Again, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  “Because she refused to believe the baby was gone, and then became legitimately suicidal. I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared, pressured by her and her mother, so married her. I’d left you the letter, but hadn’t been able to speak to you. Since I didn’t hear anything back from you, I assumed you wouldn’t forgive me, and I didn’t want to be responsible for Deb’s death—I didn’t think I could live with that. I felt like I’d made such a mess of everything.”

  “When did you leave the letter with my mother?” This was a biggie for Cammie. Her mother had some serious explaining to do here.

  “Just before I married Deb, I stopped by your house to try and see you—to try and make you understand. Your mom said she hadn’t heard from you, but that I could leave a message. I had already written the letter in case you weren’t there. I was about to be married and realized it was my last chance.”

  Cammie felt sick. “I was hiding out at the cabin on Lake Burton. I couldn’t face any of it; that you’d slept with Deb, or you would be her baby’s father. We’d made so many plans together.” A tear rolled down her cheek. It still hurt after all these years, yet she wondered how it could.

  He pulled her close, but continued, “I needed you to understand how it all had happened, and why I’d done what I had. I knew it wouldn’t fix things, but I held out hope that if Deb’s mental condition improved that I might somehow have the marriage annulled and come back to you. I know that sounds crazy—but then, she got pregnant again.”

  “It’s hard to believe with her so nuts that you were having sex.” She hadn’t meant to sound judgmental. Or, maybe just a little.

  “I wasn’t an altar boy, and she insisted that we were married and should make love. Honestly, I mostly went along to keep peace at all costs. I didn’t realize she was trying to have a baby. I thought she was on birth control.”

  “It was all such a long time ago.” She said, turning to look at him.

  “Not so long that it doesn’t matter,” he answered, his expression sad and intense.

  “No, it still matters. I haven’t been able to trust another man since,” she told him, because he should understand how losing him that way had affected her other relationships with men.

  “I’m so sorry I did that to you.” He wiped her remaining tears.

  “I’m sorry about all of it.” And she was sorry, not angry anymore because now she understood his actions. She was sorry Deb had been so ill and wired the way she had been. It had been costly for them all.

  “How’s Samantha doing now?” Cammie asked, thinking of Deb’s main casualty.

  “She’s handling things much better these days. We’ve been going to a psychologist regularly who’s been a godsend.” He sounded very relieved and far more positive as he spoke about his daughter compared to recent conversations.

  “I’m so glad for you both.”

  “Unfortunately, Deb’s mother has reentered the picture.”

  “Trudy? I haven’t seen her in years. Is she still—the same?” Cammie didn’t want to speak ill of his mother-in-law, but Deb’s mom had always made her uneasy, her manner was very abrupt and confrontational. She was always just a little—rough around the edges and over the top, for lack of a better description. Cammie really hated to cast someone into a mold, but Trudy’d made the mold, with her smoking, heavy makeup, and bawdy behavior. Even Deb had been embarrassed by her.

  “She’s the same, only more of everything. More in your face, more insistent on having her way, more sure than ever that I’m trying to keep her from Samantha, which I hate to do, but want to shield Sam from anything hurtful she might say.”

  “She’s always been a bit of a handful. I remember my mother not wanting me to spend time at Deb’s house because she didn’t think being around Trudy was good for me. I didn’t like going over there because she smoked and the house always reeked of stale cigarettes and ashes.” Cammie shuddered, remembering that smell. “Do you think she poses some kind of threat to Sam?”

  “I really don’t think so. She’s just brokenhearted and angry that Deb’s gone. And of course, she blames me. Right now, I’m insisting that she only visit at our house with either Dad or me in the room. I have no idea what she might say to Samantha based on some of the things she spewed right after Deb died. She blamed me for her daughter’s unhappiness and suggested she would still be alive if she hadn’t been so miserable.”

  “Wow. That’s not very subtle. Didn’t she realize that Deb had some very serious mental issues?”

  “I guess Deb had persuaded her that I controlled her time with Sam, and I married her as a second choice and never really loved her.”

  “Oh, my God, Grey. You were in an impossible position—and she had guilted you there. How could she expect to be the love of your life?”

  “She wasn’t stable, like I said. But the facts were the facts. Everything she told her mother was true. I did shield Sam from Deb when she was in a rage, deep depression, or crying jag. She wanted Samantha to lay with her in bed while she suffered. I wouldn’t allow it. So, she accused me of keeping her daughter from her when she needed her most.”

  “But she was just a baby. How damaging would that kind of emotional dumping have been to a young child? Poor little thing. Poor you. You couldn’t win, no matter what you did.”

  “I did what I thought was best for my daughter. Trudy believes the skewed version of perspective Deb fed her for years. She didn’t want to believe Deb was ill—only desperate.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you for being concerned about what she might tell Samantha when you’re not looking. She’s been through so much already; it would be dreadful for her own grandmother to plant poisonous ideas in her head.”

  “She’s coming over Saturday and I’m not looking forward to it. She wanted to take Sam shopping and have a girls’ night at her house.”

  Cammie made a face at the thought. “What does Sam think?”

  “Sam asked me to have Trudy over to our house for now.”

  “At least you’re on the same page with this, then. Hopefully Trudy’ll be polite and you all can get through her visit without a scene.”

  “I don’t see any way around it, so I guess we’ll just have to gut it out,” he agreed.

  She became aware of a buzzing sound in the corner of the room. “Do you hear that?”

  “It must be my phone. It’s set on vibrate.” He eased out from under her and quickly retrieved his phone, naked as a jaybird. He was a fine looking man.

  Looking down at the screen, he said, “I missed a call from my dad. I’d better see what’s up at home. He picked up Samantha from the bus today. They’re likely trying to figure out dinner and what’s keeping me.”

  Cammie gathered up her clothing, and glanced at the clock, “We’ve been up here for over two hours, wow, I had no idea.” She smiled over at him.

  He pulled her against him, “Do you have any regrets about what’s happened between us?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I mean, I understand everything better now, and I do forgive you. I only wished I’d known the whole story years ago.”

  “I still can’t believe your mother didn’t give you my letter.” His expression was puzzled.

  It mirrored her thoughts. “I can’t, either. She and I apparently have matters to discuss.”

  *

  Cammie’s cell phone began to ring as she heard the front door shut behind Grey. She recognized the New York area code, but it wasn’t a number she typically received calls from.

  Curious, she answered, “Hello?”

  “Is this Cammie Laroux?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Bruce Bernard from the studio. I’m so glad I was able to track you down.”

  Bruce Bernard was the last person she wanted to speak with. In fact, the only information she’d like to share with him were her deepest thoughts on the creative ways she’d dreamed up to cause him agonizing pain without leaving a mark; just so they were clear.

  �
��Have you come up with another way to humiliate me?” She rarely used this nasty tone on anyone, but Bruce deserved it after taking Jessica Green’s side.

  “Wait, what? No, Cammie, I’ve called to offer you your own show. There’s been a resurgence of social media in your favor. That video of your cat fight with Jessica at the pie contest is blowing up on YouTube. I know you saw the photos splashed on the front of the tabloids of the, um, incident.”

  “I’d heard about them, but tried to ignore the gossip.” Her voice sounded remarkably calm, which surprised her since her heart began to race at the thought of her own show.

  “In any case, the fans want to see you back on the air. Apparently, you’re why lots of people watched the show to begin with. They loved Southern charm with a touch of class. We’d love for you to fly up to New York and meet with us as soon as possible.”

  Cammie stood there, rooted to the spot where Grey’d left her, mouth wide open, completely unable to believe what had just occurred. Somehow she managed to respond that she’d give Bruce’s proposition serious thought and call him back in the morning. Until Jessica Green’s hair had gone ablaze, Cammie’s career had unfailingly been the one thing she could count on.

  Jason was the other. Then, she’d thrown caution to the wind by losing her focus and rushing into mad-dog sex with Grey; for what eventual outcome? What in the world had she been thinking? That they’d get married and live happily ever after in Ministry, Alabama? That she would make pecan pies at the county fair and it would be enough for her?

  Yes, she forgave Grey. They were all good now. Could be, that was what this was about—the might-have beens taken from them both by Deb. To struggle in her industry and achieve what she had these last ten years and throw away her future here seemed really shortsighted, especially considering this new offer on the table.

  But what did this momentary lapse with Grey steal from her current life? Maybe everything.

  *

  Maureen tensed when she heard the light squeal of brakes and crunch on the rocks of the driveway. She wasn’t expecting a visitor this evening. In fact, she’d not anticipated anyone invading her solitude the rest of the week through the weekend. Maybe Annie had decided to check on her and forgotten to call. It was just after dark.

  She’d already bathed and changed into a soft flannel gown, with plans to watch an old black and white Carey Grant movie after she’d warmed up a bowl of Annie’s potato soup with cheese toast. The kindling she’d lit under the stack of logs had just taken and was crackling in the large fireplace. She’d planned the perfect evening—for an old, single lady.

  Heavy footfalls on the porch alerted her that her visitor wasn’t Annie, but a male caller. Alarm and excitement mixed, as she eased over toward the locked front door to peer through the small peephole. The front porch light was on, thank goodness, so she would be able to see who stood on the other side of her door.

  Heart pounding, she dared a glance. Relief and panic flooded through every cell in her body. He’d come back. She’d told him to stay away, and he’d come back anyway. His firm knock nearly sent her two feet in the air.

  “Maureen, it’s Howard. I need to see you,” he called through the door.

  She couldn’t move a muscle. If she opened the door now, she wouldn’t just let in the man, physically, she’d be consciously opening herself and her family up to what she’d sent packing two days ago. Dared she unlock the past and wake sleeping dogs?

  “Maureen, I heard your reasons for keeping me away, but you should reconsider yourself in all of this. We don’t have to be alone. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life.” He said this softly, but the words somehow permeated through the door and her heart.

  She slid back the bolt and opened the heavy door. Lord, what was she doing?

  His black blue gaze was thunderous with emotion. “I couldn’t take no for answer. Not after I’d seen you again.”

  All the years somehow didn’t matter at that moment. She fell into his strong, waiting arms. How could two men both feel like home? She’d been home with Justin for all those wonderful years, but this, this was like finding something necessary for survival after searching in the dark for a lifetime. His scent, his warmth and strength. She wept at the safety and rightness.

  “Ahh, my love. I never thought—never dreamed—” He nearly crushed her heart with his intensity.

  “Shhh…let’s just stay like this for now. I can’t think about anything yet.” So they held each other, Maureen absorbing his strength and security. She’d forgotten what this felt like, this leaning in to another person both physically and emotionally. It had been such a long time.

  The change in their embrace was subtle, two bodies merged together for comfort, relaxed and content evolved into something less content, more tense and demanding.

  Maureen first noticed his obvious physical response, while wondering at her own increase in heartbeat and the hardening of her nipples under the thin nightgown separating them from his flannel shirt. She wondered if he felt them.

  This hadn’t happened to her in so many years, she couldn’t even venture a guess as to how long it’d been. She shifted her position to make things less noticeable on her part. He momentarily released her when he felt her squirming, but somehow the readjustment had them falling back on the sofa, which was thankfully and strategically behind them, her half on top of him—and his full arousal. Oh, my.

  Their eyes met, his dark and stormy, hers lost in his. “Maureen, I—you’re still the sexiest woman I’ve ever—” She couldn’t have said who made the first move, but the flurry of clothing removal was quite impressive, and would likely be downright teen-like looking back. He’d stopped for a second, asking if she was recovered enough from her surgery yet and she’d nodded, assuring him she was. He’d taken special care with his weight, she could tell, but it had been heavenly.

  They made love like before—a lifetime ago, before she’d ever known another. He’d been her first, and certainly her last. She wasn’t sure how this would work, but if this was her final night on earth, she would die a happy woman.

  “You’re smiling.” He lay beside her under the soft blanket she’d kept across the back of the sofa.

  “So are you, you wicked man.” She blushed. How embarrassing.

  “You’re beautiful, Maureen. And I’m the luckiest bastard alive.” Howard did appear content and thrilled to be exactly where he was; naked under a blanket in a cabin at the lake in front of a roaring fire with her.

  She had to admit, tonight had been a most unexpectedly blissful and life-changing turn of events for them both. Sighing, she relaxed and fell asleep, content that no matter what tomorrow threw her way, she would always treasure tonight’s wonderful memories.

  “How did your husband pass away?” Howard asked.

  “Trying to save Ben’s friend, Scott, from drowning.” Maureen still had a very difficult time speaking of it. In fact, had never spoken of it to anyone.

  “Did the boy survive?”

  Maureen shook her head, allowing the tears to flow. She’d never discussed the accident beyond the trial that nearly ruined her family.

  “I’m so sorry, honey. What a senseless tragedy.” She took comfort from his gently stroking her arm.

  “It was—the worse thing that’s ever happened to any of us. The boy, Scott, was our neighbor, and Ben’s best friend. They’d gone out tubing, and Scott was thrown off the back of the boat by a large wave. It was Fourth of July weekend, and a busy time on the lake. Our rule was that everyone on the boat had to wear a life vest, but Scott must have slipped his off after he’d had his turn.”

  Howard moved closer and puller her to him, but she had to verbalize what she’d kept in for so many years.

  “Justin pulled off his life vest so he could dive down into the water and search for Scott. The last time he came up, he was hit by a jet ski. He’d gone a ways from the boat, and everyone was calling for Scott and didn’t see where Justin had surfaced un
til it was too late,” Tears streamed for her husband who’d been such a good man, who’d loved their children, and searched for a missing child.

  “Were your kids on the boat during the accident?” Howard asked.

  “Maeve, Jo Jo, and Ben saw it. They tried to get to him before he went under, but were too far away, and Scott never resurfaced. He was a strong swimmer, too.” She shook her head, reliving the scene of seventeen-year-old Ben pulling up to the dock in their boat, with his hysterical sisters, escorted by the harbor patrol, yelling for her to come outside.

  “I imagine you lived your worst nightmare that day,” he said.

  “It could only have been worse had it been one of my own children. But Scott’s death has haunted us all. It’s hard to come here as a family anymore. It took a couple of years before we even attempted it after the accidents.” She’d stopped crying now, and she was surprised at what a relief it had been to finally tell the story.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t sell the place,”

  “It was my parent’s home. I couldn’t part with it, even after everything that happened. You and I met here.” She watched him carefully and wondered if her own face displayed such raw emotion.

  “Yes, we did. It will always be special for that reason and because this is where I found you again.”

  “Yes. I only hope my children will feel that way in time.”

  “I’m betting they’ll want to see you happy. It likely won’t happen overnight, but I’ll do my damnedest to show them how much I care about you.” He seemed so confident.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‡

  Maureen awoke slowly, realizing a couple of things right away: The first was that she was stark naked next to an equally stark naked man. Second, they weren’t sleeping in a bed, but on the floor on the rug in front of the last embers of last night’s fire. Sometime during the early hours, Howard had gone into her bedroom and gathered pillows, sheets, and comforter for their pallet in front of the fireplace. They’d made slow, tender love again before falling into a deep sleep from which he’d still not awakened.