Sweet Gone South

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Since they’d fallen into eating most of their meals together, Lanie had taken to doing all their grocery shopping, though he had insisted on paying. Little by little, her kitchen equipment had been gradually drifting across the hall. He liked going in his kitchen and seeing her yogurt in the refrigerator and her shiny red mixer and good knives on his counter. Last Saturday, they’d driven up to Nashville for the day to shop for summer clothes for Emma and have dinner with Brantley — something his fraternity brother had been urging him to do since January. If he was tempted to feel a little guilty over accepting so much help from Lanie, he pushed it aside. The routine was working too well.

  As he started to fit his key in the apartment door, Lanie emerged with Emma in tow. They broke into simultaneous laughter. For the last four mornings, they had met at exactly this same spot. Emma laughed too, though she didn’t know why she was laughing.

  “We’re getting boringly predictable,” Lanie said.

  “Just predictable.” There was nothing boring about stability. Right now, there were clean towels, full sock drawers, and fresh milk. There would be something for him to eat waiting on the kitchen counter. It might be something really good like an egg and bacon sandwich or something easy like a bagel with cream cheese, but he could count on it. There would be bananas in the fruit bowl, like there had been ever since Lanie had learned that he liked one when he came back from running. By the time he ate, showered, and dressed, Lanie would be downstairs getting ready to make candy. As he went through the shop on this way to work, he’d kiss her goodbye and she’d hand him a go cup of espresso. Sometimes she sent muffins or pastries to his staff if there were any left.

  “Pick me up, Daddy!” Emma demanded.

  “Better not, honeybee.” He knelt to her level and rubbed his nose against hers. “I’ll get you sweaty after Lanie has dressed you so pretty. You don’t want to go to school all sweaty, do you?”

  “No!”

  “You be sweet today.” He kissed Emma’s cheek and patted her head. “And I’ll see you in a little while,” he said to Lanie.

  “Okay,” Lanie said. “I thought I’d make lasagna tonight.”

  “Sounds great. Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” Most nights, Lanie cooked and now that it was warm, they had grilled on the balcony several times. But if Lanie wanted to go out, she would say so, which was fine with him. These days, there was always a plan and he didn’t have to try to read her mind to know what it was.

  “I thought we’d go to the diner tomorrow night, if that’s okay. Come on, Emma,” Lanie said. “We don’t want to be late for school.”

  Ha! Since Lanie had taken over, Emma hadn’t been late a single time. And neither had he.

  Life was good. The only fly in the ointment was, he was ready to have sex, and Lanie was not. But that would come. He smiled to himself. Lanie refused to go down the hall to his bed but they’d had some pretty intense times on the sofa that took him back to high school. He had to admit it was fun.

  Life wasn’t just good. It was great.

  • • •

  “Who’s that going over my bridge!?” Luke’s gruff troll voice rang out.

  A sleepy little giggle emanated from Emma and she snuggled closer into Lanie’s arms. Lanie sniffed her fresh-from-the-bath little girl smell and joined in her laughter. According to Tolly, Luke was quickly developing a reputation for being the razor-sharp judge that missed no detail. Lawyers all over the county quaked in their boots at the thought of appearing before him. It was a good thing they couldn’t see him now. His intimation factor would zero out.

  “It’s me!” His voice was high and squeaky now. “The littlest Billy Goat Gruff.”

  “I’ll eat you up,” Emma said around a yawn, with her eyes half closed. From the looks of things, she wasn’t going to make it to the next clip, clomp. It was no wonder. Lanie was tired herself. After dressing, feeding, and taking Emma to school, she’d made candy and paid bills. This afternoon had been what Emma called a “Lanie day” as opposed to a “Pammy day.” They’d eaten lunch with Missy and Beau and gone to the library for a puppet show. Emma had taken a short nap before they’d gone to play in the pocket park. Then they’d gone to Big Starr for groceries. Lanie loved wheeling Emma around the store and answering her little questions and denying (and sometimes giving in to) her requests for sugar cereal and cheaply made overpriced toys. She never asked for candy in the grocery store. At three, Emma was already a candy snob. Lanie had seen to that. A child in a grocery cart was one of life’s moments that others took for granted but she never would. She cherished every moment because it couldn’t last forever.

  Just like cooking dinner for Luke and Emma couldn’t last forever. Tonight they’d had lasagna and afterward played Candy Land with Emma until bath time. Now, Lanie was leaning against the headboard of the toddler bed with Emma snuggled against her while Luke read.

  But he’d stopped. And Emma was gone. Lanie eased her arm from around her and stepped aside. This was one of her favorite moments of the day. Luke still rocked her some nights, but more and more, Emma’s day ended with all of them in a cuddle. Luke pulled the covers around Emma, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Love you, baby.”

  Lanie turned on the honeybee-shaped nightlight and turned off the bedside lamp.

  “She didn’t make it to prayers,” Luke said once they were in the hall. “I guess we need to start praying before stories.” He smiled and his eyes sparkled. “Else we’re going to turn her into an infidel.” We. It was a wonderful word. Temporary, but wonderful.

  “She was tired. She had a big day.”

  “So did you.” He ran his finger along Lanie’s jawbone. It was warm tonight and he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt that was so old and soft you could barely make out “Vandy” across the front. “Dinner was great. I love lasagna and that was the best I ever had.”

  “Thank you.” His praise warmed her almost as much as his fingers resting on her neck. “Lucy taught me. Her grandmother was Italian. I made the noodles.”

  “You’re good to us, Lanie Heaven.” He embraced her and starlight shot through her veins. “I’ve never known anyone before who made noodles.”

  “It was fun.” He smelled like soap and the chocolate pudding she’d served him and Emma for dessert. “And don’t be too impressed. I have a pasta attachment for my mixer.”

  He leaned back and looked at her. “Still harder than buying them.”

  “A little,” she admitted. But if she made noodles, if she bought the right beer, if she set up perfect toddler outings, she might be allowed to play house with this pretend family a while longer.

  He took her hand and led her down the hall to the sofa. “Sit here,” he said. “Rest a little. I’m going to finish cleaning the kitchen.” Aside from putting the food away, they never cleaned the kitchen until Emma was asleep.

  “I can help you,” she said. Because, really, she wanted to be where he was.

  “No. You sit. I won’t be long. It’s not like there’s a big cooking mess.” That was true. She cleaned as she went. That was part of being a good girl. There were only dishes to put in the dishwasher and the table and counter to wipe down. “Do you want me to bring you a glass of wine before I load the dishwasher?”

  “If you do, I might fall asleep before you’re done.”

  He made a point of leering at her. “We don’t want that.” And he disappeared through the swinging door.

  No, we don’t want that. Because he would be back soon to engage in what he had coined their “submarine race antics” — meaning they necked and petted like two teenagers in the back of a car on a lonely road. He could be so funny, something she would have never guessed. She loved that about him.

  And, might as well admit it, she loved the submarine race antics. She never thought she’d be held again. And this was so safe. There
would be no shedding of clothes with Emma sleeping so close. They both agreed on that. He would try to urge her down the hall where there was a door to close and blankets for cover, but he knew she wasn’t ready and he didn’t try to insist. It was almost like he felt he should attempt more.

  What he didn’t know was she would never be ready. She didn’t want to think about that part yet. Who would? For now, she pleased him. How she wished she could go down that hall and continue to please him, but her body didn’t know how.

  The kitchen door swung open. Her heart rate picked up.

  “That didn’t take long.”

  “It would take even less time if you’d buy us some paper plates.”

  “Sure, why not? We’ll turn Emma into an infidel and teach her to be uncivilized. Not to mention the landfill.”

  He sat beside her. “You sound like my mother. She hates paper plates. But she’s in Japan. She wouldn’t know.”

  “I’m not in Japan.”

  “I’m glad.” Ah, there it was. That soft tone that came into his voice that took them from banter to romantic. She never knew when it was coming but it always came and melted her every time.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and looked into her eyes, like he always did. He wouldn’t kiss her right away, but would look at her as if he liked what he saw and he thought it was important to connect with her emotionally.

  She longed to call the casserole brigade and tell them what she had stolen from right under their noses and potato chip encrusted concoctions. She laughed.

  He smiled. “What?” he asked.

  She traced the dimple in his cheek. “I didn’t know you had dimples for the longest time. You never smiled. Now I see them all the time.”

  “Maybe I feel more like smiling these days. You’re easy to smile for.”

  Oh. If she had melted a little before, she was now butterscotch syrup dripping into the floor. They had no future but this was not the time to think about it. It was off to the races.

  He half lay back and pulled her into his arms. He circled her lips with the tip of his tongue before taking her mouth fully in, taking a good long time with her tongue, her bottom lip, her top. Best of all, he kept his hands on her cheeks, instead of letting them wander to more interesting places, because the kiss was important. Not that his hands wouldn’t wander; not that she wasn’t looking forward to it. When they broke apart, he surveyed her face and smiled.

  “You taste like lasagna,” she said. “You ate some cold out of the pan, didn’t you?”

  “Just a bite. Just enough so I’d taste good and you’d want to kiss me. I’m considerate of you that way.”

  “I’d want to kiss you anyway.” And this time she kissed him. He accepted her tongue and let out a little moan. He tightened his arms around her and flipped her over until they were a tangle of tongues, arms, and legs.

  She eagerly opened her legs to accept his erection between them. Hot chills shot through her. And how was that even possible? He moved against the crotch of her loose khaki shorts and kissed her neck.

  “I wish you’d wear a dress,” he whispered against her ear as he pushed hard against her. “And no panties.”

  She ran her hands up his sides under his Vandy t-shirt. “You don’t know that I am wearing panties.”

  He groaned. “Woman, you’re killing me.” He rolled to the side and reached under her shirt. Her nipple hardened before his hand closed against the silk lace of her bra. “I know you’re wearing a bra. I hate this bra.”

  “That bra deserves to be loved. It cost a hundred dollars.”

  “I’ll give you two hundred dollars if you’ll go take it off.”

  She laughed a little. This was fun and exciting. Her body never let her down at this stage and it would go no further tonight. Luke didn’t even really expect it — yet. She pushed that thought away and lifted her pelvis to meet his.

  “Right down the hall … ” he whispered and ran his tongue around her ear.

  This was her signal. She either had to get up and walk that lifetime and three eternities down the hall with him or she needed to end this and go home.

  She pulled away. “I should go.”

  He smiled and stoked her cheek. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and she was. The time would come when he’d tell her if she left, not to come back. But if she went with him, he’d find out she wasn’t like other women and he’d tell her not to come back. She wouldn’t think about that now.

  “I’m a patient man, Lanie. I like a woman who takes her time.”

  They stood together and he walked her to the door.

  • • •

  Luke wasn’t lying. He did like a woman to take her time and he didn’t want Lanie to do anything she wasn’t ready for, but damn, he wanted her.

  “I want you,” he said and took her in his arms. It still surprised him how they fit together when they stood facing each other. Carrie had been so small. No Carrie thoughts. He cupped Lanie’s bottom in his hands and made a show of moving her against his erection. They laughed together. “I don’t want you to go, Lanie Heaven.”

  “I know. Kiss me goodnight.”

  He slid one arm up to encircle her waist and raised the other to tip her face to his. He loved stroking her soft cheek, but not as much as he liked her mouth on his. Time passed. Mouth on mouth. Tongue to tongue. Her arms around his neck. They were in a world where there was no one else. Until …

  A squeal, a giggle, and little feet jumping up and down. He wasn’t sure who released who first, but he and Lanie flew apart.

  Another giggle and clapping hands.

  “Mommy! I gotta mommy now! Lanie’s my mommy!” And Emma ran and clasped Lanie around the knees.

  What? He backed into the corner, in shock, speechless. Lanie’s mouth dropped and the color drained from her face.

  “Pick me up, Mommy!” Emma held her arms up. Like a robot, Lanie reached for her.

  Why would Emma think this? Lanie had spent a lot of time with her, sure, but if there was one thing he was certain of, Lanie hadn’t coached or condoned this. Even now, as she held Emma’s body to her and cradled her head against her shoulder, her face wore pain like he’d never seen — wistful, heartbreaking, ripping agony.

  Then it hit him. That night in Lanie kitchen, when they’d had dinner.

  “Beau’s mommy and daddy were kissing.”

  “Mommies and Daddies kiss.”

  “You kiss Lanie. Then she’ll be the mommy, you’ll be the daddy, and I’ll be honeybee!”

  “Daddy!” Emma twisted in Lanie’s arms toward him. “Lanie’s my mommy!”

  Oh, God. Oh, Christ. He leaned against the wall.

  “Emma,” Lanie began. “Listen, to me, sweetheart.”

  “Mommy!” Emma threw her arms around Lanie and kissed her cheek.

  “Emma. Listen. I’m not — ”

  “Wait.” Luke finally found his voice. He stepped forward and put a hand on Lanie’s arm. “Don’t. Not tonight.”

  And he knew what he had to do. There was no choice.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Look, Mommy!” Emma knelt down by the steps of the ABC Preschool and pointed at an ant making its way to an anthill. Heartsick, Lanie knelt beside her. This might be the last time she would ever bring Emma to school.

  “Don’t touch, Emma. Just watch,” Lanie said. “See what he’s carrying on his back? That’s food and he’s working very hard to take it home to his family.”

  “You get ice cream for Daddy and me.”

  Lanie’s heart seized. Not for much longer.

  “Look!” Emma was on her feet now, the ant forgotten. “There comes Beau!”

  Missy pulled her Mercedes SUV into the parking lot close enough for Lanie to hear them chatte
ring with each other through the open window.

  “Out!” Beau shouted from the backseat.

  “Hold your horses,” Missy said. “We have to park first. Just like yesterday, the day before, and tomorrow.”

  “Out!”

  “I hear you.”

  Missy got out, opened the back door, and attached a leash to the harness he was zipped into. The harness and leash were new. Harris had brought it home as soon as they’d found out Missy was pregnant again and made her promise not to pick Beau up unless absolutely necessary. Missy was crankily indulgent of his request.

  If only Luke could care for her like that, Lanie wouldn’t be cranky.

  Beau giggled. “I’m a dog! Ruff, ruff!”

  “So you say. So you say every time I put this leash on you.” Missy unbuckled the car seat strap and took his arm to help him down. “Here you go, puppy.”

  “Not a puppy! I’m a big dog!”

  “Oh. My mistake. What’s your name?”

  “Beau,” he said in an exasperated tone.

  “Oh, right,” Missy said. “You have a point. But take that tone with me when you’re twelve and you are so grounded.”

  Emma and Beau spotted each other and proceeded to have a reunion like one of them had been lost in the Mohave Desert for eight years.

  “Hey!” Missy brought her bright smile to greet Lanie. Then it stilled and her eyes clouded. “You look like hell.”

  And it was true. There was a chocolate stain on her t-shirt and she’d pulled on conversation heart pants because she hadn’t had the energy to look for a pair that was more appropriate to the season. There were dark circles under her eyes and she hadn’t been able to stop crying long enough to put on makeup. Still, she felt even worse than she looked.

  Lanie ran her hand over the stain. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll put my apron on when I get to work. No one will see.”

  “Lanie, are you — ”

  But before she could finish, Emma pulled on the tail of Missy’s shirt.

  “Beau’s mommy, Beau’s mommy!” Missy smiled and knelt down to meet her eyes. “What, sugar? Did you want to tell me something?”