Southern Comforts

by Nan Dixon

  “Neither should I. I’m...I’m sorry. I raised my voice to you. I screamed at you.”

  Gray held up the honey she used for meals. “Is this the right one?”

  “No. It’s Manaka. No, Mānuka honey. It should be in with the aspirin.”

  He dashed back to the cupboards.

  She leaned against the love seat, biting her cheek to take her mind off the pain.

  Gray stuck a jar in front of her face.

  She nodded.

  He dipped a spoon in and drizzled honey over both palms. “Hang on.” He spread the mess out with the back of the spoon.

  She took in shaky breaths, one after the other.

  Finally, Gray placed gauze pads on each hand, and then held up a roll. “This was the wrap I found.”

  She nodded, barely able to speak as the agony gnawed into her hands. “Before you wrap them, could you get the ibuprofen?”

  “Sorry, I should have thought of that.” His boots pounded as he headed back to the cupboard.

  She inhaled and exhaled. She’d been burned before. Tomorrow would be better. And the day after that.

  And she had an hour before her wedding consult arrived.

  Gray shoved pills into her mouth. Then he tipped a glass to her lips.

  “Thanks.”

  He wrapped each hand as if it were a precious Ming vase. “Let’s get you to the car.”

  “Car?”

  “So a doctor can look at your hands.”

  “They’re just burns.” She shook her head. “They hurt but they’ll heal.”

  “But they’re your hands. This is how you make a living.”

  They hurt like the devil, but she hadn’t seen a blister. “No. I just need to figure out...” She reached up and brushed her hair back. And hit her hand. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Gray brushed her hair away for her. “What do you need?”

  “I need...” Help. “Could you close the oven door?”

  She started to get up, and Gray was right there, cupping her elbow. Since her legs were a little wobbly, she let him.

  “Before you close the door, could you check the liquid level in the pan?” She gave him a little smile. “I do own pot holders.”

  He pulled the pot out, and they checked the short ribs together. “Do you want to taste? You always taste when you cook.”

  She nodded.

  He stirred and dipped a tasting spoon. Blew on the hot liquid. Then held the spoon to her lips.

  She wrapped her lips around the spoon and stared into his eyes. And the memory slammed into her.

  They’d eaten ice cream like this. Him feeding her while they were naked in bed.

  “Good.” She backed away and looked down. “No, wait. It needs more wine.”

  “I’m your hands. Where’s the bottle?”

  She pointed. “Give it a good slug.”

  He poured.

  “More.”

  “No wonder they taste so good.”

  He grabbed her list. “What’s next?”

  She looked at the list. Then at Gray. “I need Marion and Cheryl.” She swallowed. “And I need your help.”

  * * *

  “SHE’S ROCKY RIGHT NOW,” Gray said to Marion and Cheryl after explaining what had happened. Josh listened silently. “But she swears she can get through tonight’s consults. She asked for our help.”

  “If that’s the case, she must be hurting. Either that or a miracle’s occurred,” Marion said as they hurried to the kitchen. “Are you sure she shouldn’t go to the doctor?”

  “I told her I’d take her.” Gray hands tightened into fists. Maybe he should have just bundled her into the car.

  They stopped at the swinging doors. “Is there anything in housekeeping not done?” Marion asked Cheryl.

  Cheryl nodded. “I haven’t changed out Gray’s towels. And I haven’t cleaned the Bush room, but we don’t have anyone coming in until Friday.”

  “My towels can wait.” Gray could use the towels for one more day. Hell, for another week if it helped Abby.

  “Okay. If we have a walk-in, the Jefferson room is open. If we have two, I’ll clean during the wine tasting.” Marion straightened her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

  Gray had the urge to salute.

  The foursome entered the kitchen. Abby was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her to-do list.

  Marion hurried over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “How are you?”

  Abby leaned her head against Marion. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll make you a picture, Miss Abby,” Josh said. He rubbed his arm. “I was burned once.”

  “Thank you, Josh,” Abby said. “It was a stupid accident.”

  But Gray knew it hadn’t really been an accident. He’d been screaming at her to the point she’d forgotten what she was doing. Every time he tried to help, she ended up getting hurt both physically and emotionally. It was time to pull away. He couldn’t keep hurting her.

  “Everything’s ready for the wine tasting.” Abby lifted her hands and inhaled sharply.

  “We’re your hands,” Cheryl said. “All you have to do is sit.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. “Wine tasting first.”

  She rattled off the appetizers and the wines. Marion took notes and then started to load up the cart.

  Cheryl stood. “What can I do?”

  “Test the potatoes gratin.” Abby started to stand. “Then we’re going to prep the fish entrees.”

  Gray helped her out of the chair. “Let me get a stool.”

  Abby frowned. “There’s one in my apartment kitchen.”

  “Be right back.” He rushed across the courtyard. He still had her key. He should give it back.

  He’d hoped they could work things out. But it was time to let Abby go. He had to leave before she forgot how to smile.

  By the time he’d set the stool at the counter, Cheryl was seasoning the fish. He helped Abby up. “Give me something to do.”

  Her pain-filled eyes stared into his. She nodded. “You know where we store the catering dishes?”

  “Yes.”

  She described the dishes she wanted. “We’ll serve family-style, so please grab serving forks and spoons.”

  He washed his hands and moved back and forth, confirming the selections.

  Marion came back in and saw the dishes on a cart. “I’ll get the place settings set up in the dining room. Dolley’s coming for the wine tasting.”

  Gray helped Marion set the tables, then went back into the kitchen. “Next?”

  Abby started to push back her hair, but he beat her to it. “The wine for the wedding consults, I guess.”

  “You’re exhausted,” he said. “I could call and cancel.”

  “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” She shook her head. “I can get through this.”

  She winced.

  He grabbed ginger ale. “Try this.”

  He startled her. “How did you know my stomach was bothering me?”

  Because he’d memorized all her facial expressions. He couldn’t tell her that. “I’ll get the wines set up.”

  Somehow they made it through the evening. Cheryl cooked. Gray and Marion served. While the couples were sampling the cakes, Gray helped Abby don her chef’s jacket and supported her into the dining room. He hung in the background as she talked about menu options and left the couples additional information.

  “I forgot about your dinner,” Abby said as they walked back to the kitchen.

  “I can see what’s left in the library.” And he’d help Dolley clean up. Guilt was making him too nauseous to eat much.

  In the kitchen, Marion and Cheryl were d
oing dishes while Josh colored.

  “Thank you,” Abby said. “I couldn’t have gotten through tonight without all of you.”

  She set her head on Gray’s shoulder.

  “And, Cheryl, you were great,” Abby said. “You have a gift for cooking. They raved about your fish. Awesome job.”

  “I just did what you’ve taught me.” But Cheryl was smiling. “I’ll be here in the morning to be your hands for breakfast.”

  “Oh. Oh. Thank you.”

  “Go rest,” Marion called out. “We’ve got this covered.”

  Gray led her out of the kitchen. He would get her settled and then start figuring out how to extricate himself from her life.

  * * *

  ABBY LEANED ON Gray as he helped her back to the carriage house.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  And he did. Gray had her, and she was letting him. And her world wasn’t crumbling.

  He unlocked the door with the key she’d given him all those weeks ago. She’d never asked for it back. Why?

  She headed to the bathroom. It was awkward having limited use of her hands. And they ached, really ached. She managed to drop her shorts on the floor.

  Back in the bedroom, she asked, “Could you help me with my shirt and bra?”

  A spark lit his eyes, and then disappeared. “Sure. Turn around.”

  He pulled her tank top over her head, then unsnapped her bra. His fingers stroked her shoulders and she shivered.

  Not more than a couple of hours ago, they’d yelled hurtful words at each other. Why had they been so cruel?

  Gray pulled a T-shirt carefully over her head. He gently tugged her hair out from under the collar and smoothed it down her back. He knelt at her feet and untied her sneakers. His shoulders slumped.

  “Gray?”

  He glanced up. “I’m so sorry. Sorry I was yelling and you were hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I said terrible things, but this—” she held up her bandaged hands “—isn’t your fault. I grabbed the pan.”

  He hugged her legs. “I wish I could take the pain away. I would do that for you. I could still take you to the hospital.”

  “I’ll be better in the morning.” But she still wouldn’t be able to work. Panic bubbled up in her chest. She would have to rely on others. “Could you get me more ibuprofen?”

  He swept the decorative pillows off her bed and pulled back the comforter and sheets. She slipped into bed and sank onto her mattress.

  After giving her pills and a glass of water, he tucked the sheet around her chin. “Do you want a blanket?”

  “No.”

  He stooped and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back with ginger ale and crackers. Try to get some sleep.”

  He shut the curtains, blocking out the setting sun.

  “And let me know about the wine tasting,” she murmured, but he was already backing out of her room.

  She shut her eyes and let go.

  * * *

  “HOW’S OUR GIRL?” Marion asked as Gray entered the kitchen.

  “Hurting.” Because he’d been yelling at her.

  “Cheryl and Josh have headed home.” Marion gave the spotless counter one more swipe before hanging up the towel. “Dolley’s just cleaning up in the library. I’ll be heading home unless you need some dinner.”

  “I’ll see what’s left in the library.” And hope he could choke it down. It would give him a chance to talk to Dolley.

  Marion gave him a hug. “Thank you for taking care of Abby. You’re a good man.”

  He froze. Marion would hate him when she found out he was the reason Abby was hurt.

  Dragging his feet, he headed to the library.

  Dolley was picking up dirty dishes. “How’s Abby?” she called, setting the dishes on a tray.

  “Resting.” He went over and made himself a small plate of food. “She can’t use her hands.”

  “Poor Abby.” Dolley frowned. “Marion didn’t ask me to help with breakfast.”

  “Cheryl’s coming in. And I’ll be there.” He had to make this up to Abby. “It was my fault.”

  Dolley’s frown deepened. “What do you mean—your fault? Marion told me she burned her hands on a pot.”

  “She did.” Gray grimaced. “But it was because I was yelling at her.”

  Dolley frowned. “I don’t think—”

  He interrupted. “I need to talk to you about something else.”

  “What’s up?”

  He took a deep breath. “You know I bought Carleton House.”

  Her face went blank. “Yes.”

  “I’m going to follow the plans that Abby and Samuel drew up. You and your sisters will control the renovations. Then I’ll sell you the place.”

  “What?” Dolley’s mouth dropped open.

  “We’ll work out a contract for the deed, maybe based on your occupancy, something like that.” Gray waved his hand. “That way you’re not locked into a set payment you can’t afford, and you won’t have to qualify for a loan. I know you’ll make your payments. I believe in you.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “It was always for Abby.” He exhaled. Cutting his ties to Savannah hurt. “I never wanted the property for myself. Just for Abby.”

  “But...”

  He’d never seen Dolley speechless. He would have smiled if he had any joy left in him.

  “Call your attorney,” he said. “He can draft the contract. I’ll pay the fee. I don’t want you to ever think I took advantage of your family.”

  She nodded, her mouth still hanging open. “Does Abby know any of this?”

  He shook his head. “Can we keep it that way? Please?”

  Dolley’s eyebrows snapped together. “This isn’t some sort of joke, is it? You’re not lulling us into a stupor, and then you’ll take us over?”

  “No.” The Fitzgeralds all thought he was taking them over. A weight settled on his chest. “I won’t do anything underhanded.”

  “Okay.” But Dolley still didn’t seem entirely convinced.

  What had Abby said back in Boston? Actions speak louder than words. He would make his actions shout that he cared. “I need to bring Abby some ginger ale and crackers. Are we good here?”

  “We’re...good.”

  “I’ll tell my attorney to expect a call. Then I’ll get out of your lives. I promise.”

  Abby didn’t need the pain he’d caused her. It wasn’t just her hands. It was the pain he saw in her eyes, the bleakness he’d put there. She was right. He hid behind what his money could do. And that had to change.

  Whenever he was around, she didn’t smile anymore. He loved her smile. Loved her. She was better off without him.

  * * *

  ABBY ROLLED OVER and pain shot through her right hand. “Oww,” she whimpered.

  “What happened?” Gray must have been nearby. He hovered over the bed, his hair hanging down on his forehead. “Is it your hand?”

  “I rolled on it.” She tried to push herself up and he was right there, pulling her gently into a sitting position. “Thanks.”

  She reached over to turn on the light, but he beat her to it.

  “I’m an idiot.” Gray grabbed throw pillows from the floor and stacked them up on both sides of her body. “I should have thought of this earlier.”

  “Thanks.” She set her hands on the piles and wiggled into the cushions he’d stacked behind her back. “How are things going?”

  “Smoothly.” He handed her a glass. “Ginger ale.”

  She took a sip. Having Gray here felt both right and wrong. He was helping, but refused to look her in the eye. They’d lost their connection.

  “Oh, your crackers.”

 
; He’d arranged them on a china plate. She’d have eaten them out of the sleeve. “Thanks.”

  “Dolley’s cleaning up the library. Marion and Cheryl cleaned the kitchen.” Gray sat next to her on the bed. “Tomorrow, if you let me, I’ll be your hands.”

  “Really?” They would work together in the kitchen.

  “Really.” The solemn look wasn’t leaving his eyes.

  “Thank you.” How many times could she say that?

  “Good, then.” He stood. “I’ll be back at six.”

  She settled in, wishing Gray hadn’t left her alone, but also glad he had. She was so confused.

  * * *

  “YOU DO THIS every morning?” Gray asked. His arms were sore from beating muffin batter.

  “You should know. You have two or three every day.” She raised an eyebrow. “Cheryl, could you fill the muffin tins?”

  “Sure.” Cheryl took the bowl from Gray. “Bacon’s done, too.”

  “Can I do somethin’, Miss Abby?” Josh asked.

  “You already did. You greased the muffin tins.”

  “I want to do more. Mommy said you’re still hurt.”

  Abby grabbed her step stool. “I’ve got something for you.”

  Gray snatched the stool out of her hand. “I’m your hands, remember?”

  Abby nodded. “Hop up here. Gray will put the coffee beans in the grinder and you can help him make the coffee.”

  Gray had seen Abby make coffee hundreds of time. He tried to remember the right quantities. Then he showed Josh which button to push.

  “I did it.” Josh hopped up and down on the stool. Gray grabbed him before he got hurt, too.

  “Holy cow.” Bess walked through the courtyard door. “Nobody told me we were having a party at—” she checked her watch “—six-thirty in the morning.”

  “Everybody’s here,” Abby said.

  Bess gave Abby a hug. “You okay?”

  “Look at all my helpers.” Abby set her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re actually letting other people cook?” Bess frowned. “In your kitchen?”

  Apparently Gray wasn’t the only one who knew he’d ruined Abby’s week.

  Abby elbowed her sister. “It’s kind of...fun.”

  Just one more thing he loved about Abby. She could turn a disaster into a party.