“Looks like it.”
“Soon as the plans are finished, we’ll go into town and order the lumber,” Jon added.
“Maybe I should buy me a cowboy hat,” Garret mused, attempting a western twang. “And a pair of boots. I like the boots.”
More laughter. Garret’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Ciana’s heart swelled. She shoved memories of Olivia’s diary to the back of her mind and decided that happiness was right in front of her in the form of friends, family, spring sunshine, fresh earth, and horses. What had happened years before she was even born was history. And no one could change history.
Once the threat of frost was over, Eden helped Alice Faye plant the backyard garden. The dirt had been tilled and turned, the tiny seedlings spaced and planted on raised mounds, away from drowning rain. She had seen the results of these early days of hard labor the summer before, the lush and abundant growth, the almost daily harvest of food that, when blanched and put into glass jars and stored properly, guaranteed that no one on a farm would go hungry. And with Garret living at Bellmeade too, she felt totally content. In the cool of the morning, she heard the echo of his hammer and the buzz of his handsaw. At the end of the day, she made the long trek from the back of the garden through the stand of trees to the newly rising stables, where Garret would shout, “Come to give me a kiss and a cold beer for a hard day’s work?”
On occasion they would steal away and find a private place to be alone, to make love, to plan for the trip they’d take once Ciana and Jon were married. If it rained and no one could work, they’d meet in the barn up in the loft and while away the afternoon.
Eden gave Ciana money even though Ciana at first refused it. “Take it! Until the garden comes in,” Eden insisted. “I know this place doesn’t run on fresh air.” Late at night, after being with Garret in the camper, Eden saw the lamp glowing from the room she knew was Ciana’s office, and knew Ciana was poring over ledgers and working with cost containment. Bellmeade was a fearsome burden, and Eden swore to do whatever she could to help her friend carry it.
One evening while the night air was still cool, Eden and Ciana sat on the veranda, sharing a bottle of Enzo’s wine. Jon had built them a small fire in a brazier for warmth, and Alice Faye had sliced fresh bread and cheese for a snack.
Eden propped her feet on the porch railing, held up the glass, watched the fire gleam through the ruby-colored liquid. “The man sure knows how to make good wine.”
“Let’s toast us,” Ciana said.
Eden’s glass clinked against hers. “To all of us,” she said.
“And to our futures,” Ciana added.
“And to finding a great wedding dress for you. A pretty maid of honor dress for me.”
“And to—”
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Eden said. “Let’s just drink our wine before the fire goes out!”
They both laughed. Ciana again clinked her glass with Eden’s. The new fields were planted. The fence cutting and vandalism had evaporated, thanks to Cecil’s diligence, and now, with the new stables nearing completion, Jon was eager to get married, go west, and buy mustangs. Combining Jon’s horse business with her agribusiness would give Bellmeade a real future. All it would take was hard work, patience, money, good weather, and a whole lot of luck. But Olivia had always said, “Just because something’s hard, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.” On that point, Ciana agreed with her grandmother wholeheartedly. She could do this! With a little help from her friends.
Another long workday was over, the old house lay quiet, and darkness had chased away daylight. Ciana wandered into the kitchen, lit by the open refrigerator door, where Jon was searching the shelves. She stood in the doorway, enjoying the view of his bare torso. The man had a great butt. “Help you?” she asked after watching him hunt for a bit.
He bumped his head retreating from the fridge’s interior. “Oh, hey. Looking for the leftover casserole.”
The light from the refrigerator silhouetted him. She thought he looked good enough to eat, or at least to lick all over. “Look in the lower right drawer.”
“Where is everybody, anyway?”
“Mom’s at an AA meeting. Garret and Eden went into town to catch a movie.”
Jon kept stock-still, measuring Ciana across the length of the kitchen. The fridge’s motor kicked on. “So we’re alone in the house?”
“That a problem?”
He flashed a wicked smile, stepped away from the fridge, shoved the door closed with the heel of his bare foot. “Not for me.”
Ciana’s mouth went dry and her heartbeat doubled. He sauntered toward her, his hair still damp from a shower. Her gaze skimmed down his chest to his flat, hard abs and then to the denim waistband slung low on his hips. She felt her skin heat up. When he was standing in front of her, she said, “I thought you said you were hungry.”
“Different appetite reared up.”
Her breath went shallow. “Really?”
He edged closer, flipped her hair off her shoulder. “So you’re saying I’m all alone with the girl I’m engaged to. What should we do about that?”
“Make the most of it?” she ventured, positive she wanted no other choice. The fire between them had burned for a long time.
“You’re healed?”
“Perfectly.”
“You love me?”
“With all my heart.”
“I love you, too, Ciana Beauchamp. And right now, I want to do something about it.”
“Like what?”
“Let me show you.” He lifted her, surprising her as to how easily he did it, and how seduced she was by the low rumble of his words in her ear.
She clung to him as he walked down the hall to her bedroom, laid her on her bed, and stretched out beside her. The room’s only light came from a horse head night-light she’d owned since she’d been a kid. In the soft glow, his eyes stared into her. She felt his fingers push her tangled hair away from her face, then trail down her cheek and along her neck.
“You’re beautiful,” Jon said.
“So are you.” It was the only thing she could think to say at the moment. He was beautiful. She touched his bare chest.
He kissed her deeply, slowly.
He broke the kiss. “You know you ran away from me once before, and fell asleep on me after that when we got this far.”
“It won’t happen this time.”
He gave a throaty laugh; then his voice turned serious. “I missed you this summer. Out on the circuit you were in every thought under the stars.”
“I missed you too.” She had long forgiven him for not calling. All that was behind them now. He was here with her. They were engaged. They were alone. “You just going to spend this time talking?”
He flashed another smile, lifted her T-shirt. “Reckon not.”
He ran his palm, rough from handling ropes and leather, from her throat to her waist, resting the tips of his fingers along the band of her jeans. She held her breath, her skin burning with an exquisite fire, and torn between wanting him to hurry and wanting him to move slowly. “Don’t leave me again.” Her words came from down deep, throaty but soft.
“Never going to happen.”
From far away, she heard a car door slam.
Beside her, Jon tensed.
No-o-o! “Not now!” Ciana said with a breathy moan.
They heard Alice Faye come into the kitchen, and call out, “I’m home!”
“Other people do live here,” Jon said, nibbling on Ciana’s shoulder.
“But—but—I don’t want to stop.”
He rolled onto his back, his face in a grimace. “You think I do? You’re going to have to go out there and distract her until I can sneak out.”
“Ciana? Eden? Guys? You here?” Alice Faye’s voice drifted down the hall past Ciana’s bedroom.
“Meet you in the kitchen!” Ciana shouted, hoping to stop her mother’s advance. She gave Jon a hurried kiss and swung her legs over him. He groaned.
&nbs
p; Leaving him wanting her hadn’t been her intention. She made it to the door, and over her shoulder teased him as he’d once teased her with the words, “Rain check?”
He heaved her pillow at the door as it closed behind her.
“How was your meeting?” Ciana asked, coming into the kitchen, raking her hand through her tangled hair and sitting at the table across from her mother hoping she looked more pulled together than she felt.
“Good. No one’s fallen off the wagon. Tea?” she asked as the kettle whistled on the stove.
“Sure.” Ciana couldn’t care less about drinking a cup of tea, but it would give Jon plenty of time to make his escape and herself time to cool down. She kept her smile to herself because it was all so high school. Why couldn’t she simply say, “Mom, Jon and I want to be alone tonight—you go on to bed”? But of course, she couldn’t and wouldn’t.
“Where is everybody?”
“The ‘children’ are at the movies and Jon’s hanging around somewhere.”
Alice Faye set two mugs of steeping tea on the table along with sugar and milk and a container of honey. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing. Slow night.” Their teatime was cut short by Eden and Garret coming through the front door and noisily tromping through the house into the kitchen. Garret was saying, “No one’s cooler than James Bond, my love.”
“Puh-leeze! All those fights and explosions and not a scratch on him. Get real!”
“Doesn’t have to be real, does it Mum Alice?” It was Garret’s pet name for Ciana’s mother.
“What’s reality got to do with a Bond movie?” Alice Faye asked. “Tea?”
“Exactly!” Garret said.
Eden patted her tummy. “No thanks. Had a sundae after the movie.”
Just then Jon walked into the kitchen, looking disheveled and sleepy-eyed and absolutely gorgeous in Ciana’s eyes. “What’s up?”
Eden homed her radar in on him. “Your shirt’s buttoned all crooked.”
Jon glanced down at the misaligned shirtfront, turned red-faced. Ciana glanced in the opposite direction, knowing she’d burst out laughing if their eyes met. “Just got out of the shower upstairs. Heard ya’ll come home,” he mumbled.
Eden looked at Jon’s bare feet, then back at Ciana, and shot her an Oh you naughty girl look.
“I’d like some tea,” Jon said, clearing his throat while fumbling with his buttons.
Alice Faye jumped to her feet. “Water’s still hot.”
Ciana knew Jon had never drunk a cup of tea in his life.
Eden’s cell phone rang. She slid it from her pocket, glanced at the display, looked puzzled. She stepped out of the kitchen as Garret began to discuss the latest Bond girl. “Her hair never got mussed, but who was watchin’ her hair?”
The others laughed and were still laughing when Eden reentered the kitchen, her face ghostly white. Ciana leaped from her chair. “What’s wrong? Who called?”
All eyes turned toward Eden. “Love!” Garret said in alarm, going to her.
“A woman in Tampa. The director of a halfway house.” Eden’s words were barely audible. “She said … the woman said my mother died.”
“Sign says there’s a rest stop in a mile. Want to stop, love?”
Garret asked.
Eden lay in a semi-fetal position beside him in the camper’s front passenger seat, curled as tightly as the seat belt would allow. She didn’t answer. She hadn’t said much of anything since they’d left Bellmeade for the ten-hour drive to Tampa. She didn’t want to talk because there was nothing to be said. Gwen, her mother, had up and died over seven hundred miles away from her only child, who might have never known except for a phone call from an absolute stranger. The woman’s question had been “What do you want done with her body?”
“Well, I want to stop,” Garret said, putting on the blinker and turning into the rest area. Late-morning sunlight poured through the windshield. Garret pulled into a parking spot. He turned off the engine, unsnapped his belt, reached over, and released Eden’s. “Come on, love. Let’s stretch our legs. There’s a picnic table. We’ll eat something.”
Eden’s stomach rebelled at the mere suggestion of food. Except for coffee, she had refused breakfast too.
As the sun had risen that morning, Ciana and Jon and Alice Faye had seen her and Garret off. Alice Faye handed them an enormous basket of food for the road, and Jon had policed the camper, cleaning it out and readying it for the trip. Ciana had printed maps that would take them to the doorstep of the halfway house called Crossroads House, Gwen’s last address according to the caller. She had also helped Eden pack. In actuality, Ciana had packed while Eden sat listlessly staring into space. “Not sure what you’ll need, Eden, so I’m throwing in a little of everything. And take your time coming back too. I hear Florida’s beautiful. The beaches in the panhandle are supposed to be some of the best in the world. You and Garret should check them out. Oh, I’m shoving your tablet into the side pocket. After you know what’s happening, you call, all right?”
“The stables—” Eden mumbled.
“Don’t you even think about it. Jon and I can finish up. Almost done anyway.”
Now, hours later, she and Garret had left Tennessee far behind. Garret opened the passenger-side door, urged Eden out of her seat, took her hand, and retrieved the basket with his other. He walked them to a sun-dappled picnic table under a stand of trees, seated Eden, then began laying out sandwiches, carrot sticks, and apple slices. “You need to eat, love.” His tone was tender.
She rested her elbows on the table, covered her face with her hands. “I’m really not hungry. You eat, though. Where are we, anyway?” Her words came with effort. She was numb, felt like a sleepwalker unable to wake up from a bad dream. She’d hardly slept the night before, her head filled with a kaleidoscope of memories of Gwen, of a childhood lived mostly on her own. She might have felt numb at this moment, but she had yet to shed a tear. Eden didn’t know how to mourn for her mother, wasn’t sure how to both hold on to her and let her go. She hadn’t seen the woman in over a year. Nor had she talked to Gwen in about the same amount of time. What constituted “goodbye”?
“We’re in Georgia, heading south on I-75,” Garret was saying. “A sign said Georgia’s the Peach State. I like peaches. Guess it’s too early just yet.”
Eden knew she wasn’t being fair to Garret. Her withdrawal was rude, and he didn’t deserve it. He was an innocent bystander, someone who loved her. Because she felt guilty, she tried to make an effort. She took a bite of her sandwich, a ham and cheese on Alice Faye’s home-baked bread. Immediately emotion clogged her throat. Ciana’s mother had treated Eden more like her child than Gwen had. Her months of living at Bellmeade had been her happiest. Bellmeade was where she’d learned to grow things, especially herself. “I’ll be all right. I’m not going to break like glass, Garret. Me losing my mother isn’t like it would be if you lost yours.”
“Your mum’s your mum. Can’t be replaced, you know. I’ll cry like a baby when mine goes.”
While in Australia, she’d given him a glimpse of her life with Gwen, but no amount of telling about it could fully describe how it had felt to be the child of a mother who couldn’t connect with either her daughter or the real world. “And so will I. You have a great mother,” Eden said.
He gave her an odd look, making her ashamed. She was coming across as callous, and that wasn’t who she was. “Can we go now? I was hoping to make Tampa before dark.” Before he could answer, Eden headed back to the camper while he cleaned up and repacked the basket. Keep your mouth shut, she warned herself. There was no explaining a relationship she’d never understood herself. Gwen had disappeared forever. She was gone, and this time, she wasn’t coming back.
They crossed into Florida in late afternoon, blew past exits for Gainesville and Ocala, ignored the cutoff that would have taken them to Orlando and Disney World. Garret looked wistful and Eden realized that he would have liked to have visited the Magic
Kingdom, a place where adventurers lived and childhood dreams came true. He was such a kid at heart, while she had never been a kid. Just north of Tampa they became ensnared in a giant traffic jam that destroyed any hope of reaching their destination at a reasonable hour. The Crossroads House was at the extreme southern end of the city.
“We’ll get a hotel nearby,” Garret told her. “One with a pool.”
By now, Eden’s numbness had turned into a stupor, and lack of sleep made her feel dull and witless. “Yes … a pool and a glass of wine. Good idea.”
“And some supper,” he added.
The motel he chose had a Tahitian theme, with smooth tile floors and no carpet. Because April was so much warmer in Tampa than in middle Tennessee, the pool water revived Eden, while the wine mellowed her out. She swam, crawled into a lounge chair, and drifted in and out of sleep. At some point, Garret took her back to the room, helped her out of her damp suit, and tucked her into the king-sized bed. “I’ll watch a little telly, then turn out the lights,” he said. She didn’t care.
Later, when he snuggled in the bed beside her, she burrowed closer to him, saying, “Hold me.”
He needed no urging. He wrapped her in his arms, smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead. “It’s all right now, love. You’re safe.”
Eden felt an involuntary shudder in her shoulders that quickly spread down and through her body. A low, pitiful wail escaped from her mouth. She fought to hold back another but lost the battle. Tears came pouring out, great racking sobs that shook her, made her gag, made her nauseous. Over and over, like a small lost child, she cried, “Mama … Mama!”
Garret clutched her tightly, rocked her, absorbed her choking, gushing sobs into his skin. “It’s all right. I’m here. Let it out, love. Let it all out,” he repeated like a mantra. She cried until she was spent and drained and limp, until her ocean of tears had escaped, then moved away like the tide from the pull of the moon. And finally she slept, but even then, Garret Locklin didn’t let go.