by Kait Nolan
A warm hand pressed into her back. She opened her eyes and looked up to find Dallas standing next to her. Damn, but did he clean up well. He wore a light gray suit that made his dark-lashed hazel eyes warm. He ran his hand up to her shoulder and played with the ends of her hair. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.” She studied his face. His mouth was pulled down at the corners and he looked decidedly pale. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” He rubbed a hand over his midsection. “I’m not good at this.”
“Nobody is. Those who look like they are probably have some pretty strong coping drugs on board.”
Max joined them, a low hum building in his throat. “Mama is not happy with you.”
“So what’s new?” She didn’t bother to phrase it as a question.
Max made the same face he always did when Shelby failed to tremble at Emma’s unhappiness.
“I needed to decompress. She wasn’t about to allow me to do that so I spent the night at Lana’s.” Shelby gave a shrug. She scanned the room and found Emma in the back of the sanctuary, giving her a pointed look over the top of Daisy Crenshaw’s head.
“You could have at least called her and let her know where you were.” Max’s gaze shifted to Dallas.
He acted as if he’d not grown up in the same house. “She doesn’t care where I am or what I’m doing. She never has. No doubt she was relieved to not have me in the way.”
Max made a face. “You still could have called. We were afraid something happened to you.”
“I’m a New Yorker. I can handle myself in Suwannee Grove.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “You’ve not always been from there.”
“Yes, but you know the saying, ‘if you can make it there’? Yeah, more truth to that than you’ll ever know.” Shelby looked over his shoulder to watch Emma greet another arrival to the funeral home. “It just means I’m tough.”
Dallas slid his arm around her shoulder and held her to his side. “We always knew that. You don’t have to convince anyone.”
And just like that her face, along with her toughness crumbled and tears fell. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Not tough enough to make it through this.”
In full view of Max and everyone, Dallas kissed the side of her forehead. A sweet, comforting press of his lips to her skin that had the power to make her feel even worse. Exactly the opposite reaction he no doubt intended.
She smiled up at him through her tears, not letting on how wretched she felt for having stayed away from the people who mattered most to her for so long.
So maybe she should have gone back to the house for a little while last evening, but she’d been rather bummed when Mr. Mystery Date hadn’t shown and she really didn’t want to get into the reason for her foul mood. Of course a funeral was a good enough excuse to be in a foul mood. No other reason need apply.
“If you want to know the truth, I called Lana’s boyfriend—well, texted him. I was supposed to meet him at Sutter’s Mill, but he was a no show.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? What was his excuse for not showing?”
“I don’t know. He never said, nor do I expect to ever find out. If he shows today, I hope he at least has the cajones to introduce himself so I can put a face with the name.” And look him in the eyes to see if he had any feelings for Lana. At this point she doubted he knew anything about Lana’s state of mind in the days leading up to the suicide.
Dallas gave her a tight look, his gaze slid from hers. He probably thought she was being judgmental. It was her sister who’d been treated as if her memory meant nothing, not his. If she wanted to judge Rhys then tough shit.
The Reverend J.R. Tuckell-Smith moved to the podium.
“It looks like things are starting. We should probably find our seats.” Shelby took Dallas’s hand in hers. “You can sit with the family if you want.”
His gaze searched her face. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes. I do.”
They took their seats in the front row. Shelby sat on Max’s left at the outside end, putting Dallas to her left. Emma looked down the row and made a pinched face before turning her attention to the Reverend J.R.
The service opened with a prayer that went on as long as Christ had been raised. Traditional hymns were sung and more prayers commenced. The eulogy was given by Max and Whitney.
Shelby was not encouraged to say a few words or even make a nod of agreement. As a matter of fact she’d been under strict orders not to say or do anything that might draw attention to her. As if. She was the least dramatic person she knew. As a matter of fact, she went a long way around staying out of trouble and lying low. At least since she’d moved from Suwannee Grove.
More prayers and hymns commenced before the end of the service.
Finally the funeral drew to a close. Shelby waited until the family had gone up to say their final goodbyes before she went up to say hers. She placed her hand on Lana’s and leaned over the open casket. “You should have called me. Asked me for help. I would have been on the first plane down and not waited to see you like this.” Tears fell warm down her cheeks. “I love you.”
She kissed Lana’s cold, waxy forehead before stepping away. Dallas had his hand at her waist to support her if she needed it. He really was a good man and a great friend. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years, and yet he was here for her worst day, as if no time had passed.
As they walked up the aisle, Asa came forward. He simply held out his arms again and she walked into them, accepting his hug. After a few moments of soaking up comfort, she pulled away and took both men’s hands. “You are both coming out to the farm, aren’t you?”
They exchanged glances.
Asa gave her a skeptical glance. “Is Miss Jacintha going to mind? She never did like either one of us.”
“Even if that’s true—and I’m sure her feelings for you have mellowed in the intervening years—she wouldn’t do a thing. Steele women would never make a scene at the luncheon after a funeral of one of their own. It just isn’t done.” She squeezed their hands. “Please don’t let my Nana scare you away. Hell, she might not even notice I’m there, so there is a good chance she won’t notice you either. It’s a big farm.”
“I’m in.” Dallas placed his free hand on top of hers.
Asa nodded. “All right. I’m in, too. I wear a badge, for the love of God. I should be able to handle Miss Jacintha.”
Dallas raised a brow and gave a sexy half smile. “What do you think, Shel? Does he sound confident to you?”
“Not really. You?” Shelby teased.
Emma chose that moment to walk by. She gave Shelby’s arm a painful pinch in the tricep and pulled her close. “Stop making a spectacle of yourself with those men and act with a bit more decorum.”
Shocked and angry, heat rose to her cheeks and her mouth set in a grim line. “It’s Asa and Dallas, not those men. They are my oldest and dearest friends in this God-forsaken town. I think Lana would be glad to see us reunited and able to find at least a small smile in the middle of this tragedy. And if she could have, you can.”
Emma backed away, looking shocked that she’d been spoken to in such a manner. But then she should have expected it.
Like a demented meteorologist, Shelby’s father sensed a storm brewing and swooped in to collect his wife. He nodded a greeting to Asa and Dallas before ushering his wife out the door.
Guilt swamped her and she hung her head. “I shouldn’t let her get to me like that.”
Dallas’s gaze was fixed to the retreating elder Steeles. “It’s hard when it’s your parents. They know how to push buttons like no one else.”
Shelby started for the door. “I’ll see you at the farm then?”
“Sure. We’ll be right behind you.” Asa reached into his pocket and took out his keys.
She didn’t wait for them, but made her way to the car Max let her borrow. Hot, angry tears gathered in her eyes, but sh
e fought them back, refusing to let Emma get to her on that level.
The skies were an impossible shade of blue. Fluffy clouds moved in no great hurry across the expanse. She opened the sunroof and rolled down the windows then cranked up the local country station loud as she could stand.
Everything about the day promised it should be beautiful and carefree, but the grief riding one layer below the surface proved that wasn’t going to happen. Not anytime soon. Sunshine and clear skies were meaningless—a painful lesson about life moving on and the world continuing to turn. Shelby was in no mood to hear, much less think, about such things.
Roads through Suwannee Grove were basically flat and straight with an occasional bend to allow the river to flow unhindered. Jacintha Steele’s farm was situated off the beaten path by some distance and would have put Downton Abbey to shame in sheer acreage. Cars were lined up along the lane leading to the main house. Judging from the amount of vehicles, the luncheon was going to be even better attended than the funeral. Christ, she’d not seen this many cars parked at the last game she’d attended.
She took an access road that came off the main drive that wended back around the property to the barn. Parking spaces near there were going to be easy to come by, and unknown by all but family and employees.
Pines heavy with kudzu lined the drive. Light flashed in a strobe as sunshine tried to penetrate the tree canopy. Earth, trees, and foliage made for a rich scent, underscored by the murky tang of the river that ran parallel to the property. Shelby took in a deep breath, letting the smells of home take her back in time to when life was simpler and she’d not felt the need to run away. To a time before her life had been changed forever.
The fight had happened after the bus painting incident. She and her partners in crime had been suspended for two days. To say Emma was displeased was understating the matter by a few hundred degrees. Emma had been called to the school to pick up Shelby from the principal’s office. The entire ride home consisted of Emma listing all of Shelby’s faults, failings, and infractions over the years.
Shelby had retaliated by calling Emma humorless and rigid, never saying anything unless it was a criticism. The fight had escalated, until Shelby declared she didn’t understand how a mother could hate her own child. Emma had countered with the astounding remark that she wasn’t Shelby’s mother.
Horrified and devastated, Shelby had jumped out of the car at a traffic light and run—far and fast—until she’d ended up at Dallas’s house. Miss Jess had finally gotten Shelby settled down enough to where she’d even talk to either her father or Emma.
Nothing in the Steele house had been the same since. It was the day Shelby had decided to leave and go as far away as possible.
Living her own life had taught her the confidence and independence she’d never had at home, but it hadn’t solved anything. Problems still littered her relationships. She doubted she’d ever be able to have any kind of relationship with Emma, not even a cordial one, but there were things they should discuss. Did she even broach the subject to try and settle things before she went back to New York? The fact Jacintha hadn’t even bothered to visit while she’d been in town spoke volumes. The entire New York Public Library worth of volumes. Had the Steele matriarch taken Emma’s side? Hard telling, and frankly, Shelby didn’t think she even wanted to know.
The drive curved and spit her out at the rear of the barn. She parked next to an old faded Jeep that looked vaguely familiar. Oh, hell. Did he still own that truck?
As if resurrecting a moment from her past, Elwood King came out from around the barn in a suit that had probably been in mothballs for twenty years. E.W.—as his friends called him—had worked for Jacintha for over forty years. He’d been old when Shelby was little, now he was ancient.
He waved a hand, gnarled with arthritis, in her general direction. “Can’t park here, Miss.”
Shelby got out of the car and removed her sunglasses. “Well, I’m not parking at the end of the drive and walking, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
E.W. squinted and stepped closer. “Shelby?”
“As if it would be anyone else.” She opened her arms and was immediately brought to a sunken chest that had developed a chronic rattle over the years.
“Look at you all growed up.” He took her to arms’ length. A snowy white mustache hung down the corners of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a cartoon walrus.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” she teased. “Where’s Lyda?”
“Up at the main house helping to set up the luncheon.” Lyda and E.W. had been married for over fifty years and were related to most of the folks in the county in one way or another.
“I should make an appearance so the family doesn’t think I’ve shirked my familial responsibilities.”
E.W. put his arm around Shelby’s shoulder. “Regardless of what they think, Lyda and myself are in your debt.”
Shelby raised her hand to stop what she knew was coming. “As I told you on the phone, you were due that money. Consider it royalties for the recipes.”
“It’s come in handy with the grand and great-grandkids I’ll say that much.”
“Then I’m doubly glad to have sent it.” Shelby hugged him close. “And we’ll say no more of it.”
They walked together to the path that led to the main house from the barn. Voices rose through the foliage. Soft music floated on the breeze.
A break in the trees brought the house into view. People stood in clumps around the manicured lawn. The wraparound porch had been turned into a buffet line. Lana would be pleased with the turn out. Despite the way she’d chosen to end her life, Lana had been a very social person.
Shelby shook her head and started up onto the porch. “Can I do anything to help?”
Lyda, placing a bowl of salad next to a plate of sliced vegetables, looked up. Her long gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Distracted, she didn’t even seem to recognize Shelby. “There’s a chafing dish full of greens in the kitchen. Bring them out and put them on that table over there. There’s Sterno in some boxes underneath the table.”
Shelby hurried to do as Lyda instructed, hoping to blend into the chaos of getting lunch on the table for hundreds. Why hadn’t Jacintha hired caterers? It would have made this entire affair so much easier. But then Lyda and the other ladies of the community probably would have felt slighted. Good Southern woman always provided a meal and comfort when someone died. It was tradition as old as the South itself.
Stepping into Jacintha’s kitchen was like walking into the past. Though the cabinets, paint, and appliances were new, there was still something about it that felt the same. For Shelby, this had always been the heart of Jacintha’s house, since she had spent time in here with Lyda.
She found some pot holders in the drawer and hefted the chafing dish out to the porch. Holders were set up. Most of them were already filled. She set the dish into the rack then dug under the table for the Sterno container.
“So they put you to work?”
At the sound of Dallas’s voice, Shelby looked up. Her breath caught in her throat. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Hands shoved in his pockets as he stepped up onto the porch.
“I volunteered.”
“Need any more?”
Heat curled up from her belly and exploded across her face in a smile. “You’ll have to apply to Lyda. I’m not in charge.”
Lyda was busy fussing on something down the table, putting out a covered dish with a substance Shelby couldn’t identify from a distance.
“What do you say, Miss Lyda, you need more helpers?” Dallas called.
Lyda didn’t break stride. “Clem and Max are out near the sheds pulling out tables and chairs. If you want to make yourself useful, you can go on down there and help them.”
Dallas gave a small salute, then turned his attention back to Shelby. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Sure.�
��
Where was she going to go in this crowd other than talk to people she hadn’t seen in years. Chances were she wouldn’t leave before midnight, unless Jacintha made things uncomfortable, and so far Shelby hadn’t caught even a glimpse of her.
Shelby went inside to see if there were other pans, dishes, or plates of food to bring out.
Whitney came in from the main house. She fanned her hand in front of her face. Perspiration stuck tiny curls to her temples. “Lordy it’s hot out there. I need a cold drink.”
“I think there were some on ice in a barrel on the porch.” Shelby picked up a large glass dish of ambrosia salad. “What have you been doing out there?”
“Helping to bring the flowers in from the funeral home.”
Shelby stalled on her way to the door. “Why were they brought here and not my dad’s house?”
“I guess they didn’t have room for all of them.”
There had been a lot of them. So many in fact the casket had been in danger of being buried under them all, and the mourners were faced with sitting in a jungle of the arrangements.
“Did they take any of them?”
“I don’t know. We had a hard enough time finding spaces in cars for all of them.”
She’d not stuck around to help. Guilt pushed down on her. She’d been so angry with Emma’s harsh words, she’d not bothered to look around and see what needed to be done. She sighed. No use in flogging herself now. The plants and flowers were where the family had decided they should go.
She carried the covered dish out to the tables and found a spot to place it.
“Shelby, go see if Jeb and Carter are any closer to getting that pig cooked. We might have to start on the grilled food while waiting for the stuff off the spit.” Lyda stepped back and studied the table.
“Sure.”
She glanced over at Lyda, unsure of the odd welcome she’d received, as in none at all. Very strange. Not to mention hurtful. When she turned to meet Lyda’s gaze, the older woman’s slid away.
If her odd behavior was because of the substantial check Shelby had sent to Lyda and E.W. then she’d just have to clear the air with her as she had E.W. Great.
