Like I did with Elise. And then I did more than think.
Jackson had told him from the very beginning that if he didn’t deal with his own sin, his own heart, he’d be right back where he was. Right back in another affair, making a royal mess of someone else’s world. But that wasn’t what was happening with Grace, was it?
Am I fooling myself again?
He knew he wanted his family, wanted them to heal. In the deepest places of his soul, he longed for them to be together again. But most days, in all honesty, he couldn’t imagine that happening. Caroline was this unmovable piece of stone. She could be the fifth head on Mount Rushmore. And he didn’t think he had it in him to chisel his way back to her.
Is there any point in trying?
He lay there in silence, just lay there. It felt like he was waiting for something, though he didn’t know what it was.
Without warning, he felt his face flush with heat despite the air that swept continuously through the room. Tears choked his throat and burned his nose. They had hit the pillow on both sides before he could stop them. And somewhere deep inside, he felt something click into place. A realization. And a desire—a ravenous hunger—to be the man God created him to be.
If he and Caroline were going to rebuild their marriage, that’s what had to happen.
If Caroline refused to work on their issues or pay attention to her own heart, it was still necessary.
If their marriage didn’t make it and there was someone else down the road, that someone deserved a whole man too.
But more than any of that, he wanted it for himself.
He slipped from the bed and knelt beside it, pressing his burning face against the rumpled sheets. “I’m a mess, you know.” He spoke into darkness that somehow felt alive. “I mean a real mess. I don’t even know where to begin with all of this. But I don’t want to live like I’ve been living.”
The presence moved in—thicker, stronger.
“God, I’ve already told you I’m sorry for my affair and all the people I’ve hurt. And for shutting down my heart. And Jackson says I need to trust that you’ve forgiven me, so I’m going to try to do that. The thing is, I really do want to reclaim my heart. But I think I may be in danger of messing up again. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to keep on getting stuff wrong more than I get it right. And . . .”
He stopped. He didn’t know what else to pray. So he waited some more.
It’s reclaiming . . . not reclaimed. The words fell softly in his soul. And in that moment he remembered something about Paul in the Bible saying he had to die daily. Jackson had said the same thing.
Reclaiming . . . Zach felt relief flooding in.
“I want to be a husband to Caroline. I do. But you’ve got to help me close this door with Grace. She deserves an amazing man, a good man. Send her one. And while you’re at it, please make me one too. My girls need that. Caroline needs that. And I want it. I want to be a good man.”
Deep sobs were all he had left. He’d wept just one time through this entire season. But all the tears that should have been shed refused in this moment to be denied.
Zach Craig would cry. And Zach Craig’s heart would never be the same for having done it.
Grace scooped flour into the bowl. She and JoEllen, the cook she’d hired, were fine-tuning her cranberry-and-almond scone recipe, making sure it worked in the new kitchen. Sweet Tea opened in two days.
Rachel came into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “She’s not answering the phone, Grace.”
“I know. I’ve done everything I can think of to do.” She reached up to rub her nose with the back of her hand. Why did it always decide to itch while she was elbow-deep in flour? Her mother would say an itching nose meant someone was coming to see you. Today she honestly didn’t need company.
“Well, she needs an intervention,” Rachel said.
“Yes, she does. Because we need her here with us.”
Rachel walked over to the metal worktable that filled the center of the kitchen and reached for a scone from the previous batch. Grace slapped her hand.
“Ow. I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“And I miss her. I admit it. I miss that snorting, sugar-talking, bow-wearing Amazon. We need to go get her.”
Grace wiped her hands on her apron. “Okay, we’ll go get her. But if this gets ugly, it’s all your fault.”
Rachel grabbed a plate and started putting scones on it. “These will at least get us in the door. And if you’ll give me some cream to go with them, we might even get her out of the house.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Yes, I am. Now, about the cream . . .”
It was only eight o’clock, and the morning was chilly. Grace zipped her khaki sweater for the four-block walk to Scarlett Jo’s. Fifteen minutes later they were knocking on her door.
“We’re here too early for a Saturday.” Grace shifted in her red Converse sneakers.
“We are here to save our friend. And if you ever tell her I said this, I will kill you, but the business needs her. She is oddly captivating—odd being the key word in that phrase.”
Jackson answered the door. Grace was thankful he was dressed and not in his robe. He immediately noticed Rachel’s plate of scones. “Oh, y’all are sneaky.”
Rachel smiled. “We’re through playing nice.”
He chuckled. “She’s still in bed.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows. “We don’t have a problem with that. So if you do, you’d better let us know.”
He stepped aside and opened the door wider. Rachel walked in with a smile and turned back to Grace. “I knew I liked this guy.”
Grace shook her head. “Sorry, Jackson.”
“It’s okay. A swift kick in her beautiful derriere might be exactly what that woman needs. Here, let me show you where to go.”
Grace and Rachel followed his directions down the hall past the kitchen. Rachel opened the bedroom door, flicked on the lights, and walked straight to one of the windows. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” she proclaimed as she threw open the shutter. “Your chariot has arrived.”
Grace came in behind her and thought for a second that she would just enjoy the show. But Rachel was right. It was time for this to be over. She went to the other window and opened another shutter. “It’s time for you to face the world. It’s a new day, and we’re here to make sure you don’t miss it.”
Scarlett Jo let out a loud groan and flopped over, burying her head beneath a pillow. All that stuck out were some wildly mangled blonde curls.
Rachel approached Scarlett Jo’s side of the bed and pulled the covers back. “Now get up.”
“Get out.” Scarlett Jo’s muffled voice came from beneath the pillow. Her pajama-clad self was sprawled across the bed. Fuzzy hot-pink socks hid her feet.
“What grown woman wears pig pajamas?” Rachel asked. “Seriously, Scarlett Jo. For that alone you need an intervention.”
Scarlett Jo kicked her feet against the bed like a two-year-old having a tantrum. “Leave me alone.”
Rachel tugged at the pillow with her free hand, her other hand still holding the plate of scones. But Scarlett Jo had too much strength in her. The pillow stayed in place. Rachel jerked. Scarlett Jo jerked harder. Rachel jerked again. But Scarlett Jo still won.
Rachel finally straightened and looked at Grace. Then she slowly removed the plastic wrap from the scones and lowered the plate close to Scarlett Jo’s pillow. She moved it back and forth, and her voice came out in a luring singsong. “It’s your favorite. Cranberry-and-almond scones.”
Scarlett Jo’s body went stone still.
Rachel turned back to Grace and raised an eyebrow. The woman was wicked. “And I’ve got Devonshire cream with a dollop of cream cheese. We know how you love that with your scones.”
Scarlett Jo wiggled slightly beneath her pillow.
“They’re still warm.”
But she didn’t move again.
Rachel’s exasperation was evident. Grace let out a loud sigh. “This is ridiculous.” She snatched the pillow from atop Scarlett Jo’s head, grabbed her by the arm, and in one fell swoop turned her over. “Now listen to me. No one has died here, and it’s time you got back to living. We open in two days. And if you’re going to be part of it, you’ll be much more effective in a standing position with a smile on your face. So rise and shine and go brush your teeth. And brush your hair while you’re at it.”
Grace hadn’t expected her words to come out quite that loud. Her hand popped up to her mouth, and she turned and looked at Rachel. Rachel’s eyes were as wide as a hoot owl’s.
Scarlett Jo crossed her arms over her chest. “You two are harassing me.”
Grace sat on the edge of the bed. “No, we are not harassing you. We are showing you love because we do love you. Don’t we, Rachel?”
She heard nothing behind her. She turned and stared at Rachel, whose brow was completely furrowed. Grace spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t we, Rachel?”
Rachel raised the side of her lip, sounding like Little Orphan Annie to the orphanage matron. “Yes, Scarlett Jo. We love you.”
Scarlett Jo huffed. “See? Listen to her. She doesn’t mean it.”
“Scarlett Jo, this visit was Rachel’s idea. She’s the one who said she misses you.”
“I will kill you,” Rachel mumbled from behind Grace. Scarlett Jo looked in Rachel’s direction, and Grace whirled around. Rachel gave her biggest beauty pageant smile.
“She did?” Scarlett Jo said.
“She did,” Grace confirmed. “Now scoot over.” She shoved Scarlett Jo to the center of the bed. “Bring those scones over here,” Grace ordered Rachel.
Rachel walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in, wriggling herself into position. One leg had to hang over. “Good heavens, this is the littlest bed in the world for two ginormous people like you and Jackson. What size is it?”
“It’s a full.”
Rachel jerked her head toward Scarlett Jo. “A full? Woman, do you know how big you are? You gotta be six-foot-four.”
“I am five-foot-eleven.”
“Whatever. Y’all should have a king—at least!”
“We like to touch each other.”
“That’s enough.” Grace reached over and took the plate of scones from Rachel. She stuck it in Scarlett Jo’s face. “Here. Eat.”
Scarlett Jo pursed her lips together and shook her head.
“You’re acting like a spoiled child,” Grace said. “Open your mouth, or I promise I will open it for you.”
Scarlett Jo’s eyes widened with surprise at Grace’s words, but she picked up a scone. “Put it in the cream,” Grace ordered.
Scarlett Jo dipped the scone in cream, then bit off a chunk. She leaned her head against the padded headboard and chewed slowly. Grace decided she’d join her. Rachel didn’t waste a minute once she knew it was okay to dig in too.
“Oh, there is a God,” Scarlett Jo finally announced.
“Wow! These are good.” Grace grabbed another, then realized both Rachel and Scarlett Jo were staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing. Just that I’ve never seen you eat the way I do.” Rachel turned to Scarlett Jo. “Okay, sister, it’s time for you to get your rear end out of this bed and back to whatever it is you do. Talking too much. Bugging us. Making bodily function sounds. Walking down the street with your pants unzipped. All of that. It’s time for you to start acting like yourself again.”
Scarlett Jo took another small bite of scone. “I know. I do. It’s been crazy. It’s like I haven’t been able to snap out of it. It just caught me so off guard.”
Grace took another bite and groaned with pleasure.
“Good grief, woman, get a room.” Rachel’s words came out from her scone-stuffed face.
“I have one, thank you very much.”
Rachel focused on Scarlett Jo again. “Well, listen—and I promise you will only hear this once. We need you. Yes, I said it. We need you. I will deny I ever said it if you try to mention it outside this room. But we do need you.”
Grace watched the corners of Scarlett Jo’s mouth slowly begin to quiver and contort.
Rachel wrinkled her nose as if she were smelling something putrid. “Oh no. Do not do the ugly cry. That I do not have time for.”
Scarlett Jo couldn’t seem to help it. She sniffed. “You need me?”
“I’m an idiot.” Rachel flounced back against the headboard.
Grace took her turn. “Yes, we need you. And Jackson needs you. And the boys need you. You can’t let Fred Parton steal from you again—and that is what you are doing.”
Scarlett Jo wrinkled her forehead, making almost all of her blonde locks move. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are.” Rachel grabbed another scone. “Now stop it. I’m tired. I’m overworked. I’m underpaid. And this man is not worth frittering away one more day of your life.”
Scarlett Jo sat up a little taller. “They found him, you know.”
Grace and Rachel looked at each other quickly, then back at Scarlett Jo. “What?”
“Well, Fred actually found Jackson. He came to the church.”
“He came to the church?” Rachel almost dropped her scone.
“He said he didn’t even know we lived here, but once he saw me, he looked us up. And when he worked up the courage, he went and found Jackson. He said he’d served eighteen years for what he did to me. Said he’d been drunk when he did it, had started drinking with his dad when he was only in middle school, but he’d gotten sober in prison. He told Jackson he was a changed man and said the window-cleaning business is a way to start putting his life back together.”
“And what do you think about that?” Grace asked.
Scarlett Jo lowered her head. The remains of her hot-pink manicure stood out boldly against the white sheet she was playing with. “I don’t know. I do know I don’t want him here. And Jackson told him that.”
Grace laid a hand on Scarlett Jo’s leg. “What did he say?”
“He said he completely understood, that he could wash windows anywhere.”
“Where is he now?” Rachel asked.
“On a bus to Georgia. Jackson bought the ticket.”
Grace let out a soft laugh. “I love Jackson.”
Rachel punched Scarlett Jo in the shoulder. “Then why in all that is holy and sacred are you still in this bed?”
Scarlett Jo shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be here. Each morning I wake up and say, ‘I’m getting out of this bed and facing the world.’ And then I change my mind. It just feels too hard. I already reclaimed my heart. Why should I have to do it all over again?”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t know how you did it even once. I feel like I’m doing it every day—fighting for a little piece here and then another little piece there.”
“I wanted it to be over and done with.”
A snort came from Rachel, and she threw her hand over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, I did not just snort.”
“You did.” Scarlett Jo nodded solemnly.
“Well then, listen to my great wisdom. Life ain’t fair, sister. Not one piece of it. And you might have to go back over the same mountain a thousand times until it is torn down. But what if you quit on the 999th time, and you get to those pearly gates, and Jesus tells you, ‘Well, one more time would’ve done it’? What would you say to that?”
“Doggone it!” Scarlett Jo snapped her fingers with a dramatic sweep of her arm.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s what you would say.”
Grace reached out and turned Scarlett Jo’s face toward her. “You’ve got to get out there and let all the Freds of the world know that they’ll never have you again. That you will live in spite of them. And honestly, Scarlett Jo, I don’t think living with your heart open is a destination. I think it is a daily journey—sometimes a moment-by-moment battle.”
Rachel sa
t up and slid off the mattress. “I am so buying you a new bed.”
Grace got off her side as well. “Scarlett Jo, it’s time for your morning walk. It’s still early. You’ve had breakfast. Now get out there. The world needs you and your bright colors and your beautiful smile and your prayers. And you—it needs you. So that’s the place for you to start.”
Rachel pulled Scarlett Jo’s arm until she was out of the bed. “And do not wear those pajamas in public, whatever you do.”
Grace and Rachel walked to the door. “We will not leave until you are dressed and walking,” Grace said.
And they didn’t.
Zach held the wrapped gift in his hand. It was crazy, he knew, but something he felt he needed to do. He had gone to pick it up after church.
He had spotted Grace at the service from across the sanctuary, though they hadn’t spoken. But he knew she’d be at Sweet Tea by now. She rarely left the restaurant these days, though he had been trying not to notice as much. He only hoped Rachel wasn’t with her.
He tested the handle of the back door. It was locked. He was glad. Even in small towns, you never knew what you’d find or what could find you. Last week’s events had proved that.
He knocked, hoping she’d hear. She did. When she opened the door, he sucked in air. He couldn’t help it. Even in her jeans, sweatshirt, and Converse tennis shoes, her hair pulled up in a ransacked semblance of a bun, she was beautiful. Stray blonde strands waved around her face. Her hot-pink apron was covered in flour and who knew what else.
Her smile was hesitant. “Zach. Hey. I didn’t expect you.”
He stood awkwardly in the doorway, the gift in his hand. “Yeah, I know. Um, I won’t take long. Promise.”
She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
He walked inside and was overcome by a wave of wonderful aromas. “Wow. Whatever that is, if it tastes as good as it smells, you are going to bust the bank in here.”
She laughed as she closed the door. “Is that a hint for me to let you taste something?”
Secrets over Sweet Tea Page 30
