She smiled. “So where did I bury my first lost tooth?”
“Under the oldest boxwood in your yard. Your theory was that if the tooth fairy were real, she’d be able to find it there.”
“I still think it was a good theory.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t get your dollar.”
“True.”
They sat there, studying each other, letting the feelings swirling between them sink and settle.
“I’m thirty-three years old,” Culley said after a few moments. “I’m supposed to have all the moves down. But I swear when I’m with you, Addy, I feel like I’m seventeen again, and I just want to get it right.”
He leaned close then, settled a kiss on her mouth. It was sweet and stirring, everything a good-night kiss should be. Through the open windows of the car, a night breeze feathered through.
They kissed for a good while, just taking their time with it, as if the destination weren’t the important thing, but the journey itself.
When he finally pulled back, he ran a thumb under the curve of her jaw. “Being friends has its plusses, but none of them compare to kissing you.”
It would have been a waste of time to try and convince herself she didn’t enjoy hearing that. “Okay, so you’re a pretty good kisser,” she said.
He held up a hand. “Stop. The flattery. Too much.”
She laughed. “You’re a great kisser. There, satisfied?”
“Mollified.”
“You’re just used to women like Mae Carter going weak in the knees when you look their way.”
“At least twice a day.”
She shook her head.
“So. Are we dating?” he asked.
“Dating. Strong word.”
“How about seeing each other?”
“Leaves room for interpretation.”
“A necessity.”
“How about let’s just see where it goes?”
He tipped his head to one side, lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I had a really good time,” she said.
“So did I. I’ll call you?”
She nodded once, opened her door. “I’m going now.”
“Walk you to the porch?”
“You’ll just try to kiss me again.”
“At least you know me.”
“Good night, Culley,” she said, smiling.
“Good night, Addy.”
At the front porch steps, she turned and watched the taillights of his SUV disappear around the bend. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Two people finding something that felt this good after surviving something that initially had not felt survivable.
It was scary to think that it might just be that easy. And maybe cowardly not to give it a chance.
* * *
ADDY SPENT THE following day on the tractor, mowing up and down the lanes between the apple trees. The to-do list was seemingly endless. She had no idea how her mother had kept everything going with the amount of help she had. Addy had placed an ad in the paper for a full-time position, but so far had no responses.
It had been years since she had been on a tractor. She took her time at first, then gradually got comfortable enough to increase the speed. Claire brought chicken-salad sandwiches and iced tea at noon, and they ate in the shade.
“Sheriff Ramsey called,” Claire said. “They think they have a lead on the car that was here the other night. Apparently, the same car was spotted leaving Owen Blankenship’s place just before the barn fire.”
“I really hope they find them before they do something else.”
“They will.” Claire gave Addy a long look, before adding, “So. Are you and Culley an item now?”
Addy took a sip of her tea, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. “I’m not sure what we are.”
“Whatever it is, it’s having a nice effect on you.”
“Whatever it is, we’re having a good time.”
* * *
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Addy arrived back at the house, gritty, her ponytail drooping on one side. Sweat stains marked the armpits and back of her blue sleeveless T-shirt. Her jeans had a grease stain from leaning up against the tractor when a branch had gotten stuck under the Bush Hog. She longed for a cool shower.
She parked the tractor in the shed next to the barn and headed to the house. A dark blue BMW convertible sat in the driveway, the top down. A man stood on the porch talking to her mother.
Addy’s stomach dropped as recognition hit her. Mark. What was he doing here? Her first thought was to turn and leave. But he spotted her before she could act on it.
He was dressed in suit pants and a white shirt, a tie loose at his throat. He looked as if he’d lost weight, and there were shadows beneath his eyes.
“Hello, Addy,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“Could we talk?”
Claire cleared her throat. “I’ll be inside. Would you like something to drink, Mark?”
“He won’t be staying that long, Mama.”
“No, thank you, Claire. I’m fine.”
Claire nodded and opened the screen door, closing it behind her.
He aimed a glance at the tractor she’d just parked. “That what you gave up practicing law for?”
“Why are you here?” Addy asked.
He sat down in a white wicker chair, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve missed you, Addy.”
She stared at him for a long moment, surprise robbing her of a response. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Completely.”
She dropped her head back and counted to five. “The last I heard you were the father of a baby boy. And your twenty-something lover had moved in with you.”
He dropped his gaze to the porch floor. “It’s not working out that great.”
“And you came here for sympathy?” She ushered a hand toward his car. “Let me save you some time. You came to the wrong place.”
“I didn’t come here for that.”
“Then what?”
“I came to see you.”
“I can’t think of a single logical reason why that would be.”
“Because we used to be able to talk.”
She anchored her arms around her chest. “What is it you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“There is no us.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression one of complete misery. “Addy, I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”
There. The words she’d wanted so very much in the beginning, wished that he could say and mean. She believed him. She heard the truth of it in his voice. And yet, the words rang empty inside her. Because what did they fix? They didn’t change anything that had happened.
“You didn’t need to come all the way here to tell me that. It’s too late for apologies.”
He stood, crossed the porch floor and stopped a few inches from her. He reached out and brushed the back of his hand across her hair. “I know,” he said. “What I did was horrible. If I could do things over again—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t, Mark.”
He tipped her chin up, forced her to look at him. “Can you honestly say you don’t feel anything for me?”
She didn’t answer right away, but took the moment to give the question its due.
A car rolled up. Addy looked over her shoulder. Culley. She took a step back.
He got out, lifted a hand. “Hello, Mark.”
Mark nodded. “Culley.”
“I’ll come back later, Addy,” Culley said.
“No. Stay. Mark was just leaving.”
Mark looked at the two of them for a moment. “So it’s true, then?”
Addy stared at him, incredulous. “Is that why you came here? Because you thought Culley and I were seeing each other?”
He dropped a guilty glance at the porch floor. Then looked at Culley with something very like resentment on his face. “You probably couldn’t wait until the ink on the divorce pape
rs had dried, could you?”
Culley gave him a narrow look. “It wasn’t like that, Mark.”
“Yeah, right. You think I didn’t know back in high school that she was the one you wanted.”
“It didn’t matter what I wanted. She was with you.”
“Oh, yeah. Mr. Loyal.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about the meaning of the word, Mark,” Addy said, angry now.
Culley walked up to the bottom step of the porch. “Maybe you ought to go somewhere and cool off.”
Mark raised both hands in the air. “And leave the field wide open for you, Rutherford? It looks like you’ve already cleared yourself a nice path. Make sure you tell her every bad thing you can remember about me. And don’t leave anything out. Those road trips we took. The wedding weekend.”
Something heavy settled in Addy’s stomach. “Mark, go,” she said.
He swung around, his eyes narrowed. “I’m going. I don’t know what I was thinking to come here.”
Addy stood there on the top step of the porch, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she could hold the questions banging at her chest inside. Mark got in the car, backed up and drove away.
Culley looked at her, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, not moving, just staying there in that same spot.
He stepped forward and touched her arm. “Here, sit,” he said.
She sat down on the top step, planted an elbow on one knee, ran a hand through her hair. “Are you going to tell me what he meant by that?”
“Addy—”
“I didn’t know him at all, did I?” Disbelief laced her voice. “How can that be? How could I have been married to someone for eleven years and think he was something completely different from what he was?”
Culley reached out to touch her, but she pulled away.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Addy—”
“I want to know. Tell me.”
He stared up at the sky for a long moment. “This isn’t my place.”
“I’m asking.”
Another hesitation and then, “The weekend of the wedding. Mark was with someone.”
“Who?”
He looked at her then, regret in his eyes. “What difference does—”
“Who?”
“Gina something. The sister of one of your bridesmaids.”
She’d asked him to tell her. She wanted to know. But hearing the words sliced a fresh gash of pain through her heart, and she wished, desperately, that she had not asked. “You knew this then, and you never told me?”
“Addy. How could I?”
She stood, twisting her fingers together. “I thought you were different. That you would never lie to me. But you’re not, are you?”
“I didn’t think it was what you wanted to hear,” he said, his voice low, appealing.
“Maybe not. But it was still the truth.” She stood, opened the screen door and went inside without looking back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AT FIRST GLANCE, the Mecklinberg Women’s Correctional Facility could have been anything from a post office to a middle school. The truth became apparent, however, in the detail. The chain-link fence with rows of barbed wire strung across the top. The front gate where guards stood armed with rifles.
Culley hated coming here. Hated the feeling of bleakness that settled on him at the sight of it.
He’d left the house at just after five that morning. The four-hour drive gave him a good stretch of time to think about what had happened with Mark. Of how angry Addy was with him. He didn’t blame her. He should have told her a long time ago.
He’d reached for the phone a dozen times before finally dialing the number. Claire had told him she was out in the orchard mowing. He’d left a message for her to call him back. But she hadn’t. As he’d known she wouldn’t.
She was angry with him. Maybe justifiably so.
All those years ago, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. Staying out of it. Not interfering.
He pulled into a parking space, cut the engine and sat there with his arms draped across the steering wheel. Had he been wrong not to tell her?
Mark had always been one of those guys who could justify his actions. One last fling before the wedding. And never again.
Over the years, Culley had questioned his decision. Maybe he should have told her. But it had felt like he would have been stepping into the middle of something for which his own motives could have been questioned.
And wasn’t that the truth at the center of his decision to keep quiet?
He got out of the car and went inside the building. A stern-faced receptionist assessed him over the rim of coaster-size glasses. He told her why he was there.
Thirty minutes later, a guard led him to a small waiting room with two chairs and a skinny window that offered a glimpse at the outside world. The door opened, and Liz stepped into the room. The same guard from before closed the door and took his post on the other side.
“Hey,” Liz said.
“Hey.” Culley stared at her for a moment, a little shocked by the differences in her appearance since he last saw her.
She ran a hand across her hair, looking self-conscious. “I cut it.”
As long as he had known her, Liz’s hair had been her most notable feature. In college, other girls had tried to copy the effortless style of hers, but rarely pulled it off. “It looks nice.”
She smiled. “Liar. I know it looks horrible. I don’t know, I guess I really am hoping to start over. A new me.”
“There’s a lot of the old you that doesn’t need changing,” he said.
“Thanks. But we both know I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Wanting to is the first step.”
“I don’t think it would be possible to want it more.”
“Madeline said to say hello.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “She asked me to give you this.”
Liz held it for a moment, then slit open the back and pulled out a piece of red construction paper. She stared at it, a tear sliding down her cheek. She got up, went to the single window and looked out, longing in her expression. “I miss her so much. But I would understand if you never wanted me to see her again.”
“Liz—”
“From here, it seems like a dream. Like something that happened to someone else. When I think of what I did, of how many lives I’ve messed up, that I could have killed my child—” She broke off there, dropping her forehead onto one hand, a sob wrenching from her throat.
His heart in a knot, Culley crossed the room and put a hand on her back, feeling inadequate beyond words.
She turned, raising tear-filled eyes to his. “Sometimes I think I deserve to stay here for the rest of my life. And other times, I want out so badly I think I might die from it.”
He pulled her to him, held her against him while she cried. All the old feelings of helplessness swamped him. “Liz. I believe in you. If you want to make another life for yourself, you will.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For coming here today. And for seeing hope in me. I’m sorry I threw away what we had. If I could do it over again—”
“Don’t,” he said. “Let’s just think about the future, okay?”
She started to say something, then stopped. “Okay,” she said.
* * *
ADDY STAYED BUSY on Tuesday, not giving herself time to think. She was in the warehouse late that morning, sorting through crates that needed to be repaired. Claire walked in with two bottles of water and handed her one. Peabody trailed in behind her, his tail straight in the air.
“Are you ready to talk about it?” Claire asked.
Addy put down her clipboard, took a sip of the cold water, then leaned over to brush her hand along Peabody’s spine. He arched his back and offered a reluctant purr. “There’s really nothing to talk about.”
“You’ve been upset ever since Mark came here. I can see that.”
Claire sighed and sat down on an old wooden bench. “I think we know as much of a person as they want us to know.”
“It’s like there were two sides to him. I can’t believe what a fool I was.”
“You weren’t a fool.”
Addy sat down beside her, pressed her lips together, and then said, “I walked in on him with another woman. She was pregnant with his child.”
“Oh, my dear.” Claire reached out to put a hand on Addy’s back.
“I married Mark thinking he was this faithful guy, that he would never—”
“Do what your father did?” Claire’s expression wilted, and Addy could see that despite all the years that had passed, the pain was still there.
“We don’t need to talk about that, Mama.”
Claire set down her water bottle. “I think we do. I know we never did, and now I’m not sure why except that at first it was so painful. And then, well, I guess I felt like you blamed me.”
Addy wished she could deny it. Amazing that it was only here, now, that she could see her father with new eyes. Realize that, like her mother, she had done nothing to cause her husband’s infidelity. She looked down. “I’m so sorry, Mama.”
Claire reached out and took her hand. “Don’t be, honey. You felt as betrayed as I did.”
“I blamed the wrong person though.”
Peabody jumped up on the bench between them, rubbing his head against Claire’s arm and then Addy’s, as if trying to soothe them both.
“Sometimes when something beyond our understanding happens to us, we’re so desperate to make sense of it that we lash out at whoever is closest.” Claire smoothed a hand across her blue jeans, the knees long faded. “Ida was the one to tell me about your father’s cheating. She saw him leaving a motel with the other woman one afternoon. She agonized for days before finally coming to me with it. And I didn’t believe her. I accused her of being jealous because her own husband treated her so badly.”
Addy stared at her mother, heard the knot of pain in her voice.
“It was an awful position for her to be in. She was trying to be loyal to me, and I threw it back in her face. I’m surprised she ever forgave me.”
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