Sweet Gone South

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “This is my mommy!” And she reached for Lanie’s hand.

  Lanie felt her heart drop when she thought it had no further to fall. Yet, she found a smile for Emma.

  “It’s time to go inside, Emma.” Lanie took her to the door to turn her over to the teacher’s aide. “Today’s a Pammy day, so she will pick you up. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “You pick me up!”

  “Not today,” Lanie said. “Give me a hug.”

  “Bye, Mommy!”

  When Emma disappeared inside, Lanie felt her face let go of the smile that she didn’t feel.

  “Don’t you dare move from this spot,” Missy told her as she unzipped Beau’s harness and kissed him goodbye.

  Denise Eubanks, all smiles, walked toward them with Justin in tow. Missy gave her a not now look. Missy’s not now look had made her famous, if not popular.

  “What the hell was that?” Missy whispered as they walked down the street.

  “You’re walking away from your car,” Lanie pointed out.

  “So I am. You walked the two blocks from your shop. It won’t hurt me. Do you want to stop at the diner and have breakfast?”

  “I have to make candy.”

  “It’s just as well. Clearly you’re upset and we wouldn’t have any privacy at the diner. We’re going to your apartment.”

  “Missy, did you hear me say I need to make candy? I have eight orders that have to go out this afternoon. Plus, I need to make a few things for the shop.”

  “You’re in no shape to make candy. You will ruin it. You’re going to talk to me.”

  It had been a few weeks since Missy had been to Lanie’s apartment, and Lanie looked at it though Missy’s eyes. Junk mail and newspapers were piled up on the dusty coffee table. Half her DVDs and CDs were missing and the others had fallen over helter-skelter. The plants needed watering. It was like the once cozy little dwelling had ceased to be a home.

  “Have you eaten this morning?” Missy demanded.

  “Yes,” she lied.

  Missy could tell. She folded her arms over her chest and demanded, “What?”

  “Uh, coffee?”

  “That’s not eating.”

  “I put some cream in it.”

  “Sit down. I’m going to fix you something.”

  Lanie sighed and sank to the sofa. “I don’t have time. The caramels. They have to set up.”

  “You can’t make candy in the shape you’re in.”

  Lanie heard Missy rambling around the kitchen. She could ramble all day and she still wouldn’t find any food.

  “It’s not much, but it’s what I could find.” Missy set a steaming mug on the table next to Lanie and handed her a plate with a toasted bagel smeared with peanut butter. “That’s tea. You don’t have any coffee.” She did. It was just across the hall.

  “Thanks.” Lanie took a sip of the tea and made a face.

  “I know you like sugar and lemon but there wasn’t any,” she said pointedly.

  “Yes. I guess I’m going to have to get some groceries.” Lanie’s eyes filled with tears. “A lot of my stuff has just migrated over to Luke’s.”

  “Oh, honey.” Missy closed in for a hug. “Are you even living here?”

  Lanie sat up and set her plate on the coffee table. “I am. That is, I’m sleeping here. I eat all my meals with Luke and Emma. Or I did.”

  “What happened? And what is this business with Emma calling you mommy?”

  Lanie laughed a watery little laugh devoid of all humor. “It’s your fault, at least indirectly.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  “A few weeks ago, after Emma had been to your house to play, she said that she saw you and Harris kissing. Luke told her that mommies and daddies kiss. Then last night she — ,” Lanie’s voice caught.

  “Saw you and Luke kissing.”

  “Yes. And who would have imagined she would have put it together? But since I was kissing her daddy, she thought that made me her mommy. I swear, Missy, Luke almost passed out. I started to explain it to her, but he stopped me. He said not to do it that night. Well, in a way that made sense. I thought there was a good possibility that she would have forgotten it by this morning.”

  “Not Emma,” Missy said.

  “But this morning, she hadn’t forgotten a thing. She hasn’t called me Lanie once. Luke was on his way to run, and I told him I’d talk to her, and he asked me not to. He said that he and I would talk about it tonight after Emma goes to sleep.”

  “And you think he’s going to say what?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? He’s going to tell me that it was a bad idea for me to help him with Emma, and an even worse idea to get involved with me. He’ll probably move.”

  “You don’t know that,” Missy said without conviction.

  “I do know it.” Tears ran down Lanie’s cheeks.

  “Lanie, if that does happen, are you more upset at losing Luke or Emma?”

  “Oh, Missy. I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.”

  • • •

  Luke entered the Merritt National Bank and went straight to Karen Spurgin’s desk.

  “Hello, Luke,” she said pleasantly. She’d been taking care of his banking since he’d come to town and he liked that she still called him Luke. That meant she had no plans to do anything to land her in his court so she didn’t need to suck up to him.

  “Hi, Karen. I need to get in my safe deposit box.”

  “Do you have your key?” she asked as she opened her filing cabinet and thumbed through the folders.

  “Right here.” He held it up.

  “Sign here.” She put a form in front of him.

  The room with the locked boxes reminded him of a mausoleum. Not too far off, really. He wondered how many of the boxes held the remnants of past lives.

  “4476,” Karen said. “Ah, you have one of the large boxes.” She fit her key in the lock and stepped aside so he could do the same.

  Yes, he had a big box. A small one would have been large enough for his grandfather’s coin collection, the savings bonds, stock certificates, passports, and such, but he’d had to get a big one to accommodate Carrie’s jewelry.

  He pulled the box out and set it on the table.

  “Take your time,” Karen said and the heavy steel door closed behind her.

  He didn’t touch the box at first. He needed to mentally prepare, though it wasn’t as if he was going to have see all her rings, bracelets, and other little trinkets tangled together like pirate’s treasure. No. After she’d died, his mother had taken it all to be cleaned. Then she and his sister, Arabelle, had packed it away in velvet bags and leather boxes. At his request, they’d labeled it, not by the names of the pieces, but with the appropriate time for it to be passed to Emma. In some cases, it was by age. In others, it was by event.

  He opened the box. There wasn’t enough time in the universe to prepare, so he might as well get on with it. And there they were, scattered on top of the papers, with tags in his mother’s neat finishing school penmanship. He picked up a white leather case, creamy with age. He knew what was inside: the pearls Carrie almost always wore. He hadn’t bought those for her; they had been her mother’s. High school graduation, his mother had written on the tag. Next, he picked up a royal blue velvet bag labeled twelve years old. From the weight of the bag, he could tell it contained more than one thing. He had no idea what, but had no doubt it would be appropriate for a twelve-year-old. Probably Carrie’s charm bracelet. Maybe some little necklaces and plain earrings. Would Emma’s ears be pierced by then? When was that appropriate? Carrie wasn’t here and he had no idea. But Lanie would know.

  His gut tightened. Should he do this? Could he?

  He sifted through the other bags an
d boxes. College graduation. Sixteen years old. Eighteen years old. Her first dance. Fourteen years old. Her wedding day. Her debut. Upon the birth of her first child or thirty years old, whichever comes first.

  He tried to imagine Emma at those stages of her life but he couldn’t. There was no way he could get her there alone. His mother and Arabelle were happy to help but they couldn’t be there for everything. It might only be hair bows and correct birthday party attire right now but there was a whole big life in front of them filled with bras, long dresses, dances, boyfriends, and wedding plans. He rubbed his temples and stared at the bags and boxes that were the roadmap of Emma’s life. If it were left to him to blunder along, she’d be wearing a bee Halloween costume to her prom. She’d pretend to sting her date and she wouldn’t have a bra. Then the boy would seduce her because she’d have no idea what was going on. She’d get pregnant. He’d kill the boy. To escape jail, he’d have to take Emma and flee the country. Then he’d have another baby to raise and ruin.

  Idly, he lined up the jewelry in chronological order. Carrie had liked her jewelry, which had made her easy to buy for. He’d bought a good portion of this.

  He wondered if Lanie would be easy to buy for.

  But he had not come here to go through Carrie’s treasures. He was looking for another velvet bag — a gray threadbare one, if memory served.

  The bag held the ring left to him by his grandmother, intended to be used for an engagement ring. But in spite of the three large perfect diamonds, he had known Carrie wouldn’t like the antique platinum filigree setting so he hadn’t given it to her, had never even shown it to her. Instead, he’d taken her to Cartier where they had chosen a ring together. He allowed himself to indulge in that memory — how he’d laughed when she’d tried to be demure and insist that she favored a modest stone in a plain setting. How he’d known by the look in her eyes the second she’d seen the ring she really wanted, the one that now sat in its original box waiting for Emma. He’d been sharper then or maybe he’d just been attuned to Carrie. He always could read her.

  Not so with Lanie. He had no idea if she would like this ring, or if she would even accept it. And would he be relieved if she didn’t? On some level, probably. Yet he wanted her. Emma needed her. If things had just progressed on as they were going, maybe they would have arrived at this spot anyway so it didn’t matter if he was ready. This was what was best for Emma and Lanie. He would catch up. No one ever had to know.

  Right now, Carrie was somewhere, stamping her foot and howling at the moon, with all the sweet fire she’d possessed when she was alive. Several months ago, his father had said to him, “You should think about dating, son. Carrie would want you to move on with your life.” Then they’d both laughed because they knew it wasn’t true. What Carrie would want was for him to curse every sunrise that happened without her until the day he died.

  “Sorry, Carrie Lou,” he whispered. “I might never have done it, if not for Emma. She needs a normal family. But this has nothing to do with you and me. It’s a whole different box.”

  He opened the worn bag and let his grandmother’s ring fall into the palm of his hand. After he’d bought Carrie’s engagement ring, he’d talked to his mother about giving this ring to Arabelle. She had advised against it. At the time, Arabelle had just entered medical school. “Wait,” Gail Avery had said. “We wouldn’t want to give her a ring more generous than what her future husband will be able to buy for her. Just hold on to it for now.”

  And he had. Arabelle was still single and he hadn’t thought about this ring in a long time. He certainly never thought he’d need it for an engagement ring.

  Yet, here he was. He sighed.

  Would it fit Lanie? Did it need to be cleaned? If so, he would have to wait until after the weekend to take it to Reed’s Jewelry. This engagement had to remain absolutely top secret until his father’s office issued a statement. They’d probably want a picture too. If the press were left to their own devices, they would likely rehash the whole mess, along with Mallory’s lies.

  Would Lanie expect a declaration of love? Of course she would. Engagements came with love and she deserved it. Could he honestly give it to her? Maybe. After all, there were all kinds of love.

  He could do what he had to. And he would be damned happy about it. He dropped the ring in his pocket and snapped the steel box closed. Then he opened the heavy door and caught Karen’s eye.

  “I’m ready,” he said with resolve. And he was.

  Then an odd stray thought crossed his mind. Once they were engaged, one way or the other, he was going to get Lanie in some clothes that fit her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Five dozen dark chocolate stars — the last task of the day, all done and perfect. Lanie picked up the tray and headed toward the storefront. It was fifteen minutes until closing time but she would go ahead and put them in the refrigerated case.

  “Hi,” came the voice from behind her and up went the tray in the air and down came five dozen perfect dark chocolate stars to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry.” Luke rushed into the candy kitchen and bent over to help her clean up the mess. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She threw the candy into the thrash and picked up the tray. And it didn’t matter. If she was about to lose her whole life, the citizens of Merritt could do without chocolate stars for one day.

  Luke smoothed back a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “You’re so tired. And no wonder. You work hard here and I have been letting you do everything for Emma and me.”

  Ah, the first step to letting her down easy. The it’s for your own good tactic.

  “Not everything,” she said, wiping her hands on the towel that hung from her apron.

  “How about I take you out for dinner? Pam called. She’s taking her little cousin for pizza and to some kind of princess tea party and story hour at the bookstore. She wanted to take Emma along. I thought it would give us a chance to have dinner and then come back and talk.”

  So this was it. She wasn’t even going to get to see Emma. She was probably never going to see her again.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have the talk first.” There was no way she was going to sit through a meal with him, knowing what was coming.

  “All right.” Luke nodded. He wore a French blue shirt that intensified his eyes and he’d loosened his tie. “If we don’t have time to go out afterward, we can order pizza.”

  Ha! Like she was going to eat with the man who’d just dumped her. Like she would ever be able to eat again.

  “I’ll come over in a little while. I want to shower first.” This might kill her and she didn’t want to die in out-of-season chef’s pants.

  When Luke opened his door for her a half hour later, he was wearing khaki shorts, a white golf shirt, and no shoes. She loved him barefoot, loved seeing that tattoo on his ankle.

  “You look pretty,” he said. Well, she’d tried. Though they were snugger than she liked, she’d put on the yellow linen cropped pants and white cotton sweater Tolly had bought for her birthday last year.

  To her surprise, Luke took her in his arms. To her surprise, she didn’t have the strength to pull away. Hating herself, she clung to him. He didn’t kiss her neck or let his hand drift to her bottom. This wasn’t a sexy embrace but a comforting one, which proved he knew she was going to need comfort.

  She pulled away.

  “I’m sorry I made you spill your candy,” he said. “And I’m sorry that I let you work so hard.”

  “You aren’t responsible for everything bad that happens, Luke.” She walked toward the sofa, but changed her mind and sat down in the club chair. “Let’s talk.”

  He smiled a tight little smile. “Let’s do.” He sat on the ottoman and faced her. “You might know what I’m going to say.”

 
“I might. But I think I’m going to make you say it anyway. I think you owe it to me after the full court press. But I just want to say, I never, ever encouraged Emma to call me mommy. You heard it when I did.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “I didn’t think that. You put Emma’s interests above everything in your life. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “Yeah, well.” She dragged her hand across her face. So the buttering up before the bomb had started. Probably the next words out of his mouth would be it’s not you, it’s me.

  “I’m going to get right to the point.”

  “Good idea.” In five minutes, maybe less, it would be over and she’d be gone. She wouldn’t ask why, ask him to reconsider, or even ask if she would ever be allowed to see Emma.

  “I’ve been thinking about love, Lanie — the different kinds of love. Though we have not been seeing each other long, I have come to a conclusion. I love you, Lanie. It’s a quiet, settled love, a love of satisfaction and one that won’t burn out.” He reached into the pocket of his shorts and withdrew something. “Can you take that love and this ring, Lanie? Can you take me and Emma? We want you for all time.”

  What? This wasn’t what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to say — well, it didn’t matter.

  The ring that lay in his palm was a diamond ring. It looked old and she knew platinum when she saw it.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  He nodded. “Well, ultimately, yes. For now, I’m asking you to get engaged. I thought we’d take a little time about setting a date. Give Emma a chance to get used to the idea and give you time to make a wedding — you know, the dress and all. It takes time. Also, we’d need to decide what we want to do about living arrangements. Whether we want to buy a house right away or continue to live here a while. I suppose turning both apartments into a bigger living space could also be an option though I don’t know if — ”

  “Wait!” She waved her hands. “You aren’t going to tell me that you’ve made a mistake, that you realized you had to end this when Emma called me mommy?”