Her mind pinged from memory to memory. Standing on a chair in the kitchen while Ada taught her the secret of fluffy biscuits. Cuddling next to Ada on the coach learning to read from Dr. Seuss books. Ada in old, rolled-up overalls and a floppy straw hat weeding the garden. The way Ada smelled like books and Pond’s cold cream. Ada’s laugh when Darcy had regaled her with made-up stories as a child.
They’d run out of time to make new memories.
As she had every night before bed, she’d hugged and kissed Ada and said “I love you.” Thank God for that. Darcy’s eyes were dry. Her head seemed to be floating somewhere near the ceiling, looking down on the crouching woman frozen in a panic.
She crawled to Ada’s bedside, took her cold hand, and pressed a kiss on the back. Maybe it was a dream. She willed Ada to spring up with open arms. Nothing changed.
The room lightened. How could the sun still rise? How could another day begin? She wanted to stay in the dark. The sun signaled life, even as death had come to call in the night.
On feet that didn’t belong to her, she left Ada to retrieve her phone. It was barely dawn, but he answered on the second ring. “Darcy?”
“Robbie.” His name croaked out of her desertlike throat.
“What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Home. Ada . . .” Now, finally, tears rushed to her eyes as if someone else finding out made everything real.
“Do you need an ambulance?” Drawers opened and closed behind his tense words.
“No. She’s . . .” She couldn’t force the word out.
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
The grandfather clock seemed to tick off hours. From a distance, a door opened, and Robbie was there. Solid and alive. Worry crinkled his eyes to slits and drew his mouth down. She could taste tears in the corners of her mouth, tickling her nose, but she didn’t wipe them away.
He bypassed her to check on Ada. Avery’s whine filled the silence like a mournful song. Robbie bowed his head over Ada and closed her eyes. What did her grandmother see now? Did the dead dream?
He hauled Darcy into a warm embrace. Avery stood sentinel next to Ada, and the thought of the dog guarding her grandmother’s soul made her smile through the tears.
“Have you called anyone else?” he asked.
She shook her head. Keeping one arm around her, he pulled his phone from his back pocket. His chest vibrated against her cheek as he talked, but she didn’t try to process the rumble into words.
The vibrations stopped. He put his arm around her shoulders and tried to lead her away. Away from Ada. She pushed away from his chest. “I won’t leave her. Not now.”
She fell on her knees next to Avery and buried her face in the thick fur of his ruff. Bristles of hair had grown back over his wounds. The dog rested his muzzle on her shoulder and licked her cheek, his warm, wet tongue a balm for her raw grief.
“I resented having to come back to Falcon to take care of her at first. You were right about that.” Avery’s fur muffled her confession.
“You loved her, and she loved you. That’s all you can ask for in life.”
His platitude planted a seed of anger in her gut. “She was getting better. I was sure we’d have years left together.”
A discreet knock sounded on the front door. Robbie left her. Low voices. A man, but not Logan. She looked up from the comfort of Avery’s warm, living body. A tall man with stooped shoulders and a narrow blade of a nose perched in the foyer. The man’s black suit, black hair, and black eyes befitted a funeral director. The crow-man’s gaze snared hers. She imagined he and death were on a first-name basis.
The door opened again, and before Logan even had a chance to close it, Darcy rushed past Robbie and the crow-man into her cousin’s arms. Grim lines furrowed his face. He squeezed her tight. The crow-man invaded Ada’s room. She left Logan to put herself between the man and her grandmother.
“I’m Aldus Cobb, Miss Wilde.” The crow-man took two tentative steps toward her, his voice wrapping around her like the softest of cottons. “Your grandmother and I discussed her wishes several months ago. I promise to take the best care of her.”
Her gaze lifted from the black buttons of his vest to his eyes. Black eyes that weren’t the hard, shiny obsidian she expected, but the darkness of a warm summer night.
She stepped aside. The business side of death couldn’t wait for her to reassemble her heart. Mr. Cobb ushered everyone into the kitchen as if it were his house. Perhaps through the years he’d learned to be an oasis of calm surrounded by grief.
Darcy served coffee, playing the hostess through habit. A date for the funeral was set, and she volunteered to write Ada’s obituary. Details swirled like gnats. She allowed Logan to make the decisions, nodding when he looked at her with a question on his face.
The conversation waned, and the men rose. Robbie squeezed her shoulder before following Logan and Mr. Cobb out the swinging kitchen door.
Metal clanged. Ada’s body travelled out of the house, but the house had been empty long before. Maybe that’s what had woken her. The emptiness.
Logan and Robbie’s whispers crashed around her, and their looks spoke of worry. She needed to pull herself together.
“I’m fine. Tired. I think I’ll go back to bed.” The words emerged hoarse, but stronger than she thought possible. “You need to be getting to work, don’t you, Robbie?”
“It’s nearly noon. I called in a sub. Do you want me to get you settled?”
The weak part of her craved his strength. He was made to lean on. But, the other part, the independent part, needed to navigate this alone.
“The state playoffs are one win away. Both of you need to be getting the team ready. You know how much Ada loved football. She would bust your butts if you didn’t win. Both of you.” She could see the guilt of life moving on in their eyes.
“I’m fine,” she repeated and turned to the stairs.
Robbie didn’t stop her. She closed the window and the drapes in her room, blocking out the vivid blue sky and the panorama of fall colors. Why couldn’t it be gloomy and raining outside? She pulled the covers over her head and riffled through memories, focusing on the happy ones. Sleep blessedly claimed her, and her dreams populated by a younger, laughing Ada.
* * *
The first sensation she registered upon waking was the warmth of a body pressed against hers. Robbie? She turned toward the heat and pulled the blankets off her head. A blast of rancid breath popped her eyes open.
A tongue lolled inches away from her mouth. A short yip signaled Avery’s happiness she was awake, and he licked her across her lips and cheek. She wiped the doggy saliva off her cheek. Getting nearly frenched by a dog was unique way to wake up.
She laughed and rubbed Avery behind the ears. Her laughter morphed into sobs, but the shock of finding Ada had faded. Her heart had ripped, but the memories she found in her dreams had begun stitching the wound—slowly, painfully, but healing nonetheless.
Darcy had things to do. After cleaning herself up and letting Avery out to water his favorite rose bush, she grabbed her laptop and sat at the kitchen table. She avoided the den, couldn’t face the empty hospital bed surrounded by the books Ada loved so.
The dreams fresh on her mind, she wrote about the Ada she remembered. The obituary wasn’t the sad, plodding list of mother and father, dead children, and surviving family. It honored a strong, funny woman whose love of books had infected generations of Falcon residents. She proofed it a second time with a smile on her face. Ada would have slapped her knee and crowed along with her.
By early evening, food started to arrive, accompanied by half the town. Preacher Higgs and his wife were the first visitors. Ada had not been a regular churchgoer, but whether her grandmother’s butt hit the pew or not, she had been part of the preacher’s flock.
Darcy only had time to set the casserole on the stovetop before the doorbell rang again. The three librarians, with red-rimmed eyes, stood there clutching covered dishes.
Darcy ushered them inside with hugs.
She brewed coffee, pulled out a jug of tea, and set out plates, glasses, and silverware. More and more people arrived. Most were friends Ada had cultivated through the years. Darcy settled them on the couches and chairs in the living room listening as they reminisced about Ada. Tears were shed, but above the buzz of wavering voices, laughter was the most common noise.
Kat’s parents bustled in with hugs, kisses, and a pot of turnip greens. Kat followed soon after, hugging her tightly and flashing a flask before Darcy was peeled away by another sympathy giver. Tyler’s mother, still in her factory blue uniform, brought more tea, and Gemmalee, Miles’s grandmother, brought a banana pudding. All of the senior football players stopped by to pay their respects.
Avery stayed by her side, and she found her hand falling to his head much like Robbie’s habitually did. Although, she wouldn’t have thought it possible that morning, she ate a huge plate of food. The moon had risen as she waved the last visitor down the lane. Only Kat stayed.
Kat unscrewed the top of the flask and offered it to Darcy. She saluted the moon with the flask and took a swig. The burn brought a different sort of tears to her eyes. She and Kat stood on the porch, passing the flask back and forth, no words necessary, until the stars shone brightly and Darcy was pleasantly fuzzy from the whisky.
“I brought a couple of movies. We’re having a sleepover,” Kat said as if she expected an argument from Darcy.
“As long as you didn’t bring Schindler’s List, I’m in.”
“How about the one with all the male strippers? We’ll turn the volume down and supply our own dialogue.” Kat winked.
Headlights cut through the trees. Two trucks pulled in. Avery bounded down the steps and loved on Robbie, jumping as high as his three legs allowed.
Logan squeezed her around the shoulders. “How’re you holding up?” Darkness ringed his eyes and a yawn slipped out.
“I’m okay.” Her surprise at the truth of the answer lilted the word high. “You missed the entire town stopping by. There’s more food than will fit in the fridge. Go fix yourself a plate.” She hugged her cousin tightly around his waist before shooing him inside with Kat.
Robbie waited at the bottom of the porch stairs. His gaze roved, probing deeper for the truth. “How are you really?”
“I’m . . . sad, but writing her obituary made me feel better. It helped to not wake up alone. Thank you for lending me Avery,” she whispered.
He nodded but didn’t move to take her in his arms as she hoped. Instead, his gaze drifted somewhere off to the side, through the distance that yawned between them.
“This morning. I didn’t know who else to call,” she said. Logan would have been the obvious choice, but she hadn’t even considered it in her shock. She’d wanted Robbie.
“I’m glad you called me.”
“Come and eat.” Their back and forth was unnatural and stilted. The ease they’d once shared seemed lost forever. It was as if two precious things had died.
Robbie nodded and followed her inside, keeping an arm’s length between them.
The four of them reminisced about Ada while Logan and Robbie ate. Once the dishes were done and food put away, Logan hugged her and tramped down the steps to his truck. Robbie and Avery left with nothing but a glance in Darcy’s direction.
The only TV was in the den where Ada’s empty bed sat. The implication didn’t bother Kat in the least. She changed the sheets and patted the space next to her. Darcy climbed up, her heart skipping, but the very act of claiming the space banished the ghosts. Instead, it was almost as if Ada were there cackling along with them and making lewd comments.
The movie over, they lay side by side and stared up at the ceiling beams. “I’m going to miss her too,” Kat whispered. “I’ll need to sit with you and Logan and go over her will.”
Darcy turned her face into a pillow that still held the faint scent of Ada’s lotion. “Surely, it’s pretty straightforward.”
“You might be surprised.” Before Darcy could pump her for more information, she said, “Sheila’s off to rehab.”
Darcy absorbed the bombshell. “I hope she finds a way to be happy.”
“That’s rather big of you considering she was behind all the rumors and the attack on Dalt.” Kat turned her head so they were nearly nose-to-nose.
“I think she hates herself more than she hates me or Robbie or even her husband.”
“You’ve changed.” Kat propped herself up on an elbow and frowned down at her.
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“You’re being all mature and stuff. I’m impressed.”
Darcy elbowed Kat in the ribs. “Talk about maturing . . . The town council offered me a job running the library.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“Told them I needed to think it over.”
“What does Dalt think about it?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him.” Darcy covered her face with her hands. “I screwed the pooch. I told Robbie I loved him, and he panicked.”
Kat flopped to her back. “Men are idiots. But he left Avery here to watch over you. In the world according to Dalt, I’d say that’s love.”
Maybe it was, but Darcy needed more. “I’m going to wait until after the funeral to decide anything. There will be decisions to make about the houses and land.”
Kat tensed beside her but only yawned. “I’m ready for bed. Want to move the party to your room?”
They lay side by side in her brass bed and talked until the moon was high. Kat surrendered to sleep first. Her eyes heavy, but her mind whirling, Darcy thought about how many nights over the years, they’d fallen asleep like this. She was thankful for Kat but longed for Robbie. The world was a different place than it had been twenty-four hours ago. A lonelier place.
23
Steel gray clouds chased away the warm fall days they had been enjoying. A blustery north wind stripped leaves from trees, scattering them through the graveyard. Orange, red, and yellow covered the browning grass.
Robbie’s palm itched from where he stood at the back of the crowd. Darcy wiped the tears off her splotchy face with the back of her hand while Logan’s arm circled her shoulders. Robbie wanted to be the one Darcy leaned on, but he’d vowed to keep his distance until he could make the break.
With Miss Ada gone, Darcy might make the break for him. Had she started packing? His heart constricted, and he backed away as the service broke up, deciding to walk the few blocks from the cemetery to the football complex. They’d won their last game, and the playoffs loomed.
He had scouting video to watch, plays to draw up, and a final to work up for his Advanced Calculus class. Work would keep his mind off her. There he went lying to himself again.
“Coach! Wait up.”
He turned and waited for Kat. Dressed all in black with a small, veiled hat perched on her curls, she might have stepped off a movie set.
“Listen, I need to talk to you about—”
“I don’t want to talk about Darcy,” he said forcefully as he veered onto Main Street.
Kat matched his long stride, even managing to throw him a smirk and raised eyebrow. “Actually, that’s not what I need to discuss, but it sounds like you have some things on your mind. Might be best to share them with our girl.”
Our girl. But for how long?
“Right this way.” The red fingernails digging into his arm forced him to a stop outside her office on Main Street. She opened the door and waved him inside. “This is business. Head on back and grab some coffee if you want.” He imagined she interrogated criminals in the same no-nonsense tone.
A half-hour later, he emerged in a daze. In her will, Miss Ada had given him the option to buy the Wilson house for a ridiculously low price. One he could easily afford. His afternoon classes passed in a blur.
Finally, after practice, he listened to his messages. Local reporters, well-wishes from prominent townspeople, the mayor included, a c
all from the bank letting him know to come in at his convenience to set up the mortgage.
He cleaned up and headed home. Home. It took on a new meaning. For the first time since Miss Ada passed, Darcy’s car was the only one out front. In the falling gloom, the porch swing rocked but not from the wind. A small figure huddled. Her pain seeped into the night. His heart hurt because she hurt and, right or wrong, he had to hold her, comfort her, alleviate her pain.
He rolled to a stop outside Miss Ada’s house. The engine sputtered off, leaving a heavy silence. Even the crickets had gone into mourning. As Avery went in search of his favorite rose bush, Robbie made his way to the porch and up the steps, one overly loud clomp at a time.
An old afghan blanket was wrapped around her legs. The gray sweater from the funeral showed at the top. Before he could say a word, she pounced. Her arms weaved around his neck, and her body melded with his, their lips colliding with bruising passion. The honeysuckle of her hair wove a summer spell around them in spite of the chill.
The days without her had been interminable, the nights lonely. He held her head while his tongue dipped between her lips. She grappled along his shoulders, pulling and tugging, but he didn’t release her face to allow more intimate contact. He’d missed her. Missed her with an intensity that brought the sting of tears to his eyes.
She skimmed hands down his flanks. The ripple of pleasure tensed his muscles. His tongue curled deeper into her mouth, and her answering moan reverberated through his chest, tightening it with need. She ripped at his belt and the fly of his jeans.
She delved into his boxer briefs, pushing them down. The evening air couldn’t dent his arousal. He glided his hands down her body, over her breasts, briefly cupping her ass, to the hem of her skirt. Her legs were bare, the dark tights she’d worn earlier gone.
Slow and Steady Rush: Sweet Home Alabama Page 24