Before Jinx had returned to town, she’d checked to see what she’d be up against in her attempt to mend her relationship with Andrea, and was relieved to find she wouldn’t have to deal with her stepmother. Nora had terrified her from the first day Jinx had set foot on this property at the age of five. Sure, she was now forty-five and had survived worse, including a shooting and a stabbing, but she’d still breathed an enormous sigh of relief when she’d learned she’d never again have to face the formidable Nora Tanner. Did that make her a coward? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it was just the part of her that still felt like the little girl who’d been forced to come live with a father who was a stranger and a stepmother who hated her. The memories weren’t all bad, though. There were some good ones of her father when Nora wasn’t around and, of course, those of Andrea when she had still been Jinx’s best friend.
The line began to move, and Jinx looked to its head. Across the vast expanse of lush lawn, the bride and groom, their respective parents, and the best man and maid of honor stood beneath a white canopy, greeting their guests.
Jinx steadied herself. This is it.
As she made slow progress along the lavender velvet ropes designating the path, she studied Andrea.
In appearance, she hadn’t changed much in the last twenty-five years. She was still slender, her movements those of a toned, fit physique, not simply of one thin from a strict diet. Her dark brown hair, like their father’s, held no gray, and her smile, though appropriately bright for the festivities of the day, was the practiced presentation she’d perfected so many years earlier. Her brown eyes had stopped smiling in her teens.
Jinx never knew why.
Tiffany looked remarkably like her mother, which wasn’t surprising. Everything about Andrea smooshed out any evidence of her husband’s input, whether in their child or in their life. After all, now that Nora was gone, they lived in Andrea’s family estate, her husband now held her father’s position as senior partner in her family’s law firm, and their daughter didn’t display a physical trace of his participation in her creation. Jinx remembered the ache of being so tangibly visible yet, at the same time, seemingly nonexistent. She looked at Andrea’s husband. With his own pasted-on smile and robotic gestures, he showed no signs of minding.
Tiffany’s smile was genuine, though. It not only touched her eyes, it lit her entire being. She greeted every single guest with authentic warmth, not the reserve with which her mother shook hands and kissed cheeks. Tiffany displayed the exuberance of the young Andrea, the eight-year-old Andrea, the ten-year-old, the twelve-year-old. What changed?
The line continued its slow pace forward, and Jinx took in the groom, Jacob. Now, there was a composite child, one who brought forth both parents. He had his father’s height and athletic build, but E. J.’s coloring and finer features. She wondered if his eyes were the same captivating emerald green as his mother’s. She remembered E. J.’s darkening a shade or two with arousal. She shook her head. Knock it off. It wasn’t E. J. she was looking at. That was the problem, though. It was E. J. she wanted to be looking at. She could see her in her peripheral vision, standing right beside her son, and it was too tempting. She shifted her gaze away before coming back to Jacob. The setting sun glinted off gold streaks in his dark blond hair, and Jinx wondered if E. J. had the same highlights. She’d only seen her in the dimly lit bar and the darkened bedroom. Even the morning sunshine had been muted by the partially closed blinds. She had to know. She glanced at E. J., then did a double take.
E. J. stared straight at her.
Jinx tensed. She’d been caught. But wait a minute. E. J. was looking at her, too. Don’t the rules apply both ways?
E. J. broke the connection and turned her attention to the next guest.
Jinx looked back to Andrea. As the line continued to move and the moment of truth grew closer, her stomach churned. Was this a good idea, confronting Andrea in public? She wouldn’t see Jinx any other way, so it served her right. Jinx didn’t think Andrea was really the one she was afraid for, though. The public part was what would keep things from getting out of hand, she reminded herself. She stepped in front of Andrea’s husband.
He shook her hand. “Thank you for coming.”
She just smiled. Then she looked to Andrea.
Andrea was turned away, easing back from a loose embrace with the woman beside Jinx. Her focus still on the last remnants of the exchange, she reached in Jinx’s direction.
Jinx moved that last pace and took Andrea’s hand. It was warm and soft. Her heart beat frantically, and she trembled slightly.
Andrea’s gaze fell on her. “Thank you for—” Surprise flashed in her eyes—along with something else—before her expression closed and hardened.
“Hello, Andrea,” Jinx said.
Andrea’s manner frosted, and she looked at Jinx with a coldness Jinx had never experienced—and she’d experienced a lot. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming,” she said coolly, her mask back in place, her eyes sharp and brittle. Her message was clear. Jinx was anything but welcome.
“Aunt Michelle.” A tender voice broke through the tension, and a gentle hand pulled Jinx’s from Andrea’s. “I’m so glad you could come.” Tiffany drew Jinx the short distance to stand in front of her. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”
Jinx felt the warmth of Tiffany’s embrace envelop her, but her attention remained on Andrea.
Andrea turned away, already focused on the next guest, as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
Jinx inhaled deeply and regrouped. She gave Tiffany a squeeze before easing back. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said quietly. “You’re a beautiful bride.” She’d heard that in a movie once and had practiced it for today.
Tiffany smiled. “Thank you. I’d like to introduce you to my husband…” Her smile widened. “Jacob.”
Jacob eyed Tiffany questioningly but shook Jinx’s hand. It was obvious he’d picked up on something, but he evidently knew not to make a scene as well. He simply repeated the standard, “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for coming.”
And then, there was E. J. right in front of her, stunning in her deep purple gown with its tasteful, mother-of-the-groom neckline. Her short blond hair—yes, streaked with golden highlights—stirred in the gentle breeze, a few wispy tendrils framing her face. “Thank you for coming today.” She squeezed Jinx’s fingers, a tender gesture. “It’s nice to meet you…Michelle.” Her lips quirked ever so slightly, and a teasing glint flashed in her eyes.
Her touch, her playfulness, maybe her mere presence, eased the tightness in Jinx’s shoulders. She relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, holding E. J.’s hand a second longer. “It’s my pleasure.” With reluctance, she released her grasp and made her way along the remainder of the receiving line.
As she emerged from underneath the canopy into the grassy area peppered with large round tables covered in lavender linen, she realized she’d broken out in a sweat. Droplets trickled down her spine and waves of heat wafted up her neck from beneath her collar. She slipped out of her blazer and let the early evening breeze cool her. The increasing distance from the receiving line slowed her heartbeat. So much for the olive branch. She approached the bar set up on the patio and ordered a Sprite.
She should leave. She knew that. With Andrea’s reaction being what it was—what, in reality, she’d expected—no good could come of any further interaction. Not here. Not on Tiffany’s special day. What about Tiffany, though? She’d known who Jinx was. She hadn’t seemed surprised by her presence. The name had thrown Jinx a little. No one had called her Michelle in…She didn’t even know the last time. Had Tiffany been the one to invite her? Why would she?
Jinx made her way along the landscaped divider that separated the yard from the pool decking, then stepped back beneath a large tree, letting its shadows from the setting sun veil her. She gulped down half her soda. Was she crazy to have come? What could she do, now?
There were a few peop
le she recognized, more distant family members, but she didn’t dare walk up to them and say hello, especially now, knowing for certain how Andrea felt about her presence. She could maybe sit with some strangers and strike up a conversation, but she didn’t want to have to explain—or try not to explain—who she was in relation to the happy couple. Besides, that would most likely infuriate Andrea even more, because God knows who she could end up talking to. Another rush of anxiety hit her. Nope. Time to go.
She took a last survey of the backyard and fence line, and the arbored gate that led to the gardens—that magical place that’d transformed into so many fantasylands for her and Andrea, where they’d escaped for hours and could be anything and anyone they wanted—caught her attention. She felt its pull and had to see if they were the same. As she stepped into the gardens, the fragrance from the flowers around the archway filled her senses and fanned the embers of long-ago memories into a warm flame. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, basking in the same quiet relief that retreat into this space had always provided. The rest of the world fell away.
When she opened her eyes, though, she realized everything was different. The cement path that used to stretch out in both directions was gone, and instead, a brick walkway extended straight ahead, directly into the middle of the gardens. Bushes with large brilliant red, hot pink, and white blossoms lined both sides. Trees with bright pink blooms filled in the space behind. She followed the new path, taking in the beauty, breathing in the fragrance, reveling in the peace. She came to a fork and went left. She knew what she was looking for but doubted she could find it—if it was even still there. When she came to a second fork, she stopped and tried to get her bearings. Nothing looked the same.
“Can I help you?” a low voice asked from behind her.
Startled, she spun around.
A man leaned against a big tree trunk, his features veiled in the darkness behind the electric torch at the edge of the path.
Jinx’s heart beat hard. “I was just—”
“Miss Michelle?”
This time when he spoke, she recognized the voice. It can’t be. “Luke?”
He stepped out onto the bricks, a broad grin dominating his face. The same twinkle Jinx had always remembered flashed in his eyes, and his once coppery red hair, now mostly gray, was still thick and full.
Before Jinx knew it, she was in his arms, her happy tears soaking into his shirt.
He hugged her tightly for a long moment, then held her away from him. “Look at you. All grown up and gorgeous. Last time I saw you, you were a gangly teenager.”
Jinx laughed through her tears. She wiped at her eyes. “God, I’m sorry. How embarrassing.”
Luke chuckled. “Oh, never you mind. If I wasn’t such a crusty old guy now, I’d be crying with you. It’s great to see you.”
Jinx got control of herself. She hadn’t even imagined Luke was still there after all this time, but then, of course, he could be. He’d started working on the grounds crew for her father and Nora when he was only eighteen and the girls were seven. His main responsibility had always been the gardens, so she and Andrea had become quite close to him. “Is Emmy still here, too?”
“Yup. She’s head of the house staff, now. And I’m head groundskeeper. We live in the main back house.” He motioned in the direction of the outer wall. Jinx’s father had built a caretaker’s residence on the property along with a couple other homes for the longer-standing employees on staff. “Your family’s been real good to us,” he said with a fond smile.
Jinx grinned at him, unable to stop. “That’s great.”
“You’re here for the wedding, I’d guess?”
“Yes,” Jinx said.
“Miss Tiffany’s a beauty, isn’t she? And the sweetest little girl, just like you and your sister when you were young.”
Jinx smiled.
“I sometimes see the two of you running through here, playing like the rest of the world didn’t exist.” He looked around the gardens.
Jinx followed his gaze. “It’s sure different. I can’t even find my way now.”
“Yeah, your sister had me and my crew redo the whole thing when Mrs. Tanner passed. Said it was her way of making it her own.”
Jinx wondered if it was actually Andrea’s way of wiping out their childhood completely. Nora never spent any time in the gardens. It wasn’t like they were ever really hers. She nodded, sadness creeping through her.
“What you’re looking for is still here, though.” Luke winked at her.
Her heart leapt. “It is?” Of course he knew why she was there.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He led her along the path she’d been on, made another left, then a right, and turned onto a much smaller, less obvious walkway. He turned one last corner and stopped.
Jinx stepped up beside him and stared up into the large elm tree in front of them. And there it was—their tree house. She grinned. “Oh, my God, it’s exactly the same.”
“I keep it up,” Luke said softly. “Put some fresh paint on every few years, replace any weak boards…”
Music started up from the direction of the main house but barely registered in Jinx’s awareness. She stared in wonder at the one thing of joy left from her past.
“She still comes out here sometimes, you know?” he said.
“Who?” Jinx studied him.
“Little Andi.” He turned to her.
Jinx laughed. “Do you still call her that?”
“Not to her face.” Luke chuckled. “I’m close to retiring in a few years. Want to keep my job. Nope, I call her Mrs. Stanton, just like everybody else. But in my heart, she’ll always be little Andi.” He slipped his arm around Jinx’s shoulders. “And you’ll always be little Chelle.”
Jinx encircled his waist, and they stood side-by-side, gazing up at the tree house. Emotion welled in her. “I can’t believe you kept it.” She choked a little on the words.
“Not me,” Luke said. “Your sister ordered me to keep it. Had us keep all the big trees, add some smaller ones, then fill in the rest with new bushes and flowers. But she told me privately she wanted the tree house to stay, and she comes out here periodically and goes inside for a while. But don’t you dare tell her I told you that.” He gave Jinx a warning glance.
Jinx laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me. She doesn’t want to hear anything from me.”
“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “She’s had a mad on for you for a long time. But you’re here tonight.”
“Yes, I am, but I don’t have any idea how or why.”
He squeezed her. “Aw, where’s that little girl who believes in magic?”
She looked up at him thoughtfully and smiled. Yeah, magic. That must be it.
“Want to go up?” Luke nodded toward the tree house.
She grinned. “I do.”
As she pushed up through the trap door in the floor, she switched on the pocket flashlight Luke had given her and swept the beam slowly over the small area. In her memory, it was so much bigger. The checkerboard was gone—Luke had painted one on an old stump and hoisted it up there for them—but the bean bag chairs were still there. Granted, they were newer and bigger, but they looked like the ones from their childhood. A book lay opened and facedown on the upended crate acting as a table between them. She climbed the rest of the way in and stood. The smell was the same, the scent of wood mingling with the overall fragrance of the gardens below. She breathed deeply and went back in time to all the hours she and Andi had spent there, the games of Tarzan and Swiss Family Robinson, then the transformation of the tree house into a submarine or an outlaw gang’s hideout.
She took a step and slammed her forehead into a branch she didn’t remember being there. Ow. She grimaced and rubbed the spot, feeling a lump beginning to rise already. Damn, that’s going to leave a mark.
She ducked and crossed to the window that faced the main house. She opened it and looked across the gardens, between the other trees to the lights of the wedding receptio
n. Music floated across on the evening breeze that ruffled her hair. She could feel Andi here with her, but no…There was no Andi anymore. There was only Andrea, Mrs. Stanton, mother of the bride, queen of the upper-class social circle, like her mother. Jinx turned around. Who ordered Luke to keep the tree house, then, and who still came up here sometimes? And why?
Jinx picked up the book and glanced at the cover. A recent Jodi Picoult novel. She remembered coming up here by herself during the years after Andrea had changed. She’d spent time reading, doing her homework, sometimes just thinking and dreaming—anything to escape the loneliness of the house. At least here she’d had the memories of her best friend.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed something poking out from the side of the crate. She squatted and picked up a stack of books. Treasure Island was on top. She opened the cracked and weathered front. Michelle Tanner was scrawled in her own child’s handwriting at the top of the inside cover. She went to the next one—The Three Musketeers, hers, also. Anne of Green Gables, Jane Eyre, The Hobbit along with a couple of titles from a mystery series she’d read in her teens. The last was Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, the book she’d been reading when she’d run away. She’d finished it years later. These books were all well used and tattered. She found a few more current bestsellers in the crate, but none showed the same wear and tear.
Jinx heard cheers and applause from the wedding guests and wondered how long she’d been away. She didn’t really feel any need to get back—it wasn’t like anyone would miss her—but she was afraid she was getting too drawn into the past. It was time to leave. She considered taking her books, but wondered if that would leave Luke in a difficult situation with Andrea. She returned them to the crate.
On the ground again, she slipped into her jacket she’d left draped over a bush, then turned and looked up to the still open window. In its frame, she saw Andi, aged eight, smiling and waving. “See you later, alligator,” she called.
Embracing the Dawn Page 3
