Love, Alabama (Alabama Series Book 2)

by Susan Sands

  “Al!” Shocked, Emma grabbed his collar.

  Tad lurched back, taking two steps away from her car window. He gave Al a less congenial smile then. “You might want to keep that mutt inside just in case animal services finds him roaming around. You know we have a kill shelter here for feral dogs. Gotta keep our citizens safe.”

  “Big Al would never hurt anyone.” She said through gritted teeth, “As you can see, I’m just fine. Now, if you’ll let me pass, I’ve got to help my sister this morning.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by and see how it’s going over there.”

  “It’s a closed set.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the mayor of the town.”

  He gave her a little salute and then sauntered off toward his car.

  She revved her engine. Never had she wanted to physically harm another human being more—well, maybe there had been another time. But it had been the same person.

  No sense hurting her perfectly lovely car by giving him the satisfaction. Backing the rest of the way, Emma continued envisioning all sorts of horrible ends Tad might meet that wouldn’t and couldn’t be blamed on her. It did cheer her up just a bit. She wished she could expose Tad for the ass face he really was. People in town saw him as the great white hope. But she knew he had a dark side. She’d caught him slyly watching her when he thought no one was looking several times at town events, but he’d only gone out of his way a few times to really be a pain. She’d felt his interest and his presence though she couldn’t really put her finger on specifics. But Emma wondered why he’d suddenly renewed his direct contact with her. After all, he had a lovely wife and a daughter, and he was on top of the town like he’d always dreamed. Of course, back then, his plan was to have her at his side. Now, it was as if he were closing in on her in some weird, undefined way.

  The less her family knew of the Pandora’s box of the disaster ten years ago, the better. She’d been able to keep it mostly contained by stepping down as Miss Alabama and refusing to grant interviews or discuss the situation with anyone.

  Her cell phone startled her out of her maudlin thoughts. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Emma Jean, this is Roy Miers from college, remember me? Momma called me with your number. I think she got it from one of your sisters.” Emma Jean was her childhood nickname.

  Somewhat shocked, Emma recovered her wits. “Hi, Roy. It’s been a long time. What can I do for you?”

  “Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner this weekend? Momma said you were dating again, and I really had a thing for you back then, but you and Tad were always together, you know? What d’you say?”

  Emma had to recover a moment. It had been a long time since she’d been truly asked out to dinner, besides by Matthew, of course. She had a fuzzy memory of Roy Miers. He’d always worn a cowboy hat and Wrangler jeans. Nice looking. “I appreciate your calling, Roy, but I’m not available this weekend.”

  He sighed. “Well, Emma Jean, I’d love to take you out when you get a free night. I work in Birmingham, but I’d be happy to drive out and take you someplace nice almost anytime if you’d let me know.”

  She smiled. “I’ve got your number now, Roy. If I get some time, I’ll give you a call, okay? Tell your momma I said hi.”

  After she disconnected the call, Emma sighed. It was flattering to be asked out, but after what’d happened earlier with Tad, she’d have to shut down the rumors she supposed. Just then, her phone rang again. Another invitation.

  By the time she arrived at the diner not two miles away, she’d received a third call. Standing at the counter, she stared at her phone thinking how to get around all this without hurting anyone’s feelings.

  “You look like the phone might hold all the answers to the important questions if you could just figure out how to use it.” Her head popped up at his voice.

  She hadn’t seen Matthew approach. How could she not? His dark hair was thick and perfectly groomed, his shirt stretched and fit over his obviously muscled torso as if it had been laser measured and cut specifically for his body. There wasn’t a hint of stubble on his clean-shaven jaw this morning, as opposed to last night. She wasn’t sure which way he was more appealing. Either way, her fingers itched to touch perfection.

  His eyes bore into hers, questioning maybe, to see if she thought less of him after what had happened.

  She smiled. “You look ready for action this morning.” She nearly groaned as soon as the words left her lips. “I meant like when you say, ‘action,’ on the set.”

  He smiled and it really reached his eyes, which really reached her knees, almost causing them to buckle. “I got it, and I’m fine. Sorry again that you had to witness it. I called the number you gave me. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about—any of it.”

  Emma made an “X” across her left breast, drawing his gaze to it. Geez, could she stop already? “Cross my heart.” Her face must be bright red, because she could feel the heat in her cheeks.

  He, God bless him, appeared to ignore it, and said, “I really appreciate it. Wouldn’t look so good for my cred as a boss around here if they thought I was weak.”

  Emma immediately pulled him away from the counter, and even though they’d been speaking quietly where no one else could hear, she whispered angrily, “I get it, okay? It’s not a weakness, so don’t put yourself down because of your traumas.”

  “Thanks, Emma.”

  She grabbed her donuts off the counter and headed out the door as he paid his check. “See you in action.” That made him smile, which made her breathe like she’d run rather than walked out to her car in the parking lot.

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  Dr. Sabine O’Connor’s office was fortuitously located in a nearly invisible spot at the end of a narrow street behind several tall oak trees. It was a good place if one was hoping for a little privacy. And that was exactly what Matthew wanted in this instance. He’d arrived ten minutes early, likely the first appointment of the day, this being Saturday. Only a small, red convertible was parked in the tiny lot. He assumed it was the good doctor’s.

  The office was a converted tiny, old house, as many of the businesses here in Ministry seemed to be. He approached the front door and tried the handle. Locked. So, he rang the bell. There was a click, so he pushed and went right in. The aroma of freshly baked cookies or something equally tempting assaulted him the moment he stepped through the door.

  Sniffing appreciatively, he looked around. “Hello. You must be Matthew. Should I call you Matt?”

  “No. Matthew is fine.” He nearly barked at one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. She had the shiniest, black-as-midnight hair and clear blue eyes. Her skin was completely flawless.

  She blinked but otherwise ignored his sharp tone. “I’m Sabine.” She held out her hand.

  “Sorry about that. I’m Matthew Pope. I haven’t been Matt since college. It kind of brings some things back that I’d rather not think about.”

  “Well, that’s kind of why you’re here, isn’t it? To talk about things you’d rather not?” She smiled, her straight, white teeth gleaming at him.

  “I guess you’ve got a point.” He cleared his throat. “You said something on the phone about a mountain of paperwork?”

  “Now that I’ve got you in my clutches, I’d rather dive right in as long as you promise to fill it out before you leave. You’re not suicidal, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then I’m not concerned about liability just yet. Why don’t we move into my office and you can tell me why you’re here. I sense it wasn’t easy to make the call.”

  They moved into a comfortable office set up in what appeared to be an old bedroom. There was a fireplace, complete with gas logs, in case patients got chilly. “No. It wasn’t easy, but it isn’t the first time I’ve been in therapy. I thought I was done though, with the panic attacks, I mean.”

  “What
was the original trigger that set them off, if you don’t mind my getting right to the point?” Her gaze was direct.

  He appreciated a direct question. “A bomb.”

  She blinked, but to her credit it was the only show of surprise. “Well, I suppose that would do it. Was anyone harmed?”

  “Everyone. I mean everyone around me. I was knocked down and had some pretty serious injuries, but I recovered. My unit—I was Army Special Forces on my first tour in Iraq—all the men in my unit were killed. We were clearing houses in what we thought was a deserted village. My buddy, John, stepped on a trip wire. It was supposed to be a clean area. No devices.” He covered his eyes with his hands, the scene clear again in his mind’s eye. He began to shake.

  Sabine sighed. “I’m so sorry, Matthew. I’m certain your earlier therapist assured you that your surviving was a good thing, and you in no way should feel responsible or guilty for not dying with your friends and comrades.”

  He took a deep, trembling breath. “Sure. She said all those things a hundred times. I know that in my head, but once you’ve seen it, it’s hard to leave it behind. Loud sounds are usually what used to bring it all back. But I’d dealt with it a long time ago. I’m not sure why it’s happening again.”

  “How long since the tragedy?”

  “Right out of college. Nine years now. Like I said, it was my first tour—and my last. I received a medical discharge, and after my body recovered, I became hell-bent on becoming a success and leaving everything else behind.”

  “How did that work?” She asked, her tone neutral.

  “It worked great. I changed my diet, worked out every day. I became a more organized, scheduled person. I lost weight and set goals that I’ve managed to achieve. But, for some reason, since I’ve been back here, I mean, since I’ve come here, I’ve had two panic attacks in a few days, and I’m not sure why.”

  “Sounds like you’ve tried really hard to become a different person completely.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Is there something about being here that bothers you? Anything that causes obvious anxiety?”

  “You mean besides one syllable words being pronounced with three or four, allergies, every single person wanting to know details of your life, or the general slow pace that even grass grows at around here?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m familiar with those things. It’s certainly an acquired taste. I noticed you slipped and said back here. Is there a significance?”

  “I really don’t want to go there, if you don’t mind.” He couldn’t, or maybe, he wouldn’t.

  “Okay. Hopefully just breaking the dam and getting some of the words out today will alleviate a bit of your pent-up frustration and stress. Unfortunately, it sounds like being back here might be at the heart of the reoccurrence of those pesky panic attacks.”

  “Pesky?” He opened his mouth, shocked she’d make light of something that made him feel like he could die at any moment.

  She nodded. “We both know they won’t kill you, even if you think you’re going to die.”

  He exhaled on a laugh, realizing how dead-on she was. “I know you’re right—now. Remind me of that when I’m in the middle of one.” Her methods disarmed him. When had he begun taking himself so seriously that he couldn’t let up?

  “The good news is you can call me if you have a need.” She handed him a card with an emergency contact number. “Put the number in your cell phone.”

  “Let’s hope I won’t need it anytime soon.”

  “Mr. Pope, you owe me some paperwork. Now that might kill you.”

  And it nearly did. He completed his paperwork and made an appointment for the following Saturday morning. Apparently, her previous standing appointment at that slot had graduated to checking in from time-to-time. Good for them. Far better than the other possibility. He shuddered, considering the deep and dark places the human psyche managed to dive during the really bad times. He was living proof—thankfully.

  *

  “I don’t need a date for the wedding,” Emma said to another person, for about the hundredth time since the planning had begun. This time she directed the very clear comment to her sister, Jo Jo, who sat next to her, pretty mouth pinched tight.

  They were at Evangeline House, otherwise known as the house they all grew up in, and the family event-planning business. Mom had asked them to congregate here for family dinner and some last minute detail coordination regarding her upcoming wedding to their new stepdad, Howard the Great.

  “Did you suck on a lemon, Jo?” Ben asked as he entered the room.

  Emma snorted.

  “What?” Jo Jo demanded.

  “Your mouth has that old lady pinchy look like you sucked on a lemon. Emma, what did you do now?” Ben turned to Emma as he eyeballed his two sisters.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Emma said, and then shrugged, praying Jo Jo didn’t start in about Emma’s need for a hot date to their sweet momma’s wedding. This whole new daddy thing was stressful enough; even though they were thrilled their mother had found love again at this stage in her life.

  “I’m not buying it, ladies,” Ben said, not letting them loose from his scrutiny. “I’ve come in right in the middle of something here. Let’s have it.”

  Emma sighed. She’d rather give her side of it rather than have Jo Jo go on the offensive. “Jo says I need a date for the wedding. I say, that’s absurd. I haven’t brought a date to anything in a coon’s age, so why should I all of a sudden start scratching around for one now?”

  Ben raised his eyebrows at Jo Jo, as if to ask the question, yes, why now?

  “Why not? Don’t you think she’s wandered around here long enough alone? Cammie tells me her new producer took Emma to dinner the other night. And he’s pretty hawt, from what I heard down at Cut ’n Curl.

  Ben snickered. “No doubt the hens at the Cut ’n Curl are nearly chomping at the bit with a new man in town under the age of eighty.”

  “Oh, really, Ben? Like you have any right to talk. You, with your ‘two-date’ rule.” Emma inserted.

  “The two-date rule was implemented out of pure necessity and you both know it,” Ben defended, holding his hands up as if to ward off physical attack.

  “I think it’s a way to simplify your life and prevent getting to know someone special. Because, heaven forbid, you actually become emotionally attached.” Jo Jo followed up Emma’s comments.

  “Whoa, sisters! I thought we were discussing Emma’s lack of a love life, not my intelligent choice to manage my social calendar.”

  Both girls snorted.

  “So, I see we disagree. That’s alright. You couldn’t possibly understand how hard I try to keep everyone happy. I really just don’t want to hurt feelings. And I honestly don’t have time to juggle dating right now.” Ben tried to explain his decision, but Emma knew how hard it was to do without sounding like a real ass.

  He was so popular with the women around here they fought mightily for his attention. But, so far, he either hadn’t found anyone who’d caught his notice or hadn’t allowed himself to become involved, at least, not in a really long time.

  “We get it, little brother. But if you don’t want us all in your business, you really shouldn’t get all up in mine.” Emma had him there, didn’t she?

  “Okay, I get it. But really, Emma, it has been a long time since Tad. He’s moved on. We know you’ve dated a little here and there, but you really haven’t given anyone else much of a chance. You know we all just want you to be happy.” He slung an arm around her shoulders.

  Jo Jo smiled at the two of them. “He said it. That’s really all we want, you know.”

  “I know. And do y’all really think anyone worth a darn has come within fifty miles of Ministry that I might even consider as a serious boyfriend? Why don’t you let me handle it, okay? I’ll consider your input.” She flashed them her best beauty pageant smile.

  “Hello, my dears. Is everything alright in here?” Mom entered the kitchen with Howard tra
iling in her wake.

  “Hey, Mom,” They answered in unison.

  “Where are Cammie and Maeve?” she asked.

  They looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders.

  “I guess Cammie got hung up with some business with the show. I don’t know what could be keeping Maeve.” A small frown furrowed Mom’s brow.

  She worried for Maeve, Emma knew. Maeve, being the only biological child of Howard, and having just found out this rather shocking info only a couple months earlier, still had days where she couldn’t decide if having a new daddy was a good or bad thing.

  Howard stepped toward Mom, sensing her distress. “It’s alright, honey. Go on and give the girls a call and see what’s keeping them. I know you’ll feel better after you talk to ’em.” He squeezed her shoulder gently.

  Nobody in the family believed Howard had anything but the best intentions toward their mother. Finding them naked together in front of the fireplace when they’d all decided to surprise her at the lake house during her convalescence after her back surgery had been rather unexpected, especially since no one had even known of his existence.

  The most impactful and somewhat painful part of this had been the revelation that Howard had been mom’s first true love. They’d all adored their father, and hadn’t known about his marrying Mom while she was pregnant with their oldest sister, Maeve. Maeve was struggling the most with all the sudden changes.

  Mom had dialed her phone. “Hey, Maeve, honey, just wanted to make sure you were on the way. Supper’s all ready and your brother and sisters are here. Love you!” The frown deepened.

  She dialed Cammie’s number, but the ringing sounded inside the house as Cammie made her way into the kitchen. “I’m here; I’m here. Sorry I’m late! I got hung up figuring out next week’s menu. I was thinking strawberry shortcake, but somehow banana pudding has been really calling my name as a pairing with the fried shrimp and fresh cocktail sauce and coleslaw. You know we’re starting a ‘seafood Fridays’ series. It was Matthew’s idea. That guy’s a smart cookie.”

  Ben reached over and put a hand over his twin sister’s mouth as she rattled on about her food plans. “Stop it. Mom, it smells heavenly in here; is dinner ready? Now, I’m starved.”