She hadn’t seen her poor mother like this in years. Her smile disappeared and she guzzled her plantation punch like she’d never get another in her life. Then she started nodding, like she finally understood something. In moments, she was coming Jenna’s way. She could tell by the way Isabelle DeBordieu set her sights on her that it wasn’t going to be good.
As her mom passed Dr. and Mrs. Russell, Mindy Russell, whom her mother had wanted to pull into her committee at the Summerbrook Ladies League, tried to stop her to speak with her, but her mother just ignored her and made a bee line to Jenna. She was in trouble. She knew it.
Staring Jenna straight in the eye, she said flatly, “April, will you excuse us?” It was really a demand, but April politely answered.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll go see if I can find Bull and Hog.” April stepped through the French doors onto the portico.
“Hog? Jenna? They call him Hog?” She rolled her eyes. “Well, that would make sense, then wouldn’t it? Since he lives on some dirt farm out in the sticks of the upper county. Probably raises swine. So, Hog would be appropriate.”
“What? He owns a farm in the rural part of the county?” He’d told her he lived on the outskirts of Summerbrook to put some distance between his personal life and his business. But a farm?
“Oh, you don’t know that about your…fiancé? Didn’t he tell you about Savannah, too?”
“He has a farm in Savannah, too?” Her head was spinning. She’d known their engagement was quick. And that there were lots of things they didn’t know about each other, but this seemed pretty big.
“Either you are in denial, or your fiancé is the biggest liar this side of the county seat. What about the Bentley mess?”
“He doesn’t own a Bentley. He owns a Land Rover. But what does that have to do with anything? He’s my fiancé, not my property.”
Her mother motioned for the bartender she’d hired for the soiree to come to her. “Well, in our world, they’re one and the same. You’ll own his problems, and they’ll stand between you and the trust and this land.” She handed her glass to the bartender and said, “Another please.” She closed her eyes. “I had been prepared to quietly walk away from this place because I didn’t want to put any…pressure on you.” She opened her eyes and looked around. “And then your engagement made it look like we didn’t have to.” She paused. “But now…now we have to leave it amid a huge public embarrassment. Scarlet is telling everyone with ears.”
She’d never seen her mother this way. “What are you talking about, Mother?” She was getting upset with Isabella DeBordieu. Jenna knew her mother was quietly hoping—not pushing—for her to do practically anything to save the plantation. Then she did. And now her mother was all irritated that she’d done it so quickly and didn’t know everything there was about her betrothed.
In a loud whisper, she said, “Your…fiancé was married before, has a daughter who is not…normal, and is a dirt farmer from some country bumpkin family.” She took her new drink from the bartender and downed half of it in one gulp.
Jenna couldn’t speak. She just kept counting in French over and over again in her head. Hogan was a liar. A big, fat lying motorcycle dealership owner. Nothing her mother had said sounded off or false. Heavens to Betsy. She and Hogan had never even discussed his past or his home. Or little else for that matter. Their relationship—what little there was of it—had been built around the Leather and Lace Fashion Show, the bike rally build-off, tulips, peanuts, and Ben. That was it.
What kind of relationship was that?
A slightly larger crowd was gathering with Dudley’s crew. Mr. Smithers looked smug as he sipped his gin and tonic. Scarlet was regurgitating words again.
“Well, Mr. Smithers said he put your Letter of Intent on hold because you’ve misrepresented who Hogan is.” She shook her head and acted disgusted.
“I wrote what I knew, Mother.”
“Well, you don’t know this…Hog. Jenna, this man is not who you think he is. I’d rather lose the plantation than have you marry a…con artist.”
She nodded slowly, a million questions about Hogan running through her head. Her mother was right. She hardly knew the man. He was an outsider. An unknown. She should have been more careful with her life and her future.
Just then, Hogan and Bull walked through the back French doors. April followed.
All eyes turned to them. But Hogan’s eyes locked in on Jenna’s. There was not going to be another Letter of Intent to correct his misrepresentations. She was done.
Hogan was a liar.
Chapter Eleven
“Peace is much more precious than a piece of land...”
~ Anwar Sadat
Hogan didn’t know what had happened, but obviously it was something serious by the look in Jenna’s eyes and the silence in the room. No one knew that he was churning inside about Jenna—that he hadn’t told her everything—that, perhaps, he didn’t know all he needed to know about her—that everything was moving too fast. Except for Bull. And he hadn’t had time to tell anyone.
Jenna turned abruptly and left through the front door.
There was only one other thing it could be. Something hard hit his gut. She’d found out. About everything. Oh, no. He could lose her.
“Jenna,” he called out, sprinting through the drawing room.
The glass in the antique front door rattled as he pushed at it with disregard for its value or well-being. He had to get to Jenna. To explain.
He jogged to catch up to her. She headed straight for the carriage house, where she lived. Arches on the low front porch spanned the length of the building, and he nearly hit his head on one trying to get to her.
She needed to know everything. “Let me explain.” He walked as fast as he could to keep up with her. “I wanted to tell you about the whole situation as soon as I met you. But that would have run you off.”
She pulled at one of the double doors and entered. She struggled with the screen to try to close him out, but he wouldn’t let her. Of course he was stronger. She gave up and walked straight to the kitchen, still without looking at him.
Her lips made a thin line, and her eyes were fixed and narrowed.
“It was a bad marriage. A mistake. I didn’t know Bentley.” Oh, heck. He didn’t really know Jenna either. That was the wrong thing to say.
She pulled a trash can up to her refrigerator door and started with the top shelf of her neatly organized food and drinks. One by one, she threw away water, tea and juice. Perfectly good water, tea and juice in neatly arranged bottles.
“And then we had Savannah. We knew something was wrong immediately. Bentley pulled away from us and had nothing to do with the baby. I tried to fix things. I took her to all kinds of specialists. To doctors. Educational professionals. Psychologists… Nothing helped.”
Jenna started in on the second shelf with the jars of jam and sauces. In the can they went.
He started to reach out to touch her shoulder but pulled his hand back.
“Bentley couldn’t handle it, so she left. I tried to save the marriage. But it was useless.” He shook his head. “We divorced three years ago. Savannah’s five now.”
The door of the refrigerator was next. She tossed ketchup, mustard, and sandwich spread. But when she got to the Duke’s mayonnaise, he knew she was angry, because that was actually a sin punishable by public flogging in some places in the South.
“Savannah and I have been living on the farm. Alone. Well, with my brother. For three years now.” He paused, fighting the tears that were trying to form. “I was falling for you, Jenna, and I wanted to help you. I thought you could help us, too. I saw the way you were with Ben.”
His heart swelled under the intensity of what he was telling her. “The educational professional I consulted said that Savannah needed someone with whom she could build trust. Someone who wouldn’t leave her. Someone who’d have patience and expertise.” He hung his head. “I thought that someone was you.”
S
he paused and shook her head.
She tossed four apples and four oranges from the crisper into the trash also. Wait a minute. There was four of nearly everything. What was up with that?
He inhaled a cleansing breath that nearly reached his ankles. It was all coming out. “The farm’s been in my family for years. It’s a working farm, though. Nothing like your place with ornamental gardens and ponds with statuary and stuff. We raise cotton, soybeans, corn and hay. We harvest trees off the back acreage.”
When the refrigerator was completely empty, she took a bucket from under the kitchen sink and filled it with detergent and water. Still in her designer heels with the red soles, blue tinted dress and pearls, she scrubbed the shelves like they had been soiled by the swamp thing. She never once said one word to him or even looked at him.
At least she had all the information. He didn’t know. Maybe this sudden chasm between them was all for the best. She didn’t even flinch when he’d mentioned Savannah.
The last thing he needed in Savannah’s life was another Bentley.
⸙
Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf dix. Her anxiety had reached a boiling point. She seldom ever counted to ten in French. This was bad.
Leave. Please. Please leave. Please leave now.
She couldn’t bear to hear another word. Another lie.
Stop it already. Stop it.
She kept cleaning because that was all she knew how to do in times like these. Clean and organize.
“Jenna. Talk to me.” He pulled at her arm to get her to turn around. But she didn’t know how to talk to him. Or what to say.
He leaned against the wall beside the refrigerator. “Okay, then.” He lowered and shook his head. “I’ll go. I get it. I know I don’t have the pedigree you wanted. Or the unencumbered past that would make it easy to get through that gauntlet you’re facing right now with the trust. And I also know that I should have told you.” He let out a weighty breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. He turned and walked out the door.
When he left, Jenna sank to the kitchen floor and sobbed.
Her chance to fulfill her obligations as a DeBordieu had just walked out the door.
Her chance to save her parents’ home had just walked out the door.
Her chance at happiness had just walked out the door.
⸙
“Jenna, aren’t you going to eat your shrimp and grits?” April asked from across the table at Oscar’s, their favorite restaurant in Summerbrook.
Jenna felt tears forming in her eyes, like clouds in a heavy sky. “I’m not hungry.”
“Sweetie, I know how you feel. I know how much Hogan grew to mean to you. And I know how much you wanted to fulfill all the requirements of the trust. For your future. And your parents.”
“It’s not even that anymore.” She stared out the window in front of her.
“What is it then?” April sat up straight.
She shook her head. “I loved him.” She sobbed.
After she had a good cry, she said, “I’m frozen, April. I even stopped seeing my therapist. He hasn’t done anything for me. Just listens and asks, ‘And how do you feel about that?’ Heck, you do that for me. And you offer advice.”
April reached out across the table and touched her arm.
“Heck, let’s face it. I’ve done nothing really. I used to hop in my Beamer on any given day, head out of Summerbrook…to downtown Charleston to go shopping on King Street, fill my trunk with Prada, Gucci and Louboutins, and it really didn’t matter. Did it?” The truth of it rang through her body. Her previously frivolous expenditures added up in her head like a cash register on crack. “I’ve wasted more than years.”
“Jenna, don’t think like that. You help so many people.”
“I don’t know what to do.” A sharp pain darted through her chest and twinkling lights, like fireflies, flitted across her vision. “I can’t stop the OCD stuff now. I can’t stop the incessant apprehension about those I love.” She inhaled deeply to try to breathe the pain away. “And I’m sorry for all I’ve put you through obsessing about your well-being. Especially lately.” Tears slipped down her face. “You’re the only true friend I’ve ever had. The one who didn’t care about all the money in my trust fund. Or how big the plantation was.” She took the green cloth napkin from the table and touched the wet lines on her face. “If anything ever happened to you…”
“Well, nothing will. Bull’s taking really good care of me. And I’ve overcome all my old fears because of him.” April took a sip of her sweet tea. “But right now we need to concentrate on you.”
“Yeah, well, Bull cared about you. And he didn’t lie to you,” She said.
“I know Hogan wasn’t forthcoming, but it was more of a sin of omission.”
Jenna felt old betrayals rise up in her until she clenched her fists. “You and I have different ways of looking at things. My parents omitted telling me that my brother had died until after his funeral. They omitted telling me that we were going to France for me to stay. If any of that had happened to you, you, too, wouldn’t distinguish between a lie and a so-called omission.”
April shook her head. “But I think he loves you. Don’t you don’t think you could find a way to forgive him?”
“To what end? You know how I feel about liars.” She twirled the large diamond still on her finger and took deep breaths. “I need to give this back, but I don’t want to face him.” The thing was…she really didn’t want to let it all go…no matter how he had portrayed himself. She didn’t want to let go her only chance at love.
“Well, if you won’t change your mind, it’s only right that you give it back in person.” April brushed at Jenna’s hair. “I know how hard this is for you, sweetie.”
She nodded. “I will. I was just hoping to let a little time pass. So it won’t hurt so much…be so…raw.”
April nodded. “And then what?”
She turned to her friend. “I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m going to do now that I won’t have what’s left of the trust to take care of everything.” She put her hand with the ring in her lap. “My dress shop salary will definitely not support me. Nor will obsessing about my friends and family. Or volunteering with my favorite charities.”
“Well, then there’s the teaching thing.”
“Yeah. I’ve been giving that a bit more thought lately. I just never really considered doing it full time. For pay.” She looked around the restaurant. “Guess it’s time, though.”
April nodded and reached for Jenna’s arm again. “I guess it is. It’ll be fine.”
No it wouldn’t. Nothing was going to be fine now that she couldn’t have Hogan.
⸙
Hogan stayed home from the shop again to be with Savannah. Another part-time tutor had left his employ. Poor Savannah. Just what the doctor had not ordered. More change and chaos in her life.
He knew he should be glad that Jenna was out of his life because she probably would have brought the kind of change and chaos that Bentley had brought. Bentley had hated the farm from the first day she’d seen it. “Too isolated. And farm-y,” she’d said.
Hogan sat on the floor beside Savannah. He ran his hand down the back of her head. Her hair was a pale shade of yellow like the honeysuckle flowers that grew on the fence that ran alongside the lane that led to the house, and the hay he had grown in the field that needed to be cut, and it felt as soft and delicate as the gardenias that were blooming on the sides of the front porch. In her hands was the unclothed Barbie doll her mother had given her last Christmas. Its hair matched Savannah’s. The little girl held the doll by the feet and stroked the long locks. Somehow the doll reminded him of her—all exposed and unprotected. Except for him. And by goodness, he was going to do all he could to keep her safe and give her what she needed. As best he could.
If only he had the protective nature that seemed to come so naturally with Jenna. He’d loved the way she’d shielded her best friend and defended her f
amily’s land.
What Savannah didn’t need, though, was another temporary mother figure like Bentley in her life. She’d also had enough in-home teachers breeze in and out of her life. If they didn’t get tired of not seeing any fruit from their labor, they got tired of the isolation of the farm.
The school system had already told him that they would accept her—if she wouldn’t wander away, but they couldn’t lock her in, along with all the other kids. It would pose a fire hazard that they could not risk. They also told him that she was so far up on the Autism Spectrum that there was little that they could do but house her—if she’d stay put.
He wanted more than housing for his baby girl. He wanted her happy and he,’d do anything to help her.
“Savannah, baby, would you like a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich for lunch?” The little girl didn’t acknowledge the question—like usual. It didn’t stop him from conversing with her, though. One day, he hoped he’d find something to break through.
Heck. He thought he’d have a good chance if Jenna would have worked with her. He’d seen the way Jenna had worked with Ben at the hospital. It was magic. And motherly. If she had been able to work with Savannah like that, who knew what would happen?
“Be right back, baby.” He stood and headed to the kitchen. He took what he needed out of the walk-in pantry and started making Savannah’s favorite sandwich.
He was planning to tell Jenna about his marriage and divorce, Savannah and her problems, and so much more. But the right time just never came. Until it all looked like a lie—like he had been hiding something. Which he wasn’t. He simply wanted things to work out so badly that he was waiting for the perfect time.
It simply never came.
⸙
Jenna had waited long enough. It was time to return the ring. She thought she was strong enough now. It was late in the afternoon, so if this was to be done today, she needed to get started.
She picked up the phone and dialed Hogan’s shop. “Is Hogan Thorpe in?”
“No ma’am,” said a voice on the other end. “Hasn’t been in in over a week. May I take a message?”
Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4) Page 16
