Chapter One
It was a typical muggy July in Atlanta—a time when tempers flared and murder seemed just around the corner.
Every summer I dreamed of a cottage by the sea, but the kids appeared to be happy enough with the Glenlake public pool ten minutes from our house. My best friend Lurleen and I made sure they got in the water every day it wasn’t raining.
We’d just returned in the late afternoon, and the shade from my giant magnolia tree gave us a moment’s relief from the oppressive heat. Jason, aged five, was becoming a swimmer and Lucie, almost nine, already was one. After a sad four months since the death of their mother, Lucie was finally acting like a child again and not a second mom to Jason.
“Stop hitting me with your water wings, Jason. It’s not funny. Make him stop, Aunt Di.”
“Jason, come here. Let me have those wings. You hardly need them anymore.”
Jason looked at me as if he were debating the possibility of running into the house, but I was too fast for him. As a pediatrician, I knew how to capture children, if not with my charm than with the speed of a firm hand.
I took the water wings and scooted him inside to take a bath.
“You can use my shower upstairs, Lucie.”
I entered the house two steps behind her. The swim had been refreshing but already I was perspiring from the humidity that passed for summer in Georgia.
The air conditioning in the house took my breath away. I jumped when I saw Mason settled on my sofa. I didn’t work Fridays, but Mason did.
“You look comfortable. Why aren’t you tracking down murderers?” I asked.
“I got time off for good behavior.”
He must have seen me shivering. “I hope it’s not too cold in here. Can you sit for a minute?”
He held out his hand and pulled me, wet suit, towel and all, onto his lap. He wrapped a throw around me.
“That will get soaked,” I said.
“You have a dryer don’t you? I’ll take care of it.”
“Really—why aren’t you at work?”
“I pulled two all-nighters. I’ll check in later. Right now, I just wanted to see you.” He pushed my short dark curls away from my face. “You look good enough to eat.”
I probably did look like a nice plump muffin, but no matter how I looked, Mason made me feel gorgeous. I slipped off his lap, so I could see him more clearly.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“A man has to be up to something because he wants to see his girlfriend in the middle of the day?”
“Yes, if that man is a detective with the Atlanta Police Department.”
For a moment, Mason looked hurt. “You really don’t know what day this is?”
I searched my memory and shook my head. “It’s not my birthday or yours. Jason had his, and Lucie’s is in September. I give up.” I looked into his tender gray eyes, rubbed his bald head and gave him a kiss. “I really don’t care why you’re here, I’m glad you are.”
“It’s exactly four months since we met,” he said. “You forgot.”
“I’ll never forget that,” I said.
It was the worst night of my life and my children’s lives. It was the night their mother Ellie died. Mason Garrett, the detective on the case, gave me the news. He was kind and gentle, and my view of him had never changed.
I cuddled up to him wet bathing suit and all.
“I can’t believe it’s only been four months,” he said. “I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”
“I feel the same way.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course.” As soon as I said that out loud, I realized where Mason was headed. When would it be the right time to ask me to marry him or at least to move in together? The children, I’d say, as I said every time he brought up the issue. The children needed stability right now, no new upheaval.
We were spared this conversation by Jason who ran into the room with his mitt in one hand and a bat in the other.
“Wanna play ball, Uncle Mason?”
“You got a ball?” Mason said glancing around.
Jason searched the room. “Hermione,” he shouted.
My wonderful, patient shepherd-collie mix trotted into the room, head held high with a softball in her mouth.
“Jason,” I said. “I told you to put that up where Hermione couldn’t get it. She thinks it’s her toy now and she’ll chew it up.”
Jason pulled it from her mouth. “It’s fine, see?”
It was fine except for a few teeth marks.
“If it gets chewed up,” I said, “the next one comes out of your allowance.”
Mason stood up. “I think we men better leave, before your aunt Di starts yelling at us.” He ushered Jason out in front of him.
Hermione trotted after them into the front yard. From the porch I watched Mason lob the ball to Jason who threw it back with the fierce attention of a five-year-old boy. After Lucie appeared, ready to play short stop, I went inside and took my own shower. I was barely dressed when I heard Hermione barking.
Mason shushed her and turned to someone in our yard. “Can I help you?” he said.
I was running down the stairs when I recognized a familiar voice. “I wondered if Ditie was available.”
I came out on the porch, a towel in one hand, trying to do something with my curly hair that would go its own way no matter what I did.
Before me stood Phil Brockton, the IV, in a Civil War uniform no less. Despite my best efforts not to notice, he looked incredibly handsome. Six feet tall, one hundred eighty pounds, straight dark hair that fell casually over one eye—elegant in his gray uniform.
“Phil? I thought you were going to call me when you were coming to town for a reenactment.”
“I did call you and emailed you as well, but you never responded, so here I am.”
It was all true. Phil had emailed me a few weeks earlier and given me the date he was coming. I hadn’t responded because I didn’t know what to say. He called and I deleted the message almost as soon as I received it. Somehow I’d managed to ‘forget’ those communications.
“I’m on my way to a planning party and thought I’d stop by. I hope you can come tomorrow. It’s the first of the Atlanta reenactments.”
Before I answered him, I introduced him to the three people who were staring with their mouths open.
“Philip Brockton, this is Mason Garrett and these are my children Lucie and Jason.”
Mason and Phil reluctantly shook hands.
“You’re the boyfriend police detective, right?” Phil asked.
Mason raised one eyebrow and nodded. “You’re the doctor obsessed with the Civil War who took off for New York abruptly after residency.”
This wasn’t going well.
Phil looked at me. “What have you told this guy about me?”
“Never mind,” I said to both of them. “Remember the children. Phil, why are you here?”
“The Battle of Resaca is tomorrow. I’m hoping you can come. For old times sake.”
“Like Civil War old times sake?” Mason asked. “Or something else?”
I gave Mason a look that was meant to say I could fight my own battles. Phil was the only man I ever thought I might marry before Mason. He’d stood me up seven years earlier—not at the altar but by leaving town and moving in with an oncology nurse.
“Why didn’t you just call me, Phil?” I asked.
“Things got hectic, Ditie. Besides I wanted to see you. What do you think? Can you come?” He looked around at the family group. “Everyone’s invited.” He said that more as an afterthought.
“I don’t know, Phil.”
“A lot of the old gang will be there from med school—Harper and Ryan Hudson, Sally Cutter, Andy Morrison. I don’t know if you remember Frank Peterson�
�he was a year older, but he and I got to be friends.”
“To be honest, Phil, the only person I’d really like to see is Andy. I haven’t kept up with your other friends, and didn’t Sally drop out of school second year? I’m surprised you’re still in touch with her.”
“Yeah, we’re friends. She loves this reenactment stuff. Please come.”
I looked at Mason. He didn’t look pleased.
“I’ll see if Lurleen can watch the kids, and I’ll have to see if I can come in later to the refugee clinic. I work there on Saturday mornings, so I don’t know if I can come, Phil.”
“I’d love a chance for you to see me in action. Maybe we could visit before things got started.”
“I’ll see.”
Phil left, and Mason turned to me. “Why are you doing this? I thought you were over this guy.”
I looked at the children who were standing still, staring at us.
“Not now,” I said. “I just took a shower and already I’m perspiring. Let’s go inside. I think we all need to cool off.”
I headed for the kitchen. “How ’bout some lemonade? We’ll make it fresh. Jason, get me six lemons from the bowl by the sink. I’ll cut and you can squeeze, Lucie.”
I turned to Mason. “Maybe you can find a family movie for us to watch later.”
Mason didn’t say a word, just headed for the family room.
Lucie leaned toward me and whispered. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it Aunt Di? You have that look.”
“That look?”
“You know, the look you have when you’re worried and don’t want us to know, when you get those wrinkles in your forehead and your mouth goes all serious.”
“Oh, Lucie.” I hugged her. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just that a man I knew years ago turned up on my doorstep, and it shocked me a little.”
Jason was walking toward the island trying hard to balance lemons in his small hands, intent on not dropping any. I placed them on the chopping board, and he counted them out.
“Look Aunt Di, six.”
I smiled at him. “Perfect.”
“That man who came to see you,” Jason said, “was he wearing a costume for Halloween?”
“That’s months away,” Lucie said, “in October.”
I could see Jason’s lip start to quiver. He never liked being criticized by his sister.
“He was dressed in a Confederate Civil War uniform,” I said. “He came to Atlanta to play a part in a pretend battle.”
Jason looked completely bewildered.
“He looked funny because he had on the costume of a Civil War Colonel.”
That got nowhere.
“Jason, you remember how much Danny likes to talk about the Civil War, the war that took place over a hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Danny calls it the War of Northern Aggression,” Lucie said proudly, “where the Northern states got mad at the Southern states and everybody fought everybody. We read about it in school, and they called it the Civil War.”
“I love Danny like a brother, but we don’t see eye to eye about everything. The Southern states wanted to leave the United States and form a separate country. You’ve heard about Abraham Lincoln?”
Lucie nodded.
“Lincoln was president and he didn’t want the United States to fall apart,” I said. “He fought a war to save it and eventually to free the slaves.”
I’d lost Jason half way through the conversation. He’d wandered off to the living room and was trying to teach Hermione a new trick.
“That’s enough history for one day. You can talk to Danny about it this evening. He and Lurleen are coming to dinner.”
I sliced the lemons, and Lucie squeezed them into the pitcher. We added sugar and ice water and stirred like crazy. Lucie tasted it and agreed it was sweet enough. I carried glasses outside and the three of us settled on the porch swing. Hermione flopped at our feet. Majestic, my imperialistic cat, found his way onto my lap.
I listened to the children talking to one another, bickering over who could throw the ball farther, and I let my mind wander.
Phil Brockton, the man I hadn’t seen in seven years turns up on my doorstep expecting me to drop everything and run to watch him play soldier. Just like old times. When I could be of use to him he wanted me around. He even let me think he loved me. Then he moved to New York leaving me high and dry.
I sighed. Lucie looked at me.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I guess I’m bothered that Dr. Brockton showed up.”
“Did you love him, Aunt Di?”
“Whatever made you ask that, honey?”
“You have that look you give Uncle Mason sometimes.”
“Good grief, Lucie. Do you spend every minute studying my face?”
Lucie blushed. “It’s not hard, Aunt Di. Even Uncle Mason says he can tell what you’re thinking before you say a word.” Lucie sat quietly for a moment. She started picking at the wooden planks in the swing.
“What is it, Lucie?”
“It’s just . . . if you loved him once, maybe you still love him. Uncle Mason wouldn’t like that, and I wouldn’t either.”
“Not to worry, Lucie. I’m not in love with Phil Brockton.”
“And you are in love with Uncle Mason?” she asked smiling.
“Say, I think you have a wobbly tooth in that mouth of yours. Let me check.”
I poked around in her mouth and tickled her until she was giggling so hard she nearly fell off the swing onto Hermione. Majestic had jumped ship at the first sign of a disturbance and Hermione had the good sense to move away.
“My turn,” Jason said. “I have a wobble tooth, too.”
He darted away before I could catch him and we all ended up in a pile on the lawn when Mason joined us outside.
“I can’t leave you guys alone for a minute,” he said as he shut the screen door. “I expected more of you, Hermione.”
She disentangled herself from us and trotted up to Mason in hopes of a good rub, which she got.
Lurleen and Danny arrived and we made plans for an ad hoc dinner. Danny and Mason would grill some steaks. I would handle the salads, and Lurleen would watch the kids. She was always my back-up. When her aunt died and left her a fortune, she’d quit her job working for Sandler’s Sodas and spent almost as much time with the kids as I did.
Over dinner I told Lurleen and Danny the story of Phil’s abrupt arrival and his request that I watch a Civil War reenactment in the morning.
“Oh boy,” Danny said, “would I love to see that!”
Danny looked just like a kid at that moment, all six feet four inches of him.
“You could come with me if you don’t have work to do,” I said.
Danny was a former cop and now private investigator who set his own hours. “I’m free tomorrow.”
“It’ll be a longer day for you, Lurleen. I’ll have to stay late at the clinic once I get there.”
“I don’t mind,” Lurleen said. “No offense, Danny, but the idea of watching grown men play war doesn’t really interest me.”
“It’s not playing war, Lurleen, it’s creating living history,” Danny said.
“Ah, mon dieu,” Lurleen said. She returned to her own unique version of French when she got frustrated.
“I’ll have to get to work by ten or eleven,” I said, “but you can probably stay as long as you want, Danny.”
Mason had been silent throughout the meal. I looked over at him.
“Would you like to come?”
“Can’t. I have to work tomorrow.”
His response was curt, and I didn’t have the inclination to draw him out.
I told Danny I’d be going early to talk with Phil and that he should plan to get there before nine when the battle would begin.
Mason barely said two words to me before he left for the night. Worse than that he barely kissed me good night. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t really be jealous about a relationship that ended seven years ago.
* * * *
I left a little after six the next morning to get to the Resaca battlefield by seven. It was due north, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic in the way. Danny would join me around eight. I’d never seen a reenactment, and to be honest, the idea intrigued me now. In med school it was the last thing I had time for. Perhaps having a boy of my own made me realize something new about the excitement of guns and battles. I suppose to be equally honest the idea of seeing Phil once more in uniform also interested me. Not for the lost relationship. We were never a match although I didn’t realize that at the time. Still, Phil was a handsome man, and I didn’t mind seeing a handsome man in action.
When I arrived I saw hundreds of men dressed in blue and gray on the field. I found the tents with women inside and asked where I might find the Confederate organizers of the event.
“We’re Confederates, dear. We know the men. Who is it you might be looking for?”
“Phil Brockton,” I said.
“Colonel Brockton? He’s a fine man. My William is under his command. They are over yonder under the cluster of trees.”
She never broke out of her role and pointed to a cluster of pine trees a hundred yards away.
I spotted Phil about the same time he noticed me. He motioned me to stay back and I watched as he sketched something in the dirt to a cluster of his men. Then he strode out to meet me.
“I’m glad you came, Ditie. Pretty impressive, huh? Wait until the action starts.”
He was in charge of maintaining and positioning the cannons on the confederate side. He let me walk with him and gave me a history of the battle as we walked.
“General Sherman and our man General Johnston fought on this field—happened in May 1864—so it wouldn’t have been so hot. Sherman wanted to hold the railroad and telegraph lines south of Dalton, and he did. We didn’t win this one,” he said, “but we fought bravely. They lost more men than we did.”
I looked over the green fields and rolling hills. It was hard to imagine dead and wounded men strewn over that land.
Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot Page 27
