Honeysuckle Season

by Mary Ellen Taylor

  Her fallback was a pizza place in town. She had swung by a few times last fall when she had visited Dad. The carbs were off the charts, and just thinking about the fat grams made her want to cry. God, it was good. And so it would be tonight as well. And maybe for a little while, she could forget about Elaine. There was always a bright side, she reminded herself.

  More than ready to leave the silent house, she grabbed her purse and decided to walk. The center of town was less than a mile away, and the weather was pleasantly warm, with no humidity. That would not last much longer, as summer was ready to kick in.

  As she passed the mercantile store, she saw Sierra inside with a guy dressed in jeans, a blue T-shirt that read LANE CONSTRUCTION, and work boots. Not a stretch to assume he was the contractor.

  She knocked on the window, and Sierra waved her inside. Sierra was smiling, but the contractor was not. He had that “time is money” look that she appreciated. “Not staying long. Getting pizza. Can I bring you anything?”

  “No, thanks. Mom is cooking tonight. Libby, I’d like you to meet John Stapleton. My contractor.” Libby picked up on the underlying excitement in Sierra’s voice, which she knew was attributed to the project more than John.

  Libby crossed the room and shook John’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you. You going to have your hands full with this building?”

  “Not as bad as I first thought. There’s some foundation work that needs to be done, but overall it’s in good shape.”

  “We like the idea of that. Can you stick to the sixty-day renovation schedule?”

  “It’ll be ready by late summer or early fall,” he said.

  “I like the sound of that,” Sierra said.

  “Good. I’ll leave you two to get back to work,” Libby said. “I’m starving. Sierra, call if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  As Libby left the mercantile store, she realized she was good at starting things. So far, nothing she had undertaken had lasted more than five years, including her marriage, her nursing career, and her attempts at motherhood. How long would her interest in the mercantile store or Bluestone last?

  Libby arrived at the pizza shop, ready to push aside all worries and chow down on a pepperoni pizza. She pushed through the front door, savoring the scents of roasted tomato, oregano, and cheese. Bluestone Pizza was the hangout for local high school kids who wanted to impress their dates by trying to score beer. As in all small towns, everyone knew everyone, including their birthdays.

  A girl about nineteen stood behind the counter. She wore her dusty-blonde hair streaked with purple in a ponytail. She smiled brightly as she reached for two menus and looked past Libby for the other members of her party.

  “Just me,” Libby said. “Table for one.” She felt proud that the words no longer stuck when she spoke them. Yeah, there were a few sinkholes in her life, but she was navigating around them well enough.

  The girl stepped out from behind the counter, and Libby noticed her rounded, pregnant belly, which looked to be in the final trimester.

  “I know you,” the girl said. “You’re Dr. McKenzie’s daughter.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He was my pediatrician. I was kind of thinking—when I first found out about my peanut—Dr. McKenzie would be my baby’s doctor as well. I didn’t realize he had been sick.”

  “He kept it to himself.”

  “I heard he kept office hours into last fall, when he retired.”

  “He loved his job.”

  “I could tell. I don’t think I ever saw him upset or flustered.”

  “It didn’t happen often.”

  Libby thought about Elaine, who had not been much older than this girl when she was pregnant. Had Elaine’s family cut her off completely when she was pregnant? Had she had to work in a place like this until she gave birth? When Libby had been expecting, she had not lifted anything higher than a mug filled with herbal tea. And here this young woman was on her feet, moving around without a care in the world.

  She seated Libby at a table in the back, away from the main dining room. The dinner crowd had not arrived, which was just as well. She could eat in peace and quiet. Without looking at the menu, she ordered the extra large cheese-and-pepperoni pizza and a medium Diet Coke. It was her perfect pizza-to-drink ratio.

  Her diet soda arrived, and she had just dropped the straw in the fizzing caramel liquid when a small hand smacked her table. “Libby!”

  She looked up to the curious, direct gaze of Jeff Reese. “Jeff!”

  “Did I scare you?” Hope wove around the question.

  “You did! When did you learn how to drive?” she teased.

  He laughed. “I didn’t drive. My dad brought me.”

  She looked past the boy to see Colton striding in with Sam at his side. “Good to know you aren’t wandering around alone.” When Colton stepped to the table, she rose. “Great minds think alike.”

  “Hi, Libby!” Sam said, giggling.

  “Hey, big guy!”

  “Sorry for the sneak attack,” Colton said. “Believe it or not, it means he likes you. Jeff, enough with the giving people heart attacks.”

  Jeff frowned, studying Libby closely. “I didn’t give her a heart attack.”

  “Still debatable, Jeff,” Libby said.

  The boy shrugged. “Shake it off.”

  That sounded more like an echo of Colton’s advice. “You’re right.” She pretended to shake. “My worries are all gone.”

  Colton grinned. “If you would like more mayhem with your meal, you can join us. And no is a perfectly acceptable answer.”

  A yes translated into a chaotic dinner. And no meant she would likely end up wondering which mother loved her less while she scrolled Jeremy’s Instagram page. “Mayhem and pizza sound pretty good.” She rose and picked up her purse and drink. “Let me tell the waitress to bring my pizza to your table.”

  “Pizza!” Jeff said.

  “Pizza!” Sam echoed.

  “Boys, we’ll order our own.”

  “No need,” Libby said. “I have ordered enough to feed a small country.”

  “We’re a small country when it comes to pizza,” Colton said.

  “Then you can consider mine an appetizer.”

  “Thanks. The twenty-minute wait for a pie with these two boys can be very long.”

  She quickly told the girl where she had moved, and just as she approached the new booth, an extra large pizza arrived with four plates. Jeff sat closest to the wall, and when Libby took the seat next to him, he grinned at Sam, as if to say he had won.

  Sam glanced up at his father, clearly hoping for justice, but Colton told him to sit. They could swap seats later if it still mattered to him.

  As Colton unrolled his napkin from around the knife and fork, he raised a brow. “You weren’t kidding about feeding a small country.”

  “Go big, or go home,” she said. While Jeff wrestled with silverware, she reached for a plate and slid a piece onto it, setting it in front of Jeff. “Don’t eat it yet. Too hot.”

  Colton did the same just as Sam stuck his finger in hot cheese. He patiently wiped it off and then stuck his finger in his own ice water.

  “Never a dull moment,” she said with a grin.

  “Never.”

  Milk with straws arrived for the boys and an ice-cold beer for Colton. “Did you come here when you were a kid?” Jeff asked.

  “I did,” she said and then cut his pizza into a couple of smaller bites. “I think it’s cooled down enough.”

  He stabbed his fork in the pizza and jammed it into his mouth. If her daughter had gone to term, she would be about two years old now. She wondered what it would be like to have her in a high chair with her own cut-up pizza to gnaw on. Would she be more delicate than the boys or dig right in like her mom?

  Libby grabbed a big slice and took a bite. It was hot, gooey, garlicky, and tomatoey and just tasty enough to distract her. The four ate in silence for several minutes, though Col
ton caught a cup of milk from spilling and cut up more pieces for Sam before he took his first sip of beer.

  “You live right down the street, right?” he asked.

  “Seven blocks,” she said.

  “You walked?”

  “I did.”

  “You should come back to Woodmont with the boys and me. We can give you the first look at the greenhouse all cleaned out.”

  “You’ve finished the sealing?”

  “Not quite, but the interior has been scrubbed clean. Elaine has a good eye for projects like this.”

  Mention of Elaine had her coiling a piece of cheese around her finger. “What do you think you’ll do with the space once it’s restocked?”

  “She’s warming to the idea of holding events at Woodmont and talked about hosting smaller weddings inside the greenhouse.”

  “I thought the Carters were well off.”

  “Maybe at one time. Dr. Edward Carter was not good with money. It’s either sell to developers or generate income with the property to maintain it properly and cover the taxes.”

  “Did you ever see yourself overseeing weddings?”

  “I did not. But I love the property. It deserves to be enjoyed. Like I said, come and see it.”

  She took a long sip of her soda. “Sure, I’ll come back.”

  “Great,” he said with a genuine grin.

  The kids finished, and when the check came, Colton insisted on paying. He also insisted the boys visit the bathroom, explaining the drive home could be long if someone had to go. The four piled into his truck, the boys in their booster seats and her in the front seat next to Colton.

  The drive back to Woodmont took less than twenty minutes, but by the time Colton turned down the long driveway, the boys had both fallen asleep. Colton parked in front of his cottage.

  “Carb overload works every time,” she said, though she did not feel the least bit tired. She felt energized and glad she was not at home alone.

  She unhooked Sam from his booster and hefted him up. He did not wake and wrapped his arms around her neck, nestling his nose against her chest. He was a solid kid and heavier than she had imagined, so she was not moving as quickly as Colton, who bounded up the steps with Jeff into the house. The boys’ room was outfitted with twin beds already turned down for the night.

  “Just take off his shoes and pants,” Colton said.

  “I’ve done this before,” she said, tugging off a pint-size Spider-Man shoe as well as a blue sock.

  “Not your first rodeo,” he said, grinning.

  She removed the second shoe and sock and placed the sneaker beside the other at the foot of the bed. After unsnapping his jeans, she tugged off the oversize pants and then slid him to scoot under the covers. He rolled on his side and popped his thumb into his mouth.

  “Is that okay?” she asked.

  “It’s one of those habits we’ll have to break, but not tonight.”

  He dimmed the lights, switched on an overhead fan, and turned on a green night-light.

  In the hallway, she glanced at a collection of pictures that had been taken of the boys when they were babies. “They’re cute.”

  “I fell hard for both of them.” He paused to study a picture of the boys. “I’ll call Mom and see if she can come sit with them so we can go see the greenhouse.”

  “I don’t want to trouble her.”

  “She’s still at Woodmont. She always works late at the house when the family isn’t there. Says she’s getting it back under control.”

  “As long as she doesn’t mind.”

  His cell phone was already to his ear. He quickly asked Margaret if she would come up for a little while, and she agreed. He grabbed two longneck beers from the refrigerator, twisted off the tops, and handed her one.

  “We can sit outside,” he said.

  “Too pretty an evening to waste.”

  He opened the front door for her, and she took a seat in one of the rockers. As she passed by him, she caught the scent of him. It was not really cologne but a man’s scent. It vaguely reminded her of Jeremy. Colton’s scent was rougher around the edges—in a good way, like handmade paper or frayed jeans.

  “Do you get a chance to sit out here often?” she asked.

  “Some nights when the boys are asleep. Lately I’ve used the time to catch up with vendors and contractors.”

  She took a long sip. “Never a dull moment.”

  Footsteps crunched on the path, and a security light clicked on, lighting the pathway.

  Margaret rounded the corner, her head bowed as if she was concentrating on the ground. When she looked up and saw Libby, there was no missing the surprise.

  “Libby, what brings you back out here?” she asked.

  “Colton is showing me the greenhouse.”

  Margaret shifted her gaze to Colton for only a split second, but it conveyed the kind of warning a mother sent to a son, even if he was grown, was widowed, and had two kids. “Well, you two go on and get down the path. I’ll sit with the boys.”

  “We won’t be gone long,” Colton said.

  “You take your time. I’m going to watch Wheel of Fortune.”

  She followed Colton down the path. As they rounded the last corner, she looked up at the greenhouse. Its dome caught the evening light and reflected it back like a diamond. No longer covered by vines, each pane had been cleared and cleaned. There was also a three-foot perimeter around the structure now. He opened the door for her, which now slid easily, and held out his hand. “After you. You get the first look.”

  She passed by him and stepped inside. Without all the clutter and stacked pots filled with dirt and dead plants, the space felt larger. The heaviness in the air she had felt the first time was gone. “A-plus job, Colton.”

  “It turned out better than I thought.”

  “This space will get Woodmont noticed. No venue I know of has anything like it.”

  He sipped his beer as she crossed the space. When he turned to look at her, his gaze rested on her. A heat rose up, warming her cheeks. She knew the look. God, she had missed the thrill of a man looking at her with desire.

  “Margaret must think we’re up to something.” Her voice sounded huskier than normal.

  “I came to show you the greenhouse.”

  The bland, noncommittal tone had her moving closer to make sure she was not getting her signals crossed. “And I see that it’s a lovely space. I suppose now that we’ve seen it, we can head back to your house and watch Wheel of Fortune with Margaret.”

  He regarded her as if he was considering her suggestion. And for a moment, she thought she had terribly misread his vibe. Maybe he really was showing off the work he had done in the greenhouse. Oh shit. Was she that out of touch?

  A tiny smile tugged the edges of his mouth as he set his beer down and then hers beside it. He took her hand in his and pulled her up to him. Her breasts grazed his chest. Her heart, she swore, was about to explode out of her chest.

  He rubbed his calloused thumb over her palm in a slow, seductive way that sent chills over her skin. Her thighs brushed against his, and she could feel a taut energy radiating off him like a tonic. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment you hopped in my truck.”

  “Me too.” She angled a little closer to him. She wanted him to kiss her first. She wanted to be wanted.

  He cupped her face in his hands and tilted it slightly before he pressed his lips to hers. His lips were soft and tasted like beer and pent-up energy. Despite her best plans to let him pursue her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her. Desire surged in her, and she did not care that they were likely on display in this snow globe for all to see.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he broke the kiss and crossed to the switch and turned off the lights. The bright light vanished, allowing the setting sun and the rising stars to light the room.

  She turned to him and kissed him. Hard. And before she thought much about it, she was reaching for the snap on his jeans.
>
  “I don’t have protection,” he muttered.

  “After my last miscarriage, my doctor told me I’d likely never get pregnant again,” she said.

  He drew back and studied her.

  “It’s a long story. And I haven’t slept with anyone since my ex two years ago. I’m about as safe as they come.”

  “There’s nothing safe about you,” he muttered, cupping her face.

  She unsnapped his button. “I’m assuming this is breaking a dry spell for you?”

  “It is.”

  “Then if we can trust each other, this could be fun.”

  That seemed to catch him up. He studied her in the moonlight, smoothing the hair from her face, as if he could somehow peer into her soul.

  “Jump or dive. Not forever, but now,” she whispered. “We’ve got to take the plunge sometime.”

  His eyes darkened and, after finally nodding, he kissed her again. Once the decision was made, the rest came very quickly. They undressed each other in a fevered pitch. Her hands were trembling; several times she reminded herself that this was sex. They both were deprived and starved, and a quick trip to erotica land would do the trick for them both.

  When he lowered her onto their pile of clothes on the floor, she had no sense of time or place. This. This was what she wanted.

  Their joining was hurried and full of repressed emotions, and when their desires boiled over and they plummeted into the abyss together, she was fairly sure her heart had burst.

  After, she curled next to him, absorbing the heat from his body. She had never done the one-night-stand thing, and she wondered what the walk (actually drive) of shame back to her house would feel like. She tried to locate an ounce of remorse but could not find anything. For the first time in a couple of years, she felt alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  OLIVIA

  Saturday, October 3, 1942

  The Woodmont Estate

  Sadie’s child had kicked Olivia’s hand, and she had immediately withdrawn it, as if she had been burned.

  “Sadie, does your mother know?” Olivia asked.

  Sadie drew the folds of her coat closed and turned away from Olivia, as if unconscious fears had roared to life. “There’s nothing to tell Mama. Whatever is going on with me will pass. What you felt was indigestion.”