The Bridge Between

by Lindsey Brackett

  He could see the frustration simmering just below her surface. For the first time, he wondered if that’s how she’d felt, pregnant with triplets when she hadn’t even wanted another baby. Weary and resigned and overcome.

  “We’ll take that one. Right, boys?” They shrugged and grinned, still playing with the others.

  “He’ll get tired of Mom because she won’t play fetch, so don’t worry, Dad. Soon he’ll love us too.”

  David grinned at J.D. and his practicality. Then he turned to Earl and closed the deal. “If anyone changes their mind about one of those girls, you let us know. We’ll take her too.” He heard Lou’s tiny gasp as he and Earl shook.

  “Come on back in a couple weeks. They’ll be weaned and ready to go.”

  As they walked back to the car, the boys distracted by an argument over who would sit in the middle this time, she slipped her hand into his. Returned his gentle squeeze from earlier. “Thank you.”

  There would be plenty more to say, maybe in the days to come. But for today, with the sun setting low through the copse of pines, he kept her hand and opened the car door like he had on their first date. “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 46

  The rain came in again Friday night. This time with a king tide—the full moon pulled at the ocean and the creeks, making the water rise higher and higher. Lou, in her kitchen at the dimmest hour of early Saturday morning, thought she ought to load up the boys and head on into Charleston before the roads flooded. But that creek edging her daddy’s pastures had never breached its banks. The water seeped up through the vegetation buffer, receded quickly once the tides turned, washing clean salt-tinged water back out to the sea. The sediment settled on the creek bottom where it would become part of this teeming ecosystem Liam so adored.

  Liam. She turned her thoughts to that good, solid man. He’d promised to arrive early and stay in the background, fetching her drinks he said, to combat the social anxiety greeting all Charleston gentry.

  But she knew, when her pulse raced and her breath quickened, when she couldn’t take one more introduction or piece of small talk, David would press his hand to the small of her back and help her make an exit.

  She hadn’t asked him for that. But always, he could tell when she needed a breath. He’d taken her out during her father’s receiving line at the funeral home while hordes of people came to shake her hand and hug her neck until she thought she would suffocate. “Breathe, Lou,” he’d whispered, sitting her in a chair away from the crowd. “Just catch your breath, and you can do this.”

  The wind set the rockers on the porch again to swaying and a memory surfaced. David sitting with her after Mama’s funeral. Bringing her food and telling her if she could come back to Edisto, well then, so could he.

  Yet, she continued to see what might happen with Liam. A stab of guilt pricked her conscience. She’d never led a man on before.

  Although Patrick Watson may have begged to differ.

  The rain shifted, and a gust blew harder through the oak’s leaves, the tire swing whirling and twisting in the air. The old ropes might snap at any moment. But then the wind died, as if that had been its last hurrah, and the rain slacked as the sun’s fringe glowed through the pines.

  ~~~

  “Louisa, how nice of you to join us.” Charlotte swept down her curved staircase, dressed in a pantsuit, neck and wrists heavy with pearls. “We’ve so much to do and so little time.”

  For a party that didn’t start until six, coming into town by noon should be sufficient. Lou pressed her lips into what she hoped passed for a smile. Six hours. They had six whole hours.

  “I’ve prepared the pool house for their entertainment.” Charlotte flicked her wrist toward the triplets. “Surely they can manage without supervision.”

  “Lady, we haven’t had a babysitter in years.” Cole’s mouth needed a dose of soap.

  Lou pinched his elbow and forced a smile at Charlotte. “They’ll be just fine. Through here?” She marched down the hall and out the back of the antebellum mansion, through the garden heavy with roses that sparkled in the sunlight. The rain had left a heady, earthy smell in direct contrast with the expensive perfume of the house. She settled the boys in the pool house where their tuxes hung in crisp bags, shoes shiny and lined up neatly. There were snacks, a pool table, and a television already set to Major League baseball on ESPN.

  “I’ll send your Dad over when he arrives, all right? Don’t break anything, and Coultrie,” she only used their full names when serious and they knew it, “don’t let your lip get the better of you, got it? Your family lineage is just as impressive as Charlotte Watson’s. Understood?”

  Three sets of eyes rolled, but they nodded. “Hey, Mom,” J.D. called as she turned to leave.

  “Yes?”

  “You know the difference is, we don’t care about that lineage stuff, right?”

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “Baby, you may not care, but these people all do, an awful lot. So don’t shame the memory of your grandmother by not being proud of the blue blood that runs in your veins.”

  “Ugh, now you sound like Cor.” Mac groaned and flopped on the couch.

  “Who sounds like me?” Cora Anne appeared in the doorway, her hair in rollers, a platter of sandwiches in her hands. “I intercepted these from Chloe. She says if you guys need more, just come see her in the kitchen.”

  Lou followed Cora Anne back through the garden and toward the house. “They should be fine for a couple hours at least. Your dad’s coming soon as he’s finished his duty at that track meet. Of all the days to have a conflict—”

  “Mom.” Cora Anne slipped her arm through Lou’s. “It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  How much Lou wanted to believe that.

  The cocktail hour began at six, but Charlotte had Chloe pop a bottle of fine champagne and pass around glasses before they dressed. After hours under the woman’s scrutiny, Lou’s nerves were raw—and Grace’s seemed downright frayed. After finishing Cora Anne’s hair, she mentioned a headache, and Lou passed her an aspirin before she went to change.

  Charlotte, now dressed in deep blue chiffon and a diamond necklace that probably could’ve paid for the triplets’ college education, entered while Cora Anne fought with Lou’s zipper. Her brisk knock had evidently only been a warning.

  “Cora, darling, let Chloe do that.”

  In the mirror, Cora Anne met her mother’s eyes, irritation tugging at the corner of her lips. She’d already told Charlotte she preferred her double name. “I’ve almost got it. These vintage dresses just stick sometimes. This was my grandmother’s.”

  Charlotte’s fingers fluttered to her throat, patting the diamonds as though she needed reassurance they were still there. Perhaps the mention of her once best friend was a reminder she didn’t want. Lou focused on her own image in the mirror, how the dress hung exactly right, hugging curves she hadn’t realized she had. Her arms were lean and toned—must be from all the months of hauling equipment and furniture and endless boxes in and out of that house. She smoothed her hair behind her ears, pleased with the product Grace used to tame it so it fell just right, grazing her bare shoulders.

  Charlotte cleared her throat with a strangled gurgle that had Lou turning, concerned. “Are you all right?”

  For a moment, Charlotte’s face betrayed her true age. Her mouth pulled into a bow and her cheeks seemed sunken, her skin washed with a milky pallor. But then she transformed, drawing a deep breath, relaxing her jaw into a smile that almost seemed a grimace.

  “How much you resemble your mother, Louisa. Particularly in her old dress.” Her inflection landed perfectly on the last words.

  Lou took the earrings Cora Anne held, fitting them despite her trembling fingers. “If I can be half the woman my mother was, Charlotte, I’ll count myself blessed. I told you we appreciated your offer for tonight’s ensembles, but I preferred this one.” She slipped the back of the second earring into place, despite quivering fi
ngers, and forced the lady’s smile her mother had taught her to use, even in uncomfortable situations. “After all, it’s nice for Cora Anne’s grandparents to be remembered this evening, as well.”

  Charlotte clasped her hands, tight-lipped. “If you’re ready, we’ll form the receiving line. Louisa, your beau has arrived, I believe.”

  Poor Liam. No doubt he’d been accosted. Hugging Cora Anne, whom Charlotte wanted to hold for a grander entrance, Lou hurried down the stairs. As she rounded the curve at the stairs’ bottom, the toe of her shoe caught at the hem of the long dress and pitched her forward.

  “Whoa, there.” Liam’s strong arms caught hers. One corner of his mouth tipped up and he winked at her, roguish as Rhett Butler. “I seem to have a habit of rescuing you.” He kept his hands under her elbows and pulled her closer to his chest, whispering in her ear, “I kind of like it.”

  Her cheeks tingled. He leaned back and tracked his gaze from hers down to her toes and back up again. “You’re beautiful, Louisa.”

  “Indeed she is.” David’s voice sounded sharp. He stood behind Liam, arms crossed, jaw tight and eyes narrow. A defensive look she recognized from years of watching him coach.

  Liam released her, and she lifted the edge of her dress to step down. “The boys ready?” She chose not to look at David, because she felt smoldering anger rolling off him in waves.

  He made a conscious effort to control it, though. She could always tell that too. “They’re ready. Waiting on Charlotte’s command.”

  “Well, aren’t we all?” She wished, for once, Charlotte would appear with orders that whisked her away from standing between these two men.

  David reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles gently. “You are beautiful, Lou.” Without moving his softened eyes from hers, he added, “Liam, you’ll keep an eye on her tonight? Don’t let her worry too much.”

  David released her hand, as Liam took her other one. “That is why I’m here. To enjoy the company, and the refreshment.” He tucked her arm into his elbow. “Let’s get you a glass of wine, Lou, before the party starts.”

  She let herself be led away as David held up two fingers. Not the peace sign, their sign. See you later, I’ve got this. And though it was Liam, the date she’d chosen, whose steady hands had saved her from embarrassment, David’s touch lingered on her skin.

  Chapter 47

  David stared after them as Liam led Lou away. He’d move on when the twitch in his jaw stopped. Heels clicked on the hardwoods behind him.

  “You know, there’s nothing more disheartening to a woman than to spend hours primping to enter a room, and when she does, all the men are looking at someone else.”

  “Grace.” David kissed her cheek in brotherly fashion. “You look lovely.” She’d chosen a dress of turquoise blue with a billowy skirt and the barest hint of cleavage, he couldn’t help but notice.

  “Charlotte didn’t like my choice any better than she liked Lou wearing that gown of Annie’s, but what’s a party without a little drama?” She wiggled her brows at him.

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  “I took the pre-Charlotte cocktail of Xanax and champagne.”

  “Should you mix those?”

  “I’m a widow at my son’s engagement party in my mother-in-law’s house, David. Hold your judgment.”

  He winced. Too busy thinking of himself and Lou and their predicament, he hadn’t considered how hard this evening would be for Grace.

  She laughed, brittle a bit, but still real. “I’m kidding. I had aspirin and a power nap. Hid from Charlotte, so she couldn’t tell me again she ordered a few cheesecakes for dessert back-up.”

  “In her defense, she’ll need them once the triplets are loosed on your pies.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, but Grace blinked and tossed her blond curls. “Let’s find some champagne. Celebration, of course.”

  He tucked her arm into his, as Liam had with Lou. “Of course.”

  The garden had been transformed with little lights, candles, and white linen everywhere. Hannah, a headset tucked discreetly in her ear, passed him right on by muttering something about ice. Her mother, Carolina, was across the small yard lighting the last of the votive candles. With those two at the helm the party ought to run smooth as a well-kept trolling motor.

  Which reminded him he’d told Lou he’d look at the motor on the little johnboat the boys liked to use. Meant to do that last weekend, but an extra baseball practice had beckoned.

  Cora Anne appeared on the back steps, hand tucked in Tennessee’s elbow, breathtaking in a dress that made David wonder how they’d gone so quickly from the father-daughter Valentine’s Dance to this. He took his place beside Lou in the receiving line. She slipped her hand into his as Tennessee thanked everyone for coming, giving a special nod to Charlotte for hosting. She demurred, of course, as though it had all been nothing.

  Watching how gracefully his daughter and future son carried this burden—three generations of thwarted relationships before they would become family—David thought he maybe understood a bit why Charlotte insisted on this party. At the toast, he lifted his bottle toward her and nodded.

  To his surprise, she returned the gesture.

  Dinner was seated and plated. David sat with Lou and the boys—and Liam, of course. They talked of fishing and the spring rains, while the boys ticked off the schooldays left.

  “Still six weeks to go,” Mac moaned into a huge bite of his Chicken Provençal. “Mom, you should make this sauce stuff sometime. It’s pretty good.”

  “You should swallow before speaking, son,” David reminded.

  But Lou chuckled, rather than admonish. “This dinner cost more per person than I spend on three meals for the three of you, so enjoy it now. Tomorrow we’re back to pot pie.”

  “Good thing I like pot pie too.” Mac grinned.

  After dinner came dancing. Hannah grabbed David by the elbow and pulled him to the floor for the father-daughter dance he hadn’t known was scheduled.

  “Didn’t you read the itinerary?” His niece rebuked. “Uncle David, I sent it to your email over a week ago.”

  He shrugged and let himself be handed off to his daughter, who wore a mischievous smile he hadn’t seen in years. “Guess what song I chose, Dad?”

  Somehow, they’d repaired what had been broken, and his family felt almost whole again. Only hairline cracks left.

  The music started, and he tucked her against his chest like she was six years old again. “You remembered.”

  “I never forgot.”

  He twirled her around the dance floor, the big band strains of Etta James swelling with the fullness of his heart. David hadn’t had many perfect moments in life—but nearly every single one he could recall involved the five people in that garden who bore his last name.

  When they finished, he saw Liam hand Lou his handkerchief. Jealousy stabbed like a stitch in his side.

  The evening carried on with simple toasts from Hannah and Ben as maid of honor and best man, and an address from Charlotte. She allowed herself to be led onto the small stage but disdained the microphone. Instead her voice, with no warble of age, carried across the garden. Difficult as the woman may be, she wore the mantle of matriarch well. She thanked the guests for coming, making special mention of those who would expect a calling out of their social standing.

  “As you know, my son Patrick, had he been here tonight, would’ve been overjoyed at the union of these two families. Louisa and he were dear friends.” Her eyes tracked the crowd, passed over Grace, and settled on Lou as she spoke. “Of course, I once counted her mother among my dearest friends, as well. Let us take a moment now, in quiet remembrance of our departed, who surely are showering this union…” Her gaze moved to Tennessee and Cora Anne. “With the blessings of heaven.”

  The crowd bowed as one, in reverent silence, for the second time that evening. After her soft thanks, the band lifted instruments and the quiet tempo of an old Elvis so
ng filled the air.

  The tightening in his throat—and the pang in his gut—told David it was now or never. He turned in the crowd, stepping over to the corner of the dance floor where Lou stood beside Liam.

  “Dance with me?” He’d have begged, if necessary, but she turned from Liam, her eyes still damp, that ghost of her old smile—the one he’d seen with the puppies—playing on her lips.

  “I’d love to.”

  He took her onto the floor and pulled her hips to his, where she’d always fit just right. She curled her arm around his shoulder, her other hand tucked into his, and they swayed cheek to cheek as their wedding song played. “Can’t Help Falling in Love” had been chosen, he’d joked then, because Lou would never have rushed in.

  But she’d taken his hand so easily all those years ago, when he helped her back to her feet after knocking her down. That had been their relationship from there on out—knocking each other down only to help each other back up. This time David wanted them to stay on their feet.

  She sighed, a wisp of breath against his cheek.

  He caressed her bare back. Whispered, “Please, Lou, let’s try again.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Me too.”

  She leaned back, enough to see his eyes. How she’d always gauged what he really meant. He knew why she hadn’t looked him in the eye that night on Edisto when she’d asked him to leave.

  “Have you really forgiven me?”

  He pulled her tighter. How else could he make himself clear? “Did you forgive me?”

  Her lips pressed together, and her eyes darkened a fraction. “You always pushed me.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t like to make snap decisions.”

  “I know.”

  Her lips softened back into a small smile, chin tilted up, and he wondered what Charleston and their children would think if he kissed her right then and there on that dance floor. “I came home on a whim, though, and that seems to be working out.”