“Emma!” Luke turned with a Little Mermaid backpack dangling from his hand. “Stop!”
But by then Emma was running her fingers over Lanie’s chef’s pants. Today they were pink with purple lollipops and the matching apron was trimmed with purple eyelet.
“Ohhhhh!” Emma said. “Pretty!”
Lanie squatted down to child level. “Do you think so? Do you know who I think is pretty?” She ran her hand over Emma’s hair because it was impossible not to touch her. “You!” Lanie lightly tickled Emma’s round little tummy and musical laughter sweetened the air.
Luke stepped to Emma’s side and she threw her arms around his leg and pressed her face to his thigh. “My daddy’s the same as me.”
“I’m afraid she’s been told one too many times how much she looks like me,” Luke said and dimples appeared in his cheeks.
Lanie had never noticed the dimples before — probably because this was the first time she’d seen him smile.
Emma looked up at Luke and stroked Lanie’s apron. “I need the same as this for me!”
Luke frowned. “Uh, I don’t know, honeybee. I don’t know where we’d get that. But if we see one that fits you, I suppose so.”
“Yea!” Emma said. This child had not been denied much, maybe nothing, except a mother.
“Come in.” Lanie held the door open.
“We don’t want to interrupt you,” Luke said, taking Emma’s hand. “I need to park out front tonight.” Ah, yes. The moving truck was in his space out back. Lucy had called to say she would be over the next morning to supervise the people who were coming to unload it. “We’ll just go upstairs and get out of your way.”
Impulsively, Lanie said, “Would you like some coffee? I haven’t cleaned the machine yet.” A cup of coffee and Luke Avery was a small price to pay for a little more Emma magic.
Luke paused and nodded. “That would be great. I’m exhausted from all this moving.”
What? “I totally understand.” If any of the sarcasm she felt crept into her voice, Luke didn’t seem to notice.
Emma catapulted into the shop, raised her hands, and spun around! “Candy Land!” She ran across the game board floor from the case of artisan chocolates, to the rack of lollipops, and past the shelves with baskets of bagged toffee, taffy, and peanut brittle.
“Emma, no running,” Luke said.
She stopped in front on Lanie. “Are you the queen of Candy Land?”
Luke laughed, shaking his head from side to side. Lanie wouldn’t have guessed there was any laughter inside him. He raised his eyebrow and said to Lanie, “She’s remarkably unimpressed with the princess mystique. She’s much more intrigued with the idea of being queen. She thinks every place she goes has a queen — play school, the grocery store, the dry cleaners.”
Lanie laid her hand on Emma’s cheek. “I guess I am, but you can call me Lanie.”
Emma ran to the case of chocolates and pointed, her wide eyes turned toward Lanie. “Can I have one?”
Lanie looked to Luke for permission as she moved toward the case. She would have given this child anything she owned or could steal.
Luke barely nodded his head. “Yes, this time. But, Emma, you must not ask Ms. Heaven for things.”
Emma stopped all movement and a little frown appeared between her eyes, as if she was trying to process some thought.
“Heaven?” Emma whispered, looking around the shop and back to Lanie. “Are you my mommy?”
Oh, dear God. Time stopped but Lanie forced her mind to work. There was no time to languish in shock. Emma stood waiting for an answer but there was only silence in the room. Luke’s face was white and stony; his lips parted as if he intended to say something but there were no words. Evidently, he hadn’t gotten the memo about no languishing.
Lanie knelt down and met Emma’s eyes. “No, I’m not your mommy. My last name is Heaven, like your last name is Avery — ”
“Emmaline Avery!” Emma said with pride.
“No kidding? That’s a great name. My whole name is Elaine Clarice Heaven. So the Heaven that is my name is very different from the heaven where your mommy sits and watches over you.” Lanie prayed she’d said the right thing. A glance at Luke told her nothing. His expression hadn’t changed.
Emma considered this for a moment and smiled a flirtatious little grin. “I like you.”
“I like you too,” Lanie answered, grateful that the moment had passed. Thoughts were fleeting in the three-year-old mind. “So, how about that candy? Which one do you like?” Lanie stepped behind the counter as Emma studied the contents of the case.
Luke moved behind Emma and put his hands on her shoulders. Some of the color had returned to his face.
“That one!” Emma pointed to a chocolate truffle decorated with a tiny marzipan ladybug. “It’s the same as me!” She pointed to the ladybugs on her overalls.
“Yes, it is,” Lanie agreed. “You are very smart.” She said to Luke, “Should I put it in a box or are you going to let her have it now?”
“Let her have it. What’s a piece of candy before dinner in the scheme of things?”
Lanie put the candy in a small pink paper cup and stepped around the counter. “For you, Miss Emma, to celebrate the day you and I became friends. That’s a pretty good thing, isn’t it?”
“Yea!” Emma took the candy and began to skip around the colored squares on the floor.
Lanie made cups of coffee for herself and Luke.
“Thank you, Lanie,” he said quietly as he sat on one of the counter stools and reached for the mug she offered.
“You’re welcome. Consider it a welcome to the neighborhood gift.”
“I appreciate the coffee but that wasn’t what I was thanking you for. You seemed to key into her thought process immediately. I don’t know if I would have ever made the connection.”
“I hope what I said was okay.”
Luke nodded but he didn’t look sure. “Emma doesn’t remember Carrie. She was only eighteen months old when it happened. The concept of a mother wasn’t real to her until she started nursery school last month.” He cast a worried glace toward Emma, who was eating her candy and making faces at her reflection in the front window.
“She’s a wonderful child. Happy.” Lanie almost said he was doing a good job and Emma would be fine. But how did she know that?
He shrugged. “I guess — I mean about the happy part. She is a wonderful child.”
“Didn’t you say she just turned three?” Lanie said. “Her speech is very advanced.”
“Really? Not everyone understands her, though you seem to.”
“Daddy!” Emma ran toward him, holding out her chocolate smeared hands. “Get it off!”
“You’re a mess, aren’t you?” He rose from the stool, wiped her hands with a napkin, and then kissed each of her palms. “All clean. What do you say we go up to our new house? Purr Kitty’s up there waiting for you.”
What? This was news. “You have a cat?”
Emma nodded her head emphatically as Luke shook his.
“S-t-u-f-f-e-d,” Luke said.
“L-R-Q! Purr Kitty can’t go to school!” Emma held up her arms to be picked up. When Luke lifted her, she put her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear.
“Oh?” he said. “Have you decided to be shy? You can ask her.” Emma put her thumb in her mouth and shook her head. Luke turned to Lanie. “Emma wants to know if she can give you a hug.”
And in that moment, Lanie fell in love — completely, irrefutably, drop dead in love. She held out her arms and Emma came into them giggling. She smelled like chocolate, baby shampoo, and everything Lanie would never have.
• • •
In the wake of the magic that was Emma Avery, Lanie leaned on the counter and caught her breat
h. Sometimes, her arms literally ached for a child. And this was one of those times. But aching wouldn’t get her a child. Nothing would.
She wondered idly what it would be like to kiss Luke — that is, what it would be like to kiss Luke if she were like other women. She had no interest in kissing Luke or anyone else because it would only remind her of how she couldn’t muster up the fundamental responses that had ruled humankind since the beginning of time.
It hadn’t always been that way. In her high school days, kissing had always been sweet and exciting. The few times she’d been a little daring, she’d felt even more. Wandering clumsy hands on her breasts had felt wicked and thrilling, hinting at a big promise of what was to come. But she had never gone any further. She’d been saving herself for Something Big.
Something Big walked into her life the first month of her freshman year at Ole Miss during a mixer at her new sorority house. Though she’d pledged Phi Mu out of desire for the promised sisterhood and instant belonging, she still felt unsure and out of place. Alexander’s good looks, place on the tennis team, and private school education had made him seem dazzling and sophisticated. It was probably all smoke and mirrors but she didn’t question it. At the time, she only knew he had chosen her.
In the beginning, it had been exciting when he kissed and touched her. By homecoming, she knew that she was truly in love and ready to give herself to him completely. Only it didn’t go like she’d expected. Sex turned out to be painful, messy, and quick — nothing like their sweet romantic make out sessions. At first she’d thought it was because she wasn’t practiced, but by Christmas she knew there was something wrong with her. She’d been too ashamed to talk to anyone, so she came to terms with it. Alexander never complimented her but he never complained, either. It would be enough for her, she decided. For the next three years, she surrendered her body to him and built rosy dreams of blond babies and life with a man who would always shine a little brighter than everyone else. What did it matter if she wasn’t good at sex? In a way, it made making love more of a gift to him.
Then came that awful day in February of her senior year when he’d called and asked her to come to his room at the fraternity house. He was sorry. He really loved her, but he needed someone more responsive. And, really, this was better for her — she’d see. She’d made it all the way to the front door before she turned and went back. Surely, if he loved her, like he said, they could resolve this. She would try harder, read more books, and maybe see a doctor.
But he was too blond, too good looking, and too charming to bother with someone who was all window dressing and no delivery.
His door was ajar and just as she’d started to push it open, his phone rang. It hadn’t been her intent to eavesdrop but her hesitation led to that. “It went all right. She took it pretty well,” he said, and then, “No, no. Don’t come over here. We need to lie low for a while. I’ll come there.” Her feet turned to lead; otherwise, she would have run. As it was, she hid in an alcove down the hall and watched him lock his door and leave. Then, she’d walked back to the Phi Mu house, too stunned and humiliated to feel anything else.
Sitting on her bed, sharp little icicles shot through her. So this was what a broken heart felt like. She’d seen it before — many times, right in the halls of this house. And what happened next? She’d seen that too. First there would be tears, then a night out with the girls in a bar. Maybe some picture burning, drunk dialing, and a new hair color. Definitely some righteous indignation. But eventually, there would be another party, another guy, and another reason to hope.
Except there wouldn’t be any of that for her. This wasn’t just a broken heart; it was a broken life. How stupid she’d been to think if she loved enough, that nothing else mattered. She should have known better. Maybe you could have sex without love, but you couldn’t have love without sex. And an unresponsive body was no gift.
Well, she might be a lost cause, and she might be easily replaced. But she would not be humiliated.
Lanie had gotten up from her bed, packed most of her clothes, and left. To hell with the rug, the microwave, and the short tight dress she’d bought to wear to Alexander’s fraternity spring formal. That dress was false advertisement and the shame that she’d had the audacity to buy it was overwhelming.
She’d had no idea where she was going, but anywhere was better than here. She drove to Memphis, got a room at the Peabody, and cried herself to sleep.
Lanie had often wondered how her life would have turned out if what followed hadn’t happened. Would she have spent a few days on self-pity and then picked herself up and gone back to school? Maybe. But she’d never know.
She awoke in the wee hours of the morning with cramps and blood on the sheets. At first she’d thought she had started her period. She had never been regular and it was past time. But the cramps were too severe and there was too much blood. At the emergency room, she’d had the presence of mind not to turn over her insurance card. This was something she was not going to want her parents to know about because, though she hadn’t known she was pregnant, she knew she was having a miscarriage. When the bleeding didn’t stop and the doctor began to talk about emergency surgery, Lanie finally accepted the offer to make a call. Shame wouldn’t allow her to call her parents. She was six years older than the oldest of her four younger siblings and had always been held up as an example. Alexander was out of the question. She was considering one of her sorority sisters when it hit her.
Her happy place was where she’d spent a week every summer — her grandmother’s candy shop with its gleaming display cases, good smells, and happy customers. She made the call without hesitation and Henry and Clarice Heaven were there when she woke up, holding her hands when the doctor told her she would probably never conceive again.
So that was it.
There would never be an engagement ring, white dress, and someone to hold her at night when it stormed. There would be no companionable Christmas mornings, sharing of Sunday morning newspapers, or fighting over the last piece of pie. Worst of all, there would be no babies.
Her grandmother cried with her and her grandfather threatened to kill Alexander. Then they’d paid her hospital bill, promised to keep her secret, and took her home with them. Somehow, her grandmother had made her parents believe she had mono and she was better off with them. The plan everyone made for her was that she would withdraw from school, spend a few months in Merritt, and go back to school the summer term. But she had a different plan. No, she had no plan, but she wasn’t going back to Ole Miss. She had to find another life. There was no way she could finish her early childhood education degree. Pursuing a career that would remind her daily of what she couldn’t have would be torture.
Then she found a blog by someone who did ultrasounds on dolphins in the Caribbean. All it took was a two-year tech course, and there was a school in Florida. Her parents were befuddled but they agreed to pay for it. Only it wasn’t like she thought it would be. Luckily, she found that out before it was too late to get most of her tuition back. So she left Florida.
From there she’d spent several years moving around, making false starts, and looking for something she could bring herself to care about. At first, she’d used the money left over from Ole Miss and the ultrasound course. When it ran out, she asked for more and got it. She signed up for random classes in practical things like interior design, horticulture, and massage therapy. She seldom finished one. She wasn’t good at any of it.
When none of that seemed right, she’d moved on to the arts. She spent a year in a small arts community in North Carolina where she tried to throw pots, quilt, make stained glass, knit, and master calligraphy. The idea of leading a sparse, uncomplicated life pursuing beauty was appealing until her parents announced they weren’t going to give her any more money. This, Lanie knew, was an attempt to force her to finish her degree.
She took a job at a folk art gallery to
pay for her failed attempt at glass blowing.
Then her grandfather died and she’d driven to Alabama for the funeral.
“Come back to Virginia with us,” her mother had said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Come home,” her daddy had said. “You can go to work for me until we figure something out.” (Figure something out translated to Until we can talk you into going back to school.)
“Stay here with me,” her grandmother had said. “You don’t have to do anything.”
So she stayed in Merritt and, for a month, helped her grandmother grieve and make fudge, chocolate stars, and toffee. It had been bliss. If you followed the directions and cooked the syrup to the right temperature, candy happened. It was a sure thing.
Late one night over a bottle of wine and platter of cheese and fruit, her grandmother had said, “Do you want to learn to make candy?”
“I’ve been making candy,” Lanie said.
“You’ve been making the same homey, old-fashioned candy I make. But do you want to be a real confectioner?” Clarice Heaven asked. “A master chocolatier?”
“I want to stay here with you and make fudge,” Lanie said.
“You mean hide.” Clarice poured them both another glass of wine.
“Hiding is a fine thing, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Clarice pointed out. “I asked you if you wanted to be a master chocolatier.”
Lanie’s grandfather had been raised in the business but had no passion for it. Oddly, his young wife had, and worked alongside her mother-in-law, first in the older woman’s house, and later in the shop they opened together. History had repeated itself. Lanie’s father had no interest in the candy shop, but became an accountant instead.
“When your great-grandmother died, she left Heavenly Confections solely to me. She made me promise to pass it on to someone who cared or close it down.” Clarice might as well have said, And it can be yours, if you will only take an interest.
Sweet Gone South Page 4
