, when a swathe of light illuminated the lane. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know it was Jake, but she glanced back anyway. For a fleeting moment, she waited to hear him call her name, but he stood there, his broad shouldered silhouette filled the doorway, and she hoped that once the evening was over, he might find his way back to the Magnolia.
***
Jake clutched the door, as the carriage rattled out of sight. Torn again, his wants and needs divided, he stepped out to get some fresh air, and hopefully gain some perspective of how to remedy this issue. Jake searched the starlit desert sky, looking for an answer.
“You were wise to let her go. She’d only hold you back.” His father’s icy tone sent an unexpected shiver up Jake’s spine.
He glanced over his shoulder to where Preacher stood in the doorway. He was no longer afraid of repercussions. His father couldn’t hurt him anymore. “I’d like to be alone if you don’t mind,” Jake responded lifting his gaze back to the night sky.
“The way I see it, boy, you have two options.” His father ignored his request. That much didn’t surprise Jake. “One will get you to a place where you have worked for all of your life, a position of pride and doing some good—helping people. It’s what your mother would have wanted.”
Jake turned a jaundiced eye to his father. “You leave her out of this. You have no right to speak of what she wanted for me. You have no right to speak about her like you cared one damn bit about what she wanted, or needed.”
His father’s deep, heavy sigh—trademark of what generally preceded one of his condescending dissertations—drifted between them. “I suppose, to some degree, I deserve that. You were always closer to her than I was. She coddled you too much, I think.” Preacher walked to Jake’s side, his hands clasped behind his back, making his form look even more imposing. Which he surmised was the intent, except now, Jake was every bit his size and able to hold his own. He shook his head in disgust and started down the front steps needing to distance himself.
“Where are you going?” his father asked.
“To see if I can find a way to apologize for the small-minded folks in this town, speaking of which you are the worst,” Jake tossed over his shoulder.
“I suppose it’s only natural,” Preacher stated coolly.
Jake stopped. His foot paused on the last step, he turned back to see his father’s dark silhouette outlined in the glow of the front parlor light. “What lesson, what pearls of wisdom do you have for me this time, Preacher?” Jake’s voice dripped with the sarcasm he felt for the man. Ten minutes ago, he’d been divided between what was right and wrong, and thanks to this little father and son talk, his decision had become increasingly clear.
“You will not take that tone with me, boy. I am still your father and you will treat me with the respect I deserve,” Preacher thundered.
Jake walked slowly up the stairs, loaded for bear, just looking for the opportunity to take out years of pent-up frustration on the man. “What will you do to me, Father? Give me a sound lashing every time I don’t obey you? That’s how it is with you, isn’t it? Beating people is your specialty—whether it’s behind your pulpit or with your fist. You are the high and mighty authority in this town. People quake when you preach about fire and damnation. And inside you like that, don’t you, Preacher? You enjoy striking fear into the hearts of your parishioners because it makes you feel big and important. That’s how you treated my mother and that’s how you raised me. But I have news for you. I am nothing like you and I would give up my position in a heartbeat if it meant diffusing some twisted idea you’ve cooked up to use me as a stepping stone into the political arena.”
He saw the fire in his father’s eyes and barely saw the fist before it slammed into his jaw. The force caused him to stumble down the stairs, and he grabbed the railing to keep his legs from buckling beneath him. His ears were ringing, but he caught sight of the Preacher stomping down the steps toward him. Jake pulled his gun and aimed it at the angry man’s chest. “One more step. You’ve already given me enough to arrest you.” He cocked the hammer of his Colt, praying the older man would back down.
Preacher stared at him long and hard and then a sneer parted his lips. “If you leave now and go after her, I’ll end your career before you can reach her.”
“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jake replied keeping his focus clear.
“Then maybe you should think about her and the people at the Magnolia? What’s going to happen to them when a new sheriff is appointed? One who doesn’t share your particular view of that establishment? Be reasonable. Do you think she ever intended to stay with you?”
Jake swallowed. His father touched on the one fear that kept him awake most nights since he realized that he couldn’t stand being away from her. He raised his gun, keeping his hand steady.
“Listen to me.” Preacher put up his hands in surrender. “Could you please put that away so I may speak civilly to you?”
Jake tasted the blood in his mouth, certain his father had broken at least one tooth. It was all he could do to lower the gun and holster it.
“I know what a difficult decision this is for you.”
Without thought, he stepped forward, plowing his fist into the pious face. Preacher fell back on the steps, landing roughly on his butt. Jake backed away, his fists raised in preparation… hoping he would get up and retaliate. He’d waited a long time for this. His hand hurt like hell, but it felt damn good to see that his father’s nose was bleeding and likely broken. Explain that to your parishioners.
But there was no retaliation, no response from his father other than taking his kerchief from his pocket and dabbing his nose. “I suppose I deserved that, as well.”
Exhausted mentally and physically, Jake sat on the bottom step, joined a moment later by Preacher. “You suppose right.” He nodded. “You don’t have any idea of what I’m going through.” Jake put his head in his hands.
“The truth is, I do know, son,” Preacher began. “There’s something I need to tell you. I swore to myself and your mother agreed—God rest her soul—that we would never say anything about it.”
Was this another lie? Another method of using guilt as persuasion? “What the hell are you talking about?” Jake pushed the hair back from his face. God, he was weary and wounded and wanted nothing more than to lie in Lil’s arms and forget the world.
“I was in your place once, long ago. Young, passionate, about to begin preaching.” His father paused and dabbed his bleeding nose. “I was betrothed to your mother but wasn’t ready to settle down. I felt I was being forced into wedlock and so I found my way to the Magnolia where I met the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
Jake stared at him, unsure if the tale he was telling was true. It was not like his father to confess of any wrong doing, and that alone gave Jake reason to listen.
“She was a fine woman with an infectious laugh and an understanding heart. She seemed to have the freedom of spirit that I sought, and I admired her, maybe coveted that spirit…it….” He looked at the ground as though searching for the right words. “I lost myself to her—body and soul.” He grew quiet then spoke. “I’m not proud about it, mind you, but I tell you this so you’ll know that I understand your dilemma.”
Jake was wary of his father’s newfound sense of humility. “Go on,” he prompted sensing there was more to this story.
“I’d have given up everything for her. Quit my position as the new pastor, broken my engagement, anything she wanted. The
n she told me she was with child.”
The floor of Jake’s stomach fell. A breeze blew across the sweat that had popped out on his brow. He wanted to tell him to stop, that his relationship with Lil was nothing like the story he was hearing, but his father plodded on.
“I wanted to believe that she was happy that it was mine, but the truth was she told me that she couldn’t keep it. I asked her to marry me and she laughed in her own sweet way and said it would never work—her life was at the Magnolia. She couldn’t raise a kid and would I want a child of mine raised in such a place? The truth was no, I didn’t. So we made an agreement that when the child was born, I would take him and raise him proper. We always wanted children, your mother and I. Always thought we’d have more of our own, but your mother, it turned out wasn’t able to bear children.” Preacher turned to Jake. “Your ma did a fine job raising you, Jake. She was a good woman. But I think that every time I saw you, it reminded me of time that I’m not proud of.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age. “I brought this tonight thinking to use it as blackmail if necessary to stop you from throwing your life away on some bordello Madam who will never change her stripes. She won’t love you forever, Jake. She isn’t capable of it. Here, go ahead and read this. Maybe by morning, you’ll see that your decision is not as difficult as you think. And like me, you’ll do what’s right, what’s proper.
Jake accepted the note, turning it over in his hand. The image of a woman who once was kind to him appeared in his mind. “Her name. What was my real mother’s name?”
Preacher sighed. “Her name was Ruby, at least that’s the name she had at the
Magnolia.”
Jesus. Jake closed his eyes remembering the gentle concern of the buxom woman at the Magnolia. It made sense now why he saw her that day coming from the church. “She came to see you, didn’t she? After Ma died.”
Preacher nodded. “She told me you’d come there and that she’d tended to your wounds from my strapping.”
Jake stood, tucking the note in his pocket.
“Giving birth to a child, doesn’t make a woman a good mother, Jake,” his father offered as Jake walked away.
He needed time to think. “No more than a man’s seed makes him a good father,” Jake responded not looking back.
***
Lillian dropped the curtain. For hours she’d held it aside, peering into the dark, waiting for Jake to come riding up on his horse to gallantly take her away. She’d done the right thing in leaving on her own, but some part of her had hoped that despite the odds, she would get her happily ever after. She glanced at the floor where the beautiful green dress she’d worn still lay crumpled. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes when she pictured how he’d looked at her in it. Lil bent down and straightened out the gown, laying it carefully over the dressing screen. She’d return it to Angel tomorrow. Only Paddy was still downstairs when she’d come in and he nodded, wise not to ask about her evening as she rushed up the stairs. Nellie, had come out of her room as Lilly wrestled with her door handle, and the young woman assisted Lillian with unfastening the dress, but she’d quickly shooed her from the room before fresh tears began.
Lil was exhausted. Her mind swirled between images of her former life and now. Where did she belong? Why had she come to the past? She caught her reflection in the vanity mirror. With her hair pulled up in a soft halo around her head, she looked like a vintage postcard from the 1800’s, but her leopard bra and thong screamed that she didn’t belong there. She touched the gold shamrock at the base of her throat, more tears threatened to spill forth. She didn’t belong in Deadwater. The truth of it was so clear now. That’s why things hadn’t worked out between her and Jake. In the morning, she would have one of the girls take the necklace to town and ask for her red amulet back. Maybe she could sell it somewhere for enough money for a ticket back east. Somewhere she could start new, for however long she was to remain in this fantasy.
More tears rolled down her face, and Lil wiped them away with her robe sleeve. Carefully, she lifted the globe of the kerosene wall lamp and blew gently across its surface. She had to make the attempt twice before she could manage to control her tears well enough to blow out the flame.
Pitched into darkness, Lil fumbled her way to the bed and removed her robe. She’d worn the special leopard print underwear for him, knowing that he found it sexy, but she felt nothing close to that as she crawled sobbing under the covers. She pressed her face into the soft security of her pillow, breathing in the lingering scent of Jake’s skin. Her heart lay heavy inside her chest, wishing she could turn back time and wondering if she’d handled things differently if they would be together. Deep inside, she knew that had she conceded to their prejudice, she would have compromised her integrity. Ironically, life had brought her full circle back to the realization that regardless of what people saw on the outside, it was ultimately her own sense of self-worth that remained the most important.
As she lay on her side in the dark, Lil gazed bleary-eyed at the shadows of the curtains dancing in the pale moonlight. Exhausted from crying, weary from heartache, she drifted to sleep with the gold shamrock necklace and the scent of Jake next to her cheek.
Chapter Ten
The clatter of metal scraping metal woke Lil from a dead slumber. She sat up with a start, unable at first to catch her breath; her heart beat a rapid cadence against her chest. As her pulse began to slow, Lil blinked a few time, focusing on her surroundings. There were blinds on the window, electric lights on the walls. She frowned unsure of what fantastic dream she’d just woken from. It all seemed so real.
She noted the carved box lying beside her and picked it up, and finding it empty her hand flew instinctively to her throat. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was a shamrock that I found in the box, wasn’t it? Startled, she jumped when her three-legged cat, Wyatt, pounced up on the end of the bed. It was as though nothing had changed, that time had stopped. Deep down, Lil couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental had happened, somehow, someway…she had changed.
Her mind blurred between reality and a foggy recollection of another time and place. One where she believed that she’d found more happiness than she could imagine. Yet, somehow, she was back in her apartment. Next to her lay the book she’d brought home from the library. She picked it up and flipped through its pages, noting the several murky vintage photos of the town of Deadwater, of the mayor and his wife, and the preacher in town. Something about him seemed familiar, but then again he wore the expression of many who back then only had their picture taken on special and solemn occasions.
One picture showed a young boy, perhaps nine or ten, standing next to his mother, perhaps the boy’s first communion or a special birthday, given how they were both dressed in fine clothes. One photo inside also graced the cover of the book, Tales of the Sweet Magnolia. A group of women stood on the covered porch of the old parlor house. Between shadows and age, the faces were impossible to see clearly, but Lil felt an odd kinship to them. She searched again for the author’s name, and saw that it was compiled and edited by Rosemond Clancy, the wife of then Deadwater’s mayor. The foreword was written by the Reverend Ezekiel Sloan. Lil turned the pages finding the foreword and read.
“We are taught lessons in life in many ways, by the wonder of miracles, the solemnity of death and sometimes by regret. My son, once the sheriff of this town taught me this in the way he accepted people where they were in life. He did not demand that they must first conform to his rules, but rather the rules that apply to each of us as human beings. After he left Deadwater, a regretful occurrence for which I must live each day in knowing I was partially responsible for, I came to terms with my Maker about my life. As a result, and as what I feel is suitable recompense for my sins, I implored the members of Church Women United for Good and specifically its president, Rosemond Clancy, to record the stories of the men and women who over the years have called the Sweet Magnolia their home.
How strange that her name would be the same as Lil’s, though in truth, White is not an uncommon name. Still, Lil made note to check into her ancestry and see if there might be any family ties to the name.
The furry tri-pod feline, brushed her bare leg as though happy to see her. As though she’d been away for a long time, but that of course, was impossible— wasn’t it?
Lilly read on, seeing a note by the author Mrs. Clancy.
“Of the many tales recounted, perhaps none is sadder than the one of the disappearance of Miss Lillian White on the very night of the dinner given in honor of the sheriff. Whether she left on her own, or as was rumored, was taken by a desperate drifter who’d claimed to return for her, all efforts to find her were to no avail. An intense manhunt was led by Deadwater’s Sheriff Sloan and several volunteers, but after weeks of searching, it was concluded that she’d gone back East to seek her fortune.”