Bittersweet Passion

by Peggy Webb

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  He took the paper from her and folded it so the damning article was hidden, then took both her hands. “Sky, listen to me. It doesn’t matter.”

  “The press said awful things.” She jerked the paper back and pointed to the headlines. Skylar Tate Proves Too Hot To Handle, they screamed. And underneath, The Preacher And The Video Queen. The story was not journalism: it was pure sensationalism. An enterprising reporter had mined Skylar’s past for nuggets that could be twisted to fit his sick slant on her career as well as her marriage to Daniel.

  “The people who know us are not going to believe any of it, Sky. It’ll all blow over in a few days. Nothing dies down quicker than yesterday’s news.”

  Daniel hoped that what he was saying was true. But he could tell his wife didn’t believe him. He sat on the bed and put his arms around her.

  Skylar felt as if she were put together with steel rods. She’d known from the beginning of her career that she would sometimes be a target for the tabloid sheets, but she hadn’t thought they’d go after Daniel, too. Fortunately they hadn’t put anything in about his drinking bout at Babe’s, but they had uncovered the fact that he’d had his wedding reception there.

  How could she have been so foolish? Why hadn’t she thought of the consequences? She’d been so determined to remain independent that she’d let her own needs cloud her judgment.

  “Everything will be all right, Sky.”

  Despair was in his face. She was being selfish again. Skylar cupped her husband’s face and kissed him. “Of course it will,” she whispered, then pulled him down to her and made a tent of the sheets. “Welcome to my harem.”

  There. She’d made him laugh. Taking little nibbles and lots of time she worked her way down from his neck to his groin. It was only when they were joined that she understood she’d needed this as much as he. Probably more.

  With Daniel she erased the ugly details of yesterday and replaced them with what would later become sweet memories of today. The sandwich lay forgotten on the tray, and the sun tracked its way across the sky.

  And when they finally lay in each other’s arms sated and content, Skylar whispered, “Even if I never have another moment with you, I am blessed.”

  “Don’t say that, Sky. We have the rest of our lives together.” He traced the small bones of her arm, marveling aloud at how delicate she seemed, and she was repeating that old chestnut about looks being deceiving when the phone rang.

  Daniel picked up the phone. Skylar was too languid and satisfied to pay much attention until he said, “Who called this emergency meeting?”

  Skylar shivered as if a winter storm had invaded their bedroom. Every instinct she had was crying, Danger.

  “What was that all about?” She could tell Daniel didn’t want to tell her, but knew he would anyway. He was too honest to do otherwise.

  “Lincoln Hodges and a few others want to talk to me.”

  She could guess the topic, so she didn’t ask. “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Nine.”

  Her heart sank. They would crucify him. And all because of her. “I suppose you have lots of preparation to do.”

  “No. I thought I’d mulch the roses before I do hospital visitation. Do you want to help?”

  “With the roses or the visitation?”

  Suddenly he smiled. “Why didn’t I think of that? The hospital…what a great idea. You can sing to the patients…if you will.”

  “Do you think they’ll want me to?”

  “At least some of them. We’ll ask first…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

  How could she mind? She’d do anything to rectify the situation she’d created. It was not only embarrassing for Daniel, it was probably going to cost him his job. Singing a few songs at the hospital was probably tantamount to spitting on a forest fire, but she would do it to make Daniel feel better if nothing else.

  Dreams disturbed Daniel. He reached for Skylar and came up with a handful of pillow. Groping in the semi-darkness of early dawn he said, “Sky…Skylar…”

  She wasn’t there. He sat up with his heart pounding and snapped on the light. She was probably in the bathroom. That was it. He’d go tearing in there and find her and feel ridiculous. And maybe scare her, besides.

  He would wait. Stacking her pillow under his, he propped himself up and waited five seconds before alarm bells clanged in his head. There was no light coming from the bathroom. Not even a small slit.

  Daniel bolted out of bed. “Skylar!” He flung open the bathroom door and it was empty. Without a stitch he raced down the stairs calling her name. He tripped over a wrinkle in the area rug at the foot of the stairs and nearly toppled. He was going to break his neck if he didn’t slow down.

  She was probably in the kitchen making coffee. Or eating a snack. Didn’t he get hungry in the middle of the night? Especially after such a strenuous night.

  Daniel made himself calm down, forced himself to snap on lights, told himself he was being an alarmist. The sun was beginning to pink the sky when he went into the kitchen and turned on the light. The first thing he saw was the note. Lying on the table underneath the salt shaker. Purple paper. Skylar’s signature color.

  Daniel sat down and stared at her handwriting. He didn’t have to open it to know the contents. Please, please, please, he prayed, then pulled the folded sheet out of the envelope that simply said Daniel, in Skylar’s dramatic script. Her ring fell out with the paper.

  Tears started streaming even before he began to read.

  My Darling,

  By the time you read this I will be gone. Please don’t try to find me. I’ve already done enough damage to you and your family. I can’t stand by and watch them (the pastor/parish committee) destroy you.

  Tell them I’ve gone and I won’t be back. They won’t have to worry anymore about me bringing shame to your ministry. I hope that fixes things for you. I hope it’s not too late.

  I love you, my precious Daniel. I will love you forever.

  Skylar

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  She’d thrown a few clothes and her cat into her car and left Atlanta before dawn. Birmingham was coming up, but Skylar was crying so hard she could barely see the signs. Her cat rubbed against her thigh and meowed.

  “Hush up, Pussy Willow. It’s the right thing to do.”

  The sign said Slow To 50. She was in the generic strip that metropolitan areas have—fast-food chains and video stores. The golden arches blurred, and so did Kentucky Fried Chicken. She was hungry but she didn’t want to stop. If she did she would think of how she’d left Daniel sleeping with a half smile on his face, and then she wouldn’t have the willpower to go on.

  “Stop looking at me like that, P.W. This is the only way to do it.”

  The gas gauge fell into the red zone and she began to search for a place to stop. Just up ahead she saw a sign for gas. She didn’t even bother to wipe her face. Who cared how she looked?

  The main question was this: Where was she going? Her only thought had been to get away, her motive, to save Daniel.

  After she’d paid for her gas, she got back into the car and just drove. West. Toward nowhere.

  Daniel kept making up rules for himself: If Skylar’s not back when I return from the meeting, I’ll call somebody. When that deadline passed he decided it would be disloyal to Skylar to call anyone, even family. Just in case she’d merely needed some time to think and was already on her way back home.

  Next he said to himself, If she’s not back by dinnertime I’m calling Hannah. At six he stared at the clock and ate tuna straight out of the can while pacing the floor, all the while telling himself, She’ll be back before dark.

  By eleven o’clock he knew she wasn’t coming back, and so he picked up the phone and called Hannah. “Be there,” he said as he dialed the number of Belle Rose.

  His sister picked up on the second ring. “Daniel…what are you doing calling this time of night?”
>
  Daniel’s throat clogged up and his chest felt tight. He could tell Hannah anything and she would understand. He had to keep telling himself that.

  “Skylar’s gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Hannah digested this information silently, and when she spoke she sounded calm and authoritative, which was exactly what Daniel had counted on.

  “What happened?” she asked, and Daniel told her, not leaving out a single detail.

  And even though Skylar’s note was intensely personal, he knew he could share it with Hannah because she loved both of them and would guard their secrets with her life if necessary. Hannah was that true-blue. Somebody you could always count on. The soldier you wanted beside you in the trenches when bombs were exploding around you and hand grenades were being lobbed your way.

  After she’d heard the note, Hannah said, “I’m so sorry, Daniel. Of course you will search for her. All of us will.”

  “I don’t want Mom to know. Not unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

  “That goes without saying, Daniel.”

  “Nor Emily and Jake. It’s too close to their wedding, and I don’t want to spoil things for them.”

  “I agree. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

  “Why don’t you check her house in Vicksburg in the morning?”

  “I’ll do it tonight. I’ll check Babe’s, too. She seems to be close with the owner. What about the members of her band?”

  “I don’t know anything about them.” It hit Daniel how awful that was, not to know the names of his wife’s friends, where they lived, how they looked, nothing at all. Right then and there he vowed that as soon as Skylar came back they were going to take a real honeymoon, a trip somewhere far away from Vicksburg and Belle Rose and Tranquility Manor and Atlanta, somewhere removed from problems so they could really get to know each other. “That’s the awful thing, Hannah. I simply don’t have a clue who my wife would turn to in times of trouble.”

  “We’ll get through this, Daniel. Together.”

  After they’d hung up he went outside to the garden and looked up at the night sky. Maybe it was the peace of gardens in general or perhaps it was the awesome beauty of the stars, but being outdoors always made Daniel feel closer to God. He tried to pray. He tried to form a powerful petition that would cover all the bases, but all he could do was groan out his agony.

  And perhaps that was the most powerful prayer of all.

  Skylar didn’t stop until she was so hungry she thought she would faint. She didn’t even know where she was. She’d stopped looking at signs three hours ago.

  As soon as she’d stopped, Pussy Willow jumped out of the car with her and they both stretched their legs. “Where are we, P.W.?” The cat meowed once, and Skylar pushed her sunglasses down and searched for something that would give her a clue. The bank across the street did.

  She was in Winfield, Alabama. It seemed as good a place as any to spend the night.

  She checked into a motel without asking if they took pets. She was too exhausted to drive on if they said no. After she’d stowed her cat and her bag, she went in search of a drugstore and bought the strongest over-the-counter sleeping pill they had. Next she got two Quarter Pounders, one for herself and one for her cat.

  They ate sitting side by side on the floor, then Skylar took two pills, pulled off her shoes and stretched out on top of the bed with her clothes still on. She didn’t care about comfort. All she wanted was oblivion.

  Daniel grabbed the phone before it had completed the first ring. “Hannah? Did you find her?”

  “No. She’s not at her house unless she’s parked her car somewhere else, at a friend’s or somewhere and is holed up inside. It wasn’t at Babe’s either. I’m so sorry, Daniel.”

  “What about Pete?”

  “I’ll call him first thing tomorrow morning. I don’t know how loyal he is to her, whether he’d lie for her, but if he tries to stonewall I can certainly find out where he lives.”

  “Hannah, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  For once she didn’t dish out a retort such as, You’d probably make a mess of things without me. Instead she said, “We still have lots of options. Clarice, for one. Didn’t you tell me she knew Skylar when she was growing up in Huntsville?”

  “It must have been Clarice. I hate to bring her in on this. I don’t want to worry her.”

  “She’d want to help. Anyway, the main thing is to find Skylar.”

  “Hannah?”

  “What will I do when I find her?”

  The long silence told Daniel more about his sister than anything. She was not the kind of person who flung opinions just to hear the sound of her own voice; she was the kind who pondered the problem then came up with a sensible solution.

  “I don’t know the answer to that, Daniel. She’s a strong-willed woman. Apparently she’s made up her mind, and she won’t be easily swayed.”

  “How well I know.” Daniel was surprised that he could laugh. “That’s one of the things I love about her.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to follow your instincts.”

  “I’ll follow my heart.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “When all this is over, we’ll have that philosophical debate.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “It’s a promise.”

  Skylar woke up in the dark, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. She was wearing all her clothes and couldn’t remember why.

  “Daniel?”

  She reached across the bed for her husband. Outside somebody slammed a car door, then let out a string of curses.

  Then Skylar remembered, and the blues wrenched her so hard she curled into the fetal position and moaned. Pussy Willow jumped onto the bed and walked along the ridges of her body with dainty cat steps. Then she curved herself into Skylar’s neck and meowed in her ear.

  “Not now, P.W.” She didn’t care if she never moved again. She didn’t care if her cat wet all over her. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

  Not even music.

  Skylar didn’t know how long she lay there, or whether she slept. All she knew was that a thin line of pink painted the mustard-colored bedspread and her bones felt welded together. If she didn’t move somebody would have to take a crowbar and pry her legs apart from her torso.

  She eased out of bed. P.W. was sitting at the door with her back to Skylar. Offended. Queen of the hill only nobody was paying attention.

  Without even grabbing her shoes, Skylar opened the door and carried her cat around to the back of the small motel where they found a patch of dew-wet grass. P.W. minced around in a finicky way that usually made Skylar laugh.

  Not today. Her laugh box was broken. Nothing could fix it except Daniel, and he was gone forever.

  At the thought of her husband, Skylar felt as if somebody had taken a sledgehammer to her heart. “I did the right thing,” she whispered, and P.W. gave her such a look of disdain, she cringed.

  Hadn’t she? All of a sudden she heard her daddy’s voice: Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas. She had infested Daniel. She’d infested his whole family, but now that she was gone they could make repairs. They could get on with their lives, and pretty soon if somebody mentioned Skylar Tate they would hardly remember her name.

  Liar.

  She sank onto the cracked concrete sidewalk and propped her chin on her hands. That’s how heavy her head was. It needed support to stay erect. Her heart too. Except how was she ever going to prop it up?

  With music.

  While P.W. had been doing her business and Skylar had been moping, the sun had continued to rise and now she felt the heat of it on her right arm. That meant she was facing north toward Huntsville. North toward home.

  All the years she’d spent in Alabama propping herself up with music washed over Skylar, and she knew what she had to do. Finally she knew where she was headed.
/>
  She stood up and dusted off the seat of her pants. Not full of life, but suddenly full of purpose. And for now that would keep her going. She’d wouldn’t think about tomorrow at all. If the South’s best-known fictional belle could do it, so could she.

  “Let’s go, P.W. It’s time to be moving on.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  From the diary of Anne Beaufort Westmoreland:

  October 9, 2001

  I haven’t seen Hannah all day. She called this morning to say she had something important to take care of. She didn’t say what, but that’s not unusual. Hannah is not known for telling her business.

  Emily’s a different story. Usually. Though I’ll have to admit that this business with the change in wedding plans took us all by surprise. She called a little while ago and said she and Jake will be here late tonight. That they’d probably crash at Belle Rose so Michael would be fresh when they told him about the wedding plans.

  I wish I thought the same thing: that Michael would be fresh in the morning, filled with some sort of new-found energy and rarin’ to go (or some such old saying).

  I’m afraid that Em’s living in a dream world. I know, I know. I was the same way. Right before Michael and I got married you could have smashed me upside the head with a two-by-four and I wouldn’t even have known I’d been hit. I was that lost in my own world, that deep in the fog of love.

  Still am. Deep in the fog of love. After all these years.

  Folks used to come up to us at parties and say, “Anne, I’ve never seen any two people who loved each other as deeply as you and Michael.” Then they would ask, “How do you do it?”

  I never knew what to tell them. If they had asked Michael he would have had a ready answer. And a brilliant one. That’s why I nicknamed him the Brain. His enormous intelligence was apparent from the moment I met him. I used to tell him I fell in love with his brain first, and I guess that’s true, though I try not to decipher love. Picking a thing apart destroys the magic.