Secrets over Sweet Tea

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Talk to you then.”

  Zach closed the Tahoe door and got behind the wheel of his Range Rover. He turned the key in the ignition, feeling the soft motion underneath him. He pointed himself in the direction of the hotel where his father was waiting on him. And wondered if his car would ever head home.

  Scarlett Jo walked into the kitchen and dropped her large straw handbag with a fuchsia gerbera daisy on the counter. “Cooper, Mama swears they got it wrong. That old study that says girls have twenty-five thousand words a day and boys have ten thousand—they were sadly mistaken. So could you please, for the next ten minutes, zip it?”

  Cooper’s mouth started to open, and Scarlett Jo clamped her fingers over his lips. She could tell he resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. “Smart boy,” she said and patted his head. He retreated up the stairs, following his older brothers.

  Rhett stood by the full white hem of his mama’s skirt, his fingers playing with the silk ribbon that hung from the pages of his small Bible. “Mama, what’s a fiery furnace?”

  “That’s what Zach Craig is in right now, baby—”

  “Hey, buddy!” Jackson cut her off as he came around the corner and scooped his youngest into his arms. “Have you been learning about a fiery furnace?”

  Rhett nodded.

  “Well, why don’t you go upstairs and change for dinner, and we’ll talk about it this afternoon. Sound good?”

  “Yep.”

  Jackson kissed his son’s head and set him down on the floor, then watched him disappear in a thunderous tromp up the steps.

  “Hey, babe,” he said casually to Scarlett Jo, “let’s back off on talking about Zach with the kids.”

  She planted hands on her hips. “I’m not twelve. I’m very capable of knowing what to say to our children and what not to. Remember, I’ve been a pastor’s wife as long as you have been a pastor.”

  Jackson moved around the kitchen island as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. He began to roll up his sleeves as he spoke. “You were just saying something to him about Zach.”

  “I know what I said to him, but it wasn’t like I was going to give him all the details. I do have couth, Jackson. My hair may be blonde, but I am not void of thoughtfulness. I do think before anything comes out of this mouth.” She winced. “Well, most of the time.”

  “I know you do.” Jackson wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “And it’s a beautiful mouth.” When she bent over, he went with her as she pulled out Crisco and flour from beneath the stove top. “Mmm. Mama’s making biscuits. Daddy like.”

  “Well, Daddy better remember Mama is Mama and not one of his children.”

  “Daddy has heard Mama’s request.”

  She raised a finger. “No, Mama did not request. Mama said.”

  Jackson laughed and gave her a kiss on the neck. “Daddy heard.”

  She giggled. “How is Zach?”

  He let go and leaned against the island. “In a mess. Caroline just exposed his infidelity to the whole church. Can you imagine?”

  “I’m thinking I’d better not have to.” She kept her back to him as she pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

  He tugged her arm to pull her around, then gave her a peck on the lips. “I wish you could have seen his face, babe. It was horrible.”

  “You should have seen hers as she left the church.”

  “You saw it?”

  “Yes, I was in the back when it happened. She was seething. Not out of control, mind you, but so angry. I tried to speak to her, but that look she gave me—let’s just say she was not up for conversation.” Scarlett Jo added salt to the ingredients in a large bowl. “I still can’t believe she made that announcement in front of the whole church. I’m telling you, if my teeth were false like Sylvia’s, I would’ve swallowed them right there.”

  Jackson smiled. “I know what you mean. But let’s find the pearl here. That whole scene might be a better preventative for an outbreak of adultery in our church than anything I could come up with. Worked for me, that’s for sure.”

  Her hands were covered with dough and Crisco, but she still had her elbow free. She used it.

  “Ow!” Jackson laughed, then sobered. “He finally told me who it is—who he’s having the affair with.”

  “It’s Elise, right?”

  The surprise was evident on Jackson’s face. “How do you know?”

  “It’s not hard to figure out. She’s been avoiding me. Tim’s been worried about something. And the McAdamses weren’t at church today because of a ‘family emergency.’ It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.”

  Jackson pressed his hands against the counter. She saw the veins protrude from his forearms. “Where was I, babe? Where was I?”

  “Oh, honey. You can’t blame yourself for this. People can hide whatever they want to.”

  “But I knew something had changed. Elise didn’t come in as much, and when she was there, she basically dodged me.”

  Scarlett Jo snorted and rolled out her first biscuit. “She dodged me too. Until this Friday, of course, when I left her no choice.”

  “It’s going to be a big mess, you know.” Jackson started pacing. “Something like this is really hard on a church. I mean, when the staff is involved . . .”

  She looked up from her biscuits. “I know. God’s going to have his work cut out for him. You too.”

  “But why would she do it? Tim is a great guy. What more could she want?”

  “Now, Jackson, you and I both know there are always two sides to a story, and sometimes you have trouble seeing what issues the guy has. You are going to have to dig in with Tim and see what’s going on with him too. And I’m hoping you’re not having trouble seeing Zach’s issues.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Zach has an issue keeping his pants up, babe. That is very clear. And you’re right. Sometimes I cut good guys too much slack. I just can’t figure out what Tim might have done to contribute to this. I see him and Elise together a lot. He treats her so kindly.”

  “Yes, he does—in public anyway. Might be different behind closed doors.”

  Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “True.”

  “On the other hand, some women don’t understand kind. They interpret it as being a doormat, and then they walk all over it. Don’t know if Elise is like that, but it happens.” She stuck another biscuit in the pan. “Now, Caroline Craig’s something else entirely. I’ve seen people like her. I know that face.”

  He laughed. “You do, do you?”

  Scarlett Jo patted down the last biscuit. “Jackson, seriously. A woman who will air her husband’s sh—” Her eyes shot up to Jackson, knowing how he would be looking back. He had asked her to stop cussing since Jack was a baby, and she did okay most days. Her mouth contorted to form another word quickly. “. . . shhh—stuff to an entire congregation of people is obviously not a woman who has a real sensitive side.”

  “Well, she did just catch her husband with another woman.”

  “True.” She scrunched up her face. “But still . . .”

  “How would you tell people if you caught me in the act?”

  She leaned against the counter and took his face in her hands. “Sugar pie, honey bunch, we both know I won’t have to worry about that because you like all your parts too much.” She gave him a peck on the nose and then released his face. “But I can tell you I would handle you myself. It would be a one-on-one encounter, not a staged performance. And I’m thinking, sit her down in your office with Zach and give her your theory on ‘one person’s dysfunction attracts another person’s dysfunction,’ and you’ll find out really quick what her piece in all of this is.”

  “Wow, babe. You have an issue with Caroline?”

  “Yeah. Sounds like it, huh?” She walked over to the stove, opened the door, and stuck the pan of biscuits inside. “I just think Caroline has some real issues, that’s all. I thi
nk she hides behind her pretty face and perfect clothes and there is a broken woman in there who doesn’t want to admit it.”

  She planted herself by the counter and studied her husband. He reached out and pulled her into a hug. “How’d you get so smart?”

  “I married you. Oh, and I have five sons who know it all. Can’t help but be brilliant.”

  He laughed. “So to change the subject, how’s your new friend Grace?”

  “A wreck. But she’s strong. Even in the middle of this intense pain, she still has a real strength.”

  “Do you think Grace will find her heart again?”

  She smiled. “Oh yes. It’s just going to take some time. She still has a lot to discover about herself.”

  “Did you tell her a heart’s a beautiful thing?”

  “She hasn’t asked.”

  He patted her arm and walked from the kitchen. “Oh, she’ll ask. Eventually they always ask. And then you can tell her how you know.”

  Grace sat on the black leather sofa, the chrome armrest cold against her bare skin. She moved her arm quickly. Her reaction must have caused the secretary to take note.

  “Mr. Craig said he is on his way.”

  Grace was grateful for Darlene’s kindness. “Well, I am unannounced.”

  “It’s fine. He knows this is a difficult time.”

  She put her hands in her lap and stroked her white skinny jeans. Her black T-shirt fit snugly against her petite frame. She guessed she looked all right. But the shirt had been on top of the stack in her drawer, and the jeans had been the first pair of pants she saw. At this point in her life, that was the best she could do. She noticed a small chip in her peach-toned nail polish and made a mental note to fix that. But she knew she’d probably forget.

  She forgot a lot of things these days—kept getting distracted. It was a good thing her parents were there to help her keep her life together. They had come in Saturday evening. She had shared the story of her decision, and they had let her talk and cry and do all the things parents let their children do in moments when they still need to be children. They’d spent the Memorial Day holiday with her yesterday and planned to stay the rest of the week, to be there for whatever she needed.

  Her attention turned to the door as it opened and Zach rushed in. She wasn’t surprised that he looked tired and frazzled. She had been in the back of the church Sunday morning. And that was why she was here.

  Zach’s worn, overstuffed briefcase hung from his hand. There was no coat and tie this morning, just a pair of khakis and a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, one higher than the other. “Sorry, Grace. I wasn’t expecting you,” he said as his eyes caught hers.

  “I only need a few minutes of your time.”

  “Sure. Yeah.” He turned almost in a circle as if looking for direction. A compass.

  Darlene saved them both. “Here, Zach, why don’t I take your briefcase. You and Grace go into the conference room, and I’ll grab both of you something to drink.”

  “Yeah, sure, that’d be great. I think I’ll have a coffee. Black.” Zach stood in the middle of the office as if he might need her to escort him to the conference room. A string of pity ran through Grace.

  “I don’t need anything, Darlene,” she said. “But thank you.”

  Zach turned toward her as if he had already forgotten she was there, but then he motioned to the conference room. “Okay, let’s go talk.”

  She walked in front of him and set down her Italian handbag—one of Tyler’s extravagant finds—on the conference room table. “This really won’t take long.”

  He moved to the other side and held on to the back of a chair.

  She wasted no time. “I was there on Sunday.”

  “Sunday?”

  “Yes. The church. Your wife. I was there.”

  He lowered his head, then raised it quickly as if his puppeteer had just demanded performance. “Yes. Well, I’m sorry you had to be there.”

  Darlene opened the door, and neither of them spoke. Grace saw a rigidness settle onto Zach’s shoulders and then disappear when Darlene did. Apparently Zach’s secretary didn’t know what had happened on Sunday.

  “Yes, I was there,” Grace went on. “So I’m here to tell you that I’ll be looking for other counsel. I don’t need my husband and my attorney being the news. That’s not something I can handle right now.”

  He didn’t answer. He just stood there.

  She waited. But he clearly had nothing. She picked up her purse. “Okay, that’s all I have to say. I’ll find someone else this week and have them get my file from you.”

  He still wasn’t moving. The silence felt awkward. She walked toward the door.

  Then she heard him move quickly. “Grace, wait. Please.”

  His hand reached for the door. “Look, I may be a failure as a husband. I’m probably not even much of a man right now, if you want to know the truth. But I am and always have been a really good attorney. You don’t have to keep me. I completely understand if you don’t. But I promise you that I will help you achieve your goal. I will walk you through this process with as little pain as possible.”

  “Well, I—”

  “You have no reason to trust me. I understand that too. Why would you? But you can ask that woman out there.” He pointed toward the outer office. “I’ll do a great job for you. Fortunately, in this business, character isn’t always a prerequisite.” Those last words came out slightly mumbled, but no less convincing. “Will you at least think about it?”

  She studied him. He had a sincere face, a kind demeanor. And he could certainly be persuasive, which was a good quality in an attorney. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “I’ll think about it. I’ll spend this week figuring out if this is a good idea.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  She gave him a soft smile and nodded. Then she walked past him out of the conference room, said a short good-bye to Darlene, and headed downstairs into the Tuesday morning sunshine.

  Main Street was quiet. It was only nine, and most stores wouldn’t be open until ten. She headed toward the square and slowed her pace as she did. There was nowhere she needed to be at this moment. She was still on leave from work. Her parents were at the house, so they could take care of Miss Daisy. And in this moment she honestly didn’t want to be around people.

  Grief was crazy. One minute you needed someone holding you, just listening. The next minute you had to be alone—to scream, yell, or stare into space. Sometimes you wanted to crawl out of your own skin or jump down someone’s throat.

  Her mother had let out a smart-aleck comment about Tyler the first night she had gotten there. And Grace had snapped back, “I don’t need you to come with opinions. So if that is what you are bringing, you may as well turn around and go home.”

  The response had come so quickly and escaped so sharply, it shocked Grace into silence. She’d never spoken to her mother that way. She wasn’t sure she had ever spoken to anyone like that—claiming what she wanted, dictating how it would be. But she didn’t want people talking about Tyler. She could talk about him until the next great Nashville flood, but she didn’t want anyone else doing it.

  And strangely, that prickly little episode turned out to be a good thing. For one, her mother heard her—really heard her—so the weekend had been peaceful. But the other beauty was that she had said it at all. She had spent the last ten years forgetting how to say what she wanted. So even though she would never want to hurt her mother, realizing she could speak her mind brought a real comfort.

  She turned onto the street that circled the town square, the heart of downtown Franklin, and passed a clothing store called Details. She remembered shopping there once. In fact, come to think of it, that was how she knew Zach Craig’s wife. Details was Caroline’s store. Grace had never made the connection until now. She thought of Caroline for a moment, wondered how she was doing. But few things other than where she was in her own journe
y right now stayed with her very long.

  She continued around the square and past the old courthouse to Mellow Mushroom, then crossed the street to head back to her car. When she passed the Iron Gate, she paused to look in the window. The beauty of the furniture took her breath away. And for the first time she imagined what it would be like to live in a home that was all about what she liked, to choose it for herself. Not because Tyler had gotten them into another financial bind and they needed to find something cheaper. Not because it was a good investment or a bargain they couldn’t pass up or Tyler just needed a change. But simply because she’d found a home she loved, a place that filled her longings. What would she put in it? Where would it be located?

  She studied the iron-and-crystal chandelier that hung over an antique wrought-iron bed. That looked like her, like her dreams of what a home should be. Cozy and old and lived-in, with family pictures everywhere and lots of people over to enjoy the place. People laughing over good food and even better conversation. She placed her hand on the window’s cool glass and let her fingers trace the letters. Then she continued along the street toward Zach’s office, where she had parked.

  As she moved around a gentleman washing the windows of a store, he spoke. She returned the hello and passed on to the next window, in the building next door to Zach’s. And that was when she saw the sign.

  For Lease. The words marinated in her mind. For lease. She sort of felt that way herself—in a kind of limbo. Not exactly married, except in a technical sense, but not really free either. It was like being offered for use but still held back. And no one could care for you and make you into a home because they would always know in a deep-down place that you were simply borrowed.

  She didn’t want to be borrowed. She wanted to be sold outright—completely severed from her old way of doing life. Scarlett Jo was right. She had been around dead things long enough.

  She peered past the sign in the window to the space behind it. The whole place looked tired. The carpet was filthy. The walls offered no crispness, no invitation.