by Brenda Novak
While he worked, a door clapped shut at the Port-a-Potties not far away. Then a child cried and was quickly silenced in a nearby tent. Over all, however, the woods remained peaceful and still, allowing him to concentrate—until he heard Joe call his name.
“Kennedy?”
“Shit,” he muttered, and turned off his flashlight as he hurried to finish.
“You out here, man?”
The hole he’d dug so far would have to be deep enough. Placing the Bible inside, Kennedy quickly covered it. He’d barely tamped down the dirt when he heard rustling in the trees.
“Kennedy?”
Kicking aside the rock he’d used, Kennedy stomped a few final times on the Bible’s grave, then grabbed his flashlight and stood as Joe emerged into the clearing.
“Right here,” Kennedy said.
“What the hell are you doing in the woods?”
Kennedy led Joe away from the disturbed earth. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Raelynn,” he replied and prayed she’d forgive him for the lie.
“You’re still not over her, are you,” Joe said, his words more of a statement than a question.
Kennedy wasn’t sure he’d ever be over Raelynn. She was part of him. She always would be. But he doubted Joe understood that, or the way things were beginning to change for him. Now that the acute pain of his wife’s death had diminished to this terrible emptiness, Kennedy was beginning to crave new companionship. Love. Sex. Laughter. Commitment. Everything he’d enjoyed with Raelynn. “She was incredible,” he said and meant it.
Joe nodded. “I agree. It won’t be easy to settle for someone else after living with her.” He chuckled. “Someone like Grace can’t even compare.”
Kennedy thought most of the people in Stillwater were judging Grace by the wrong standard. They were counting the number of times she’d fallen down—not the number of times she’d gotten up. “Certain events shape us into who we are,” he said.
Joe shot him a confused look. “So what’s your point?”
Kennedy wasn’t completely clear on his own emotions. But he could tell Grace was different from the other women he’d known. “Would you be surprised if a flower bloomed if it was planted in a perfect spot of ground, where it received just the right amount of water and light?”
“You’re asking me about flowers?” Joe replied dryly.
“It’s an analogy, okay?”
“No, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said with a shrug that let Kennedy know he was only playing along.
“Would you be surprised if a rare, delicate flower bloomed in a very hostile place, with little sunlight and even less water?”
“I don’t see what—”
“Just answer the question.”
Joe hesitated as though he might balk but finally relented. “Of course I’d be surprised.”
“You’d want to protect that flower, right? You’d see it as a bit of a miracle.”
“You’re saying Grace is a miracle, Kennedy? She’s slept with almost every friend you have. What’s to admire about that?”
Joe didn’t get it. Kennedy should have expected that. He considered pointing out all the less than admirable things Joe had done in his lifetime but decided there was no use. Slapping his friend on the back in an attempt to minimize some of the hard feelings they both had, he led him toward camp. “Forget it.”
“We grew up together,” Joe replied. “I thought I knew you. But you’re starting to worry me.”
Kennedy had begun to realize that Joe didn’t know him at all. Funny thing was, they were probably better off for it. Facing their differences would, in all likelihood, destroy their friendship. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Nothing’s going to change.”
“You’re sure?” Joe sounded skeptical.
“I’m sure,” Kennedy said. After all, Grace would be gone in a matter of weeks or months. Then he’d have to forget her.
Joe waited for Kennedy to fall asleep before creeping out of the tent. He could scarcely believe what he’d heard Kennedy say—all that bullshit about rare flowers blooming in hostile places and miracles. Joe certainly didn’t see Grace as a rare flower. He couldn’t deny that she was attractive, but she and her family had gotten away with murder—and they’d been laughing behind their hands ever since.
It was the greatest of ironies that Grace had become a district attorney, although it was no wonder that she’d never lost a case. She probably knew exactly what to look for in a homicide. From watching her mother, or possibly Clay.
And now she had the nerve to think she could move back to town and thumb her nose at everyone she once knew.
Joe wasn’t about to let her do that. Grabbing the flashlight Kennedy had left on the picnic table, he strode off toward the restrooms. He had to figure out what Kennedy and Grace had been doing an hour or so earlier. Surely they’d been together. It was too much to believe they just happened to leave their tents and wander through the woods at the same time.
The obvious answer was that they’d been fooling around. But Joe didn’t think so. There was too much tension. They’d each seemed taut as a bowstring, which sure didn’t lead Joe to believe they’d just had sex.
So what, then? Why had they met in the woods?
Veering off the path toward the place he’d found Kennedy earlier, Joe turned on the light and began searching for any kind of evidence that Kennedy and Grace had been there together. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—a condom wrapper? a blanket?—but Kennedy must’ve had some reason for being in the woods. Joe had gone camping with him dozens of times since Raelynn’s death, and he’d never slipped off in the middle of the night before. Not many people plunged into the forest to “think” at three in the morning.
The scent of pine needles and wet vegetation rose to his nostrils as he poked through the woods. He spotted something shiny, which turned out to be a crushed beer can. There was a cigarette butt and a soggy paper towel. But it was all garbage he guessed had been left behind by someone else.
It was too dark, he decided. Planning to search again in the morning, he trudged back to the tent.
Birds twittering loudly in the trees overhead woke Joe just after daybreak. Heath and Teddy were already stirring in the next tent. They all emerged at the same time, but when Joe didn’t stop at the picnic table, they chimed in to ask where he was going. Mumbling that he had to use the restroom, he slipped off into the woods for another quick search.
Even with the sunlight peeking through the trees, he couldn’t see anything obviously out of place—certainly nothing to indicate what Kennedy and Grace had been doing last night. The only sign of activity in the entire area was a slight mound at the base of a tree, and it didn’t even seem all that recent. Still…
Stepping closer, he kicked at a loose clod—
“Are you going to pee in the woods, Uncle Joe? Like you did last year?”
Joe spun around to see that Kennedy and Teddy had followed him.
“Yeah,” he said as indifferently as possible. “I hate Port-a-Potties, don’t you?”
“They stink.” Teddy wrinkled his nose, then looked up at his father. “Can I pee out here, too? Huh, Dad? Can I?”
Kennedy’s gaze rested on Joe a split second too long, in Joe’s opinion. “No.”
“Why not?” Teddy asked.
“Because there’s a bathroom only fifteen feet away.”
“But it smells.”
“You’ll survive,” Kennedy said and led his son through the trees.
Joe stared after them until they disappeared, then urinated on the nearest tree for the simple satisfaction of doing something an Archer wouldn’t. He didn’t give a damn if there was a restroom two feet away. He’d do whatever he pleased—and if Grace stumbled upon him, so much the better. He’d like to show her that he had quite a bit more to offer than when they were kids.
He stroked himself a few times, smiling as he grew large. She’d be impressed, all right.
Teddy’s voice, coming from the direction of the Port-a-Potties, intruded and Joe forced himself to zip his pants. But the appetites he’d stirred left him craving more.
He’d have to visit his ex-wife. Cindy occasionally let him stay the night, if he paid off one of her bills or fixed her car or whatever. She wanted to cut him out of her life entirely, but she was too poor and too lonely to actually do it.
Women were so much more accommodating when they had a few needs.
Pretty soon Grace would remember what that was all about.
Grace was eager to say goodbye to Kennedy. She wanted to be alone, to try and make sense out of everything that had happened over the weekend. But when he set her bag on the doorstep and began to walk away, she felt a strange sense of loss.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, his manner as formal as it had been all morning.
Since their encounter in the woods, he’d grown distant. Polite. She hated that. She preferred him when he was teasing her or smiling at her in that mysterious way he had, which always made her feel like someone else, someone without a sordid past.
But she was a fool to acknowledge his effect on her. She knew that, too.
“Kennedy?”
He’d already started toward his SUV, where Teddy and Heath were waving and calling out their goodbyes. Smiling, she waved back at them.
“What?” Kennedy said.
A muscle flexed in his jaw when he turned.
“You’re angry with me,” she said, taken aback by the sudden revelation.
“No,” he told her. “I’m angry with myself for getting into a situation I knew I should avoid.”
As her breath seeped slowly through her lips, she squared her shoulders. “Well, it’s not too late to save yourself.”
She knew it had to come to this, but she almost wished he’d argue with her. His was the only kiss that had ever made her want to fight the defensiveness that caused her to shut down whenever she was approached in a sexual way. His was the only touch that generated enough heat to…maybe…purge her of the hateful memories that crowded too close whenever a man wanted her.
A frown created lines between his eyebrows but he didn’t say anything.
“Your boys are wonderful, Kennedy. You’re lucky—despite what happened to Raelynn. Although…I’m sorry about that.” She regretted thinking he hadn’t deserved his wife. They were perfect for each other. “You’ll find someone else. Someone just as good.”
“Stop it,” he growled.
Wondering if it hurt him to talk about Raelynn, she switched topics. “Thanks. For the trip and for…taking care of you-know-what.”
He studied her. “Just do me one favor, okay?”
She bit her bottom lip. “What’s that?”
Lowering his voice so that only she could hear, he said, “Forget the reverend and the past. Somehow cut it away.”
She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her, so she nodded as though she’d already done it. “Of course.”
When the lines in his face didn’t soften, she wondered what she could say to convince him, but a sound drew their attention to the end of the drive.
Irene had pulled in next to Kennedy’s SUV.
Under different circumstances, her mother’s sagging jaw would’ve been funny. But Grace didn’t feel much like laughing today. Joe didn’t have any reason, at least that Grace could think of, to share the fact that she and Kennedy had been together this past weekend. Her mother, however, wouldn’t be able to resist connecting her daughter to such an important figure.
Given how her mother had been treated over the years, Grace couldn’t blame her. But she preferred to let the camping trip fade into the past without further notice. She refused to use Kennedy to build her own credibility or social standing.
“Why, Kennedy Archer. How nice to see you,” Irene said, using every bit of her Southern charm as she got out and sashayed up the walk.
Kennedy gave her his politician’s smile—Grace was coming to know the difference now that she’d seen something more personal—and offered Irene his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Barker. How are you?”
“I’d be fine, if you’d call me Irene.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “We’ve known each other long enough for that.”
“Of course we have.”
“How’s the campaign coming?”
“Not so good.” He jerked his head toward the Vicki Nibley sign in Grace’s yard. “It seems I have a particularly stubborn holdout.”
Irene blushed prettily. “I’ll see if I can talk some sense into her. You know, my other daughter, Madeline, supports you down at the paper.”
“I’m grateful,” he said.
Irene basked in his attention for a little longer. Then her eyes slid to Grace—and widened. “Oh, my! Is that soot on your face?”
“I need a shower,” Grace said, rubbing at her cheek.
“We went camping,” Teddy shouted enthusiastically.
Kennedy stepped back to swat at his jeans. “We’re all a bit dirty.”
Irene pressed a ring-laden hand to her chest. “Ya’ll spent the night in the woods together?”
Grace ground her teeth as Kennedy answered.
“Two nights, actually. In separate tents.”
“Isn’t that nice.” She arched her eyebrows meaningfully at Grace. “I’m surprised Grace didn’t mention she had such plans for the weekend.”
“It came up at the last minute,” she mumbled.
“And prevented you from going to Jackson, I see.”
Kennedy’s eyes rested on Grace. “I hope the fact that you didn’t make it to Jackson isn’t the cause of any…problems.”
The way he said “problems,” she knew he was talking about George. “No. That would’ve happened anyway.”
Before Irene could ask what they were talking about, Teddy jumped into the conversation. “Mrs. Barker! Mrs. Barker, guess what?”
Irene managed to summon a smile for him, even though she was definitely more interested in Kennedy. “What, dear?”
“I can hold my breath under water almost as long as Grace.”
“That’s wonderful. Sounds like you had fun.”
“We had a blast!” He rested his chin briefly on his hands, which were clutching the windowsill. Then his head popped up again. “Hey, Dad! Can Grace go with us to watch the fireworks next week?”
Kennedy cleared his throat. “We’ll see, Teddy.”
Grace shook her head. She was determined to keep a safe distance from Kennedy in the future. “I’m sorry, Teddy,” she said. “I already have other plans.”
“What are you doing?” Irene’s voice was just sharp enough to communicate her opinion—that nothing could be more important than a date with Kennedy.
Grace struggled to come up with something. There wasn’t a lot to do in such a small town on the Fourth of July. Almost everyone headed over to the high school to spread blankets on the football field and watch the fireworks. “I’m…going to be with Madeline,” she said lamely.
“I’m sure Maddy wouldn’t mind getting together the night before or the night after,” Irene said.
Grace looked to Kennedy for help. But he sided with Irene. “Think you could arrange it?” he asked, the sparkle in his eyes telling her he was enjoying this.
“One vote isn’t worth that much of your time,” Grace said pointedly.
He cocked his head at a challenging angle. “Every vote counts.”
Grace sighed. “I’ll call you,” she said.
“Please, Grace?” Teddy hollered, unwilling to be put off.
“You could bring Madeline if you want,” Heath added.
Grace tucked a clump of her tangled hair behind one ear. “I’ll ask her, okay, boys?” she called back.
“I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Irene confided to Kennedy.
“Great. I’ll count on it, then.” The smile Kennedy turned on Grace’s mother was markedly warmer. “I’m glad we had the chance to chat, Irene.”
“So am I,” she said, obviously flattered.
Grace rolled her eyes. “We’ll talk later,” she told Kennedy.
He chuckled as he walked away. But backing out of her drive, he stopped, got out and yanked the Vicki Nibley sign from the grass.
“Mind if I remove this?” he asked.
Grace didn’t bother saying no. She suspected he’d take it anyway. “If it makes you feel better.”
He carried it to the back of his SUV.
“I’m voting for you,” Irene volunteered.
With a final wave and another round of goodbyes from Teddy and Heath, he left, and Irene bestowed a smug smile on Grace. “Why didn’t you tell me Kennedy Archer’s interested in you?”
Grace opened the front door. “Because he’s not.”
“Looks that way to me.”
“We’re just friends.”
“He seems pretty excited about having you join him for the fireworks.”
“Which I can’t do.”
Irene remained on the porch, leaning over the railing to gaze after Kennedy’s SUV. “Why not?”
“He’s gone, Mother. You can come inside now.” Grace held the door, and Irene finally stepped through the opening.
“Why can’t you go out with him?” her mother persisted. “You haven’t married George yet.”
Grace dropped her keys on the small secretary in the living room. “George broke up with me this weekend.”
“I thought ya’ll were already broken up.”
“We were, sort of. But now we’re broken up without hope of reconciliation.”
Her mother’s face brightened. “That’s even better.”
“Thanks for the consolation,” Grace said, leading her into the living room.
“Kennedy Archer is perfect for you. I like George, but—”
“But what?” Grace interrupted. “You’ve only met him once.”
“I could tell that he’s too dowdy for you.”
“Dowdy?”
“And stiff.”
Loyalty made her defensive. “He’s a good man, rock-solid.”
“Maybe, but he’s not nearly as charming as Kennedy.”
