Bittersweet Surrender

by Diann Hunt

  Her finger traced the bottom edge of her cup while she sorted through things.

  Was Magnolia moved in for all eternity? Sure, Carly wanted to help her and was happy to have her in her home, but did the woman have any plans to leave anytime soon? Surely she wanted to get away from the spa smells so her allergies would settle down. Obviously, Carly couldn’t stop her spa business for Magnolia.

  She heard a noise in the hallway that had her nerves standing at attention. She stilled and listened. Nothing. No doubt just the storm or the house settling. That’s what her dad had always called it when unexplained noises cropped up. “May as well expect it with an old house, Carly,” he had said. “When they get old, they groan just like we do.”

  Another sound. Not drums playing, but rather like an eerie shuffling of feet or something. Maybe Magnolia had gotten up. Still, as tired as she’d looked last night, Carly doubted Magnolia would get up to practice drums tonight.

  Adrenaline pulsed through Carly, tiny needles pricked her arms. Thunder growled low and menacing. She took deep breaths to calm herself, then stood up and carefully made her way out of the office, ears perked, her breath hovering in her chest. Just as she rounded the corner from the hallway, she came face-to-face with Magnolia. At least Carly thought it was Magnolia.

  Her stepmother’s finger curled around a silver candleholder that lit her way. Her long hair drifted across the shoulders of her white nightgown. A flash of lightning exposed the dark shadows beneath her sunken, hollow eyes. To say nothing of the olive oil on her face.

  Despite her best intentions, Carly screamed. It was just a tiny one, and any other woman on the face of the earth would have done the same. For a moment she felt she was caught up in a scene of Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. One thing she knew: this woman should never, ever go without makeup.

  After she caught her breath, Carly suddenly realized Magnolia was still shuffling forward. Her gaze unwavering.

  “Magnolia, what are you doing? You nearly scared the life out of me.”

  Steady gaze forward. Shuffling. Shuffling.

  “Okay, you’re freaking me out. You stop that, right this minute, do you hear me?”

  Shuffling. Shuffling.

  Another smack of thunder and jolt of lightning sent chills scurrying up Carly’s arms. She gulped and grabbed Magnolia’s cold arm.

  “Magnolia, so help me, I will eat three pounds of chocolate for breakfast if you don’t wipe that ghoulish look off your face right this minute.”

  Her stepmother blinked three times, sneezed softly, and looked at Carly.

  “What are you doing down here? It’s the dead of night,” Magnolia said.

  Now Carly blinked. And just for the record she did not like that “dead of night” business. She opened her mouth to say something but barely a squeak escaped through her voice box.

  “Come on, dear. You’ve worked long enough today. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

  Death of cold? This was getting way too freaky for Carly.

  “Magnolia, do you realize you’ve been sleepwalking?”

  Her stepmother put her hand to her chest. “Oh, dear. I thought I’d gotten over that. Tsk, tsk,” she said, shaking her head. She looked at Carly and shrugged. “I guess not. Oh well, keeps life interesting.” She gave a slight chuckle. “Time to get some rest.”

  Magnolia took Carly’s hand and pulled her toward the stairway. Thunder bellowed. Wind whistled. Panes rattled. Rain stormed against the rooftop. Lightning speared the darkness.

  Drums in the middle of the night. Sleepwalking. Carly didn’t want to find out what was next. The sooner she got Magnolia out of the house, the better.

  “So how did you sleep last night, Magnolia?” Carly asked the next morning at breakfast.

  “Oh, just fine, dear. How about you?”

  Carly studied her. “Um, oh, fine.” She spread some butter on her wheat toast and sprinkled a little flaxseed on top. She wanted to ask her mother-in-law about the little sleepwalking adventure, but decided to let it, well, rest.

  “So have you talked with Scott anymore about the coffeehouse name? If he doesn’t agree to it soon, the pastor could pick another name. I will not be happy.”

  Remembering how Magnolia looked sleepwalking, the mere thought of the older woman not being happy sent a shock of alarm through Carly. A bolt of reality hit her: too many episodes of Murder, She Wrote was to blame for all this—Carly’s fear and Magnolia’s stalking. Carly would have to get rid of cable, that’s all there was to it.

  “Not recently. I’ll try to do it soon.”

  Carly stared at Magnolia. She couldn’t believe how much makeup helped this woman. One glimpse of her without her makeup had probably sent Carly’s dad straight to be with the Lord.

  If that’s what eating healthy looked like, Carly wanted no part of it.

  “So how was your weekend?” Carly asked Scott on Monday morning.

  He shrugged. “It was okay. How about yours? I brought the coffeepot in here. Want some?” Anything to keep his mind off her right now. Hadn’t he seen that green top before? So why all of a sudden was he noticing the way it made the green in her eyes sparkle? He tried to shake his thoughts.

  “My weekend was interesting. What? You don’t want to hear it?”

  He turned to her.

  “You shook your head like you didn’t want to hear it.” She pointed.

  “No, I was just—I—no, that wasn’t it.”

  “Hearing bells, are we?” She grinned.

  “Something like that. Now tell me about your weekend.” He walked her cup of coffee over to her.

  “Thanks.” Her finger brushed against his when she reached for the cup, sending a tingling sensation up his arm. What was up with him? Maybe he needed a checkup. He hadn’t had one in a while. His legs wobbled. Could be an age thing. Maybe he was exercising too much. Yeah, that was probably it.

  She told him about Magnolia sleepwalking.

  “I’m telling you, there’s more to that woman than meets the eye,” Scott said, trying to act nonchalant though an avalanche seemed to be going through his body. He eased into the chair at his desk.

  “I’m beginning to think you’re right,” Carly said with a chuckle. “Say, Scott, just between you and me, what’s holding you back from letting the church name the coffeehouse after Ivy?”

  There was no accusation in her voice, so Scott tried to stay calm and figure a way out of this. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Carly. You know how I feel about elevating people. I just don’t think that’s what it’s all about.”

  “I understand that. I really do,” she said after taking a drink from her mug. “It’s just that it would mean so much to Magnolia. She has no one now and I just thought—”

  Oh man, she was going for the gut here. He didn’t want to hurt Magnolia, but it would hurt her more if she knew the truth. What if he said yes to the coffeehouse name and then the truth got out? It could be embarrassing for everyone involved—especially Magnolia. On the other hand, if the truth stayed hidden, it would make an old woman happy to know that someone remembered her daughter.

  “Scott?” Carly’s hand touched his arm and he jerked, bumped his cup and sloshed coffee across his desk. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Carly ran over to her desk, grabbed some paper towels, and came back to help him clean up the mess.

  Why hadn’t he noticed her walking to his desk? What was the matter with him? What was the matter with her, and what was she doing at his desk? She needed to keep her distance. He could clean this himself.

  He shuffled through his papers to make sure there was no coffee on them and tried to ignore the light smell of her fragrance as it wafted over his desk. Her hand grazed his and it sent a powerful warmth through him.

  He didn’t like it.

  Well, he tried not to, anyway.

  Good grief, this was Carly Westlake.

  “I’ve got to run an errand,” he said, abruptly standing.

  Carly looked as co
nfused as he felt.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you what: I’ll think about it, okay? And pray. Definitely pray. I want to do the right thing. I really do,” he said, backing out quickly, all the while trying to steel his heart against the vulnerable look in her eyes.

  She looked after him and said softly, “Thank you, Scott.”

  “See you later.” He ran as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him.

  After staying away as long as he could by fixing leaking faucets and stubborn machines, he finally made his way back to the office, praying all the while that Carly was gone.

  “Hey, stranger,” Carly said when Scott walked into the office. “I’ve hardly seen you all day.”

  “Oh, hi,” he said, stumbling over the trash can beside his desk. The metal can clanged against the floor.

  Carly studied him. “Scott, are you all right?”

  He stuffed the spilled papers back into the trash and set the can upright. “What? Oh, I’m just fine. I have a lot on my mind, what with the taxes and all,” he said.

  She watched him in a way that made him more nervous. He walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

  Carly stood up before he could reach for the pot. She grabbed his hand and stopped him. Cold.

  “Okay, now I know something is up. You never drink coffee in the afternoon.”

  Her delicate hand still on his. So soft. So warm. Her perfume swirling around him like a slow gas leak, attacking his senses, making him weak in the knees, wearing him down. He swallowed hard. Twice. A hot sensation spread through his gut.

  “You know, I’ve—I’ve—” He glanced at his watch. “That’s it. I’ve got to meet a client. I’ll talk to you later.” He yanked his hand free, tripped past her desk, gathered his things, and made a hasty retreat—but not before taking one last whiff of her light, sweet perfume as he left the room.

  Never in all her years of knowing Scott had Carly seen him so . . . so . . . well, she wasn’t sure what it was. Discombobulated? She shook her head and cleared off her desk for the evening. He was working too hard, no doubt about it.

  She had just enough time to go check on C. J. before Magnolia would have dinner prepared. She had to admit it was nice having someone cook for her again. Even if that someone did force healthy food down her. Actually, she had Magnolia to thank for the twelve pounds she’d lost. Thanks to her stepmom, Carly didn’t have much of an appetite these days. Charred, boring food could do that to a person.

  Still, gotta love that weight loss.

  After telling Magnolia she would be back around seven, she left for C. J.’s house, praying all the way over that God would open the doors of communication between them and show her how she might be able to help him.

  Once she pulled into his driveway, she was relieved to see his car there. Although the fact that it wasn’t in the garage might mean he was ready to go somewhere.

  Heavy gray clouds hung low and threatening. The smell of rain was in the air. Again. Carly prayed she wouldn’t have to face Magnolia in the glow of lightning and candlelight tonight.

  Uncertainty marked Carly’s steps to the door, where she rang the doorbell.

  “Oh, hi, sis. I thought you were Jake. He’s supposed to be here,” C. J. said when he saw her. “Come on in.”

  One step inside the house and Carly set aside her concerns regarding Jake’s arrival. She could tell Rita wasn’t there anymore. Clothes were thrown over the backs of chairs, half-read newspapers and DVD covers were strewn about. Soda cans and dirty plates littered tables. The living room smelled of stale food and cheap alcohol. Carly’s stomach clenched for her brother.

  It was best for Rita to stay away. If her sister-in-law saw C. J. right now, she’d probably crumble and run back to him, and Carly felt he needed this time to work through some things.

  C. J. brushed crumbs from a chair and flopped down. “You want some pizza?”

  “No thanks.” Though she didn’t see anything, she brushed her chair off for good measure before sitting down. “But if you were getting ready to eat, go ahead.”

  “No, I just finished. But I had a few pieces left from last night’s dinner.”

  Maybe she should send Magnolia over here to whip him into shape.

  He leaned forward, perched his elbows against his knees, and looked at her. “So to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  She scanned the beer bottle beside him and knew he had already been drinking.

  “Look, C. J., I’m worried about you.”

  He waved her away with his hand and took a swig from his bottle. “I’m fine.”

  “Obviously not.”

  He put the bottle down and stared at her. “Did you come over here to judge me or what? I don’t need it. Don’t you think I do it to myself every single day? I condemn myself enough for all of us.” He got up and walked around the room.

  “C. J., what are you talking about? You’ve made some mistakes. But it’s not too late to fix things.”

  He whipped around to face her. “There’s no fixing this, Carly. You always thought you could fix everything. If that’s true, where’s Gary? What about your”—he pointed to her chest and she must have looked as mortified as she felt because he finished with—“cancer?”

  She felt like a punching bag as he walloped her with every word.

  “I didn’t say I could fix everything, C. J.” She stood now. “I’m just saying you don’t have to go through this alone. We can help you.”

  “Who’s ‘we’? In case you haven’t noticed, my wife left me. And she doesn’t know the half of it.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? What’s wrong, C. J.? Let me help you.”

  He walked up close to her, a momentary gentleness smoothing the anger from his face. His fingers touched her hair. “Even you can’t fix this, little sister. I’ve messed up big time. Everyone will hate me once they know.” He walked over and took another ambitious swig from his bottle.

  Carly stepped toward him. “Please, C. J., let me help you.”

  He turned to her, tears in his eyes. “You’ll hate me too.”

  “I promise I won’t hate you, C. J. Nothing could ever make me hate you. Ever. Please tell me what it is so I can help you.”

  With the back of his arm, he swiped the tears from his face, stopped, and looked her square in the eye.

  “I killed Ivy.”

  nineteen

  Carly stood there, speechless. Her legs threatened to fold, but she steadied herself with a nearby chair. “That’s not true, C. J. Ivy was in a car accident.”

  C. J. sat in a chair and rocked his head between his hands. “No, no, no. I did it.”

  A knock interrupted the moment. It made Carly reluctantly leave C. J.’s side. But he never looked up.

  When she opened the door, Jake barged past her. “I told you I was coming right over, C. J., what is she doing here?” When C. J. didn’t answer, Jake turned to Carly.

  “What did you do?”

  “What did I—”

  “He’s drunk, can’t you see that? You can’t believe anything he’s saying right now.”

  “Who said he said anything?”

  “Did he?”

  Carly was sick of all the secrecy. Besides, C. J. had said Jake already knew about it. She put her hands on her hips. “What did he tell you about Ivy?”

  “Nothing.” Jake walked over to C. J. “Snap out of it, C. J. You’re drunk.”

  “Oh yeah, like that’s gonna help.”

  “Go make him a pot of coffee, so we can sober him up.”

  “Stop ordering me around. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not under your command.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” He swished past her. “Forgive me for thinking that his sister might want to help him.”

  Okay, that hurt. She wanted to help him. She needed to swallow her pride where Jake was concerned and help her brother.

  Together they made the coffee and soon had several cups down him.

  “Now, tell
me what’s going on, C. J.,” Carly insisted.

  “Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?”

  “I told you. His drink was talking,” Jake said.

  “C. J. You told me that—” She glanced at Jake, then back at C. J. “You told me that you killed Ivy.”

  C. J. exchanged a glance with Jake. “I was talking out of my head,” C. J. said. “Don’t know what I was saying.”

  Carly studied him. “I don’t believe you. I think you knew full well what you were saying.”

  He kept quiet.

  “C. J., I need to know. What did you mean by that statement?”

  “Leave him alone, Carly. Can’t you see he’s going through enough right now?” Jake waved her away.

  “Stop it, Jake. C. J. is my brother, and I have a right to know. It’s none of your business.”

  “No, it’s his business, and he doesn’t need your judgmental attitude on top of it all.”

  Was that what he thought of her? What had she ever seen in this guy? She was ready to deck him.

  “It doesn’t help to cover for him, Jake. That’s what’s wrong with C. J. Everyone has always covered for him. He has to learn to stand on his own two feet, just like everyone else.”

  “Now, listen, Carly—”

  “She’s right, Jake.” C. J. said the words barely in a whisper, but it stopped Carly and Jake in their tracks.

  “C. J., be quiet—”

  C. J. shoved Jake aside. “No, Jake. This time you be quiet. I’m tired of everyone else talking about me as though I’m not in the room. I’ve made a mess of things. I have to come clean. I can’t take it anymore.”

  Jake shook his head. “Well, don’t come crawling to me when you need money and she won’t give it to you.” He stomped across the room and out the door.

  Carly didn’t know what to think about Jake’s behavior. Maybe he was trying to be protective. And then again maybe he had a reason for the secrecy.

  “He’s just trying to protect me, same as you, you know,” C. J. said, softening Carly’s heart a tad. “Don’t hold it against him.”

  She’d have to think about that one.

  “You’d better sit down, Carly. This won’t be easy. For either one of us.”