Dream House

by Jean Brashear

  She settled beside him and nearly wept at the feel of sun on her face. The sound of…quiet. She closed her eyes and soaked it in. Not silence, really—a bird warbled atop the magnolia to the left of the drive. Wind shirred through the stand of live oaks dotting the lawn. A squirrel skittered across the roof, and in the distance, a plane engine droned. Now and again, a car passed on Main Street, tires hissing on the blacktop.

  Hustle and bustle, Three Pines style.

  To her endless surprise, she couldn’t get enough of it.

  “You want a nap, feel free. My bed’s empty.”

  She blinked. Stirred. “Sorry.”

  He focused too-seeing eyes on her. “You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends, little girl.”

  Little girl. She couldn’t help grinning. She topped Skeeter by half a foot, minimum. “I’m doing fine.”

  “You can’t lie worth a damn.”

  She tucked away everything but what was best for the man beside her. “Hard work never killed anyone.” She winked. “Keeps me out of the pool hall.”

  It was his turn to snort. “I’ll be up and around any day now. Then you can become a lady of leisure.”

  “Of course you will.” But her heart quailed. What would she do if he truly didn’t need her? Even if Russ Bollinger wasn’t a threat, she’d come to like the sense of belonging, however tenuous, she felt here.

  Then she pictured Lily Smith’s face. My mother may be fooled by you, but I’m not. Micah would leave again soon, but Lily would remain. Marian had welcomed Jezebel, but Lily was not without her influence. If she decided to ostracize Jezebel, she would win.

  Don’t borrow trouble, Jezebel’s long-dead mother had told a little girl prone to worry.

  Jezebel forcibly relegated Micah and Lily and the future to the back of her mind. “Oscar sends his love,” she said, knowing that would set Skeeter off.

  “A cat in my place.” He said the word cat as if it were the vilest of curses. “What did I say about women being trouble?” But he grinned at her. “Tell ol’ Rufus to chomp a bite outta that feline’s behind for me. Now, catch me up on the bar. Louie still moonin’ over you? And what’s this I hear about ferns?”

  Jezebel grinned. “Chappy’s been by, I guess?”

  “Yeah, but he don’t tell stories worth a durn. Start with Darrell.”

  She leaned back in her chair and began to talk.

  “Why does Cal have to make you see reason?” Micah asked Lily, simply to break up the ponderous silence as they both contemplated what sort of shape their mother would be in.

  “A little disagreement over a customer, that’s all.” She averted her face, but color stained her cheeks.

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing important.” But she still wouldn’t look at him.

  She was probably remembering his behavior earlier. “Lil, I owe you an apology.”

  “Me? Why?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “You know. At the café. I was a jerk about the house, and none of you deserved that. It’s just…hard.”

  Her eyes went soft. She touched his forearm. “You loved her so much. I’m with Levi. Sometimes I envy you, but other times—” She studied her lap. “I’m not sure if it’s worth what you’ve gone through.”

  Unexpectedly, Micah’s eyes stung. Would he give up the years with Charlotte just to avoid what he felt now? With a sigh, he glanced at his sister. “Someone asked me what Charlotte would do if our positions were reversed.”

  Lily’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t push for an answer.

  Micah peered out the windshield. “She’d handle it better than I have, that’s for sure. She was always the better person. Much more than I deserved.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” Lily said. “You treated her like a princess. She told me once that every woman should have a knight in shining armor like she did. You made her so happy, Micah.”

  “Then why—” He clamped his mouth shut. He was all too cognizant of Charlotte’s reasoning for bearing a child. But he still couldn’t forgive it, and he couldn’t admit that to a soul. Especially not a younger sister who thought their story was so romantic.

  “Why what?”

  “Never mind.” He was desperate for a change of topic. “So what did this customer do that got you and Cal at odds?”

  “She just—” Lily paused. Then mutiny chased over her features. “I can’t believe that hussy had the nerve to take advantage of you, Micah. To seduce you to get you to agree to sell the cottage is the lowest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Micah fumbled the wheel as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. His mind reeled as he found a space and parked.

  “Jezebel was at the nursery?” Was Lily right about what she’d done? Just as quickly as he wondered, he rejected that explanation. Jezebel hadn’t known his name when she’d first started flirting with him—had she?

  He’d had a lot to drink that night, and his memory was clouded. Was that what she’d had in mind all along, to somehow use that knockout body to soften him up for her offer to buy the cottage?

  Well, it backfired, Ms. Hart. Big-time.

  “She had the nerve to come in to buy some flowers for Mama—doesn’t that beat all? I set her straight, I promise you that. No gold-digger is going to seduce my brother, then cozy up to our mother when seduction fails.”

  Conflicting images tore at him—Jezebel tempting him to play, promising only one night of no-strings sex.

  Cotton underwear and her arms crossed over her chest. Her offer to let him go home when he lost his nerve.

  The laughter, then the blinding heat of her body, entwined with his. The sense of connection for those brief moments after—

  A hand slapped the hood. Micah jolted, then saw Noah’s face.

  Grinning. Levi beside him, just as happy.

  “How is she?” Lily leaped from the car. “Is she talking to you? What does the doctor say?”

  “Whoa there, Lily B.” Noah held up his palms. “One question at a time.” But his humor was an answer in itself.

  “She’s going to be okay.” For the first time in two days, Micah drew a deep breath.

  “She’s not out of the woods yet, but the doctor is optimistic. She’s got a long recovery ahead—” His face split in a wide smile. “She already asked when we’re rescheduling the party.”

  Lily’s eyes teared up.

  Levi spoke. “With several more days in the hospital, at a minimum, then a lot of physical therapy once the break heals, Mom isn’t going dancing any time soon.”

  “But she’ll be home,” Lily said. “She’ll be all right.”

  “A lot’s going to fall on you, Lily B,” Levi said. “It could be months before she’s completely well.”

  “I don’t care. I just want her back where she belongs.”

  “I’ll do everything I can. Noah has to return to his job, and Micah will be returning to New York.” Levi raked his fingers through his hair. “After I close the clinic at night, I can spell you, but there’s still the nursery to deal with. Margins are too thin to hire much more help, aren’t they?”

  “I’ll stay.” The words were out before Micah could think.

  Relief chased over Levi’s face, followed by a frown echoed in Lily’s expression. “Your career is just getting off the ground. And what about your place there? From what I hear, New York real estate is way too expensive to be paying rent when you’re not around.”

  Micah didn’t have any good answers; he dreaded staying in Three Pines one second longer than absolutely necessary, but they’d always pulled together as a family in the past, and he’d shouldered too little of his share since Charlotte died. “We’ll figure out details later. I just—” He shrugged. “My work is portable, and I can sublet, if it comes to that. Noah can help on weekends—” He glanced over at his youngest brother, who nodded. “And we’ll make it work out. You two shouldn’t be penalized just because you live in town.”

  Levi still seemed troubled. “Mi
cah, Mom wouldn’t ask—”

  “Mom needs our help. Enough said.” Micah clapped his hand on Levi’s shoulder. “And you don’t always have to carry the weight of the world just because you’re the eldest.” From somewhere he found a grin to cover his dread. “Anyway, you’re not the boss of me.” The reference to an old refrain had them all chuckling.

  “So…let’s go welcome Mom back to the land of the living.”

  Lily launched herself into Noah’s arms and dragged Micah and Levi close, too. The four of them clung in a hug of thanksgiving, and Micah put away his questions about Jezebel Hart and her motivations for now.

  Arm in arm, they strode into the hospital, and for the first time in years, Micah was looking forward to a visit to a medical floor.

  Jezebel picked up the pregnancy test again. Set it down with a thud. Unfolded the instructions once more, but nothing in them had changed.

  She had to wait until her first skipped period to be sure. “I thought they said early,” she muttered. “Early is now. Yesterday, not four days.”

  Oscar leaped to the toilet seat and butted her hand with his head.

  “What if I’m not in the mood to pet?”

  He rubbed her fingers and purred.

  She dropped to her heels in front of him and buried her fingers in his fur with a sigh. “What am I going to do?” she whispered. Rufus stuck his cold nose on her arm and she lost her balance. Collapsed on her behind.

  Then her arms were full of dog. She clasped him to her and held on. “What on earth do I do?” she repeated.

  Took advantage of a man who’s heartsick over the only woman he’ll ever love…my mother only felt sorry for you. Lily’s contempt had been clear.

  You’re not fit to wipe your shoes on Charlotte’s mat. Micah’s fury.

  It would be so easy to pack up and run. So tempting.

  But Skeeter’s eyes were losing their hope, and she was sick to death of landing in places that would never be home.

  Jezebel gave the dog one last ruffle of fur, the cat an additional stroke, then rose to her feet and stared in the mirror. “You’ve run too often, Jezebel Hart, but not this time.” She started the shower to get ready for work.

  “Some people are just going to have to learn that lesson the hard way.”

  Chapter Eight

  When Darrell arrived, Jezebel already had all the chairs down off the tables, the glassware sparkling, lemons and limes sliced and the small bowls of fiery peanuts set out. She had cheese heating for nachos and chips already in the warmer, and she was measuring the windows.

  “Uh-oh,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hello to you, too,” she replied airily. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”

  He removed a fresh apron from the drawer and donned it. “Maybe because when you’re upset, you start redecorating. Folks barely survived the fern. Don’t you even consider bringing any frilly curtains in here, girl. I’ll go drag Skeeter’s ass back, prop him up in a bed in the corner, if I have to. Somebody got to rein you in now and again.”

  He was grinning, but she couldn’t return his humor. The mention of Skeeter was a barb beneath her skin, highlighting her failure to salvage anything of her dreams from this thoroughly miserable day.

  “Hey—I was only fooling with you. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  She tossed back her hair. “I’m not crying. I’m fine.” She glanced around them for some distraction. “Maybe I’ll—”

  Darrell caught her arm, murder in his eye. “What did that sonofabitch do to you?” He reached for the strings of his apron and wheeled around. “Don’t matter. I get a piece of him, regardless.”

  “Darrell, I’m okay.”

  He whirled to face her. “Oh, yeah, I can tell how happy you are. Shoulda known the second I walked in the door why you got that long face and those big, sad eyes.” His brows slammed together. “Not that I didn’t warn you, oh, no. Did I warn you he was bad news? ’Course I did, but would you listen?” He slapped the apron on the bar and stalked to the back door.

  “Stop—” she called to him. “Please. I need you here and—” To her relief, he finally faced her. “He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to do.” Micah had exceeded her expectations physically; the man was indeed a very gifted lover.

  No, it wasn’t their interlude that was the problem; it was everything after. The broken condom, his reaction to her presence at the cottage. His sister’s accusations she hadn’t bothered trying to refute. The awareness that she’d let Skeeter down.

  Drained by the overload of emotions today, she settled into a chair and rubbed one thumb over the tabletop.

  Darrell paused beside her, still stiff with outrage. “Jez, I will gladly kick his tail from here to South Carolina for you. I can’t stand seeing you look so defeated. That ain’t like you. The man’s bad news. He comes in this door again, and I will make him pay, I assure you.” He crouched beside her. “Why don’t you go home. Take the night off. You’re beat. I can run things, and if I get too busy, I’ll recruit Louie to help.”

  “Oh, my word—” She shoved to her feet. “Now you’re trying to scare me.” He stood, too, and she found a smile for him. “You’re a good friend, Darrell. The big brother I never had.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m all right, I promise. And working’s the best thing for me now.” She moved past him and paused. “As for Micah Smith, he won’t be around here anymore, but I thank you for volunteering to be my champion.”

  “Three Pines ain’t big enough for him to hide. I will have words with him, Jezebel.”

  “You will not. I forbid you.”

  His eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Shirley would tell you that giving me orders seldom pans out.”

  Jezebel found a grin. “Want me to ask her about that?”

  He waved her off. “I’m just saying. But I don’t suppose you gonna listen to me any better than she does.” He snagged his apron from the nearby table and stalked into the kitchen, muttering.

  Jezebel found her heart a little lighter from the simple fact of his caring. She’d been alone and drifting for years now, and the idea of having friends rally around warmed her. Every once in a while, she got restless from sheer habit, probably, but what a luxury it was to have people with whom you had a history. She would soon begin her second year of knowing people like Darrell and Louie and others, and she still got a little thrill each time she experienced a small echo of a past and a future in the same place. The simplest things, such as having a memory of last Thanksgiving and anticipating what would be the same this November and what might not…that resonance of past with future, that unbroken thread leading from then to now—she had the urge to seize each connection and hold on tight, lest it be snatched away.

  She stood in the middle of Skeeter’s bar and realized that soon the space would be crowded with people she knew, with laughter and stories and irritation and, she hoped with all her heart, curses to fill her jar…and she would be there tonight as she had been last night…as she would tomorrow night…

  Jezebel squared her shoulders and rubbed at a smudge on the tabletop. Maybe she would never get that cottage, though she certainly hadn’t given up yet…even so, she would be here tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow—

  And Micah Smith would be long gone. Back in New York and faded from memory. She would never have to see him again, if she was lucky.

  But what if I’m pregnant?

  She wasn’t. She couldn’t be.

  But if you are?

  “Hey, Jez.” The front door opened, and Louie stepped inside. Right behind him was Chappy. “Can a man get a cold beer around here after a long day’s work?”

  “Get real.” Chappy snorted. “Last time you did a day’s work I was in diapers.”

  The affectionate bickering began, and Jezebel had no more opportunity for thoughts of Micah or babies or cottages.

  She threw her arms around Louie’s neck and gave him a big, smacking kiss on the cheek, leaving a vivid red i
mprint from her lipstick.

  “What was that for?” But his face glowed with pleasure.

  “Just for fun,” she responded as she rounded the bar to get them their drinks.

  Micah finished cleaning the kitchen after supper. As he loaded the dishwasher, now and again, he stared out the window, lost in thought.

  It was so quiet here; he’d forgotten that. Had to, or Manhattan and its constant din would have driven him out of his mind.

  Lily was gone; he prowled the house where he’d grown up, picking up a photo here, a knickknack there. Reminders of a life that seemed both real and distant. New York felt as faraway as if it had never happened.

  Then he spied a clipping his mother kept beside her chair: Erica, in all her blazing glory, the night she’d tried to lure him to her bed to celebrate the stupendously successful opening of his show.

  And he beside her, his insides a mess. He’d been sick to death of the simpering crowd, all eager to discuss the deeper meanings of his art, the message beneath.

  While he’d been ready to rip every painting off the wall or howl at the moon because all he could think was how empty the victory was without Charlotte beside him. That he was doing exactly what she’d always dreamed for him hadn’t helped.

  That he was alive and she was dead—he hadn’t been able to see beyond that. He’d been half-blind with the need to escape and run back—

  Micah tossed the clipping onto the table. There’d been nothing to run back to. He grabbed the remote and flipped through channels and channels of nothing. He turned off the television. Propelled himself to standing and paced again.

  Wished Noah hadn’t had to return to Dallas on business.

  Go with me out there this evening. Take her measure.

  I can’t believe that hussy had the nerve to take advantage of you.

  He paused, hands on hips, and tried to square the many faces of Jezebel Hart. A schemer or just out for a good time? But he remembered her affection for Louie and Chappy and others at the bar. They come for family.

  Who was she, beneath it all?