by Ronica Black
It was a frightening thing to ponder.
He nodded toward the bookstore behind her.
“I see you’ve been to Pearl’s. Old habits die hard.”
“They do, yes. But things change. It may be time for me to move on.”
“Move on? I’m pretty sure you’re the main reason why she’s still in business.” A curious look came over him when he saw her empty hands.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t find anything. You usually buy two bags full at a time in the summer.”
“Not today.” She heard the disdain in her voice, and he seemed to as well.
He gave her arm a squeeze. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t look like he bought it. “How about a coffee?” He motioned again with his head, this time across the street to Lula’s Cafe, a mom-and-pop coffee and muffin shop. It hadn’t been around as long as Dog Eared, but long enough to garner a plethora of devoted customers.
He was being his kind, considerate self, and the temptation to give in and collapse in a chair across from him and spill her troubles over a mug of coffee and one of Lula Sinclair’s homemade banana-nut muffins was there. But she knew she couldn’t. Her run-in with Pearl had jaded her and she feared a similar experience with Chuck though she seriously doubted he would say anything of the sort.
Then again, she’d been wrong about Pearl.
“I can’t. I need to run.”
He seemed more worried than disappointed. A part of her was touched, but she reminded herself that he wasn’t her partner anymore. Nor her best friend. He wasn’t someone she could lean on.
“Rain check?” he asked.
“We’ll see.” She didn’t commit, not even to that. “Pretty busy these days.”
He dropped his hand, and the disappointment moved in and weakened his smile. “Well, whatever it is you’re doing, keep it up. You’re positively shining.”
Carla came to her mind again, and she straightened, hoping the flames in her cheeks weren’t noticeable.
He studied her and cocked his head. “Have you…met someone?”
She started to speak, to deny it, but she knew he’d see right through her.
“I really need to go.” She moved around him.
“Whoever it is, he must be special.”
“Good seeing you.”
“He’s a lucky man,” he called out.
She crossed to her car.
“You deserve to be happy, Jan.”
She unlocked her car and looked up to see him wave. She waved and climbed inside. She wanted more than anything to just sit and stew for a few minutes to process all that had just transpired. The thought of swinging by Floyd’s Flowers to see Maurine instinctively crossed her mind, but even if Maurine should be there, Janice couldn’t confide in her and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her distress from her.
She started the car, backed up, and drove from the town square. When she thought of driving home, she felt a pit in her stomach. It didn’t seem far enough away.
For the first time ever, she realized she felt all alone and lost in the very place she lived and loved. It was something she’d never felt before, and she thought about heading for the highway and speeding away to God knows where in order to feel free. But then, in a flash, she remembered that Carla would be there in her home, waiting for her, and the pit in her stomach vanished.
She drove toward home but knew the only reason why was because of Carla. Otherwise, she had no idea where it was that her heart would’ve taken her.
Chapter Thirteen
Carla pulled into Janice’s gravel drive, threw the sixty-two Chevy truck in park, and killed the rumbling engine. She rubbed her eyes and sat looking at the sky through the windshield, comforted by the lingering smell of gasoline and worn vinyl of her grandmother’s truck. Thunderclouds loomed in the near distance against the backdrop of the setting sun, threatening an evening storm. She rolled up the driver’s side window and then exited the vehicle. The heavy door groaned in protest when she slammed it shut, but she needed to be sure it was fully closed.
The old truck was quite a chore to drive. It lacked power steering as well as fuel injection, which meant she had to prime the damn thing before trying to start it. That was something she’d always struggled to do just right, so flooding the engine had become almost expected. Now, thankfully, but for reasons unknown, she seemed to have it down to an art.
Only took me twenty-plus years.
But she supposed it was better late than never, especially since she’d just learned that the old truck was now hers. Yesterday, that kind of news would’ve truly touched her, bringing back bittersweet memories that she’d relive with both laughter and tears. That had been yesterday, though. When she and her aunt and uncles stood united and tight, woven together in love and grief. Today, all that had changed with news that went beyond her inheritance of the truck. News that had brought on heartache and anger.
She’d retreated to the truck then and driven around all day, trying to relive the past rather than think about her new reality. She’d thought about the truck and how she’d ridden in it as a child with her grandmother, eagerly bouncing on the bench seat, while an old song from an a.m. station crackled through the radio as she clicked and unclicked the buckle on the lap belt until her grandmother told her to stop.
If her grandmother were with her now and knew of her current anguish and relentless worrying about the day’s events, she’d tell her stop, just like she had with the lap belt. But she wasn’t there, and the weight of the day tried to engulf her again, as if it had been hovering in the air, like the storm clouds, waiting for her to emerge from the truck before it downpoured.
She gave the truck an affectionate pat and headed for the front porch. A handful of wandering lightning bugs lit up and floated across her path, a welcome to both her and the oncoming darkness. A welcome that was lost on her.
“You’re home a little early today,” Janice said when Carla entered the living room. She folded her arms across her chest as she leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen. She was barefoot wearing knee length brown shorts that were a shade darker than her crew neck shirt. The deep colors only seemed to enhance her auburn hair which hung in thick waves upon her shoulders.
Is there any color she doesn’t look good in?
Carla sank her hands into the pockets of her trousers and felt her keys. She pulled them out and set them on the coffee table, the feel of the truck key too much all of a sudden. She glanced at some of the magazines sitting next to her keys.
“Arizona Highways?” She looked up. Janice shifted and she straightened from her lean. She appeared nervous. But why?
“The photos are really beautiful,” she said. She took a step toward the table as Carla sifted through the magazines.
“Desert Living?”
She found more. There were close to a dozen different magazines with the same subject matter.
“You’re interested in Arizona?” She was more than surprised, especially after all her talk about home and roots and red mud running through their veins.
Janice crossed to the table and gathered them together. She picked them up and disappeared into the den. She returned empty-handed and tried for that welcome home smile again. She didn’t totally succeed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Carla asked.
“It’s just a recent thing. Guess having you here made me a little curious.”
She was fibbing. Carla could see it in her uneasiness, and she’d seen the issue dates on the magazines as well as Janice’s home address, so she knew she’d been getting them in the mail for some time. Question was, why was she so uncomfortable in telling her the truth?
Carla was too tired to try to find out. For whatever reason, Janice wasn’t willing to share her reasons for her apparent long-held interest in Arizona.
She closed her eyes and felt her body go slack.
“You look beat,” Janice said.
She sounded concerned.
Carla opened her eyes and saw an equal amount of concern in her gaze. She was once again voicing her perceptions, something that had been missing lately. There had been a noticeable difference between them that left Carla feeling confused. Though they’d made up at dinner that night after their disagreement, they’d both seemed to pull away after that. The guilt over the pain she’d caused Janice with her careless words had made her uncomfortable, and she’d been uncertain as to whether or not she should continue in burdening her with the daily stresses she was experiencing in dealing with family and friends. It didn’t seem fair to do that to her when she was already going out of her way to have her in her home.
As to why Janice had pulled away, Carla could only speculate. She hoped that the pain she’d caused wasn’t still affecting her.
With that in mind, along with the worry she was obviously causing, as evidenced by the look on Janice’s face, Carla considered downplaying her fatigue. She wondered, however, if Janice would readily accept her attempt. An attempt, Carla knew, that would be half-hearted at best. She just didn’t have the strength to try. She was simply too worn out for pretenses.
“Yeah,” she finally said. It was becoming difficult to think. Difficult to even remain upright. She needed to sit. But where? Was supper ready? Should she hang out with Janice in the kitchen if she was still preparing it? She was lost for direction and frustrated in needing any.
Things were so strange now. She felt like an outsider in a stranger’s home.
“I think I’m just going to go to bed.” She started to turn, but Janice moved to her and took her hand.
“Come,” she said.
She led her to the couch. Carla hesitated, still unsure.
“Sit,” Janice said.
Carla did and she let out a sigh, the cushions feeling like clouds. Janice sat beside her, Carla’s hand still in hers. She began to massage it with her thumb, a quiet gesture of soothing support. And with its continued repetition, a gesture that reassured she was willing to be there beside her for however long Carla needed.
She seemed to be back to the old Janice, and the familiarity of her loving kindness flooded Carla and caused a lump to rise in her throat.
“What do you say, Sims? Do you want to talk about it?” she asked after a long while. She touched Carla’s brow, brushing her hair back with her fingertips. It was an affectionate move, like what a woman did to the one she loved. Carla warmed at both the light touch and the sentiment. It amazed her how her kind, melodic voice and soft skin-tingling touch seemed to be exactly what she needed at that moment.
How does she always know what to do and say?
How can she be so in tune to me?
Carla wanted to look into her eyes to complete their connection, but seeing the sincerity and caring she could already feel through her hand would surely cause her to either reach for her like a lover or completely break down.
It was safer to keep her eyes trained on her lap and talk.
“Hm?” She brushed her hair again. “I know something’s wrong. But if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay. We can just sit if you’d like.”
Carla forced down the oncoming tears. She didn’t speak.
“You can, of course, go to bed if you’d like, but—” Janice touched her cheek. “You just look so upset that I’m hesitant to leave you all alone. I feel like I should be here for you. With you. Even if it’s just to sit by your side in silence.”
Carla took in a shaky breath. “Are you sure? We haven’t exactly been talking a lot here lately.”
Janice moved her hand from Carla’s cheek to her shoulder.
“No, we haven’t. Is that what’s bothering you?”
“It has been, yes. But no, that’s not why I’m so upset.”
“Okay. Is there anything I can do to help? Would you like a drink?”
“No,” Carla said. “But thanks. I think I…” She took in another breath.
Janice waited, quiet.
“We met with Barry Freeman today, you know Grandma’s attorney?”
“Yes, Maurine told me ya’ll were going to go see him.”
“So, you know then?” It would explain her intuitiveness and comforting support.
“Know?”
“About what happened with the will and everything.”
Janice shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to her since this morning.”
She didn’t know. Her kindness and affection were exactly what Carla had been assuming. She was just being her. And had she not been so upset over what had happened that morning, she would’ve taken a moment to really let her amazement of her saturate.
“She—” Carla tried to gather some strength. “Grandma left everything to me. Everything. Her savings, her house, her possessions, the land. All of it.”
Janice squeezed her hand but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She would know what her grandmother doing that meant. How it would’ve affected everybody, probably causing a great deal of upset and turmoil.
“I didn’t know,” Carla said, consumed with guilt. “I swear I didn’t know.”
“I know, darlin’.” Janice released her hand and touched her shoulder.
“They’re all so mad. So angry and confused.”
“Ya’ll didn’t talk? Work things through?”
“No, not like we should’ve. Mr. Freeman read the will and it shocked the hell out of all of us. I mean I don’t even think I’d totally made sense of what he’d said before Maurine got up and ran out crying and Rick stood up and accused Mr. Freeman of lying, acting like he was going to attack him. Cole managed to stop him, but then he glared at me and accused me of knowing all along. I tried to tell them I didn’t and that I didn’t know why she’d done this, but they wouldn’t listen. They just gave me the most hurtful and heart-wrenching looks I’ve ever seen. Then they stormed out and I chased after them, but Cole climbed into Maurine’s car with her and wouldn’t even acknowledge me before they sped off. Rick stalked up to me and forced the key to Grandma’s truck into my hand. He had tears in his eyes. He said, ‘At least the truck will be easy for you to take to Arizona. Not so sure about the house and the land. But I’m sure you’ll find a way. She always said you were the smart one.’”
Her chest ached as sobs tried to break free.
Janice sighed and wrapped her arm around her.
“He’s just upset. He didn’t mean it. That man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, you know that.”
“That’s what hurts me the most. Knowing he would never say something like that. Not to me, or to anyone. That’s how badly he’s hurting and it’s killing me.”
Janice held her tight and wiped the tears from her face with the backs of her fingers.
“I don’t know what to do,” Carla said. “I’m so lost.” She looked at Janice then and her breath caught as she found herself in her eyes. She could see that Janice was holding her, not only there on the couch, but in her mind, wrapping her in her arms.
“You’re not lost,” she said. “You’re right where you need to be, where you’re safe and…loved. Where everything’s going to work itself out and be okay again.”
Janice pulled her into her arms fully, holding her to her chest in a warm, harboring embrace. Carla finally relented and fell completely into her, solaced by the cushion of her breasts and the rhythmic beat of her heart.
Loved.
She’d said loved.
And it’s not scaring me.
It feels good.
She closed her eyes, sleep threatening to wash over her quickly. Just before she let it take her away, she heard Janice whisper one last thing.
“You’re where you belong, right here, with me.”
* * *
Carla absently picked at the warm grass as she sat staring at the rectangle of red dirt marking her grandmother’s grave. She’d come to sit with her, hoping to feel her presence. She had so much to say and so many questions to ask, but all words had left her the second she’
d seen the grave. The shock of her grandmother being six feet beneath that ground had left her with nothing but the substantial incumbrance that came with the reality of her death. She’d sat then, too heartbroken to speak, too heartbroken to go. The summer sun had seeped into her skin, causing a burning that she registered but did nothing about. She was there, next to her grandmother, sitting in the grass and soaking up the sun, yet she was so far away that her surroundings and, life itself, seemed to blur. When her cell phone had rung, she didn’t alert or even contemplate who might be calling. She just casually pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and answered.
Now, after a poor attempt at trying to persuade Nadine to tell her to come home, she had the phone to her ear, only half-listening, because just the opposite was happening. Nadine was trying to convince her to stay in North Carolina.
“I’m telling you everything is fine here,” Nadine said. “How many times do I have to say it?”
Carla threw the grass in her hand aside, frustrated. She’d missed the end of school and it wasn’t yet sitting right with her. She’d known that might happen, but it bothered her, nonetheless. There were, of course, other reasons causing her sudden desire to return home. She’d touched on the will and her family problems with Nadine, but she’d remained close lipped about the other, quickly evolving issue.
“I should’ve finished out the year with my students,” she said. “Like everyone else.”
“Carla, please. You know as well as I do that the last few days are lazy ones. Your substitute did a great job at keeping the kids in line, and you’d already packed up most of your room. And Roseanne was fine with everything. I know you’ve spoken to her.”
Carla wiped the sweat from her brow and squinted into the sunlight despite having on her aviator shades. Roseanne, who was principal of the school, had been nothing but nice and understanding.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She told me not to worry about anything.”
“See? It would be pointless to rush back at this point. Everything has already been taken care of.”
“I just—need to.”