Ripple Effect

by Jerald, Tracey

  “So I could say it’s mine, Nonna. From the ground up, every square inch of it is mine. It’s meant to be or it’s not. No one can make the customers come in.”

  “Stubborn as a mule.”

  “I inherited that from you, as well.” Pulling up to one of my reserved spots in the back, a miracle in downtown Charleston but something I negotiated when I bought the building, I gave her a blinding smile.

  She blinked. “I take it back.”

  “What?”

  “My objections. Whatever’s beyond that door is worth whatever put your smile back on your face.”

  Leaning over, I brushed her soft cheek with mine. “That’s you, Nonna. I’ll be right around to help you out.”

  In my mind’s eye, I can still picture the way her tiny hands brushed across each item at Deja Vu. I squeeze Sydney tighter. “Aunt Libby, you’re squishing me,” she complains.

  “I’m sorry, bug. I was just having a moment of…”

  “Déjà vu?” We both laugh at the double entendre. “Something exactly like that. Now, go find your Daddy and tell him everything’s better.”

  “Can I stay over with you tonight?”

  “I think your momma’s going to need your sugars tonight, don’t you?” I ask diplomatically because while I’d love nothing more than to have my niece cuddle with me, I know there’s going to be a lot of sad memories tonight.

  “You’re right. But soon?”

  “Anytime you want, baby.” I kiss her head before lifting her off the counter. She scampers off the counter and runs full tilt out the back door. It slams behind her.

  Alone at last. I brace my arms against the counter and let out the ragged sigh I’ve been holding in.

  “Nonna, what would you have said knowing Cal laid sunflowers at the foot of your casket?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think she would have said?” My head whips up at the sound of his deep voice.

  “This is our family home, Cal.” My voice is polite. “Today, we’re not receiving visitors.”

  “Cut the crap, Libby. I’m not just anyone. We’ve known each other for years.” He advances to where I’m standing at the counter.

  I quickly busy myself cleaning up the wrappers. “Actually, for all I really know you, you are just anyone.” He opens his mouth to contradict me, but I shake my head. “What I know about you, Mr. Sullivan, I can enumerate on one hand.” I drop the wrappers and begin. “One, you work with my cousin. Two, you’re my best friend’s boss. Three, for a short while, we spent some time together at the same university. Four, you were gracious enough to come to the funeral of someone who meant a great deal to us. That means you’re…what? Considerate?” I wait a heartbeat before I lower my hand. “It must be something you’ve learned over the last few years.” I start to walk past him to head out the back door.

  He grabs my arm just as I’m about to pass him. “You have every right to be pissed.”

  Prying his fingers off of my arm, I nod. “I know I do. Didn’t Sam warn you? We’ve been held to a standard of zero tolerance for lies our entire life. We’ve seen the effect they have on people’s lives since family gambling and stealing almost bankrupted this family before our nonna and poppa saved our legacy with the timber mill. Then there were the lies from Poppa’s sister, our great-aunt, who walked away from her family, leaving them without a mother. And Sam? He should know how I hate liars; after all, I lost a fiancé to being cheated on. Then again, maybe men don’t talk about those kinds of things. But I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not.”

  “Which is?” Cal asks.

  “Me,” I answer simply. “I’m Elizabeth Akin. I’m a smart, successful business owner. I’m a woman. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let any man make me a promise, then lie about keeping it.” Calmly, I walk to the back door before I turn around. “Thank you for taking the time to come today for Sam, Cal. And I’m sure my grandmother would have appreciated the flowers.”

  “Is that what she really would have thought?” His voice is rough-edged. His dark eyes are boring into mine as if he can see through me.

  “It’s what she would have said,” I tell him sincerely before I walk out the door and back out into the beautiful spring day.

  * * *

  It’s dusk. Everyone’s who’s supposed to leave has gone. Most of the family is up at the main house, still laughing and telling stories about Nonna. I’ve put on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that says “Sunflowers stand tall on the darkest of days to find sunlight.” It was a gift from Nonna after I opened Deja Vu.

  Heading down to my favorite spot down by the river, I’ve got a blanket tucked under one arm. My hair, which has been twisted up all day, is flowing freely down my back. There’s a part of me that will never grow tired of the view, the silence that’s only broken by the rushing water, and the smell of the wood mixed with the grass and flowers. Spreading my blanket, I kick off my sneakers before I sink down. “It will always be home, Nonna, but it will never be the same.”

  “I never had a family or a home, so I don’t know what you’re feeling right now.”

  I jump at the sound of Cal’s voice. “Sweet ladybug! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be gone? Or, at the very least, with Sam?”

  “I think I need to clear up some misconceptions. I was going to do that earlier, but it didn’t quite seem like the time. You seem more yourself here.” Before I can refute him, his sensual mouth curves. “Nice shirt.”

  “It was a gift from Nonna.”

  “An appropriate one. I still can’t see them and not think of you.”

  And just like that, it all comes rushing back—the excitement, the disappointment, the anxiousness. And finally, the crushing pain. “I’ll be sure to burn it, then,” I lash out. “Now, do you mind leaving?” My hands are in fists at my side.

  “I wasn’t honest with you, Libby.”

  “Elizabeth,” I correct him scathingly. “And no kidding, Cal. I figured you just weren’t that into me when I didn’t hear from you after I’d hear about how well you were doing over the last few years. I’d like to remain cordial, but I buried someone I was close to today.”

  “Jesus Christ, not that into you?” He stalks forward until his face is inches from mine. “I was so consumed by you, I stayed away for your own good.”

  The sound of my laughter is like glass shattering. “How kind of you.”

  “That’s the goddamn truth. I can’t give you all this.” Cal’s arm jerks behind him to indicate the estate. I’m about to toss him into the river behind me for thinking for a moment I gave a shit about money when he stuns me quiet. “I don’t have a family to introduce you to. I don’t have a ‘Nonna’ to learn from let alone cry over. I don’t come from anything good. You abhor liars? I’m a consummate one. I’ve lied from the moment we met, letting you think I was good enough for you.” He exhales roughly. “I just wanted you to know I always had you on my mind. There wasn’t a day you didn’t pass through it. After all, how do you forget the only person in the world who’s ever made you smile?” Carefully, as if he’s afraid I’m going to move, he reaches up and drags his fingers down my face.

  The same way he did back at college.

  Then he begins to walk away.

  I struggle for enough time for my heart to beat twice before I call out, “I would have shared.”

  He stills. “What did you say?”

  “If I’d thought you had cared, I would have been willing to share my family, Cal. We always have room for more.”

  He turns and faces me. “More…people?’ he asks carefully.

  I shake my head. “More hearts. The people you saw today were all loved.”

  His face twists. “What if I’m not good enough?”

  “I can’t answer that.” There’s a lengthy silence between us—two people who each ache for the other but can’t escape the past enough to reach out.

  Then we both do at the same time.

  The tips of our fingers brush first
. They slide against one another until our fingers are locked. Both of us are breathing hard as the distance is closed. I step off my oasis as Cal comes closer.

  And we find the beginning of us somewhere in between as he takes me into his arms and just holds on.

  “I’m sorry, Libby,” he starts.

  “Shh,” I whisper. “Tell me later. Right now, just stand here with me.”

  For a long time, we do exactly that until the fear that this is a dream recedes with the sun. Then Cal guides me back onto my blanket and begins to ask me about Nonna.

  As for a beginning, it was perfect—the dying heat of the day drying my tears at my front as Calhoun Sullivan supported my back. I could feel his smile against my hair when I told him something amusing. But the best was when I made him laugh. His whole body would shake along the back of mine as he held me cradled against his chest.

  I don’t remember how long we sat there talking. But by the time the stars lit the path back to the house, Cal was holding my hand and my heart was beating a little stronger in my chest.

  13

  Calhoun

  Twelve Years Ago from Present Day

  Knowing I’m going to be working stateside for at least another six months is suddenly exhilarating. I stare at myself in the mirror as I slip the belt through the loops of the dark-wash jeans I paired with a black shirt to wear on my first official date with Libby. I’m meeting her at Deja Vu in a half an hour before we go out to dinner.

  My phone pings with a text. Pulling it out of my pocket, I grin when I see it’s from Libby. Then I frown when I read, How close are you?

  I quickly type back, My apartment is maybe a ten minute drive from the store why?

  Anytime you want to come get me would be great.

  I quickly grab my wallet, shoving it into my pocket. Keeping my phone out, I race out of my apartment. I’m on my way.

  See you soon.

  This could just be that she’s anticipating our date as much as I am, but every instinct is screaming at me to get to her.

  It’s been three weeks since her nonna’s been laid to rest. I’ve spoken with or seen Libby every day. Whether that’s because we’ve talked after she was finished with work—even though I’ve still been at the office—or we managed to meet up for a quick lunch, the pull between us that I acknowledged all those years ago is still there. It’s just been dormant while I was a complete dumbass.

  Sam and Iris have both cautioned me about being with Libby. “Don’t start something with her unless you’re going in for the long haul.” Sam’s still pissed at me for unintentionally hurting his precious cousin to begin with.

  Iris, the damn pit bull, had her say in multiple languages. “Vas tu fouture!” she screamed.

  “Calling your boss a fuck isn’t the way to earn a good performance bonus,” I replied calmly.

  “I don’t give a shit, Cal. She’s my best friend, and you’re part of reason she went from being…Libby to miserable. If I’d have known that, I’d…”

  “What?” I demanded. “Shot me?”

  “I’d have considered it,” Iris retorted before slamming out of my office.

  Slowly and way too cautiously, the light that shone from Libby before was emerging again. “I just hope she’s all right,” I mutter as I swing into my truck.

  Backing out of my space, I manage to shave a few minutes off the time and swing into the reserved parking lot for Deja Vu in about eight minutes. Quickly, I make my way around to the front of the store. Entering, I hear Libby’s voice say, “I don’t give a shit, Kyle. And what the hell do you think your wife would say if I called her to tell her you’re here?”

  “Krysta isn’t you, Elizabeth.”

  Libby’s laughter is filled with bitterness. “That’s not what you said when you decided to cheat on me with her. Now, get out of my store. And let me tell you, if you ever call my assistant and make an appointment under an alias again, I’ll call the cops. As it is, you’ve got one minute before I call my family.”

  I’m going to kill him. The thought settles into my mind with such a comfortable ease. As I turn the corner, I prepare for anything. What I don’t expect is to find Libby standing with her arms folded over her chest in a sexy as fuck black dress that hugs every curve and a pair of black high-heeled boots.

  The man in question is practically on his knees when he pleads, “No, Elizabeth. Please don’t call your family.”

  Libby snorts. “Like that’s not happening.” She uncrosses her arms and begins to dial.

  Suddenly, Kyle whatever-his-name-is surges to his feet and grabs her wrist. “Elizabeth. Drop the phone. Let’s talk this out.”

  Not. Happening. “Let her go,” I growl, my hands fisting and unclenching at my side. Kyle immediately drops her wrist and steps back.

  A flicker of relief crosses Libby’s face. “Cal, I seem to have a bit of a situation.”

  “Want me to handle it for you?” I lean up against the jamb and cross one ankle over the other.

  “Well, that all depends on Kyle…” But the man in question bolts past me out the front door. Libby shakes her head. “I didn’t even get to knee him in the nuts like I wanted to,” she says with a touch of mock despair.

  “I could always go bring him back and hold him,” I offer, but then we both hear the sound of a car squealing out of the parking lot.

  “Sorry. I might have let you.” Libby fiddles with her phone a moment before she picks up her work line. “Can you give me a moment?”

  She’s practically been assaulted in her office. I move closer to offer her what comfort I can. “Umm, sure?”

  “Thanks.” Quickly, she dials. “Josh? Hey, it’s me. I’m sending you a file.” She pauses for a moment. “You’ll never believe who came to see me in the office.” Another moment of silence. “Got it in one, brother. Oh, the usual—he wants me back, Krysta’s a bitch, he’s going to leave her.” There’s another moment of silence before a snort. “You might want to put in the headphones when you listen to it. I wasn’t exactly ladylike in my responses. I don’t want my niece mimicking this.” She grins. “Now, Josh, I don’t know what you mean, darlin’. I am not a bad influence on Syd. Yeah, hopefully, this will finally convince Krysta to divorce his ass.” A long pause before a cryptic, “We can’t help who we love, big brother. Okay, I’ve got a date I’m now officially late for.” She rolls her eyes but smiles at me. “Yes, a date. I not only know how to spell it, I know how to vet them all on my own.” She waits for her brother to comment before she laughs. And that laughter rips through me. “Love you, Joshua. Good night.” Hanging up the phone, Libby grins. “Sorry, but if I need Krysta to wake up, I might need a witness.”

  “And here I thought you wanted me to beat the crap out of him.” I let a note of despair enter my voice. And sadly, it’s not faked. I want to pound out some frustration on that fucker.

  Libby grabs her purse and walks straight to me on those awe-inspiring boots. “I learned a few things over the past few years, Cal,” she explains.

  “What’s that?” Is that my voice that sounds so damn rough? I swallow hard when a catlike smile spreads across her face.

  “The first is I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that,” she sneers as she looks back at the chair, as if Kyle were still in it. “And the second is that I have to be able to take care of myself—most especially my heart.”

  “You’re worth everything,” I rasp. My arms slip around her waist of their own volition.

  She steps back. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  Damn right we will. I extend my elbow to her. I owe her this date before I take her lips in a kiss neither of us will ever forget. “Shall we?”

  “Indeed.” Libby slips her fingers into the crook of my arm. “So, where are we going?”

  “Do you like French food?”

  “I do. I also like wine,” she replies with good humor.

  “Then I think you’ll love the place I chose.” Guiding her over to my truck, I turn her toward me
after I open the door so I can help boost her in. I don’t miss the puff of air that escapes. Sliding my hands over her slender legs, I ask, “All set?”

  “Sure,” she murmurs. Twisting in her seat, she reaches for her belt as I close the door.

  “Well, I’m glad one of us is,” I say aloud as I round the back to climb in.

  Soon, we’re ensconced in the car for a ride down Route 17 toward Mount Pleasant and a French restaurant Sam recommended as one of Libby’s favorites.

  * * *

  “You have to try a bite of this, Cal,” Libby cajoles. She’s holding up a bite of the cassoulet toward my lips. “It’s my absolute favorite. The flavors are just layered on top of one another.”

  “It’s going to be hard to top this duck,” I argue. But the minute the cassoulet meets my lips, I understand why it’s Libby’s favorite. “Oh, God. I’ll trade you.”

  Libby bursts out in laughter. “Not a chance.” She dives in with renewed enthusiasm, but I’m frozen in place.

  Her laughter is better than the wine we’ve shared, the tartare, and even the bite of heaven she just placed in my mouth. It’s sunshine and happiness returning to my soul that’s been missing for far too long.

  And it’s all my fault.

  “I was an idiot,” I blurt out.

  Libby stills with her fork halfway to her mouth. Laying it down, she gives me her undivided attention. “I’m listening.”

  “I grew up an orphan, I told you that.” It came up during the last few weeks when Libby asked about where my family was from.

  Libby nods, so I continue. “I had nothing, Libby. Literally nothing of my own. I had to fight for everything I had including my education. I earned scholarships to go to college, and I worked the summers to pay for books.”

  “It made you appreciate what you have more,” she says softly.

  I’m grateful she sees it that way. “A man I worked for suggested I go into the military. I was discharged on a medical disability…”