The Southern Bride
Page 6
“Male pride,” her dad offered with a knowing expression.
She had to laugh. “If males have pride, what do females have?” she asked.
“A whole lot of stubborn,” he retorted.
She chuckled at that. “Okay, I think you’re right. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. I might be a tad on the stubborn side.”
Her daddy’s expression changed. “Don’t get hurt again, suga’. Stubborn comes in handy at times. But being stubborn just for the sake of winning is not worth you getting hurt.”
Melissa understood. “I think I’m the one who’s been doing the hurting. I dragged Judson around like a puppy dog, expecting him to be at my beck and call. I always wanted him to quit the rodeo but now... I’m wondering if he’ll ever survive without it.”
Roscoe looked her square in the eye. “That’s not your decision, honey. Y’all will have to work this out or you’ll never be happy together. Resentment can ruin a relationship quicker than too much water can ruin a good roux.”
“We’re trying to find our way, Daddy,” she said, thinking sometimes she and Judson were like oil and water.
Her dad kept rocking away. “Sometimes, baby, the way finds you.”
Melissa wondered if she’d lost her way completely. But she kissed her dad and went home to grab Spike and take him with her on that solitary walk on the beach. And she hoped Judson would show up at her door later anyway.
Chapter Eight
Judson’s whole body ached but in a good way. Aunt Helena always said if he worked hard, he’d ache plenty, but that a solid day’s work was the sign of a good life. His aunt and uncle had worked hard all of their lives. Judson gave them part of his earnings each time he’d had a good run. Lately, that had been few and far between.
“I must be living the dream now,” he mumbled to himself as he made his way toward the tiny beach cottage. He had a whole lot of hurt going on. He’d been kind of rude to Melissa earlier but he was tired and all of this was new to him. He was bound to slip up now and then. His leg wasn’t getting any better but he wasn’t ready to reveal that to her yet. And if she hung around all day, especially at the ranch, she’d notice.
Having her at the Surf Shack to help out was one thing, but having her watching out for him when he limped and groaned with each scrape of a rake or each lift of a shovel was another. He didn’t want her to see him so weak and needy.
He’d mainly called her this morning just to see her anyway, because last night had been amazing and different and special.
“I think I hurt her feelings by telling her I didn’t want her here,” he’d said to Brodie earlier.
“Whatever you said, let it go.” Brodie cautioned. “Stick to the plan. Woo her, cherish her, show her you mean business this time. No petty stuff. Get to the real stuff.”
Judson was trying to work his way toward that real stuff.
He looked up and saw her waiting on the porch, her hair down around her shoulders in rich, golden ribbons. She wore a long flowing dress dotted with dainty little flowers. Wildflowers. Her favorite. She was barefoot.
She looked like a dream.
How had he ever let her get away?
The real stuff.
This was the real stuff. He wanted to come home each night and see Missy standing there, waiting for him.
She waved and came down the steps to greet him, Spike at her heels. “Hey. How was your day?”
“Pretty good,” he said. “Brodie and I worked on getting the barn in shape. Added some news boards here and there and he’s found some old logs from a salvage yard to fill in where parts were missing. He really does love that ranch.”
“They both do,” Melissa said. “I have to admit one reason I suggested going with you was because I like it up there, too. It’s so peaceful and quiet. And pretty.”
“Then we’ll go there together before... before you leave. How about that?”
Her eyes glowed with gratitude and an unspoken promise. “I’d like that. A picnic by the pond or the river, if you’re up for it.”
“Food and big water seem to go together, right?”
“Right.”
“Where would you like to go tonight?” he asked, hoping to make her smile a little more.
“How about right here?” She waved her hand toward the cottage. “No leftovers, but we could order a pizza or I can rustle up something. Ham and eggs. An omelet.”
“I’ll cook.” He offered. “Joe showed me how he makes shrimp creole. I think I can remember the details.”
“We do have some boiled shrimp left.”
“Okay. All I need is tomato sauce and rice and maybe some spices.”
“We have all of that, too.”
They went inside and soon he had the kitchen steamed up with a spicy tomato sauce. Melissa cut slices of French bread and buttered it. Once the rice was done and the sauce had bubbled a while, he threw in the shrimp. Spike sniffed the air, his brown eyes hopeful.
“I think it’s ready,” Judson said.
She’d set the table centered by the open doors to the porch and she’d lit some scented candles around the kitchen and den. The ever-present tropical breeze lifted the white curtains and caused the candle light to flutter.
Judson’s heart did the same thing it did each time he looked at Melissa. This new, gentle fluttering indicated an unfamiliar phase in his relationship with her. Something different, something that went deeply beyond the physical.
“You wore your hair down,” he said.
“Yes. I washed it after I spent the morning on the beach.”
He imagined that scene—her lying on the beach with her hair falling around her, the sun on her skin, and had to close his eyes. He loved the smell of her shampoo, a mixture of florals and spices.
After they’d filled their plates, Judson sat back and enjoyed the quiet meal. But he watched Melissa for signs of stress. He liked to cook but he’d never told her that.
“This is really good,” she said between bites, surprise brightening her oval face.
Judson breathed a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you’d spit it out.”
“It’s great. Now you can add chef to the many feathers in your cap.”
“Not as a career,” he said. “It’s exhausting.” Then he dipped his bread into the rich roux. “But I do like to cook.”
“I never knew that,” she said on a giggle.
“I don’t tell anyone. My aunt taught me how but... I didn’t dare talk about it on the circuit. Every now and then, I’d grill up something and the boys would be surprised. They ate it because they knew I had a temper.”
“So you bullied them into liking your cooking?”
“No. I didn’t have to.” He grinned. “I’m that good, darlin’.”
“So all those times we went on picnics and you said your aunt cooked the food?”
“It was me, sometimes. She did help out but I liked cooking for you.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “There’s a lot I don’t talk about.”
“Well, that has to change,” she replied. “New us, remember. Judson, you have to open up to me. So many times, I wanted to talk to you about everything but you always shut down and went into party mode.”
“Yeah, it’s easier to do that than actually talk.” He took a bite of shrimp and savored the fresh peppers and onions. “Let’s try that now. How was your day?”
She shook her head. “You’re asking me when I want to know about you.”
“You go first and then I’ll talk.”
She hesitated but finally let out a soft sigh. “After I hung out on the beach a while, I went shopping with Mom and Michelle but we didn’t shop as long today. Michelle got tired so we came back early.”
“I guess pregnant women like to take naps, huh?”
Her pretty eyes washed him in a radiant light. “Yes, I guess.”
“We never talked much about children, did we?”
“Just another one of our problems.”
She got up to pour more tea into their glasses. “Do you want children?”
Judson put down his fork. “With you, Missy. Only with you.”
Melissa sank down onto her chair. “It’s all so scary.”
He asked her the same question. “Do you want children?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But... what if I’m not mother material?
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
She shrugged and stared out at the water. “I don’t know. I mean, Judson, I’ve always been the screw-up daughter. Look at Michelle and Maddie. They’re settled and solid and they know what they want out of life.”
“Hey, wait,” he said, wishing she could be more secure about things. “They’ve both been through horrible things, too. It took them a while to get it right.”
“I want to get it right,” she said. “But what if this new way we’ve got going only lasts while we’re here in Driftwood Bay. What happens when we get back to the real world?”
Judson thought of Brodie’s words. “We have to get to the real stuff,” he said. “We find what works for us and we learn to live in reality, I think.”
“What is reality?”
“This,” he said, suddenly understanding. “Talking more. Arguing less. Getting to know each other on a deep level. Holding each other. Holding on to each other even when it’s hard.”
She smiled over at him. “When did you get so smart?”
He glanced at his watch. “Oh, around four-thirty this afternoon when I talked to Brodie.”
She leaned back and rolled her eyes. “You’re taking advice from Brodie?”
He nodded and laughed. “Yep. I am.”
“Mercy,” she said. “That’s really scary.”
“Sure is.” He stood to go back to the stove at about the same time she stood to reach for the bread.
They collided somewhere near the open doors.
Judson couldn’t stop himself. He caught her against him and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t push me away, Missy. Let me hold you.”
She didn’t protest. Instead, she held to him with a tenderness that made his heart turn to quicksand. Then she glanced up at him. “Your shrimp creole is really good, Judson. Could you let me get some more?”
He let her go with a smile. “Yeah, sure. As long as you come right back here so I can watch you eat it.”
She grinned and spun around toward the kitchen like a dainty dancer. “That’s a deal, cowboy.”
Judson thought his heart might pop right out of his chest. This was like old times. Only better. They’d reached a truce, a strong, gentle truce. It felt right.
They finished their meal, laughing and talking, a million unanswered questions coming to the surface.
“Let’s go walk on the beach,” Melissa said once they’d cleared the dishes and she’d put Spike in his little bed.
Judson took her hand and grimaced his way down the steps.
“You’re hurting, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Nothing new.”
“Do you avoid taking your medicine?”
“I don’t want to get hooked on pain pills.”
She gave him a soft smile. “Water is good therapy.”
His gaze fell on her. “I think so. But right now, you’re good therapy.”
They dipped their feet into the ocean. The water was cold but refreshing. Judson stood with his feet buried in the mushy sand. “I need to get out there and swim. That would help.”
“We can do that next time you have a break.” She offered.
Finally, they settled on a large piece of driftwood.
“Tell me what you know about your family,” she said.
Judson didn’t want to go there. She’d never asked before because they lived in a small town and everyone already knew his dad had died and he’d been raised by his aunt. No one ever asked him about his wayward mama.
“There’s not much to tell,” he said, wishing she’d ask about something else. Anything else. “If it hadn’t been for Aunt Helena, I guess I’d have grown up in an orphanage.”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this?”
“No.” Discomfort overcame the peacefulness of sitting here with her. “No reason to talk to anyone about it. You know all of this.”
“I know some things,” she said, her old persistence showing. “But we’ve never gone beyond this, Judson.”
“Well, then tell me why you think you’re the bad daughter when you’ve had everything handed to you.”
She went silent on that.
The waves crashed against the shore with a definite pounding that left them both quiet. Melissa stared out at the water. Judson wished they could have stayed in that safe place where they’d found some peace. But then, their whole relationship hinged on the easy things. Brodie had suggested getting down to the real stuff.
Only Brodie hadn’t warned Judson it would be so difficult and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m beginning to understand a pattern with you,” she finally replied. “You caused fights with me because you resented me being so close with my family, and now you won’t talk about yourself but you make sure to point out that I’m a brat possibly because I’ve had everything handed to me.” She turned to stare into his eyes, hurt marring her face. “Is that how you see me, Judson?”
“No,” he said, wishing he could take back the words. “No. But we’ve had different upbringings. I’ve always been so in awe of you and your family and sometimes it gets to be too much for me.”
“I get to be too much for you, right?”
“There have been times, yes.”
He wished he could explain this feeling to her. Of being inadequate, of not being enough for her. He pulled her close and then sabotaged all of it by pushing her away. That was a pattern. One he needed to break.
She stood and glared at him. “You need to understand something about my family. I’ve never been handed anything on a silver platter. We’ve all had to pull our weight. We worked throughout high school and college. I’ve had my own money since I was sixteen. You should know that since you used to complain when I had to work on Saturday nights and couldn’t go out with you.”
“You’re right,” he said, nodding. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did,” she replied. “You said it and now it’s there between us. I know I’ve been horrible and stubborn and I guess it would appear that I’ve been spoiled but... I need to understand what’s going on with you.”
He got up, his leg throbbing with a crashing that rivaled the ocean waves. The night had turned dark. He could smell the rain coming across the water. “Let’s get inside.”
“You won’t talk to me,” she said, following him, the old hurt coming through loud and clear in her words. “You’ve never talked about your family.”
“I don’t need to talk about my family and... your family is an open book so I just went with it.”
Melissa grabbed his arm. “Judson, we’re supposed to be on a new path. If you know so much about me, why can’t I hear about your feelings?”
“Men don’t talk like that,” he countered. “Men get on with things.”
“You don’t have to be all mushy and gushing,” she said, her eyes flaring. “You just need to be honest.”
He whirled, tired to the bone. “Well, I’ve been running from honest for a long time.”
“And I’ve been too honest for a long time,” she replied. “I’ve told you how I feel but... you’ve never really told me anything. But I’m beginning to see it all in spite of that.”
Then she took off toward the cottage, her long skirt slapping against the sand.
Judson stood on the beach in the moonlight and realized he was still all alone, after all. But he also
realized it wasn’t Melissa’s fault. He’d been the one who’d held back and held her away.
And if he didn’t do something about it, she’d never come back to him.
Chapter Nine
“So, do you still want to go up to the ranch with me?”
Melissa rubbed at her eyes and checked the clock. Six a.m. Judson was up early.
“I... uh... yes,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “But why aren’t you working at the Surf Shack this morning?”
“We’re doing an every other day schedule,” he said. “Today is ranch day. My leg can’t handle doing both so Brodie suggested this.”
“Makes sense,” she said, memories of how their evening had ended on a low note playing through her head. “Why don’t I meet you up there since I’m not ready yet?”
“Probably a good idea,” Judson said, the leftover chill of their conversation last night evident in each word.
Melissa sat up in bed. “If you’d rather I didn’t—”
“No. I mean, yes. I... I want you to come. Hang out while I work. Or work with me. I know I said I didn’t want you hovering around at the ranch but... I’m trying here, Missy.”
“I know you are,” she said, her heart shifting and coming awake. “So am I.”
“I’ll see you there then.”
And just like that, he was gone. The old Judson was back. The quick demands, the phone calls ending on an abrupt note that left her wanting, and nothing real said between them.
They still had so much to work through and figure out.
“Well, it’s about to get real,” she said, her statement echoing over the quiet cottage. She made coffee and ate one of the muffins her mother had sent over yesterday. Then she fed Spike and took him for a quick walk.
After throwing on old jeans and a red tee shirt etched with the words “This is my happy place” over a white seashell, she was ready to go. So she grabbed a tote bag and filled it with fruit and cheese and canned soda and then tugged on her old boots.
Her cell rang just as she was getting into her car. “Hey, Mom. The apple muffins are good.”
“I’m glad you like them,” Ruby said. “Do you have plans this morning?”