The Year of Luminous Love

Ciana’s anger mushroomed. “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me and Eden?” Although Arie had explained her reasons, Ciana couldn’t stop herself from striking out at Jon, because it was Jon she wanted to wound.

  “She asked me not to.”

  “And you went along with her? You should have said something. If not before we left, at least when we were all together in Italy. After you left, she went straight downhill—”

  Jon grabbed Ciana’s shoulders, startling her. “She told me she would tell you. She promised me.”

  “Well, she didn’t!” Ciana twisted to break his grasp. “Let go of me.”

  Jon dropped his hands, but his gaze went hot. “I kept her confidence just like I kept yours when you asked me not to tell her about us.”

  Ciana felt as if he’d knocked the breath out of her with his well-chosen words. She straightened and with all the frostiness she could muster said, “My mother and I are co-owners of this farm, and that means you work for me, mister. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  His eyes blazed, but he kept his temper in, nodding in a gentlemanly way. “Good evening, Miss Beauchamp. I’ll just keep to my chores.”

  Her bottom lip quivered, and she shoved past him. Outside, darkness had fallen, and so had the temperature. She shivered uncontrollably as she jogged to the house and up onto the veranda, forcing back tears. I won’t cry. She pushed open the front door, tumbling into the warmth.

  “Mama?” she called.

  No answer.

  Still upset about Jon, Ciana went upstairs, pausing at her mother’s bedroom door, struggling to calm herself. “Mom? You in there? Surprise. I’m home.”

  No answer.

  Ciana touched the doorknob, then hesitated, remembering the last time she’d gone into a closed room, when she’d seen Arie’s body and blood on the floor. She pushed her mother’s door open and, surprised, saw that the room was freshly decorated—paint, bedding, pillows—all new, and unexpected.

  Ciana closed the door. Her mother must have been out for the evening. A good thing, she decided. One shouting match for the day had been enough. She really wasn’t up to butting heads with Alice Faye tonight about selling off Bellmeade.

  On the way to her own bedroom on the first floor, Ciana saw that her bags sat just inside the front door. Jon, doing one of his chores. Irritated, she stepped over them, and once she was inside her room, her spirit quieted. Ciana pulled off her boots and jeans and wrapped herself in the quilt that covered her bed, a wedding present to Olivia and Charles. Bone weary from the long trip, she closed her eyes. If only her grandmother were still here. Ciana could tell her anything and she would understand and help her decide what to do. Remembering Italy, grieving for Arie, angry at Jon, and facing uncertainty about the future, she let go and allowed herself, finally, to cry.

  The rattle of someone in the kitchen woke Ciana in the morning. It was almost eight o’clock; she’d grossly overslept. Tossing off covers, she quickly splashed cold water on her face, dressed, and hurried down the hall into the large farmhouse kitchen. She saw her mother busy stirring pots on the stove and rolling out dough. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Ciana!” Alice Faye hurried over, hugging Ciana enthusiastically. “What a lovely surprise. I knew you must be home because I saw your suitcases inside the door. Coffee’s fresh brewed. Help yourself.”

  “I haven’t seen you up this early in years.” The comment was more a dig than an observation. Ciana poured herself a big mug of hot coffee. “I’ll deal with my luggage later.”

  “No hurry,” her mother said, ignoring Ciana’s tone of voice, picking up the biscuit cutter, and deftly slicing the dough into perfect circles. “Take all morning. Sit down and eat a good breakfast first.”

  During Ciana’s childhood, Alice Faye had fixed breakfast every morning once the early chores were done and before Ciana went off to school. That had ceased when Ciana was in high school. She recalled a shouting match between her mother and grandmother about “hungover incompetence” but shook her head to dispel the ugly scene.

  “I want to hear all about your trip.” Alice Faye popped the biscuits into the oven and set the timer. She turned toward Ciana. “Aren’t you home early? Weren’t you staying through November?”

  Briefly Ciana told her about Arie.

  “Oh, that poor girl. Is there no end to her suffering?” Her mother stirred a pot of grits on the back burner. “I’d have been here last night if I’d known you were coming.”

  Despite the hit of caffeine, Ciana realized she hadn’t talked to her mother since their blowup on the phone about selling Bellmeade, but no need to mention it now. “We left in a hurry from an Italian hospital. We called her family so they could arrange for an ambulance to meet our plane and take Arie to the hospital. Eric drove me and Eden home late yesterday.”

  “I’m very sorry about Arie. Her parents must be beside themselves.” Alice Faye dried her hands on a dish towel.

  Just then a rap sounded on the outside kitchen door. “There’s our company.”

  “Company?”

  “I can’t eat all this food. I’d weigh a ton.” Alice Faye went to the door, opened it, and invited Jon inside.

  Smiling, he handed her a basket of fresh eggs from the chicken coop. His eyes snagged Ciana’s, and his smile faded. “Morning.”

  Ciana turned her back to him and poured herself more coffee.

  “Sit,” Alice Faye commanded. “This is my daughter, Ciana, fresh home from Italy. And this is Jon Mercer, the man I’ve hired to help us out.”

  “We met last night,” Ciana said. “When I went to check on my horse.”

  “Oh, of course,” Alice Faye said, turning on the flame under her cast-iron skillet. “I should have known the horse would get top billing.” There was no rancor in her voice, just amusement.

  Jon still stood at the door. “I can eat in the barn. Don’t want to spoil your homecoming.”

  “Sit!” Alice Faye said a second time. “Breakfast is part of our deal. So sit down and let me scoop up some grits and gravy for you. You want those eggs sunny-side up, right?”

  Ciana already knew how he liked his eggs. Alice Faye didn’t know hers and Jon’s history, nor did she want her to know. Ciana motioned toward the table, giving him her permission to sit and eat.

  Jon sat and offered a servile smile, infuriating her, just as the timer went off for the biscuits.

  “Honey, pour Jon some coffee.”

  Ciana gritted her teeth but complied. She slammed the mug in front of him, sloshing the coffee.

  “Eat with us?” Alice Faye questioned Ciana’s show of temper.

  “I’m going to tend the horses.” Ciana’s back was stiff as she turned to walk away.

  “The horses are fed and the stalls mucked,” Jon said casually.

  “Thank you, Jon,” Alice Faye said, a hint of chastisement in her tone, aimed at Ciana.

  “I’m going for a long ride,” Ciana said, irritated. “I’ll be back when I get back.”

  As Ciana stalked down the hall to her room, she heard her mother say, “Don’t know what’s gotten into that girl. Maybe she’s just overwrought about a sick friend. You’ll forgive her, won’t you?”

  “I forgive her,” Jon said, loudly enough for Ciana to hear all the way down the hall.

  Ciana slammed her bedroom door behind her.

  Arie was in Tuscany, in the villa. Sunlight warmed her and from the kitchen, she heard the sounds of Ciana making coffee, and then the scent of the rich brew filled the air.

  She woke with a start, saw the walls of the hospital room, daylight streaming through the window, and heard the sound of breakfast trays clattering in the halls. Both of her parents came alongside her bed.

  Swede kissed her forehead.

  “Your color is so much better,” Patricia said, stroking Arie’s cheek.

  “Did you two spend the night here?”

  They glanced at one another guiltily. One of the rules she’d laid down years before was no sle
epovers.

  “Oh, now, don’t fuss.” Patricia straightened the bedcovers. “We haven’t seen you in over two months. We wanted to be with you.”

  “You should be at work—both of you.”

  “And tomorrow is another day,” Patricia said, closing the subject.

  An orderly brought a breakfast tray. “Morning. Here you go.”

  He swept out and Arie cautiously lifted the metal lid over the plate. “Oatmeal?” Arie said. “Seriously? Do you know how well we ate in Italy? Oatmeal never passed my lips.”

  “As soon as you come home, I’ll fix anything you want.”

  “Did Dr. Austin say I could go home soon?”

  “He thought it might be a possibility now that you’re stable.”

  Her future stretched in front of her like a well-traveled road—back and forth for chemo treatments, blood work, endless tests; physical side effects of barfing, mouth sores, skin lesions, exhaustion, maybe hair loss. She figured treatments would be harsh, because the devil inside her had grown stronger. “Mom, do me a favor? Ask everyone to stay away until I go home?”

  “Dr. Austin’s already banned everyone but immediate family from visiting.”

  “Not Ciana and Eden,” Arie said. “I want to see them.”

  “All right. I’ll see that they get on the list as family.”

  “Do you know how my horse is doing?”

  “Your trainer … Jon, is it? He’s watching over your horse for you.”

  The news surprised Arie. “I thought he was going back to Texas.”

  “No,” Patricia told Arie. “He took a job at Bellmeade. Alice Faye needed some help while you all were gone.”

  “Really?” Arie’s heart leaped. Knowing he was at Ciana’s made her feel better than she had since her birthday, because if Jon was at Ciana’s, she could see him whenever she wished. And although she held no illusions that he loved her, she would forever love him. Her mood brightened. Arie picked up the spoon from her tray. “Okay. Bring on the oatmeal.”

  Her parents flashed her tender smiles.

  Over the next weeks, Ciana ignored her mother’s breakfast invitations and spent the time instead on long morning rides across Bellmeade land. Too much of the once-fertile fields lay dormant. How would she manage? She was just one person, and there was a lot of acreage to cultivate come spring. She needed people to sign leases, pay leasing fees, and work the land in order to keep Bellmeade going. The fields she kept under cultivation for personal use wouldn’t pay the bills. How had Olivia done it for so many years?

  There was also the issue of Jon Mercer. Not only was he doing work she could do, but also Alice Faye had promised to pay him, and Ciana knew from maintaining the checkbooks that they didn’t have the money. Neither did she want him around her—not the aggravation or the temptation. She often saw him watching her from a distance, cool and guarded. He still made her heart beat fast and her blood run hot, and yet beneath the surface of her attraction, her feelings simmered with unchecked anger. She told herself that anger was her ally because it created a wall of separation between the two emotions.

  And then there was her mother, who was acting totally weird. Cooking breakfast? Often preparing supper? Going out almost every evening? What was going on with her? Ciana was baffled. What had happened to the Alice Faye who used to pour herself glasses of sweet tea and gin until she weaved upstairs to her bedroom and passed out? Ciana shook her head. Too much to think about.

  By now, the morning sun was high and Ciana felt the heat through her jacket. Her horse was restless, and Ciana headed back to the barn. She was relieved to see that Jon was nowhere around. She quickly unsaddled her horse, brushed her out, then put her into the pasture with Sonata and Caramel. In the house, Ciana found leftover biscuits and ham and made herself two sandwiches. She was washing them down with cold milk when her mother came into the kitchen.

  “Have a nice ride?”

  “I haven’t got time to talk. Have to shower now.” Ciana dashed into her bathroom, not wanting a conversation that might turn into an argument, but when she came back out, her mother was sitting on her bed, waiting.

  “I need to say some things, and you need to listen,” Alice Faye said forcefully. “Jon told me you asked him to leave.”

  Ciana drew up short. This was one fight she could take on. “He said you hired him while I was gone. Now I’m home. We don’t need him.”

  “Much happened while you were away. Too much for us to discuss right now, but I do want to tell you why I hired Jon.”

  “You couldn’t handle the horses and chores by yourself. I get it.”

  Alice Faye leaned back on her elbows. “When you and your friends scampered off to Italy, I and your friends’ families had to face a maniac all by ourselves.”

  Ciana shivered. “I thought you had police protection.”

  “I had some, but they couldn’t be here twenty-four seven. Things started happening … strange things. Our horses were let out of the pasture and were roaming the roads. I had to call neighbors to help round them up. The horses could have been struck by cars. They could have been maimed or worse. The henhouse was vandalized. Three of our best layers had their necks wrung, and our rooster was stabbed to death. No wild animal did that. Only the two-legged variety could have been so cruel.”

  Ciana stood in shocked silence, unable to move.

  “I was scared, Ciana. I slept with Daddy’s revolver under my pillow and our shotgun by my bed. I ran into Essie Pickens at the grocery one day, and she suggested that I hire Jon to help, swore he was a good man and would protect our farm. I promised him wages and breakfast and any other meal he wanted. He has repaired the henhouse and replaced the hens and rooster. He’s kept up with the horses and he’s handled many an odd chore that needed doing. Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but this place is falling down around our ears.”

  Jon hadn’t said a thing about working at Bellmeade when he’d come to Italy. He should have. One more thing to hold against him. “Why didn’t you hire one of the men Olivia used?”

  “Those men are all gone, and the state’s clamped down on illegals. Not enough legit laborers to go around these days.”

  “Why didn’t you lease the land to other farmers?” Leases would have turned the insufficient labor issue into another farmer’s problem.

  “At the time Olivia wouldn’t hear of it. Beauchamp pride. These past eight years, Mother almost killed herself trying to keep things going. If you hadn’t planted the few fields you did last spring, the horses would have starved this winter.”

  The words sent new shock waves over Ciana. “Why didn’t someone tell me? I … I could have helped more—”

  “You were a teenager, in school. We both wanted to protect you.”

  “Why didn’t you stop me from going to Italy? That money—”

  “I wanted you to go to Italy. You needed to get out from under this place. See that the world is bigger than Bellmeade. I’d have given anything for such an opportunity when I was your age. But for now, back to Jon Mercer. He’s staying as long as he wants, and don’t you dare drive him away. A week ago, he went to see his father and found the man on the floor of his trailer, unconscious and dehydrated. He might have died.”

  Her mother’s revelations were almost too much for Ciana to process. “How … how is his daddy now?”

  “He’s in a county care home in Murfreesboro. He’s a sick, crippled fifty-six-year-old man with no one to care for him except Jon. I am not firing that young man just because you’re back and don’t like him working here. He can stay as long as he wants if it takes every last penny we have.”

  Alice Faye rose from the bed. In the open doorway, she squared her chin and leveled blazing eyes at her daughter. “And one more quick item. Although it may have escaped your attention, for the first time in many years, I am sober. This has not been easy. I struggle every day, but I am determined not to fail. I have an AA meeting tonight, same as last night, and I’m not missing it.”
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  The next morning, Ciana left the safety of her bedroom and the old house when she heard Jon come into the kitchen for breakfast. She hadn’t slept much. Her mother’s admission to being an alcoholic had rattled her. She thought of all the years Alice Faye had drifted in a gin haze, all the years Ciana had been ashamed of her mother when her friends visited. Only Arie and Eden had understood Ciana’s protective shell, and that was because Arie had a sensitive soul and Eden also had a dysfunctional mother. Olivia had berated her daughter or ignored her. Ciana had clung to her grandmother, the woman she loved and trusted most in the world. She should be happy for Alice Faye, Ciana told herself. But she felt stonewalled. What to do with this new mother who had emerged from nowhere, issuing edicts and demanding changes to both their lives? The woman who wanted to keep Jon on staff? The woman who wanted to sell Bellmeade and abandon their ancestral past?

  “I want you to be my maid of honor.” Abbie beamed Arie a sunny smile as she made her statement.

  The three of them were having lunch at the family dining table. Eric had brought in Chinese food and Arie was making an effort to eat it, but nausea was making it difficult. “That’s very nice of you to offer,” Arie said. Spring seemed far away, further than she wanted to think about at the moment. “I’m sure you have a best friend who deserves such an honor.”

  “Oh, I have a slew of friends for bridesmaids, but you’re the person I want to be my special maid of honor.”

  “Abbie, honestly—”

  “Come on, Sis. We both want you.”

  Arie jabbed something brown on her plate with a chop-stick, taking her time, attempting to think of a way to decline politely. She didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but shuffling up to the front of a church maybe looking like death warmed over was more than she wanted to think about, even for Eric and Abbie. How was she to know what kind of shape she’d be in come March? “Look, by March—”

  “March!” Abbie cried. “We’ve moved the wedding to New Year’s Eve.”

  Arie blinked. “When did you do that?”