Southern Comfort: Chandler's Story (The Southern Series Book 1)

by Shelley Stringer

  “Who is Grandmother Wellington?” I asked as I cleaned up my mess and put the vegetables and cutting board away.

  “My maternal grandmother, Grand Dame and head of the family, holder of the estate documents, and trustee of all of my bubble-gum money, honey! My family is old money, you know. We mustn’t make waves or gossip!”

  “How old are you, Everett?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Am I getting too personal?”

  “Don’t worry your pretty head, Bebe. I’ll slap you when you do.”

  Just then, we heard the truck tires turn into the driveway. I hurriedly flipped the fish in the skillet, and reduced the fire so I could step away from the stove for a few minutes. The front screen door slammed, and we heard their footsteps coming down the hallway.

  “Honey, we’re home!” Banton exclaimed as they came into the kitchen.

  I knew he was joking with the endearment, but my heart stuttered anyway. He was grinning, and his dimple seemed exceptionally deep this evening. How did he do that to me every time I was in the same room with him! It was like I had no voice, and forgot where I was.

  John was close on his heels. “Well, we struck gold, Andie-girl! Or Maytags, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

  “Don’t worry, you gave us a budget, and we came in way under. We got a used stove, a new refrigerator, and a used stackable washer/dryer. We even brought you a couple hundred back!”

  “How on earth did you manage that?”

  “Well, there’s a catch. The fridge was on a scratch and dent sale, but we would have put some of those on a new one anyway, right?”

  “I don’t care, as long as I don’t have to defrost it! I could kiss you!” I threw my arms around him and kissed his cheek. He didn’t seem to mind in the least. The look on Banton’s face, however, seemed to say he did mind. How strange, I thought.

  A couple of hours and several margaritas and dirty dishes later, the guys had unloaded my appliances and set them in the kitchen to be installed later. An inspection of the back of Everett’s Suburban, his store vehicle with “Vintage” on the side, had revealed a small French provincial dresser, nightstand and dressing table he bought to surprised me. I loved them just the way they were, but he assured me he had big plans to “shabby-chic” them, and we could work on them one afternoon next week. Although I protested it could wait till tomorrow, the guys promptly hauled them upstairs to my newly painted bedroom.

  “Drive safe, Fruit-Loop!” John called to Everett, as Everett honked and waved back to us. I cringed, not knowing how Everett would take it, but I knew John meant nothing by it. John continued down the sidewalk, headed home, whistling while he walked.

  I turned back to Banton, still standing beside me on the front porch. “Would you like something else to drink?” I asked, wondering why he lingered behind with me.

  “No, but I would like to talk to you for a bit, Andie.” I followed him back inside the house, and we sat down on the sofa in the living room. I was becoming more at ease around him most of the time, but when we were alone, it was a bit different.

  “What’s up?” I asked off-handedly.

  “Well, it’s about the roommate thing. With all the break-ins around the neighborhood, I think it’s time you found someone to move in here. I’m worried about you being here alone at night,” he stated, as he watched me intently.

  “Everyone I have talked to in my classes has roommates already. I haven’t had any luck. I talked to my cousin Constance a couple of days ago, and she seems homesick. I suggested she transfer to LSU next semester, but even if she did, it would be January before she would move in…” I trailed off.

  “What would you think…well, just hear me out, okay?” he asked me, leaning in closer to my side of the sofa.

  “Okay…” I replied hesitantly.

  Banton played with the back of the sofa with his fingers, sliding them back and forth, deep in thought. He rubbed his thumb back and forth along the edge of the trim, and I thought, if only that were my shoulder…

  Then he suddenly looked up into my eyes, and as always, I had trouble concentrating on what he was saying. “What if John and I moved into the two extra bedrooms? We could pay you what we pay down the street for that dump. Those rooms upstairs are twice as big as the ones we have now. It would give you eight hundred dollars extra each month. We would be here at night, too, so you wouldn’t be alone. We practically live here anyway, so I think it is a win-win situation for all of us. What do you think?”

  I sat in stunned silence. My first thought was, Banton wants to live here with me! My heart leapt – I studied his eyes to see if there was any sign he’d heard it fluttering. My second thought was, my mother would absolutely have a stroke to think I was living with two guys, even if they were as nice as Banton and John. But of course, my mom and dad weren’t here to disapprove anymore. I was entering the “I’m mad at them for leaving me” phase of my grief. My eyes began to mist, as the next predictable path my brain would take pushed through - I wish they were still here. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for one of my dad’s multi-hour lectures on what young ladies did and did not do in our family. And I really didn’t know Banton and John at all – I’d only been around them less than a month or so. But that would have been the case with anyone I met on campus, wouldn’t it?

  “Andie, are you okay?” Banton’s question brought me back from my thoughts about my parents. I realized my eyes must have looked teary.

  “I’m fine.” I rubbed my eyes as though I was just tired, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears. “I was just thinking about my…oh, nothing. Forget it.” I shook my head.

  “Well, I know you are tired. It’s late. Please think about what I said.” Banton rose from the couch, and reached out with his hand. I held my breath as his thumb traced my jawline.

  “I will.” I was totally mesmerized by his touch. My eyes were drawn to his lips, and I caught myself daydreaming about what it would be like to have his lips on mine…on my skin.

  Then it suddenly occurred to me. “Have you said anything to John about this yet?”

  “We talked about it on the way home from N’awlins this afternoon. It was like we both came up with it simultaneously. He worries about you too. Sometimes I think he uses the remodel to stay down here with you.”

  It was almost as if my brain was thinking out loud. “I must say, the idea is tempting. We’ll talk about it some more tomorrow.”

  I rose and walked him to the door. Opening the door to leave, he turned back to me and almost whispered, “Until tomorrow, then. Nothing but sweet dreams, Andie girl.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek, grazing the corner of my mouth. My heart stopped completely.

  “Goodnight, Banton,” I whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  That night, I did dream good dreams. Banton was there, in my head, as were Everett and John – my new circle of friends. I dreamed Constance came home for a visit, and we were laughing at something funny Constance had done, and having a good time in my new house. I could tell Banton instantly loved Constance as much as I did, and it made me so happy. Then the dream began to change, and suddenly my mother was there in my house, and I was showing her everything we had done to it. She was so proud for me. She stayed with me, helping me pick out paint, redoing furniture the way we used to, and we were having a heart-to heart talk about my crush on Banton. I was so happy, felt so secure, and I was finally able, after all this time, to share some of my heart’s desires with my mom about my life and my new crush.

  Then suddenly, my eyes opened. I stared for a long time at the swirls of plaster on the ceiling above the sofa, and a huge weight descended on my chest. A slow dawning came like a small glimmer of candlelight that suddenly turned into an inferno, and then flashed out into blackness…unending blackness.

  I would never, ever be able to talk to my mom and share how I felt again.

  Ever.

  She wasn’t coming bac
k.

  Neither was my Dad.

  I would never be able to hear him say, “No tears in your eye, Puddin’ Pie” when I would cry. I would never hold his work-calloused hands in mine, never hear his boots coming down the hallway to tuck me in at night. Never again would I smell my mother’s perfumed gardenia scent, or feel the way she would wrap her arms around me when I was upset or hurt. I would never feel her push the strands of hair back behind my ears as I told her my problems.

  The memories of that day in May came flooding back…the day the sheriff’s department came by the dress shop where I worked every day after classes.

  I turned to see what had everyone’s attention, and spotted two sheriff’s deputies watching me, their hats in their hands.

  The older one, who I recognized as a friend of my father’s, cleared his throat. “Miss Collins?”

  “Yes, can I help you?”

  “I’m …I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I have … some bad news. Is there somewhere you could sit – we could sit and talk?”

  I suddenly felt my whole body had static going through it, tuning me to a different frequency. I felt the blood drain from my face.

  “Miss Collins?”

  I couldn’t answer. My feet were like lead, my face paralyzed, as if I couldn’t even lift the corners of my mouth in a reply. What was happening? What bad news?

  “Miss Collins, please come with us.” They led me away from the steps down from the store windows to the middle of the store, where there were some armchairs arranged for a waiting area. I suddenly found myself seated, not being conscious of moving there at all.

  “Miss Collins…Chandler…your parents have been in a terrible car accident in Colorado. They have been taken to a hospital in Boulder.”

  I suddenly found my voice. “You must be mistaken. They left yesterday, and they were going to spend the night at a casino in New Mexico and then drive in this afternoon. Surely they are back in Texas by now. You must have the wrong people.”

  “No, Miss Collins. There is no mistake.”

  I sat there, stunned. I kept waiting for it to dawn on him that he had the wrong person, that he had his information wrong.

  “No, it can’t be…there has to be some…they can’t be…” I fought to make some sense of what he was telling me. “Are they going to be okay? How badly are they hurt?”

  His pained expression frightened me beyond belief. I glanced over to the other officer, a boy who had been a senior in high school when I was a freshman. He had large tears in his eyes, just beginning to spill down one of his cheeks.

  The first deputy cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Chandler. They didn’t make it. Your mother was killed instantly, and your dad died just after he arrived at the hospital.”

  I hadn’t really cried in three months, and now the emotion poured out of me. It was like the dam had broken, and I couldn’t turn it off. My chest heaved and ached with the heaviness of my sorrow. I sobbed until I couldn’t sob any more, and then I fell back into an exhausted slumber, totally spent. I’d left the numb phase of grief, the “throw yourself into plans and projects and work” phase. I’d entered a new phase of mourning – accepting the inevitable.

  My cell phone ringing in my purse in the entry hall woke me later in the morning. I jumped out of the sleeping bag, and hurried across the entry hall to answer it. It was John calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, girl – are you up?” he asked.

  “Just barely,” I yawned, and stretched.

  “Do you want to work today? I know it’s Sunday, but…or are you going to church or something? If you are, we can let ourselves in. I just didn’t want to disturb.”

  “No, I don’t have any plans. Come on over. I might as well make use of the day, too,” I sighed into the phone.

  “Well, I thought if we hit it hard today, I could finish up some things. I might not have a lot of time after Wednesday. I have tests Thursday and Friday.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Okay, see ya in fifteen.”

  “K, bye.” I flipped my phone shut. I suddenly realized I was having trouble focusing on anything. I hurried to the bathroom for a quick bath, and when I flipped on the light and looked in the mirror, I realized the problem. My eyes were almost swollen shut from the crying jag I’d had earlier. I ran down the hallway to the kitchen, and wrapped a wet cloth around some ice from the fridge. Then I drew a hot bath and lounged in the tub with the makeshift icepack on my eyes, hoping a few minutes would help the swelling. I jumped and climbed out of the tub when I heard the key turn in the lock. A quick check in the mirror revealed no improvement from my earlier assessment, so I hurriedly drew on a pair of jeans and white t-shirt, put my wet hair in a pony tail, and opened the bathroom door.

  I met Banton in the hallway. His surprise at seeing my swollen eyes was vividly apparent on his face, as he looked at me with shock and concern.

  “Andie, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” he asked in an alarmed voice. He reached his hand out and placed it on my cheek.

  “I’m fine, Banton. I just had a rough night, and a dream that kind of disturbed me, that’s all. It’s all really silly, don’t worry about it.” I tried to make light of my appearance. Judging from the look of horror on his face, I must have looked like I’d been in a fistfight and lost.

  He didn’t seem convinced. He placed his hand on my shoulder as I suddenly needed to feel someone close. I leaned into him, and he immediately placed his strong arms around me.

  “Chandler. Did something happen last night to upset you?” He put his hand under my chin and tilted it up to see into my eyes.

  I sighed, “Not really. I just woke this morning from a dream, and everything came crashing down at once – some things I’ve been putting off dealing with. It just kind of overwhelmed me. I cried it out – I’m okay now, honestly.”

  “You know you can trust me – I’m a good listener. Or maybe you might talk to your parents about what is bothering you. Maybe a quick trip home to cure some homesickness might be in order?” he asked hesitantly.

  My stomach did a huge summersault. “There isn’t a home to go to now. And I can’t…I can’t talk to my parents any more…” I let my voice trail off. I could talk to Everett about all of it, but pity was the last thing I wanted from Banton.

  “Well, all right then. I’m here. Remember that. And I’d like to talk some more about the roommate thing.” He lowered his lips and kissed the top of my head. It felt so good. I couldn’t decide if it was a brotherly peck, or something else.

  I backed away from our hug first. The door slammed and we both turned as John came through the front door.

  “Um, I’m sorry.” He froze, taking in our close proximity and my swollen eyes. “I’m interrupting something – I’ll come back.”

  “No, no – it’s nothing like that. Come on in!” I laughed, turning to go to the kitchen.

  “Would you like some coffee?” I asked in a happier tone, trying to shake off the gloom of the past few hours.

  “Sure. I’d love some,” Banton answered, unnervingly close behind me.

  “Me, too,” John followed behind Banton.

  I started the coffee in the coffee maker, and turned as John exclaimed, “What happened out there?”

  “Where?” I asked, peering out the kitchen door where he was looking.

  “Has that glass always been broken in the door to the greenhouse?” John asked as he opened the back door.

  “No. I’ve never noticed it before.”

  Banton observed, “It had to have happened during the night. I was out there with Beau last night, and it was fine.”

  As he and John crossed the small courtyard to the front of the greenhouse, I stopped to pick up a small object on the back steps – a small multi-colored bag tied with drawstrings. I had never seen it before.

  “Did one of you guys drop this here?” I asked.

  “No – let me see that.” Banton returned to where I was stand
ing. He turned the small bag over in his hands and then met my gaze.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that is a gris-gris bag.”

  “Like New Orleans voodoo?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Yeah. How do you know what that is?” He looked at me inquiringly.

  “I’ve only read about them. I’m doing some research for my creative writing class, you know. But they are only really used for love charms and blessings, right?”

  “So I’ve heard. So you have someone else wanting to protect you, or a secret admirer.” He winked at me – there was the dimple again. Sigh. He said “someone else.” Did that mean he wanted to protect me too?

  “I think it’s pretty strange you would find it and a broken window to the greenhouse at the same time,” John interrupted as he walked back toward us.

  “Does it look like anyone did anything else out there – I mean any other damage?” I asked.

  “Not really. It looks like someone forced the door open, but I don’t know why. The lock is broken, but there isn’t anything of value inside, and you can see in clearly from all the windows. It’s not like there was anything inside to steal – just some old potting benches and rotting wooden tables,” John answered.

  “I was going to use the greenhouse eventually. I think it is really neat. But that’s not something we have to worry about fixing right now. We can worry about it later.”

  “Andie, I don’t like the fact someone has been on your property. It was probably kids, but it bothers me someone was back here while you were home alone.” Banton frowned down at me as he handed the small bag back to me. “So now will you agree to a couple of new roommates?”

  “Okay, you win. You’re right. You both are here all the time, anyway. You might as well sleep here too. That means we’d better speed up the remodel on the other two bedrooms.”

  “Already on it. Come on, Banton, now we really have a reason to get it in gear, Brother!” John exclaimed.

  Banton looked back at me, relief apparent on his face. He nodded at me in approval, and we turned to follow John into the house to get started working.