Waking Up in Charleston

by Sherryl Woods

  She was sitting on the sofa at home, surrounded by books and pamphlets, chastising herself for her third cowardly retreat from his house, when Susie crawled into her lap.

  “Are you crying, Mama?” Susie asked, patting Amanda’s damp cheek.

  Surprised, Amanda wiped away the tears. “Why, yes, I guess I am.”

  “How come?”

  “I’m just a little sad,” she admitted. “But it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Jimmy says it’s because our granddaddy is sick,” Susie told her, then regarded her with confusion. “I didn’t even know we had a granddaddy.”

  Amanda was floored, not just because Jimmy knew so much, but because Susie sounded so wistful. She supposed it was natural enough for her children to be curious about their relatives and she’d never denied that they had a grandfather living nearby, but she certainly hadn’t said much about him, either. Maybe that had been a mistake. Or maybe it had been a desperate act of self-protection.

  “Tell me about him,” Susie begged. “Missy Dandridge says her grandpa smells like pipe tobacco, but my friend Billy says his gives him candy whenever he comes to visit.” She beamed at the thought. “I’d like that.”

  Amanda chuckled. “I’m sure you would, since your mean ole mom never gives you any candy.”

  “You give me some,” Susie said fairly. “But I really, really love candy, ’specially chocolate.”

  “I thought Nadine had been sneaking chocolate to you,” Amanda said.

  Susie’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

  “I know everything,” Amanda said. “You and your brothers need to remember that.”

  Susie scrambled off the sofa, her interest in her grandfather forgotten for now. “I better tell Jimmy and Larry.”

  “I think your brothers learned that lesson a long time ago,” Amanda said. “But it certainly won’t hurt to remind them.”

  Relieved, she watched Susie leave, then picked up a photo of her father that she’d kept tucked away among a few other mementos of the life she’d left behind when she’d married Bobby O’Leary. This picture had been taken on his wedding day. He’d been a tall, handsome man, his hair as dark as hers and just as curly and unruly. It had given him a rakish, faintly dangerous look. She realized now that it was that same look that had drawn her to Bobby. How ironic! And how surprising that she hadn’t realized it till just now.

  She smiled at the image in the picture. It was little wonder her mother had fallen for him. A young William Maxwell had had the broad-shouldered strength that appealed to many women, a size that made them feel both fragile and protected.

  To a scared little motherless girl that solidity had meant safety and security. The stubbornness and arrogance that went along with it had become clear only when she’d tried to break free.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, fighting the rise of tears. “Why couldn’t you have trusted me? Bobby was a good man. If he hadn’t been trying so hard to prove himself to you, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

  Of course, that was something they would never know. And continuing to blame her father for choices Bobby had made was pointless. Caleb was right. The past was over. The only thing left was now, and perhaps a different future, if she could gather the courage to face it.

  Was it possible to recapture the sort of relationship she and her father had once had? Was it possible that he could be the kind of grandfather her kids deserved, one who tucked candy in his pockets, and spoiled them, and gave them well-meaning advice they’d most likely ignore? Could they have all that, at least for a time?

  A part of Amanda wanted to believe it was possible. Caleb certainly believed it was, and he hadn’t led her astray yet. She wanted to let go of the hate and anger and reach out, but she was terrified to let go of those powerful, familiar emotions and risk having her heart broken again.

  The only way to know for sure would be to try. She knew if she didn’t, Caleb would be disappointed in her. More important, she would be disappointed in herself. If Max weren’t sick, perhaps she could drift along and see how things played out, but there was an urgency now she couldn’t ignore. One day—perhaps even sooner than she knew—it would be too late.

  She gathered up the pamphlets and books on Alzheimer’s and stacked them on the table beside the sofa. Instead of tucking away the photo, though, she laid it on top, then gently touched a finger to the image.

  “I’ll try, Daddy,” she promised. “Please, please don’t make me regret it.”

  It was only a few days till Christmas and Max was sitting on the porch, shaded from the unrelenting afternoon sun, but not out of its surprising heat, when the small, well-used car rolled to a stop in front of the house. His heart beat unsteadily when he recognized it as the pitiful heap that Amanda had been driving ever since Bobby’s death. The icy shield that had protected his heart for years now splintered and left him feeling vulnerable and uneasy.

  So, he thought, she’d come, after all. He’d almost given up hoping that Caleb had gotten it right.

  For the longest time they both sat where they were, him in the rocker that he’d favored for decades, her in a car that looked as if it were held together by rust and a prayer. Just when he was beginning to wonder if she’d changed her mind, she opened the door, climbed out and stood beside the car, the door a shield between them.

  “Daddy,” she said, her voice thick.

  “Amanda.” There was so much more he wanted to say, so much emotion he needed to convey, but he was taking his cues from her. He hadn’t been this terrified years ago when he’d asked Margaret to marry him and spent what seemed like an eternity waiting for her to answer.

  “It’s hot out,” she said at last. “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

  He fought a grin. So they were going to make small talk, after all. It was just the way he’d have done it, too, pretended it hadn’t been a year or more since their last heated exchange and a decade since the one before that.

  “Charleston’s weather is unpredictable,” he replied, matching her tone. “Nothing new in that. I’m used to it. I’d rather catch a breeze out here than be shut up in that blasted air-conditioning inside.” He eyed her cautiously. “Jessie made some iced tea. You want some?”

  “I could use a glass,” she said. “It’s a long drive out here and my car doesn’t have air-conditioning.”

  “Well, come on up here, then,” he said impatiently. “Don’t expect me to bring it to you.”

  Her lips twitched. “No, I certainly wouldn’t expect that,” she said, closing the car door, then slowly climbing the front steps as if she still didn’t quite trust her welcome.

  Truth be told, Max wasn’t sure of it, either. He didn’t know what had brought her here, not really. Was it Caleb breaking his vow of silence about Max’s illness? Did she pity him? Or was it simply time to call a truce? Maybe she’d figured she better make peace now while she could wrangle her way back into his will. He didn’t want to believe that last one, but he couldn’t be certain. The Amanda he’d raised hadn’t been the least bit greedy, but maybe hard times had changed her.

  Not knowing for sure why Amanda had come couldn’t prevent Max from drinking in the sight of her. She looked good, especially given all she’d been through. The main difference he noticed was a trace of edginess, a brittleness that suggested she’d come through tough times and wasn’t yet convinced they were behind her. Or maybe she was just anticipating the worst from him. He’d certainly given her reason to have those kind of doubts.

  His hand shook as he handed her the tea, lemon and no sugar, the way he knew she liked it. Her fingers grazed his and for an instant her gaze flew to meet his.

  Max sighed, suddenly feeling at peace. Perhaps it didn’t matter why she’d come. Maybe the only thing that mattered was she had.

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” he said quietly, remembering Caleb’s admonition to welcome her and not do anything that might send her fleeing. He braced himself, then s
aid what was in his heart. “I’ve missed you, Amanda.”

  She met his gaze, clearly startled. Then, to his shock she blinked rapidly, fighting tears.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered, her voice choked.

  Before he could rejoice in the wonder of that, she stood up suddenly, the glass slipping from her fingers. It broke when it hit the porch floor, sending glass and tea splattering everywhere. Shocked, she stared at it, then reached for a handful of napkins from the tray beside him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, mopping up the mess with jerky movements.

  “Stop it,” Max ordered. “Leave it, Amanda. It doesn’t matter. Jessie will take care of it. That’s what she’s here for. Just sit back down.”

  She rose awkwardly, then regarded him with a sad expression. “I can’t do this,” she said, looking miserable. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” he asked, bewildered.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, which explained nothing.

  Before he could ask what the devil had gotten into her, before he could utter the plea that was forming on his lips, she had fled down the steps and into her car. The engine sputtered, and even from a distance Max could tell Amanda was near tears, but then the engine caught and she jerked the gear shift and sent the car skidding on the gravel driveway.

  Feeling more lost and alone than he had in years—which was saying something—Max stared after the car as it raced down the driveway, kicking up dust.

  The whole episode hadn’t taken five minutes and not one thing had been resolved, but it had been a start, he told himself stoutly. For a man facing an uncertain future, any new start was welcome.

  14

  She’d tried so damn hard not to fall apart and bolt, but Amanda hadn’t been able to stop the panic that had clawed its way up the back of her throat at her first glimpse of her father. So many awful memories had flooded over her, followed in quick succession by good ones that made her want to weep for time lost. The bad overshadowed the good by far, but it was the childhood memories that made her heart ache. She wasn’t sure she could open herself up to him, let him back into her life, only to have him destroy her when she was least expecting it.

  The two of them treading so damn carefully to make her visit seem normal took its toll, as well. What sort of father-daughter relationship was it when they had to try so hard just to hold a civil conversation?

  He’d aged more than she’d expected, even since she’d last seen him only a year ago. His still-thick hair was now almost completely gray. His face, always tanned and weathered from his time outdoors, was pale and lined. Once an imposing man, he seemed to have shrunk, all the vitality sapped out of him. He was barely into his sixties, but he looked fifteen or twenty years older.

  But the shock of his appearance and the difficulty having a conversation were nothing compared to the thoughts that assailed her about his future. No matter how angry she was with him, no matter how he’d hurt her, thinking about that was a thousand times worse than thinking about the past. Knowing that the man who’d fed her as a baby, who’d crooned her to sleep when she’d been restless would himself be helpless as a baby sometime in the not-too-distant future was unbearably sad. She’d hardly been able to look him in the eye without coming completely apart. And in the end, that’s what she’d done. She’d panicked and fled. She was embarrassed and shamed by that. She should have been stronger.

  Still shaken, she was barely in the front door at home when Caleb arrived.

  “How did it go?” he asked, then took one look at her face. “Never mind. You can tell me later. Let me make you a cup of hot tea.”

  She lifted a brow. “Hot tea?”

  “It’s supposed to be soothing,” he replied, ignoring her skepticism as he headed toward the kitchen.

  “It’ll take more than tea,” she commented, following him, surprised that she didn’t resent his taking over. In fact, it felt comfortable—comforting—to have him taking charge as if he had a right to. Given the roller-coaster state of her emotions toward him lately, that was a surprise.

  She stood in the doorway, admiring the view from the back with guilty pleasure. Not only did the man have shoulders worth weeping over, but his backside was perfect. She felt an unexpected twinge of desire. It most certainly wasn’t the first time, but it always caught her off guard and made her feel vaguely sinful. These twinges got all tangled up with her affection for him, her gratitude. It confused her that she wanted him in that way, but oh, how she did. Especially today.

  “Caleb,” she said, her voice edgy with nerves.

  He turned and something of what was in her head must have been evident on her face. He regarded her with a startled expression. “What?”

  “I need…” What did she need? Sex, so she could feel alive? Sex, so she could forget how hard that too-brief visit with her father had been? Or simply someone to hold her? Given that it was Caleb, she settled for the last. “I could really use a hug.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he set down the half-filled teapot, turned off the water and opened his arms. Amanda stepped into them and rested her head against his chest. The steady sound of his heart soothed her, the strength of his arms reassured her. A sense of peace stole over her. It had been years since she’d felt so secure, so protected.

  And there was this yearning. She lifted her face and met his gaze. The same yearning was in his eyes, the same heat. It had simmered between them before, but they’d both ignored it—or tried to dismiss it. This time it was plain that neither of them had the will to deny it.

  When his mouth covered hers, she knew it had been inevitable. Not just the kiss—they’d kissed before—but everything that was to come. It was all inevitable, probably had been from the first time he’d treated her with so much kindness and compassion. She’d opened her heart to him and now he was a part of it.

  But this wasn’t about kindness or compassion now. Oh, maybe the hug was, but not the kiss. The kiss was about wanting and need and desire. It was about a man and a woman.

  “We weren’t going to do this anymore,” Caleb reminded her, his breathing ragged as he pulled back just a little.

  “I know,” Amanda said, still holding on for dear life. “But I’m having trouble remembering why.”

  His lips curved slightly at that. “I could remind you.”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Caleb, would it be so terribly wrong? I don’t want you breaking a million vows or anything, but I want you. I need to…feel, I guess. You make me feel things I’d never expected to feel again.”

  “You do the same for me,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “But I have to know, Amanda. Do you see this as the start of something? Or is it just about this moment? Is it about you feeling lost and alone and needing someone to hold on to?”

  She knew those were fair questions, but she wasn’t sure she had an honest answer to any of them. “I don’t know,” she admitted, then sighed. “That’s not good enough, is it? Not with so much at stake, especially for you.”

  “For both of us,” he corrected. He regarded her sadly. “I wish it were enough, Amanda, but we’re the kind of people who need to know that something is right and lasting. Attraction can be fleeting. We need love and commitment. You have your children to consider. I have my congregation. Neither of us can live in the moment, no matter how much we might want to.”

  She could hardly argue the point. “Do you think we’ll ever get it right?”

  “Oh, I think we’ve gotten the kissing down perfectly,” he teased.

  “What about the rest?” she asked, unable to keep a wistful note out of her voice. There were times like this when she wanted it all more than she could say.

  Something in his expression alarmed her. He seemed to be closing himself off from her, even as he still held her in a loose embrace. “Caleb? Am I pushing too hard? Is this so completely wrong?”

  “No,” he said fiercely. “Don’t eve
r think this is wrong, Amanda. Or that your feelings aren’t important or even that I don’t share them, because I do.”

  “Then why are you so hesitant about us having some sort of future?”

  He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at her, then deliberately opened them and met her gaze. “I simply don’t know if it’s possible, Amanda. There are so many things you don’t know, so many things I can’t explain.”

  “Tell me,” she pleaded, sensing that it was critical to get to the bottom of this before she lost him, lost the friendship that had become so important to her, lost the possibilities that had shone in his eyes only a moment ago.

  He shook his head. “It’s personal,” he said, essentially shutting her out.

  She frowned at the response. “More personal than the things you know about me?” she asked again.

  “Yes, more personal than those. It goes to the core of who I am, what kind of man I am.”

  He looked so distraught that she couldn’t bear to push him any further. “I wish you trusted me enough to tell me,” she said softly.

  He regarded her with sorrow. “I wish I trusted myself enough to live with the consequences of telling you.”

  Alarmed by that, she gave him a questioning look. “Caleb?”

  He tucked a finger under her chin, then kissed her lightly. “Leave it be, Amanda. Today’s been difficult enough for you already. Let’s have tea and you can tell me about your visit with your father.”

  She gave him a rueful look. “It wasn’t much of a visit,” she admitted.

  It suddenly seemed all of her contacts today with the men she cared about were destined to leave her with more questions than answers. She was also left with the vague sense that there was more she could have done to make both of those contacts go differently.

  Standing on her feet all day was getting to Mary Louise. Her ankles were starting to swell, and according to the doctor, she could expect that to get worse as the pregnancy progressed. Every chance she got, she slipped outside to the bench on the sidewalk in front of the convenience store for some fresh air and to get off her feet.