Honeysuckle Summer

by Sherryl Woods

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but if you take every case to heart like this, you’ll burn out before you turn thirty, which as I recall is only a few months from now.”

  “I’m just riding around a neighborhood,” he told her. “I don’t think we need to worry about my mental health just yet. Call me if you need me.”

  “Will do,” she said. “By the way, Sarah Price has been singing your praises on the air this morning. I imagine you’re a real hero around town by now.”

  Carter wondered how she’d feel about him if he decided he had to take some kind of action against her babysitter, but he left that unsaid.

  A few minutes later, he was cruising past the little bungalow looking for any sign that something might be amiss this morning. He heard kids squealing with glee in the backyard and caught a glimpse of Tommy and his younger sister—Libby, as he recalled—swinging on a swing set, being pushed by someone unfamiliar. Not much more than a teenager, from the looks of it, but still it had to be an improvement over the alternative. For an instant, relief washed over him. Maybe Sarah Price had fired the irresponsible woman and hired someone new already. If so, his worries were over.

  Just as that thought crossed his mind, though, the back door swung open and the other woman called out, “Breakfast’s ready.” She turned her head, spotted him, and Carter swore he saw the blood drain out of her face. The screen door immediately slammed shut.

  He waited until the kids and the other woman went inside before driving off. He was more confused than ever now. The woman from the day before was still there, but what was her role beyond dressing up the scenery?

  Once again, she’d been wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse that he’d bet his entire month’s salary had cost a fortune. Thanks to Carrie and Mandy, who were obsessed with designer fashion, he recognized pricey clothes when he saw them. He’d spent too many hours listening to tearful pleas from his sisters for the latest jeans or fancy shoes. They didn’t seem to understand just how tight money was since their parents had died with little savings and only a minimum amount of life insurance. Added together, it had been barely enough to cover funeral expenses. He refused to touch the money they’d put aside for the girls’ college education. Instead, he tried to add a little to it each month, which further eroded the amount he had for basic expenses.

  Nor did Carrie or Mandy seem to care that he was woefully inept at the whole parenting role that had been thrust upon him at the age of twenty-seven. They rarely cut him a break of any kind, but that was another issue.

  Thinking about the boatload of responsibility that he’d struggled with for the past couple of years made him even more annoyed at how the babysitter had just let Tommy take off yesterday afternoon. If someone was going to take on the job of looking after someone else’s kids, then by gosh, they ought to be focused on it and not sitting around in the kitchen reading fashion magazines, or whatever, while the kids ran wild and put themselves in danger. He’d turned his life upside down to take care of Carrie and Mandy, hadn’t he?

  He still had half a mind to park the cruiser, barge inside and warn her that if her friend hadn’t been so nice, a child-negligence charge could have been brought against her. Maybe that would get her attention so she’d take the job seriously. Then, again, maybe watching the kids wasn’t her job. Maybe she was some flighty relative who was visiting temporarily. He realized he needed more evidence—scratch that, more information—before he put his job on the line by stirring up a ruckus.

  He decided to give the matter some more thought over an early lunch at Wharton’s, which made the only decent burger in town, and at a price he could afford on his paltry deputy’s salary. Most days, he made himself peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches, same as he did for the girls.

  Half a dozen locals greeted him as he slid into the red vinyl booth. Mayor Lewis, whom he’d met making the rounds of local officials after taking the job, stopped by the table before he could even place his order.

  “Heard what happened with Sarah’s boy yesterday. Glad it turned out okay,” the mayor said. “Nice work.”

  “I got lucky. I spotted Tommy on the second street I canvassed,” Carter told him. He hesitated, then asked, “Mind telling me what you know about the woman who was supposed to be watching him?”

  The mayor blinked in apparent confusion, then nodded. “Oh, right. The babysitter’s just out of high school and working for Sarah until she goes off to college. Laurie Jenkins. She’s a good girl.”

  Carter shook his head. That must have been the woman he’d seen in the backyard this morning. “This was someone older, mid-twenties, I’d say, about the same age as Sarah.”

  Howard’s expression brightened. “Ah, you must mean Raylene.”

  “We didn’t meet, but I suppose that’s who it was. Tall, too thin, dark hair. Looks like she belongs in a fashion magazine.”

  “That’s Raylene, all right,” the mayor confirmed. “She and Sarah Price go way back. She’s tight with Annie Townsend, too. Have you met her? She’s married to Ty Townsend, a local boy who pitches for the Braves.”

  This wasn’t the first time Carter had noticed how much the mayor liked to talk once he got wound up. Usually the meandering chitchat got on his last nerve, but this time he found the topic fascinating. He waited for more, and Howard didn’t disappoint him.

  “Those three girls—Raylene, Annie and Sarah, that is—were best friends from about the time they could walk,” the mayor continued. “Never saw one without the other. Raylene was living over in Charleston for a while. Married a highfalutin doctor, as I recall. Then there was trouble of some kind and she came back here. She’s been stayin’ with Sarah ever since. Doesn’t get out much from what I hear.”

  “Is she actually living with them, then?” Carter asked, wondering why a woman who could afford that expensive wardrobe would be living in a little bungalow with a family that wasn’t her own. Maybe it had something to do with that trouble she’d been running from.

  “Far as I know, she’s there permanently.” Howard Lewis regarded him with curiosity. “Haven’t seen much of her, but she used to be a pretty little thing. You interested?”

  “Not a chance,” Carter said fiercely. “The only thing I care about is making sure she doesn’t let those kids go roaming around on their own again. Next time, things could turn out a whole lot worse.”

  Howard frowned at his somber tone. “You feel that strongly about it, maybe you should have a talk with Travis. He’s about to become their stepdad, and he just now walked in the door.” He beckoned the man in question over to the booth. “You two musta met yesterday. Travis McDonald, Carter Rollins.” He stepped aside and gestured for Travis to sit. “I’ll leave you both to your meals.”

  Presented with the opportunity, Carter laid out his concerns for the man seated opposite him. As he talked, though, Travis’s expression turned increasingly indignant.

  “Nobody loves those kids or is more protective of them than Raylene,” he told Carter. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “She didn’t do much to keep Tommy safe yesterday afternoon, now, did she?” Carter said. “I didn’t see her combing the streets to find him. No, indeed, she stood right there on the front steps and waited for everyone else to get the job done.”

  Travis leveled a hard look at him that gave him pause. “I thought folks in police work were supposed to wait till the evidence was in before jumping to conclusions.”

  “I saw all the evidence I needed to see,” Carter insisted, refusing to back down. “It was plain as day what happened. She didn’t take her responsibility seriously, and Tommy wandered off and could have gotten himself run over or kidnapped or who knows what. I’d think you’d be as concerned about that as I am.”

  Despite the dire picture Carter painted, Travis didn’t back down. “Did you notice that even after Tommy came home, Raylene never left that front stoop?”

  “Probably too guilt-ridden,” Carter assess
ed, dismissing the odd behavior that, frankly, hadn’t struck him at the time as anything other than a complete lack of caring. “Or scared I was going to arrest her on the spot.”

  “No, it’s because she couldn’t,” Travis said, heat in his voice. “She has something called agoraphobia, at least that’s what Sarah and Annie think. Hasn’t left the house but once or twice since she moved in and that was well over a year ago, after she arrived here all battered and bruised from her abusive husband. Just think about that for a minute, why don’t you?”

  He leaned in closer to hammer his point home without raising his voice. “That front stoop is as far as Raylene can make herself go without having a full-blown panic attack. When she phoned me yesterday, right after calling the sheriff’s office, she’d made it to the sidewalk and was beside herself that she couldn’t take another step. In fact, she was so guilt-ridden, she wanted to move out so the kids would never be at risk again.”

  “Maybe she should,” Carter said, though he was beginning to see another side to the story, one he wasn’t quite ready to believe.

  Travis’s scowl deepened. “Not happening,” he said emphatically. “For the record, she’s not the babysitter. In fact, she’s the one who insisted we hire someone else to look after the kids because of her panic attacks. She was only alone with them yesterday because Laurie ran to the store for a few minutes.”

  Carter had heard of that kind of phobia, but he’d never run across anyone who suffered from it. Agoraphobia had always struck him as some sort of psycho-babble explanation people used as an excuse to avoid things they didn’t want to do. Given how seriously Travis seemed to be taking it in Raylene’s case, maybe he’d been wrong.

  Still regarding Travis with skepticism, he said, “Honest to God? You’re sure she’s got a real problem?”

  Travis nodded, then slid out of the booth, leaving his menu untouched. Apparently he’d lost his appetite.

  “Next time you might want to do a little more investigating before making judgments,” Travis suggested mildly. “People in this town don’t take kindly to newcomers talking trash about one of our own. If you’re going to do any good in this community, you’d do well to remember that.”

  He walked away and left Carter feeling like a jerk. Okay, maybe he’d been well intentioned, but he sure as hell hadn’t been fully informed, just the way Travis said. It was a good lesson for him. To his surprise, he realized that even though he hadn’t made a single accusation to Raylene’s face, he felt as if he owed her an apology.

  And one of these days, when he’d managed to swallow his pride, he’d have to deliver it in person.

  Walter dropped by Sarah’s house on his lunch hour. He’d seen the guilt in Raylene’s eyes the day before, and it had gotten to him. He might not be the most sensitive guy on the face of the earth, but somehow he felt connected to her. They’d both been down some bumpy roads and were still struggling to find their way.

  During all the time his relationship with Sarah and his kids had been on shaky ground, Raylene had bridged the gap. She’d talked to him in her frank, un-censored way and made him see his own flaws. If things were better now between him and his ex-wife, it was at least in part due to Raylene. He didn’t want to see her worrying herself sick over what had happened, and he knew, without a doubt, that she would be.

  “Did you stop by to make sure the kids are safe?” she asked when he walked into the kitchen.

  Walter frowned at her. “Never any question about that, and you know it. Now stop beating yourself up over what happened.”

  She regarded him with surprise. “Sarah told me you weren’t mad at me, but I didn’t entirely believe her.”

  “Didn’t I tell you the same thing when I was here last night?”

  “I thought maybe you’d have second thoughts once you’d had time to reflect about what happened.”

  “Well, I didn’t, which is exactly why I’m here again today. I wanted to be sure you knew I don’t blame you.” He grinned at her. “And since I’m giving up my lunch break to come over here, how about fixing me one of those fancy salads of yours? I’m gaining too much weight living on burgers from Wharton’s and pizza from Rosalina’s.”

  “Isn’t it way past time for you to find your own place and fix your own lunches?” Raylene said, though she immediately pulled lettuce, tomatoes and other ingredients from the refrigerator. “Now that you know it’s going to work out selling ads for the radio station, it’s time, Walter. The kids need a real bedroom so they can spend the night with you. Nice as it is, the inn’s no place for them for more than an hour or two.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to the inn. They’ve given me a decent monthly rate, and there’s no housekeeping or upkeep.”

  Raylene shook her head. “You are downright pitiful. You spent way too many years being waited on, didn’t you?”

  He grinned unrepentantly. “Probably. The truth is, though, that I haven’t had ten minutes to string together to go house hunting, much less enough money put aside for a down payment,” he said. “The house in Alabama still hasn’t sold because the real estate market over there sucks. It’s a mill town and people are losing their jobs. Their homes are going into foreclosure. The market’s glutted, but I did finally get a solid lead on a buyer last week.”

  “Well, then, it’s time to start looking here,” Raylene said optimistically.

  “Not until the deal’s closed,” Walter insisted. “Too many things could go wrong. I can’t just rely on what I’m making at the station. The pay’s not that great. Travis is working on getting approval for a stronger signal for the station. If that comes through, then I’m going to be on the road even more driving to all the new towns our signal will reach. It’ll mean more money, though.”

  “You’re just full of excuses, aren’t you?” Raylene commented. “Think about this. Being on the road more is all the more reason to find a comfortable home to come back to.” She set a bowl in front of him, then handed him a light dressing. Her expression dared him to ask for his preferred blue cheese.

  Walter took the vinaigrette with a sigh. “You can be such a nag. Worse, you don’t even have to say a word.”

  “You’re the one who was complaining about gaining weight,” she reminded him. “Now, about the house. Why don’t you call Rory Sue Lewis. She’s working with her mother now. Tell her what you want and let her do all the legwork. Then give her an hour and see what she’s come up with. I’ll bet she can help you figure out financing, too. At the least she can make the sale contingent on selling the house in Alabama, so you won’t have that worry hanging over you. You won’t be on the hook unless the money’s there.”

  “You honestly think it will be that easy?” he asked skeptically. “Rory Sue’s new at the real estate business from what I hear. Her mama’s the expert.”

  Raylene got a wicked gleam in her eye. “But Rory Sue’s an expert at figuring out what men want. I’ll put money on her finding a way to satisfy you.”

  Walter paused, his fork in midair, and studied Raylene’s suddenly innocent expression. “Are you matchmaking?” he asked warily.

  “What if I am? You’re a free man.”

  “With no spare time,” he corrected. “Between work and the kids, I have no time. I just told you that.”

  “Every man will make time for women and sex,” she countered. “It’s a law of nature.”

  “And women?” he queried, tossing the ball right back into her court. “You’ve been shut away in here for the better part of a year. How’s your love life?”

  Rather than taking offense, as he’d half expected, she merely laughed. “Hey, I’m willing. The men just have to find me.”

  Walter regarded her soberly. Despite her laughter, he found the response unbearably sad. “That’s no way to live, Raylene, and you know it.”

  She sobered at once. “Not the first time you’ve mentioned that. Just so you know, I called Dr. McDaniels this morning. She’s coming here tomorrow. I guess we’
ll finally get to the bottom of my problem.”

  “About time,” Walter said, relieved for her.

  She regarded him wearily. “That’s what all of you think,” she said. “But no one seems to be thinking about what happens if there’s no way to fix me.”

  Walter heard the genuine fear behind her lightly spoken words and reached for her hand. “Then you’ll handle that,” he said confidently. “But I believe you’re strong enough to deal with anything, Raylene. I mean that. You just may be the strongest woman I know.”

  Uncomfortable with the unexpected, if heartfelt, emotion, he stood up and backed away. “Now I’ve got to get back to work before Travis finds out I’m over here instead of selling airtime. You need anything after you see the doctor tomorrow, you call me, you hear? I may be a poor substitute for a Sweet Magnolia, but I am your friend, and I’ve got a broad shoulder you can lean on.”

  Raylene’s eyes filled with tears. “Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”

  As Walter got in his car, he thought about what had just happened. If anyone had ever told him he could have deep feelings for a woman without wanting to get her into bed, he’d have sworn they were nuts. That was the way it was between him and Raylene, though. They were friends, the kind who backed each other up, and he’d meant what he said. If she needed him, he would be here.

  Of course, knowing Raylene, it would be a cold day in hell before she ever admitted needing anyone.

  3

  Raylene wasn’t entirely shocked when she saw Helen Decatur coming up the walk after dinner on the night after Tommy’s adventure. She’d half expected the attorney to stop by and warn her about possible charges that could be filed against her if she wasn’t more careful in the future.

  When she opened the door, though, Helen merely held out a bottle of tequila, a bag of limes and a can of frozen limeade.

  “Time for a margarita night,” Helen declared.