by Susan Sands
I love you. I will marry Deb if I have no other choice, but my heart belongs to you—always.
I’m so sorry.
Grey
The tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked. Cammie only thought she’d realized how his young, passionate words she’d never gotten to see might affect her. How would she have reacted ten years ago?
Her mother hugged her gently. “I’m so sorry, Cammie. At the time, I believe he’d betrayed you in the worst way, and even if somehow you’d forgiven him, you’d never be able to trust him. My own experience with Howard’s desertion colored my judgment.”
“I know. I do love Grey. I’ve just realized that, and I forgive him. But this offer—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in my career. It’s never going to happen again in my lifetime. I just wish—I wish there was a way to do what I love without giving up a chance at a life with Grey.”
“You’ve got to do what your heart tells you. Sleep on it. You’re tired and coming off an emotional trip.” Her mother hugged her hard. “In the last week or so, I’ve learned a few new lessons about what’s important. Just give it all careful consideration before you make a final decision.”
Cammie had calmed down now. “I will, and Mom, as much as I wish you would have given me Grey’s letter back then, I know you’ve never tried to hurt me on purpose. And Maeve knows that too, though it’s pretty crazy, this secret father you’ve kept from her all these years. Is Howard angry with you?” she asked.
“He’s upset that he’s gone all these years without knowing he had a family, but he understands that once I married your father, there was no going back. I loved your daddy, honey. I hope you know that.” Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes.
“I know you loved him, and I know he loved you. And as long as there weren’t any secrets between you when you married, then I don’t have a problem with it.” Cammie was living proof of their love.
“You are a wonderful child, and deserving of all the good things life can give you.”
They finished dinner mostly in silence, but it was a satisfied quiet that required no words.
Chapter Eighteen
‡
Cammie awoke, stretched, and burrowed down under the covers. It was still early, according to the bedside clock, but she had events to prepare for this evening. A new peace had settled over her sometime after Grey had picked her up, and she’d enjoyed a quiet evening with her mother over their late dinner. Her nerves had eased.
Especially after her mother’s turning over Grey’s long-hidden letter. Cammie would have expected to feel angry and bitter at Mom, but there had been too much anger and bitterness over the years. Now was the time for true forgiveness and moving forward. She loved Grey, more importantly, she now honestly forgave him. Still uncertain how things would play out, it seeped into her bones and spread. She immersed herself in the healthy and healing sensation.
Cammie rolled over and picked up her smart phone from beside the bed and checked her messages. She took a moment to really look at the photos Grey had sent her when she was in New York. As she scrolled through them, excitement took hold. She wanted to call Grey with a million ideas for his kitchen project. Nearly buzzing with thoughts of transforming that wonderful old farmhouse into something worthy of a magazine, Cammie wondered what had come over her. Maybe it was the idea of helping Grey create something fantastic, or maybe she just adored everything about her craft, and kitchens were really in her wheelhouse. She could hardly wait to speak with him and discuss her thoughts on his project.
This morning, however, Cammie had cooking and preparation for this evening. She would see Grey today while he continued his work at the house, and that was comforting. Her mother would help her do some of the light jobs. Maybe she would get a few minutes to discuss her ideas about the farmhouse with Grey. Her big decision could be dealt with later.
She dragged herself out from under the warmth of the quilt and pulled on a robe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee led her downstairs. She assumed her mother had made the coffee since she was an early riser and Cammie knew Grey wouldn’t arrive for at least another hour. Her assumption was wrong. Grey was already here, and he’d brewed the lovely coffee. He stood in the kitchen, freshly showered and shaven wearing a flannel work shirt and jeans, his gorgeous grin nearly buckling her knees. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone this early—except maybe people who live here,” She said, a little grumpy at his catching her at her most unappealing. Again, she thought darkly.
“You look sleepy and beautiful.” He approached her and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He’d not embraced her since she’d left for New York.
She mumbled into his chest, “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”
His chest shook with laughter. “That’s nice.”
Cammie pulled away and made a face at him, but not before inhaling a nice big whiff of delicious, clean man-smell.
He handed her a cup of coffee.
“Thanks. I’ve got to get cracking—double duty this evening.”
“What’s on tap?”
“The annual Art Guild dinner and a Cindy Lou’s book signing.”
“Cindy Lou Snodgrass wrote a book?” He appeared truly shocked.
“I’m surprised you’ve been back in Ministry this long and haven’t heard. She wrote a memoir about her brush with death down in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina.” His expression of disbelief intensified—likely because Cindy Lou had mostly been known around Ministry as a teller of tall tales; Cammie hesitated to call her a liar.
“Someone actually published something written by Cindy Lou as anything other than fiction?”
“Well, she self-published the tale, and she’s throwing herself a book signing tonight at Evangeline House.”
“Is this an invitation-only event?”
“There are flyers up everywhere, so I doubt it. I’ve seen them at the grocery and on the stop sign at the corner. I really can’t believe you’ve not heard about it.”
“I might have to stop by this evening out of morbid curiosity.”
“You do that. I’ll be running around here, fending off snide remarks about Jessica Green from the crowd.”
“You can handle these folks. They hardly remember any of that now.” He started to leave, then turned and asked, “Get a chance yet to look the photos I sent?”
The excitement was back again, as unexpected as before.
“You sound like a kid.” She laughed at him. He always had been so full of enthusiasm. She remembered that now. “Yes! Grey, I have so many ideas for your project.”
“So, how about you meet me there tomorrow morning and you can tell them to me in person?” He appeared pleased that she was interested, as he was smiling broadly.
“Okay. Send me the address in a text and we’ll set a time.” On that note, he whistled his way out the swinging door of Evangeline House’s kitchen.
She guessed it was a date, of sorts.
A couple minutes after Grey left the kitchen, her mother breezed in, moving with more grace than Cammie expected. “How is your back feeling?”
“Amazingly well, thanks for asking. It seems every day that passes brings less pain.”
“I’m so glad. I meant to ask how you were feeling last night, but we got sidetracked.”
“That’s a nice way to put it.” Her mother smiled.
*
The Art Guild dinner required time and attention to the art of food. Cammie’d prepared most of the items before she’d gone to New York, so she only had to allow most of it to thaw and reheat, then add bread and dessert to the menu. Maureen was most helpful, and since many of the ladies were her cronies, she handled the hosting duties.
The book signing was another matter entirely. Since Cindy Lou’s “experiences” had occurred in New Orleans, she’d decided they should serve only authentic creole and Cajun foods as appetizers and desserts during her shindig.
So
, the pecan tartlets, bourbon glazed bread pudding cups, mini crawfish pies, and individual servings of jambalaya made for high numbers of tiny dirty dishes. But she had to admit; the high entertainment value of Cindy Lou’s oral presentation was worth the extra effort. She read aloud a portion of especially dramatic narrative that had her audience leaning forward in their chairs, anticipating her every word.
Needless to say, Cindy Lou sold every copy of her book. The signing was a success, much to everyone’s surprise. Cammie was happy for the woman. Cindy’d worked hard toward her goal and persevered. Whether the story was stranger than fiction, or actually fiction, made no difference. Her gift was telling stories. Until now, it hadn’t gotten her far.
Cammie and her mother worked side-by-side along with Jo Jo and Maeve, who’d helped with serving and replenishing food and drink as needed.
Grey had texted to say he wasn’t going to make it this evening but that he’d see her at the farmhouse in the morning, and texted her the address. Cammie hadn’t had the opportunity this morning to bring up the letter. She’d placed it inside her nightstand drawer right next to his class ring, which had brought on another flood of memories. Cammie could have sworn it was wrapped in a bandana in the chest of drawers last she saw it.
*
Cammie’s conversation with Bruce Bernard was short and to the point. “I’m sorry Bruce, I simply can’t drop everything at this time and move to New York permanently.”
“Are you kidding? They’ve offered you a dream come true.”
“I know. I have lost my mind. But I’m now at a point in my life where the choices I make affect more than just me. Please tell everyone at the network thanks for placing such faith in me.”
They’d hung up, and Cammie breathed a sigh of what—relief—maybe? She hadn’t put a title on quite how she felt yet, but today she’d realized that her whole world was tied up in the people she loved. Her family, Grey, Samantha. This tiny town in Alabama was the canvas for how she’d been shaped as a human being, right or wrong. She’d escaped, learned so many things about the world, and now knew her place in it.
Cammie hadn’t told anyone what she’d intended yet. In fact, until today she wasn’t certain of her plan. Or, she hadn’t admitted it to herself yet.
Her mother’s handing over Grey’s old letter had cemented her belief in how deep his feelings had been for her back then, and how epic he’d viewed his mistake with Deb. But if either had done anything different, he wouldn’t be the father he was today. And that would be a shame.
She couldn’t wish that away from him.
“Cammie, is everything okay?” Her mother knocked softly on her bedroom door.
“Come in, Mom.” Her mother joined her on the bed.
“I’ve made up my mind to stay here in Ministry.”
She’d never seen her mother appear quite so deeply happy. “I had a feeling you would make this choice.”
“I’m not sure how you knew, because I didn’t.”
“Have you told Grey yet?”
“No. I had a phone call to make first.” She had true butterflies in her tummy in anticipation of breaking the news to him. Of course she didn’t have any reason to be nervous, did she?
Cammie was at peace with her decision to break away from her previous career. She had her chef’s training from the Cordon Bleu in New York City, for heaven’s sake. No one held better credentials for opening a restaurant. She’d been earning a salary as severance since they’d let her go, so her income hadn’t suffered thus far, and wouldn’t for several more months.
After the morning’s excitement, she realized she still had a small event this evening to handle. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work.”
But her mother laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You go find your young man and make his day. I can deal with the Rotary Club meeting.”
“Are you sure?” But Cammie knew Mom wouldn’t be dissuaded. And she also knew the event was really only a good old boys’ club meeting that ran itself, besides a few snacks and drinks. They were here for the location and had been for thirty years.
“Of course. I could do this one sitting down with hands tied and you well know it. Plus, Howard is coming by later. He won’t allow me to overdo.”
“Thanks, Mom. Coming back here might have been the best thing I’ve ever been manipulated into doing.” She smiled and her mother laughed.
“I do believe that’s what your sisters thought all along.”
“I have someone to see.”
“Bye, sweetie. Have fun.”
Cammie didn’t change clothes, worry about makeup, or even spare a glance in the mirror. She knew Grey didn’t care how she looked. He’d just be glad to see her.
*
Cammie arrived at the address he’d sent to her phone around ten o’clock. He’d said he had some work to do at the house, so she could come when she was ready. As she pulled into the drive, she was struck by the exterior of the farmhouse, by the property, with its old oak tree down the hill, a tire swing gently swaying in the breeze beside a picturesque pond. She felt like she’d come home. Like she’d driven up to her own house and everything felt right. It was strange.
As she climbed out of the car, Grey emerged from the front door looking as good to Cammie as he ever had in his worn jeans and faded t-shirt. She had to restrain herself from sprinting toward him and throwing herself into his arms. Easy, girl.
He held out a hand to lead her inside. And just like that, she was home.
“What do you think?”
Her breathing was quick and her excitement overwhelming. “I love it, Grey. Who does it belong to?”
“Me.”
Everything came together in that moment for Cammie. Any lingering shred of doubt dissolved with that one word. Then, she did throw herself into his arms.
“Whoa. What’s this?”
“I turned down the offer in New York.”
“You did? Why?” But he sounded so hopeful.
She took a deep breath and began, “Because I can’t leave you and Samantha. Because I love you, and I love her. I can’t choose my job over my family. The two of you are my family. Alabama is where I belong although I can’t believe I’m saying that.”
He stared at her as if she’d sprouted another set of eyeballs. And he continued to stare.
“Aren’t you going to say anything? Grey, isn’t this what you want?”
That seemed to snap him out of it. “God, yes! I adore you. But I didn’t want you to have to choose me over your dream. I need for you to have it all. If you give up the things that make you happy for us, you could end up angry and bitter.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“I don’t do angry and bitter,” Cammie said. “And I’m not giving up anything. I still intend to have it all.”
“You do?” How?”
“I want to open a restaurant, here in Ministry.” She said.
He’d continued to hold her tightly the entire time, but now he loosened his grip a bit and pulled away so he could look at her.
“That’s not a terrible idea. You’re a decent cook.” She punched him in the arm. “Ow!”
“You’re a butthead, but I love you. And I would give it all up for you, and Samantha.” She started toward him, but he suddenly lunged and scooped her into his arms.
“I accept.”
She giggled and squirmed in his arms. “You accept what?”
“Your proposal. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Slow down, hot shot. I don’t have a ring.”
“Hold that thought.” He slipped outside but was back a moment later, something clutched in his right hand. Before she had a moment to process what was happening, Grey had assumed the age-old position on one knee in front of her. “I couldn’t let you change your mind.”
This was all happening so fast. “Change my mind?” Her head had begun spinning from the moment he’d accepted her proposal. “What—what are you doing?”
“I’m accepting your generou
s offer to stay in Ministry and make me the happiest man alive. Cammie Laroux, I would like to do you the honor of becoming your husband. Will you accept the ring I’ve had since we were twenty years old?” Looking down at the open box, she saw his mother’s diamond engagement ring.
“When she was sick, she gave it to me, and said I should hang onto it until I knew the time was right.” His eyes were misty. “It was as if she knew something I didn’t.”
All the years and hurt melted away in that moment. Love and forgiveness enveloped her like a warm blanket. For him, but mainly for Deb, who’d been so ill and misguided. It hadn’t all been time wasted, but what they’d had to experience to appreciate where they were at this moment.
Tears sprung into her eyes. Cammie held out her left hand and he slid the ring onto her finger. “Thanks for agreeing to marry me.”
He gathered her into his arms. “I’ve loved you since I was a goofy kid. You’ve been a part of my heart since we passed notes in junior high and circled yes or no to the important questions.” He pulled back and placed his hands on either side of her face. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for screwing everything up, but I promise to make it right.”
“It is right. Now it’s right,” she assured him.
“Oh, by the way, there’s this house I wanted to talk to you about…”
Chapter Nineteen
‡
Cammie’s cell rang as she prepared for bed. She’d just hung up with Grey, so she almost ignored it. But the caller I.D. caught her eye. It was a NYC exchange. Curiosity piqued, Cammie answered.
“Hello?”
“Cammie, thank God you answered.” She hadn’t recognized the number, but the harried voice was unmistakable.
“Bruce? Is everything alright?”
