by L. M. Pruitt
I nodded, settling Conway in my lap while Abraham did the same with Dolly. For the next thirty minutes, I met each and every sneaked look in our direction with a hard glare, not one of them making eye contact for longer than a few seconds. When the sermon ended and Pastor Neal dismissed us all with a prayer, I stood, propping Conway on my hip and turning to Abraham. “So what are—.”
He cut off the rest of my question about lunch with a quick, hard kiss which still managed to nearly rock me on my toes. Drawing back, he murmured, “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you told everybody to go fuck themselves. Politely, of course.”
“You probably shouldn’t curse in church. God is listening. Or kiss me like that, since God is probably also watching.” I glanced over my shoulder, not surprised to find Tammy scowling. “And even if He or She isn’t, that one over there is.”
“Like I told you last night, people might as well get used to the sight of me kissing you.” He did it again, longer this time, only pulling away when Dolly and Conway started giggling. “I plan to do it any time I can, Jeannie Jackson.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home, check on Kitty? Maybe start getting ready for school tomorrow?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed when Tammy rolled her eyes. “Let me guess—you’ve been ready since... Friday night? Wait—Thursday.”
“No.” She snorted and rolled her eyes again. “That would be stupid considering we moved yesterday.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, doing a sort of wiggle in her seat. “But I did it last night before I went to bed. And Kitty is fine. I texted her while you were sucking up Pastor Neal.”
“I was not sucking up to the pastor.” I turned around, flicking a glance at Abraham out of the corner of my eye, pretending to frown at his smirk. “I was sucking up to his wife. Everybody knows if you’re going to have anybody on your side in a small town, the first choice is the pastor’s wife. Second choice is the local law enforcement.”
“And since your aunt already has Sheriff Pete wrapped around her little finger, it only stands to reason she would get started on Mrs. Neal.” Abraham pulled the car over to the shoulder, shifting it in to park and turning until he was able to look at all three kids lined up in the backseat. “Here’s the thing, kids. I have to go eat lunch with my parents and your aunt has said she’ll go with me.”
“Okay.” Dolly shrugged her shoulders. “So we’ll go, too.” She beamed at him. “We like you.” She nudged her brother, who nodded. “We like spending time with you.”
“And I like spending time with you, too.” Some of the tension in his face melted away, his lips curving in a soft smile which set butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Which is the problem. See, my parents... they’re not nice. So even though I like spending time with you and would love to hang out with you this afternoon, I don’t necessarily want you to have to deal with my parents.”
Dolly cocked her head. “Are they like Harold?”
Abraham and I must have looked confused because Tammy said, “What she’s asking is if one of them is going to call Conway a little sissy boy or call her stupid or call me fat or—.”
“I think we get the point.” And even though it was probably a little sacrilegious, I couldn’t quite help sending up a quick prayer of thanks that my sister had shot her bastard of a husband. Clearing my throat, I shook my head and said, “No, they’re not, because I won’t let them.”
“And neither will I.” Abraham reached over and squeezed my knee. “And if they won’t stop being rude, we’ll leave.”
Dolly looked at Conway and then Tammy before turning back to Abraham and nodding. “Okay. We’re going.”
“Okay.” Abraham faced forward, shifting the car in to drive and pulling back on to the road, keeping his hand on my knee. “If we don’t make it to dessert—which is usually the best part of the meal, if I’m being honest—then we’ll go to the grocery store and get all the ice cream we want.”
“Awesome.” Conway pronounced the word slowly and when I glanced in the rearview mirror I saw he was smiling from ear to ear. “Ice cream is awesome.”
“Well, I found the path to Conway’s heart.” Abraham gave my knee a squeeze and I shifted my gaze to him. “Want to give me a clue on how to do the same with you?”
THE HANSOM HOUSE was set back a good mile from the main road, the graded but unpaved drive lined with old oaks on both sides, creating a canopy from the early afternoon sun. I’d never seen the house itself—after all, that would have required an invitation, which would have taken an act of God in high school—but I’d heard rumors about its grandeur. When the drive ended in a rolling expanse of brilliant green lawn leading up to a two story house with columns, a wrap-around porch, and a terrace, I realized the rumors hadn’t been exaggerated. Flicking a look at Abraham, I said, “You might have warned me I was underdressed.”
“You could be wearing couture and be underdressed as far as my parents are concerned.” Abraham parked directly in front of the steps leading up to the porch, shifting the car in to park and killing the engine. Unfastening his seatbelt, he rolled his shoulders and rubbed one thumb over his eyebrow piercing. “That’s not a dig at you, it’s just who they are.”
“Then why do I think you’re about to take out most of your piercings?” I reached over, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away, pressing it on the seat between us. “If it doesn’t matter, if they’re going to be assholes no matter what you do, why bother catering to them? It just makes you sad and gives them more power than they deserve.”
He stared at me for a long moment before leaning over and kissing the tip of my nose. “Okay, Jeannie Jackson. Lord knows why I listen to you when I’m sure it’s only going to get us in trouble but okay.”
“How old do you have to be before you can kiss boys?” Dolly’s question, interspersed with Conway’s giggles, drew my gaze to the backseat, where she was watching with avid interest while Tammy was pretending she wasn’t. “Because you do it all the time so it must be fun.”
“And that’s a discussion we’ll have at some other time.” Pasting a smile on my face, I reached for the door handle and said, “Let’s get this show on the road so we can go home and relax, hmm?”
We were still in the process of climbing out of the car when the front door opened and a tall, thin woman who looked as if she should be pinching cheeks and rapping knuckles with a ruler stepped out, her long black dress falling nearly to her ankles, her snowy white apron plain and frill-less, her thin, bony hands clasped at her waist. She stared at each of us in turn, ending with Abraham. “Mister Abraham. You neglected to mention you would be bringing guests.”
“No, I didn’t, Nora.” Abraham wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against him, his fingers flexing once before lying flat. “I told you there would be an additional four to five people for lunch. If you chose not to believe me, that’s up to you.”
Even with the distance, her sniff was indignant and audible. Lifting her chin, she said, “I’m afraid there isn’t anything appropriate for... children.”
“Oh, they’re pretty flexible when it comes to food. Aren’t you, kids?” I took Conway’s hand, squeezing when he pressed himself against my leg, half hiding behind me. Next to him, Dolly had her hands planted on her hips, meeting the older woman’s glare with one of her own. Tammy’s face was blank, which was more than a little troubling. The last time my oldest niece had looked that calm was the moment before she laid in to Sheriff Pete and while I had a feeling I would enjoy watching her rip Abraham’s parents a new one, something told me it wouldn’t help Abraham one little bit. “No picky eaters here.”
A lie, but I was relatively certain God would forgive me.
Nora sniffed again before opening the door wide, stepping to one side. “Your parents are waiting in the drawing room, Mr. Abraham.” She slid her gaze over the kids, her upper lip curling in a sneer. “I’m afraid children aren’t all
owed in there.”
“And I’m afraid I don’t give a damn.” I meet her sneer with a smile, pushing Dolly ahead of me as I knelt and scooped up Conway, settling him on my hip. “They go where I go unless there’s a legal reason why they can’t and last time I checked backwards social mores didn’t qualify as a legal reason.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Hansom—.”
“Will be just fine.” I paused in front of her, holding her gaze, willing her to blink first. When she finally did, I nodded and said, “I trust we understand each other now.”
“Of course... miss.” If I wasn’t already fighting an uphill battle I would have taken issue over the slight hesitation before her address but as far as insults went it was far from the worst I’d ever had. She gestured to one of the arched openings and said, “Appetizers are available in the parlor. Lunch will be served in ten minutes.”
I waited until she floated down the hall, looking like an extra in a period horror movie, before turning to Abraham. “She’s real charming. I can see why your parents have her on door duty.”
“Nora has been here since I was about Conway’s age. She supervises the staff, helps my mother with my father, basically keeps the household in order.” Abraham stroked his hand down my back, although I had a feeling it was more to comfort him than me. He took a deep breath, holding it for long seconds before exhaling, glancing at me. “Ready?”
“Oh, always.” I hooked my arm through his, nudging him toward the parlor. “And even if I wasn’t, I’m hungry, which trumps almost everything else.”
He barked out a laugh and steered me in to the room, squaring his shoulders and stiffening his spine. “That’s my girl.”
“Well, bring her over here and let me get a look at her.” The booming voice was an odd contrast to the frail, haggard man occupying the wheelchair positioned next to the window, more suited to a strapping, barrel chested figure who could chop firewood for hours. His hair was steel gray but thick and lush, another contrast when compared to his heavily lined face. The only resemblance I saw between Marcus Hansom and his son was the eyes—not the shape, but the color, rich and dark and chocolatey brown. “So you’re the Jackson girl. Left town to go cavorting around the country and came back because your sister killed her husband and herself.”
“That’d be me.” Stepping away from Abraham, I crossed the room, adjusting my grip on Conway before offering Mr. Hansom my free hand. “I also bought the Fisher place and fixed it up.”
“I heard.” He cleared his throat, turning his head and spitting a wad of mucus in to an actual brass spittoon, ignoring my outstretched hand. “Heard you put all sorts of bells and whistles in it. Modernized it.”
“Again, that’d be me, all about being modern and up with the times.” I took a step forward, practically jamming my hand in his face. The only way to deal with men like Marcus Hansom was to force them to respect you, even if it killed them. “Might as well go ahead and shake my hand, Mr. Hansom, before it gets more awkward than it already is.”
He grabbed my hand, squeezing until my knuckles cracked in protest and Abraham moved forward, his features darkening. When I simply stared at him, he released me, dropping his hand to his lap. “Most men would have been on the floor screaming and crying for their mothers.”
“I’m a woman, Mr. Hansom. We tend to be made of sterner stuff.” Although my hand was aching, I switched Conway to my other hip, bouncing him once to settle him. “This is my nephew, Conway.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Hansom narrowed his eyes, staring at Conway, who stared right back. “He’s wearing a dress.”
I nodded. “Yes, he is.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to and it’s not hurting anybody.” I smiled and cocked my head. “At least last time I checked, it wasn’t. That’d be an awful powerful dress if it could do that.”
“Humph.” He shifted his gaze to Dolly, still standing with her hands on her hips. His lips twitched in what might have been amusement before firming in to a thin line. “This one looks like she’s been rolling around on the floor. Children should be presentable if they’re going to eat with adults.”
“She’s an active eight year old. If she looked presentable all the time, I’d think there was something wrong with her.” I gestured Dolly over to me, nodding at Mr. Hansom. “Say ‘hello’ to Abraham’s father.”
“Hello.” She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes, the look on their faces uncannily similar. “You look mean.”
Even as Tammy sighed, Mr. Hansom said, “More than one person has called me ‘mean’.”
“Well, maybe if you were nice people wouldn’t call you names.” Dolly crossed her arms, continuing to glower at him. “Abraham is nice. He brought us pizza and took us to Savannah and makes Aunt Jeannie laugh. You should be like Abraham.”
“Dolly, that’s enough.” Not because I had a problem with her mouthing off to Marcus Hansom but because I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the realization that the kids were quickly growing as attached to Abraham as I was. “Tammy, come meet Mr. Hansom.”
“I’d rather not.” Her voice was polite and cool and detached but when I glanced over my shoulder at her, I noticed her hands were curled in to fists at her sides and her jaw was tight. “Mama always said if you didn’t think you could be polite to an elder, you shouldn’t say anything to them at all.”
“And you don’t think you can be polite to me, girl?” Mr. Hansom laughed before turning his head and depositing another wad of spit in the spittoon. “You wouldn’t be the first although you’re the first to say it to my face.”
“Father.” Abraham sounded as if he had something stuck in this throat and when I glanced at him again, I saw that, much like Tammy, his jaw was tight and his fists were clenched. “What are you having to drink this afternoon? Whiskey? Bourbon?”
“Your mother said I’m only allowed tea this afternoon since we have... guests.” Mr. Hansom gave another half-smile, half grimace. “I suppose it’s for the best. Something tells me the church mouse standing next to you doesn’t approve of drinking, even if it’s in a man’s own house.”
“Not at all.” Tammy returned his grimace/smile, unballing her fists and clasping her hands at her waist. “I don’t approve of people getting drunk and being horrible to other people just because they think they can.” She lifted one brow and I realized, with no small degree of shock, she’d picked up the expression from me because Lord knew Loretta had never been able to do it. “You wouldn’t be that kind of drunk, would you, Mr. Hansom?”
Before he could answer, a wisp of a woman, even thinner than Mr. Hansom, glided in to the room, her hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup tasteful and discreet, and her dress so starched I wouldn’t have been surprised if it stood on its own. Crossing over to Mr. Hansom, she rested her hand on his shoulder and said, “Hello. I’m Mrs. Hansom.”
I waited for her to offer beverages or the appetizers the terrifying Nora had mentioned but all she did was continue to stare at me with utter emptiness. After a moment, I said, “Jeannie Jackson. My nephew, Conway, my nieces Dolly and Tammy.”
“You’re a writer.” She didn’t spit out the word but it was close. “How... nonconformist. I have no doubt you have a great deal in common with Abraham.” She shifted her gaze to him, her nostrils flaring, her lips turning down at the corners. “I’ve told you how... disgusting I find those piercings of yours.”
“Well, I’m rather fond of them so I asked him to leave them in.” I smiled at her, biting the inside of my cheek when her small frown turned in to a scowl. “Abraham does like to indulge me, even in the little things. You know how it is when people are all wrapped up in each other.”
She didn’t snort—apparently Mary Hansom was too refined for such a thing as snorting—but the sound which escaped from the back of her throat was definitely not ladylike. She patted her husband’s shoulder before stepping away, her gaze sliding over me and the kids before resting on Abraham. “Lunch is ready.”
C
HAPTER TWENTY THREE
Lunch reminded me of moving. Over the course of the hour or so it took for us to make our way through the meal, I found myself thinking more than once that it wasn’t all that bad.
Because nobody died.
There were a few moments when murder looked a possibility. For instance, when Dolly said she didn’t eat peas and Mrs. Hansom remarked children were required to eat what was on their plate or they wouldn’t get dessert. Dolly’s response was to push her plate away and sit with her hands in her lap for the rest of the meal. Then there was the moment when Conway tried to sit his doll next to his plate and Mr. Hansom said toys weren’t allowed at the table. Conway had stared at him for so long I started to wonder if my nephew was gearing up for one of his epic doll related meltdowns. Instead, he handed the doll to Tammy, who laid it in her lap without protest and carried on with her meal like everything was fine. I held my tongue through every snide, backward remark about my business and career.
We might have made it to dessert if Mr. Hansom hadn’t started in on Abraham.
“Had Roy Lancaster call me last night.” Mr. Hansom ripped open the thigh of fried chicken, stabbing the dark meat with his fork while spearing his son with a hard look. “Said he went out to the bar and it was closed. On a Saturday night.”
“I closed around seven last night.” Abraham pushed his potatoes from one side of his plate to the other, exactly as he’d been doing for the last fifteen minutes. To anyone else it would appear he’d eaten more than a fair share of his food but I knew better. “Jeannie and the kids moved yesterday and I wanted to go check on them, see if they needed any help.”