Chapter 8
Jake stayed up late into the night after Dixie came to dinner, hitting rewind on their day as he ran it through his mind. A few more pieces of the puzzle that was Dixie had been given to him. He would have to be patient for the rest to fall into place. Until then, he’d do what most any Southerner of the male persuasion was best at, paying attention to a girl and using his God-given charm which he had spent plenty of time cultivating and perfecting. It had been practice with all the others as he was growing up. This was the one that mattered most. If he had his way, this one would be his last.
He might seem young to be thinking about such matters but he had an old soul. He already knew his place, his work, and where he wanted to spend his life. It had just been a matter of time, finding someone to share it with him. He was quite certain he had found the one for his heart if she would let him all the way in to hers. Jake was ready to start the art of courting, something that had been lost up North but never forgotten down in the South. Some traditions never grew old.
On Monday, Dixie walked in to find a bouquet of red roses waiting for her with a note. “Roses are red, violets are blue…neither can hold a candle to you.” She had a candle’s glow carrying her through the rest of the day. Each time Jake wandered through the shop, and he made sure it was often, she couldn’t help but giggle. She finally understood how a girl could lose her mind when she was in love. She buried her face in the flowers throughout the day. On the way home, she tucked one behind her ear and slept with it beneath her pillow.
On Tuesday, steaming tea, because Jake knew that was what Dixie liked best, and lop-sided, blue berry muffins sat on the counter with another note. “Sweets for the sweet and something hot and steamy too because…that’s what I think about when I think about you.” Jake made his own cup of coffee, insisting she stay put, and sat down to join her. “I made those muffins myself, Great, Great Grandmama’s recipe handed down from before the war. She even added a part about making sure they came out crooked, really.” They both burst out laughing. “They don’t look pretty but I promise that they taste good, honest. I made sure, tried some first. Great, Great Grandmama’s recipes never fail.” He told no lies—they were some of the best she’d ever had. Dixie would have to borrow that recipe for morning refreshments at the shop. They sat together and savored the treat, making the moment linger. Dixie found herself wanting to draw out all the time they spent together.
On Wednesday, a hand-made, high-backed stool stood behind the register with Dixie’s initials carved into it. The note attached said, “Because a girl like you should be treated like a queen.” Before, Dixie had to stand behind the register or use a stool that was much too short. She would stay on her feet rather than not be able to watch what was going on. She sat down and the room filled with delighted peals of laughter—the stool even swiveled, allowing her to spin like a little kid would do. He thought of everything. Dixie felt sinful to be off her feet but she made sure to give her new seat a whirl whenever Jake walked in the door in order to show her appreciation.
On Thursday, she found a CD player with a stack of CD’s—some she had mentioned to her liking and some that were Jake’s favorites, “for exposure,”—and a basket of books. The expected note was tucked inside one of the books. “Music and reading for those slow days when paint drying on a wall would be more fascinating. You hardly ever take any time for you. Be sure to take a mini-vacation now and then. I’ll be offended if you don’t. Slavery went out a long spell ago.” How did he do it? The books were exactly the kind she would have chosen for herself, the music was perfect, playing all day in the store. Whenever there was a lull and her tasks were done to her satisfaction, Jake was happy to catch her with her nose in a book. It gave him a little peace of mind to see her enjoying herself. He didn’t think she was used to being happy. High time for her to start.
On Friday, Jake locked up the store and grabbed hold of Dixie’s hand. He had made a habit of walking her home at the end of each day, regardless of her protests that it was unnecessary. Tonight, instead of heading to her trailer, he turned toward the little diner in town. They reached the door and he bowed. “After you, mademoiselle.” Stepping inside was like stepping into the past with the feel of the fifties. A checkerboard floor of black and white tiles gleamed with polish, while customers had a choice of inviting seating: booths of heavy red padding and white table tops or a bar with red bar stools. A jukebox in the corner played oldies, providing the perfect background music for waitresses in white, jaunty caps, little, white dresses and red checked aprons that flitted around the room.
Dixie couldn’t think of a better way to end the week. It appeared Jake Lee Jackson had made it his personal mission to spoil her. Perhaps that was how he treated every girl in his life. She felt a little stab of jealousy at the thought of others that went before her. Dixie didn’t want to share. Jake had been making little steps into her heart and she was ready to throw the door open wide. She never wanted to wake up from this fairy tale or lose her Prince Charming.
Saturday finally rolled around. It was God-awful hot, clothes sticking to your skin, sweat dripping down your back, making everything start to droop kind of hot. Dixie stood in front of the fan, an ancient machine that barely turned, and let the breeze lift the hair away from her face. Jake sat on the stool at the counter, slumped over, a bottle of cold water pressed to his forehead. It was five minutes to closing time…and the clock crawled slower than molasses.
At two minutes to go, Jake stood up so fast, he nearly knocked his stool over and had to catch it. “That’s it, we’re done. I don’t care what Daddy says. We have got to modernize and get air conditioning in this place. If I had a union, they’d be forming a protest. I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet. Let’s go.” He held the door open for a smiling Dixie, shut off the fan and turned the key in the lock.
Dixie tipped her head back and laughed, a sweet musical sound she hadn’t made nearly enough in her life so she was making up for lost time. She couldn’t help giving in when Jake took his water bottle, dumped the whole thing over his head, and shook off like a dog. He turned to her and gave her that slow smile that made her insides melt every time and turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know about you, sugar, but I need to cool off and there’s a swimmin’ hole just a small piece up the road that will do the job. You want to join me?”
They ambled down the country road, too hot to hurry, not that Southerners ever did. It was their way. A body would get there when it got there. Dixie found it easy to match her pace to the young man beside her. Jake pointed out places that were special to him and wildlife, both plants and animals, aplenty. Wide-eyed with appreciation, Dixie took in every word he said. She’d seen so little in her life before coming here. Her main scenery had been the inside of her house, the school, and the journey in between. She had only been smothered while a place like this could make her soar. Jake casually reached a hand out to her and she took it, feeling a little thrill go skittering her spine and something warm crept up inside that had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with the boy strolling by her side.
Jake felt a little zing of his own as he took one step closer to knocking down Dixie’s walls. Stronger than Fort Sumter, sometimes he wasn’t sure he’d ever make his way in. He hoped he’d have a patch of his own on her life quilt. Maybe she’d need to make a brand new one that was big enough to hold Jake. They ducked under a fence, crossed a field of wheat so high they couldn’t see over the top, and made their way into a shaded wood. Deeper and deeper, it pulled them in until they were covered with sweat from head to toe and ready to climb into an icebox. The swimming hole appeared, a welcome escape, just in time.
Jake was not shy as he shucked his t-shirt and shimmied down his shorts all the way to his boxers, jumping in with a war whoop that would’ve made his namesakes proud. His breath came out in a hiss the moment he broke the su
rface. The blessed cool of the water felt like heaven on his overheated skin, pulled him under to dunk again and again. Dixie didn’t need an invitation. The heat’s sizzle must have affected her brain because she didn’t have to think twice when she pulled her sundress over her head. Her bra and panties would have to make do as a bikini. She dove in and sighed with the cool rush that traveled from her head to her toes, making way to every inch of her body.
Jake swam over and tugged on her toe. They laughed and splashed, played like they were kids again until they became aware of each other and stilled. They were all alone…water dripped from their hair, down their backs and over their shoulders. They approached one another slowly, the pond rippling around them. Dixie placed her hands on Jake’s shoulders and he gently put his on her hips, gauging her eyes before he took the tumble, falling into her. The kiss was slow and sweet, stopping time and raising the temperature within in a way that no water could cure. Jake leaned in closer and his hands wandered up her back only to freeze at the sensation of raised scars under his fingertips. Dixie tensed, her eyes widened, and the color spilled from her skin.
“Darlin’, turn around… please.” He spoke softly, his voice still like honey as always but with an unmistakable edge that meant, “Don’t argue.” The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. He suspected she’d spent plenty of experience being scared in her life, judging by the marks he’d felt on her body. Dixie closed her eyes tightly and slowly obliged, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. This was it. The clock had struck midnight, Cinderella was coming home from the ball, he would know the truth about her, and the fairy tale would end. She would go back to being who she was before, an invisible nothing, going nowhere, and no one would care. Where would she go next? What would she do without her friends?
He quietly inhaled, held his breath, and bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. Very lightly, Jake’s fingers skimmed over her beautiful skin, marred by several raised circles that could only be made from the butts of cigarettes. Someone had committed an unspeakable horror, using that milky, white canvas as an ash tray. This was no accident. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep his voice calm. He wanted to scream and shout. He badly wanted to hurt whoever had hurt her, instill fear in the monster that stamped fear on Dixie’s body. It still lurked in her eyes, had never truly left her. Now Jake had a taste of why. “Dixie, sugar, …who did this to you?”
His voice was soft velvet, soothing the raw places inside that she thought would never heal even though her body did. But Owen had left her physical reminders lest she forget…the poor excuse for a man made sure of that. Dixie took a deep breath and a shudder ran through her that had nothing to do with a chill. “It was my stepfather. His name is Owen Granville.”
Was it the blood of generals long dead that boiled in his veins or perhaps the inbred code of honor of a Southern gentleman who knew the priceless value of a woman? A white hot anger practically blinded him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How could a man, a father for God’s sake, lay his hands on someone like Dixie, on a girl, on someone in his charge? The scum had to be lowdown and dirty, committing an atrocity Jake could not have brought down on his worst enemy. Jake Lee Jackson could not stomach such behavior nor understand. He gently took Dixie’s hand, turned her around, and tipped her chin up so she could look him in the eye. “Tell me about it.”
Prince Charming still looked down at her. He hadn’t run away. Maybe he really could rescue her from her nightmare. Nearly hysterical, she half expected a white horse to come charging to the scene. She took a deep breath and opened the door she’d kept locked since she ran away. “It started when I was four. That’s when Owen Granville married my mother. Until then, it was just Mama and me. Mama somehow managed but life was very hard on her, supporting us all by herself and I’m sure she was lonely. Then one day, Owen walked into the diner where she worked. He must have been good to her, or maybe Mama was just tired of being alone so she let him in. I remember he was nice to me when he took me to a street carnival. He won me a teddy bear…”Her voice trailed off and her eyes were far away.
“They got married and that’s when we found out what he was really like. He hurt me sometimes, usually somewhere that no one could see, but Mama got the worst of it. He hurt her so bad, she hardly ever went out. She was too scared to run away and I couldn’t leave Mama, no matter what Owen did to us.” Dixie’s voice broke and the tears she’d held inside finally broke loose. “The day he did this…to my back…was the day Mama threatened to leave. He grabbed hold of me, pinned me to the floor with his knee in my back, and burned me, said he’d do a lot worse, make Mama watch and then he’d kill us both. Mama never risked it again, not after the way he hurt me.”
Jake’s hand was a gentle pressure on hers, practically a feather touch, reminding her he was there. “Your mother’s death gave you the nerve to leave?” Amazing. That this sweet girl could be standing here today, not curled in a ball somewhere. He had a better understanding of the words, ‘Steel Magnolia.’
The hurting place inside, just barely held together, opened wide once again. “When Mama died…her heart gave out, too weak to go on. She just couldn’t take anymore and neither could I. I thought I’d die too if I stayed any longer. The day of her funeral, I made the decision to leave. I couldn’t take being in that house, without her, all alone with him. I emptied her secret stash in a coffee can, packed my backpack, and skipped town while he was getting drunk at her memorial reception. I took the bus and when I had a chance, I got off at a truck stop and changed everything I could about the way I looked. What you see is what you get.”
Jake opened his arms wide, and waited patiently, ready to catch her when she quietly fell to pieces. Trembling, sobbing, drowning in memories, she held on tight until there was nothing left and there was only the sound of her hiccups and breathing. Jake cupped her face in his hands and tipped her head so he could look in those eyes. “So, Miss Dixie. Who did you used to be?”
Shyly, she whispered, “Jamie Ann Ray after my father James, but that girl is gone now. I won’t ever be her again.” She stared down into the water, her reflection staring back up at her, shaken with ripples like her inner trembling. A pale face with eyes that had seen too much stared back at her. She closed her eyes shut, fighting to forget that girl.
He had finally been handed most of the pieces. Now it was up to Jake to glue her back together and never let her fall apart again. “There’s something my Granddaddy used to say whenever there was trouble. He’d say, ‘Boy, if God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.’ That’s what’s happening for you, Dixie and here you are, on the other side and you’ll never have to go back.”
Deep in the Heart of Dixie Page 19
