“Then tell me,” I begged him. “What don’t I know?”
“I can’t explain right now,” he said, as the cop reappeared and cleared his throat. Stubbornly, I didn’t loose my hold. “But know that I love you, Joelle, I love you with all my heart. But I’m not good for you.”
“Blythe—” I said, desperation closing around my throat. He closed his eyes for a second, and then released his grip on me, backed up a step. His smoky eyes were begging me to understand.
I gathered my strength, hugging myself around the waist to keep my heart from shredding further. I whispered, “Okay.”
And then I followed the cop back out of the room.
***
We drove back to Shore Leave in silence. Jilly kept her hand on my back while I sat with my face buried in both hands, again wordless with anguish. Justin rolled down his window, allowing the comforting night sounds into the cab, but I was beyond being comforted by anything at the moment. I didn’t understand how things had gone so quickly astray. Rich had stayed behind to post bail, and promised to call us later. As we approached the café I lifted my face and breathed deeply through my nose; Shore Leave was aglow with lights, and should have been a warm and welcoming sight as we rounded Flicker Trail. I climbed numbly from the truck and was at least glad to see that Jackson’s car was no longer in the parking lot. I hadn’t walked more than ten steps before Ruthann bounded out of the café and caught me in a hug.
“What took so long, Mom?” nagged Tish, hanging over the edge of the porch, eating something.
“Is Blythe still in jail?”
“Did Rich talk to Christy?”
“Is he okay?”
“Was he wearing a black-and-white striped jumpsuit?”
I raised one palm to stop the flood of questions, which I was not equipped to handle at the moment, the last from Tish, who was kidding. Jilly filled the void with, “It sounds like he’ll have to go home to face the charges there.”
“Dad is staying at his uncle’s,” Camille informed me, from a porch table, where she was munching a bowl of popcorn. “He’s going to call you tomorrow.”
“Great,” I muttered. I joined her, asking, “Did you guys get to talk?”
“Yeah, and he’s not mad at me,” Camille said.
Ellen appeared with a glass containing ice and what I guessed was gin and tonic, from the scent. I took a long drink, winced a little, and then took one more. “Thanks, Ell.”
“This will all wear out in the wash, you just wait and see,” she told me, patting my shoulder, and I wanted so badly to believe her.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“So is Blythe in trouble, Mom?” Tish asked, plopping into the third chair at the table. She regarded me with somber eyes.
I drew in another deep breath, but it came back out like a gasp. I said, “I don’t know, honey, I don’t know what will happen.”
“So, is he like your boyfriend then?” Tish went on.
“I don’t know,” I told her again, feeling breathless and as though I might pass out. But I would not create more drama for my children tonight.
Jilly said gently, “Girls, enough with the questioning right now, all right?”
“I think I’ll head to bed,” I managed. “You guys are all right?”
“Don’t worry, Mom, we’re just fine,” Camille reassured, gripping my fingers for a moment.
“I love you,” I told them, bending to kiss each of their heads. And then I made my way back over the lake path, not allowing tears until I was out of sight, and then they came hard, striking me like a fist in the gut. Despite everything else that had occurred tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d left the jail without telling Blythe that I loved him, too.
Hours later, after sleep would not come, I rose and wrapped Gran’s robe around myself, leaving her snoring in her bed. With aching eyes I made my way out to the dock, where the wee-hours sky was sparkling with stars. I wasn’t even surprised to find my sister and Justin sharing the glider. Jilly scooted over to make room for me without a word, and I sank beside her and let my head fall lightly against her shoulder.
Justin, from her far side, said softly, “Rich got Blythe out of jail, but they left for Oklahoma tonight. Rich is taking him down there.”
“Rich will bring him back,” Jillian whispered, catching my left hand in her right.
“No, I don’t think he will,” I whispered back. “And that’s why I’m going after him.”
About The Author
Abbie Williams has been addicted to love stories ever since first sneaking her mother’s copy of The Flame and the Flower; and since then, she’s been jotting down her own in a notebook. A school teacher who spends her days with her own true love, their three daughters, and a very busy schedule, she is most happy when she gets a few hours to indulge in visiting the characters in her stories. When she’s not writing, teaching or spending time with her family, you’ll find her either camping, making a grand mess in her kitchen at various cooking attempts, or listening to a good bluegrass banjo.
She is also the author of FORBIDDEN.
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