She nodded, hands hiding her face.
Culley got in the driver’s side and started the vehicle. He pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, glancing at Madeline who was sitting ramrod straight in her seat, a single tear sliding down her face.
And with that, he wasn’t sure what he felt more: fury or despair.
* * *
AS SOON AS he got home, Culley carried Liz upstairs and set her in the shower, clothes and all. He went into the bedroom and dialed Addy’s number. Claire answered the phone.
“Hey, Claire. Is Addy there?”
“No. She went up to D.C. for that job interview.”
What felt like a physical pain slammed through his chest.
“Is something wrong?”
He sighed. “Yeah. Actually, there is. Do you think you could come get Madeline and let her spend the night with you? Mom’s car isn’t working, and—”
“Say no more. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Claire.” He hung up, her words reverberating in his head like beads in a can, the rattle so loud he couldn’t focus. But he couldn’t think about Addy right now or what any of that might mean. Right now, he had to take care of Liz.
* * *
CLAIRE HAD COME to the door just before seven-thirty, putting her arm around Madeline and guiding her out to her car, Hershey at their heels. Culley had watched them go with a weight on his heart, wishing he could have spared his daughter what she had seen. If he’d had any idea what kind of shape Liz was in, he would never have taken her.
Liz sat under the cold spray of the shower for over a half hour. He sat outside on the floor, waiting for the alcohol to loosen its hold. She finally stood, and he helped her out.
“Can you get out of those clothes?”
She nodded.
“I’ll go make some coffee,” he said.
“Culley?” she called out just as he was closing the door.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
He stared at her for a moment, then turned and walked out. He’d heard it all before.
* * *
A LITTLE WHILE LATER, he took the coffee up and left it on her nightstand. She was in bed, one arm thrown over her face. She said nothing, and he left, not trusting himself to speak.
He was in his office doing paperwork when he heard her come down the stairs. It was after ten, and he had expected her to sleep it off through the night.
She stood in the doorway, meeting his gaze with what looked like paper-thin courage. “Can we talk?” she asked.
He pushed back from his desk. “Is there anything to say?”
She came into the room, sat in the chair across from him, eyes on her folded hands. She looked up and said, “Probably nothing that would mean anything.”
“Why, Liz? Why?”
She lifted both shoulders, tears running down her cheeks. She swiped them away and said, “I wish I knew.”
“My God, Liz, do you have any idea what this did to Madeline?”
“I know.” The words were little more than a whisper. “I know.”
They sat in silence for a long time, until finally, she spoke again. “When I came here, I had convinced myself I was doing so with the intention of standing on my own two feet. But I realize now I did what I’ve always done. Came running back to you, hoping you could fix it. Make everything better.”
“Liz—”
“No. Please. Let me finish.” She looked down for a few moments, then raised her eyes to his. “I think sometimes we look for people who by their own kindness help prop us up. Keep us from seeing ourselves as we really are. I know you’ve wanted to help me, Culley. Too many times to count. I’ve hung this chain of guilt around your neck. And I was willing to pretend that was okay because it meant I could stay here and do the same thing I did before. Look to you for the answers. But it’s time I found the answers in myself.”
“I do want to help you, Liz.”
“Then can you find someplace to take me tonight?”
“It can wait until morning. You don’t have to do this tonight.”
“I want to. If I wait, I’ll change my mind.” She stood, pressing her palms against the front of her jeans. “I’m going upstairs to pack my things and call my probation officer.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
* * *
THEY DROVE THE four hours to Alexandria, arriving at the rehab center in the middle of the night. Culley went inside with Liz, standing to the side while she admitted herself.
A nurse came out and took Liz’s single suitcase. “Ready when you are,” she said.
Liz turned to Culley. “I’m going to get it right this time. I want you to do the same.”
“You’ll be okay?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Tell Madeline I’m sorry.”
“Just get better, okay. That’s all she’ll need to hear.” He put an arm around her neck, hugged her to him.
She leaned into him for a moment, then stepped back and looked at the nurse. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“This way then,” the nurse said kindly, waving a hand at a set of double doors.
“Liz?”
She glanced back.
“Call, okay?”
“I will.” She stepped through the double doors and was gone.
* * *
ADDY LEFT D.C. early on Thursday morning, anxious to get home. It was nearly eleven when she turned onto the orchard road. Apple trees heavy with fruit appeared on the right side of the car, and she was filled with a sudden gladness to see them.
Halfway up the gravel road, she spotted a car in her rearview mirror. Culley’s Explorer. Her heart jumped a beat.
He followed her to the house and pulled into the driveway beside her. She got out, extraordinarily glad to see him. But the look on his face made her smile fade.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Or will be. I just came to pick up Madeline. She stayed with your mom last night.”
Just then Madeline came running out of the house, straight into Culley’s arms. He locked her in a hug, pressed his face to her neck. “Hey, little bean. You okay?”
She nodded, then pulled back to look at him with a solemn face. “Is Mama all right?”
“I think she’s going to be.”
Claire came out, a dish towel in her hands, Hershey behind her. “Hi, honey,” she said to Addy. “How was your trip?”
“Good,” Addy said.
“I think I’ll just keep her, Culley,” Claire said, a hand on Madeline’s hair. “She’s a good little helper. And Hershey’s been good for Peabody. He’s still recovering from the shock.”
Madeline smiled.
“Thank you, Claire. I really appreciate it. I guess we better be going.”
“Culley,” Addy said, “can we talk for a minute?”
He met her gaze, and then, “Yeah.”
“Madeline, let’s go finish making those cookies,” Claire said. “Then we’ll pack up a tin for you to take home with you.”
Madeline slid out of Culley’s arms, took Claire’s hand and followed her back in the house.
Once it was just the two of them, Addy felt awkward. “Walk out to the pond?”
“Sure,” he said.
They walked down to the gate at the end of the yard, opened it and headed across the field they had walked so many times before. The morning was giving way to afternoon, the sun high in a crisp blue sky. They stepped onto the old dock at the edge of the pond, the boards creaking beneath their feet.
They stopped at the end, stood looking out at the water. Addy sat down. Culley sat beside her, a few inches of space between them.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of faded blue jeans. “Liz kind of had a relapse last night. Someone from Clements called me to come and
get her.”
“Is she—”
“She’s fine. It was pretty awful. After it was all over, she asked me to take her to a treatment center in Alexandria. I just got back this morning.”
“Oh, Culley. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I think she may just be okay this time. There was something different in her last night. A resolve I’ve never heard before.”
“I hope so.”
“I realized something yesterday, too.”
“What?”
He looked down at the water. “That I’ve been a crutch for her. I’m not sure if it was for her or for my own sense of helping her like I could never help my dad. But I can’t do that anymore.”
“You were trying to do the right thing,” Addy said, turning her head to look at him. “I know that.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, good intentions.”
She put a hand on his arm. “You can’t blame yourself.”
He dropped his head back to look up at the sky. “I don’t. A long time ago, I did. But it’s just a pretty horrible thing to see a person go through.”
They sat there for a few minutes, not talking. Addy sensed it was what he needed, and she wanted, more than anything, just to be there for him.
Two ducks swooped in and landed in the center of the pond. They swam in a circle, the female lifting her feathers, then pecking at the surface of the water for food.
“So. You’re taking the job?” Culley’s gaze was set on the ducks, his voice neutral.
Addy reached a hand into the water, letting it slide through her fingers. “No.”
He looked at her, surprise in his eyes. “But I thought—”
She shook her head. “Maybe I needed to prove to myself that I was making the right choice to stay here. It was a good offer. A great offer. My friend Ellen thinks I’m crazy, but I just…nothing about it felt right. I walked in that office, listened to what the senior partner had to say and I knew without a doubt that I wanted to be here.”
“Yeah?”
She looked up at the sky. “I guess I’ve realized that maybe the not-so-great things that happen to us—in my case, Mark’s affair—are a chance to look at where we’re going, decide whether or not we’ve been headed in the right direction. I don’t regret my work in D.C., but I’d like to make a go of this orchard. And maybe down the road, open a practice here in town.”
Culley looked at her, smiled a half smile that had relief at its edges. “That sounds really great.”
“You think?” she asked, looking at him now.
“I do,” he said.
They held each other’s gaze for a few moments. He leaned in and brushed her mouth with his. She kissed him back, and there under the warm noon sun, they took their time with it. Reuniting.
He put a hand to the back of her neck and brushed her jaw with his thumb. “I really missed you,” he said.
“I missed you, too.”
“So what about us? Can this work?”
On the other side of the pond, a small deer appeared. Behind her were two other deer. The smaller deer stared at them for a moment, then walked down to the water to take a long drink.
Addy put a hand to her chest, her breath suspended there.
The deer turned and walked back to the other two. On her right hip was the small circle of red nail polish Addy had painted on before setting her free.
She looked at Culley and smiled. “Yeah. I think it can.”
* * * * *
Claire Taylor’s Virginia Apple Pie
Six Red Delicious apples, thinly sliced with peel
1 ½ cups old-fashioned oatmeal
1 cup brown sugar
½ cup whole wheat flour
¾ cup melted butter
Butter 9" glass pie plate. Place sliced apples on bottom. Mix together flour, sugar and oatmeal. Spread over apples. Drizzle melted butter over top. Bake at 350º for 30 minutes or so.
* * *
Easy and delicious!
Georgina Powell is ready for something new—she just didn’t expect it to come in the form of an old friend…
Read on for a sneak preview of Starting Over in Wickham Falls by Rochelle Alers, the newest addition to her Wickham Falls Weddings series, coming soon from Harlequin Special Edition!
CHAPTER ONE
Georgina Powell stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, shocked and saddened at the same time with her transformation. The last time she’d taken special care with her appearance was for her high school prom. And that had been more than a decade ago. What, she asked herself, had she been doing for the past fourteen years? But she knew the answer; she hadn’t been living but just existing.
Her dream of enrolling in art school to become an illustrator had vanished completely with the unexpected death of her thirteen-year-old brother from meningitis. Her parents had been planning for Kevin to take over running the store once they retired, but their plans were transferred to her.
Kevin’s death changed their family’s dynamics. Her mother appeared emotionally unable to recover from losing a child; her father threw himself into running the business as if it was a startup instead of one that had been well established for generations. And it had taken Georgina a very long time to come to the realization that her brother, whom she’d nicknamed Shadow because he followed her around as if he feared she would disappear, was gone and wasn’t coming back.
Tonight signaled a change in Georgina’s life. Not only did she look different outwardly, but she’d also changed inwardly. The body-hugging black gown and matching four-inch, silk-covered stilettos had replaced the ubiquitous navy blue smock with Powell’s Department Store stitched over the back she wore over dark slacks. Her face with smoky shadows on her lids and a vibrant vermilion lip color, curly hair flat-ironed and tucked into a twist behind her ear completed her outward makeover. But it was her determination to move out of the house where she’d lived for the past thirty-two years that would alter her life.
Once her father downsized, and then eliminated the arts and crafts area of the store in order to expand the sporting goods section, it sparked an idea that had nagged at her for weeks. Georgina boxed up the stock and dropped it off at a storage facility with the intent of establishing her own business in the same town where she’d spent her entire life.
Picking up a black silk-lined cashmere shawl trimmed in faux fox, to ward off the chill of the mid-March night air, an envelope with the invitation and a beaded evening bag, Georgina walked out of the bedroom and down the back staircase to the garage located behind the two-story house. She managed to leave without encountering her mother. This was to become her first Wickham Falls Chamber of Commerce fund-raiser, an event that had been supported by both parents over the years, and then by only her father following Kevin’s passing.
Georgina was shocked one night when after closing, Bruce Powell informed her that he wouldn’t be attending and that she should take his place to represent the business. And when she’d asked her father why, his comeback was that it was time for her to prepare to take complete control of the department store once he retired. She’d wanted to tell him that she had no intention of managing the store because if she was going to assume that type of responsibility then it would be her own business enterprise.
She slipped behind the wheel of her late-model Nissan Rogue, an SUV she’d purchased to celebrate her thirty-second birthday. And at the beginning of the year, she’d made a New Year’s resolution to cross off at least three of the remaining nine notations on her to-do list. The first had been to trade in the Mini Cooper for the Rogue because she needed more room to transport the items needed to stock her new store.
Georgina started up the vehicle that still claimed a new-car smell and headed for the venue in Wickham Falls where the fund-raiser would be held for the first time. In the past the members of the Chamber had contracted with a hotel off the interstate to hold the annual event in one of their ballrooms.
A shiver of exci
tement rippled through Georgina when she thought about the plans she’d made for her future. She was aware that she had to work hard and probably make unforeseen sacrifices to realize her dream to become an independent business owner. But the knowledge that she would join a small number of women owning and operating their own businesses in Wickham Falls, West Virginia, was heady indeed.
Fifteen minutes later she maneuvered into a space between a Ram 1500 and a Ford F-150. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy, she mused. Whether attending the local sports bar or a semiformal affair, pickups were the preferred modes of transportation in the town where the population still hovered below five thousand.
Thankfully, the Gibsons, who owned the Wolf Den, when they erected a barn at the rear of the property for larger gatherings, had paved the parking lot. Georgina gathered her belongings off the passenger seat and alighted from the SUV.
A small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the barn and as she waited in line, she recognized several customers who patronized the department store. Powell’s, as the locals called it, had survived despite big-box stores going up in neighboring towns because the Falls’ town officials insisted if its citizenry lived local, then they should shop local. The town council had repeatedly voted down any developer’s bid to put up strip malls with fast food restaurants and variety shops because they would impact and threaten the viability of Wickham Falls’ mom-and-pop stores.
She finally made her way to the reception desk where the wives of several members were checking off names against ticket numbers. The woman glanced at her ticket, and then up at Georgina, her eyes widening in shock.
“Oh, my dear,” she whispered. “I almost didn’t recognize you, Georgina.”
She gave the elderly woman with stylishly salt-and-pepper coiffed hair a sweet smile. “There are occasions when we’re forced to clean up, Mrs. Bachmann.”
The woman, whose husband was the Chamber’s treasurer, nodded. “And I must say you clean up very well. I’m sorry your father can’t attend, but I’m glad you’re here to represent Powell’s. By the way, you’re at table number seven with others who will attend without a plus-one. You’ll find your place card there.”
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