Carolina Grace (Southern Breeze Series Book 3)

by Regina Rudd Merrick

  “What are you going to do?” Was it her place to ask?

  “I have no idea. I’m a seventy-five percent match for a kidney for Clifton Watson.”

  “Have you told your mother?”

  “No, I left pretty soon after Dad got home that night. When I went back later, I hadn’t been tested yet.”

  She looked at him sideways.

  “I know. I should have heard them out the first time. I was angry. Seriously angry.” He blew his breath out his nose and pressed his lips in a firm line. “And I’m still angry. They lied to me.”

  “Anger is a normal reaction. I’ve been there a few times myself.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’ve been angry at God, even.”

  He was quiet, pondering. “I wish I knew how much Clifton knows and what his father, my grandfather, had to do with it.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought I had a normal family.”

  She sputtered in laughter. “No such thing.”

  “Yours seems pretty normal.”

  “All families have their quirks. I’ve been told it’s all in how you react to circumstances, not the circumstances themselves.”

  “How does your family react to circumstances?”

  She thought a minute as they strolled, the sun going down further. “We all face things differently, even in one family. With Tom, it’s control. With Mom, shutting herself off. Sarah’s told me that for her, it was withholding trust. I told you one way I react, and it’s with anger. I guess I’m a little like Tom and Mom, where I shut myself off and pretend it didn’t happen while I’m seething on the inside. Not healthy, I know.”

  He looked up and away from her and laughed. “I’m sorry, but you, angry? You’re the most calm, quiet, in-control person I think I’ve ever met.”

  Using her best Bugs Bunny impersonation, she said, “You don’t know me vewy well, do you?” She grinned. “Ask Lydia. She sees the real me more than my family.”

  He stopped walking and pulled her to face him. “When I’m with you, I’m not angry.”

  “I’m not either.”

  She watched as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and to stroke her cheek with his knuckles. When he put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer, she didn’t resist, her doubts and fears vanishing in the depths of his blue eyes. A fleeting thought came into her mind, “what if he leaves?” vying for attention, but it was obliterated as soon as his lips touched hers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Buying a panel van had been one of the best purchases Emma and Lucy had made for Quince Wedding Designs. You could have the big stuff––tents, tables, chairs, etc.––delivered, but all the little stuff took up a lot of space too. When her aging minivan bit the dust, the decision had been made to transfer responsibility for transporting goods to the business instead of her personal checking account.

  Tooling down Highway 17 toward her supplier in Mount Pleasant, north of Charleston, she had the radio on KLOV, singing along to Chris Tomlin and his version of “Amazing Grace.” She felt herself grin when she realized everywhere she went, that song seemed to be cropping up.

  She thought about the song. She thought about God’s amazing grace and about how she had held the world at bay, caring for her little corner of it, seldom thinking about how she could be part of change for someone else. It never really occurred to her. Maybe God had been protecting her while Sophie was little and while her heart was still so tender from her loss.

  She pulled into Hodge Rental Equipment. This was where the big stuff came from, and she preferred to see it before she rented it. Especially for a wedding at Pilot Oaks. She was looking for a specific chair and knew she could find it here. The plan was to take one with her to get approval from the bride and groom.

  She walked into the showroom and smiled at the gentleman at the service desk. “How are you today, Ken?”

  “I’m good, Emmaline, how are you? Come to see a man about a chair?”

  She laughed. “I most certainly did. I’ll bet you’re just the man who can help me, aren’t you?”

  He came out from behind the desk. “I am. You mentioned the acrylic chairs. We have three different styles.”

  “At three different price-points, I’ll bet.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Although they all look good to me.” He led her to the platform where the different styles of chairs were displayed. “I can let you take one of each with you, if you’d like, or pick what you want, and we’ll put it on your account.”

  She looked them over. All three would work, but the rental on the most expensive one was so far above the others, she eliminated it on the spot.

  “That sounds good, Ken. How about I leave the most expensive one and take the other two with me? No need to bust the budget completely.”

  “Be glad to. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “No, I’m heading a little farther into town for candle holders and such. Wish y’all had those.”

  The man grinned. “Too much frou-frou for us. We stick with the big stuff. Did you still want those tents on the twenty-eighth?”

  “Yes. D’you mind if I look at my order for the date and make sure I have everything down I’ll need? I’ll have to call you with the order for the chairs after I get the okay.”

  “Works for me. Come on up to the desk, and I’ll get it printed up for you.”

  As they walked up, a man strode up to the desk, obviously in a hurry. He nodded at Emma, his eyes widening in appreciation as she gave him a slight smile.

  “How are things with the state police these days, Rafe?” Ken greeted the new customer as he printed out Emma’s order.

  “Pretty good, Ken. Been pretty busy. I decided to take a few days and work on my dad’s yard. I brought in his Stihl mower for repairs.”

  He looked familiar, but it never surprised her when someone who looked familiar had been an attendee at a wedding she had planned. Over the course of ten years, she had worked a lot of weddings.

  “Be with you in a minute, Rafe.”

  “I’m in no hurry.” He leaned on the counter, looking across the store, seeming to will his breathing to slow.

  “Okay, Emma, you look over your order, and I’ll go get those chairs for you from the display, then I can get a few more out of the warehouse.”

  “I appreciate it, Ken. Bring them up here and I can carry them out.”

  She looked over the list of items, checking them off one by one. She looked up to see him coming back toward her, two chairs in tow. “Ken, I’m adding another small canopy. It’s liable to be hot during the reception, and the musicians would appreciate it, I’m sure.”

  “No problem. Mark it on that list, and I’ll add it in the computer.”

  “I did.” She nodded at him and then looked down at the chairs. “Well, I’d best be on my way. Thanks so much, and I’ll call you on Monday about which chair to put on the bill.”

  “Sounds good. Sure you don’t want me to carry those out?”

  “I’ll carry them for you.” The man at the counter spoke unexpectedly.

  “Oh. Well, all right, if you don’t mind.” She held her hand out. “Emmaline Quince, Quince Wedding Designs.”

  “Rafe Jernigan, detective with the South Carolina State Police.” He paused as recognition dawned on his face. “Was your husband Daniel Quince?”

  She raised her eyebrows and looked at him brightly. This didn’t happen often, these days. “Yes, did you know him?”

  “We served together.”

  “Afghanistan?” She spoke quietly. Daniel was a good husband, and a good father. He wasn’t the same when he returned from there.

  He nodded and looked down. “It was tough over there. Daniel was a good friend, kept me out of some pretty bad scrapes.”

  She smiled sadly. “I’m glad to hear it. It wasn’t the same after he came back.”

  “Not for any of us. He was one of the good ones. Some of us weren’t so blessed. I remembere
d his wife was a redhead, though. He kept your picture right here.” He patted his shirt pocket and glanced at her, head still dipped a little. “Let’s get this stuff loaded.”

  “Thank you, Detective Jernigan.”

  “Call me Rafe.”

  He carried them out and smiled when he noted the signage on the side of the van.

  “Anything for a fellow Georgetown County citizen.”

  “You’re from Georgetown?”

  “Originally from Murrells Inlet, left there when I went into the service, then my parents moved here after my sister died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Old news. Died after a car wreck when she was eighteen. Daniel and I were football rivals in high school.” He grinned. “I took him down more than a few times.”

  It had been a long time since she laughed with a man, and about her husband, no less. “He’s not here to defend his honor. I wish I’d known him back then. We met in college.”

  “He always had this smile on his face, you know? And a lot of black hair.” He shook his head and pointed to his scruffy red head. “I got stuck with this. No wonder he got all the pretty girls.”

  She opened the back of the van for him to set the chairs inside it. “I’d be the last person to criticize a redhead. Thank you so much for your help. Now I need to make a few more stops before heading home.”

  “You’re welcome, Emmaline Quince. It was nice to meet you.” He grinned at her, hands in his pockets.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jernigan, so glad to meet you too.”

  “Rafe. I’ve carried your chairs.”

  She tilted her head a bit. “Rafe then.”

  Rafe watched as the panel van left the parking lot heading toward Charleston proper. Daniel Quince’s widow. He’d heard about Daniel’s unexpected death while he was on leave after Annabelle passed but couldn’t bring himself to go to the funeral. He was in a bad place then. It was bad enough he’d signed on for another tour after Daniel decided to go stateside and resign his commission, but combining the loss of his support system, the tragedy of Annabelle’s death, and the anger that came with it was a recipe for disaster in his personal life.

  He left the rental company that was also a repair shop for Stihl brand equipment and headed down the road to his parents’ house. He flipped on the radio, and there it was, again. “Amazing Grace.”

  “Lord, if there’s something You’re trying to tell me, go ahead. I’d like to listen to a different song if it’s okay with You.”

  He chuckled. Six years ago he had been at the end of his rope. His latest girlfriend had dumped him because if he wasn’t working, he was drunk. He’d always heard about the downward spiral that you went through to hit bottom and hadn’t believed it. Now he did. When he got suspended for hitting a suspect he was interrogating, they sent him to mandatory rehab. It was that or sit in a jail cell.

  He was fortunate. No, he was blessed. He was able to get into a faith-based rehabilitation center across the state in Spartanburg. He met God there.

  He hadn’t thought about Georgetown in a while. He spent a lot of angry years trying to push his hometown area out of his mind, and it became habit. Until the day he met Sam Watson and realized the anger he’d held on to over Annabelle’s death was misplaced.

  “God, if you hadn’t found me before then, I’d have killed him.”

  This was how he prayed. As he went. He wouldn’t call himself much of a Christian, but he was a child of God, and that was what mattered. He learned the hard way. The fact that Jesus loved him so much He died on the cross for him was all that mattered.

  God was good. He hadn’t seen Sam in a while. While he was in Charleston, he thought he might head down there one day.

  Rance’s first thought the next morning was of Charly and the afternoon they spent on the beach. In the forefront of this thought was the feeling of her lips on his. He had kissed his fair share of princesses, but Charly was different. It felt different.

  Next thoughts were less distracting and less enticing.

  With his licensing exam completed and with excellence, Rance had more time to concentrate on his future and on whether or not to become a living donor for a man who didn’t know he was his son. He was tired of dealing with this issue himself.

  He was still following Clifton Watson’s progress, and he was not doing well. His numbers had stabilized at one time but now were swinging out of kilter, creating a need for dialysis more often, so he was back in the hospital.

  He strolled down the hallway toward his room and stopped right outside when he heard a familiar voice. It was his mother. He stepped inside the door to see her wipe tears from her eyes. “Mom?”

  “Rance. I thought I might run into you here.”

  Clifton Watson was lying in his hospital bed, pale, as if in shock. “Rance. Dr. Butler. You’re my . . .”

  Rance flattened his lips in a firm line, trying to tamp down his anger while looking from his mother to the man who was his father. “Apparently, I’m your son.”

  “How long . . .”

  “I’ve known for about three weeks. You?”

  “About three minutes.” Clifton looked up at his ex-wife. “Anna. How could you . . .”

  “I was scared, Clifton. Your father . . .”

  “You left your son. It affected him, you know. He needed you. I needed you.”

  Rance watched as the scene played out in front of him. The man wasn’t lashing out, simply stating facts. The bare hurt in his eyes and the tears on his face denoted sadness and regret, not anger.

  He pulled a chair over for his mother to sit in and pulled in another for himself. “Tell us why you did it. Why did you leave?” Looking over at Clifton’s monitors, he was concerned. “Are you okay?”

  Clifton closed his eyes for a moment. “Dazed and confused, but I’m fine. Anna, you could have come to me.”

  “At that point, I didn’t know you. You were turning into your father, and he hated me. He was souring you on me and did everything he could to undermine me with both you and Sam.”

  “I was working hard, but we were starting a new line of business. It was for our future. I know I wasn’t easy to live with . . .”

  “Easy? You were never home. When you were, you complained all the time, yelled at Sam and me.”

  “I would have talked to Pop. You know that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. So I did. I talked to him. I don’t know if it was the hormones talking or what. I told him how I felt, and I couldn’t take it anymore. He told me I should leave. I was holding you back. I said, fine, I would take Sam with me, and he forbade it. He said if I didn’t leave Sam, his only grandson, he would ruin me, have me committed. He would do whatever it took to protect his empire.”

  “He said that?”

  “He didn’t say empire, but he did say the other. I almost took him anyway, but I didn’t have the courage.”

  “You know Pop died a few months ago.” Clifton never took his eyes off of Mom. It was as if he were looking at a ghost.

  “I saw it in the paper.” She looked haggard.

  “Did you know you were pregnant with Rance when you left?”

  She met his eyes and shook her head. “No, I didn’t. By the time I did, your father had wangled the divorce, and I had signed a waiver of parental rights. Did you know what you were signing?”

  Clifton brushed a hand over his face. “Probably not. Pop offered to take care of the divorce so I wouldn’t have to deal with it and Sam at the same time, and I let him. I was so stupid. What kind of a man does that?”

  Rance’s mother looked down at her hands. “What kind of a woman lets it happen?” She looked up at Rance and at her ex-husband. “I ended up in the hospital when I moved to Charleston, with a nervous breakdown. That’s when I found out I was expecting Rance.”

  “You could have come to me.” Clifton’s face, once pale, was red with frustration.

  Rance glanced at Clifton’s heart monitor before he took his mother’s hand. “
Why didn’t you tell me all of this the other week?”

  She put her other hand on his cheek. “My baby boy. I was so ashamed. Things have not been perfect for Ashton and me, but we’ve had a good life. When I learned Clifton was sick, I knew I had to tell you.”

  “How did you know?” Clifton looked at her curiously.

  “I still have friends around here.” She lifted the left corner of her mouth in a sad smile. “Clay Hobgood’s wife, Diane, let me know. She’s the only person I’ve kept in touch with in the area.”

  “Dr. Hobgood?” Rance’s eyebrows went up.

  “I’ve known Clay for a long time.” Clifton lifted his lips in a half-smile. “I should be angry at him for sharing patient information, but I’m not. He’s a good man.”

  “Believe it or not, I have kept up with Sam. I’m so sorry for the trouble he’s been in. I feel as though it’s my fault.”

  “I raised him the only way I knew how, like Pop raised me. Too hard. He wasn’t ready to take responsibility for his actions in high school or college. I should have known he wasn’t ready for police work.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Charly laughed when Lydia finally emerged from her bedroom on Saturday morning, black and purple hair sticking up all over the place, and the eyeliner expertly applied the day before showed up in various places under her eyes.

  Lydia gave her a warning look. “What?”

  “You are so not a morning person.” Charly poured her roomie a large cup of coffee and scooted it across the breakfast bar.”

  After a long swig of the sweetened liquid, Lydia spoke. “News flash.”

  “What’s your schedule today?”

  Lydia stretched and then leaned an elbow on the bar. “Nothing. I told Mom I needed a day off. I know Saturday’s not ideal, and I usually can juggle about as much as can be thrown at me, but today I’m too pooped to party.”