by Cara Colter
The stars rose in the sky outside the living room window. The CD changed and the sound of a lone flute filled the room.
J.D. began to sing. And not about Annabel the cow, either. His voice deep and gravelly, rough with feeling, he sang a song about a warrior who had left the one he loved behind, who lay on a bed of rocky ground the night before the battle, thinking of the green fields of home and the green eyes of his lady lover.
“If he dies,” she whispered, “I am going to cry.”
And of course, the warrior died, and she cried.
J.D. lifted her tears on a gentle fingertip to his lips, and licked it. “My singing always makes people cry,” he teased.
“Where did you learn that song?”
“My mother sang it sometimes, she sang it as though her heart were breaking.” And then he told her about his mother.
She knew he had just given her the gift of his complete trust, and it was as if she could feel the air in the room changing around them, becoming as warm as an embrace, tingling with promise, glowing with the soft hopes of two people who had lost their ability to hope somewhere along the way.
After a long time, he kissed her, but gently. He whispered, “I’m afraid of what happens next, Tally Smith.”
“What happens next?” she said huskily.
And he kissed her again. It was not like any other kiss they had shared. The barriers were completely gone between them. It was as if their souls had melted together, and nothing was left to separate them.
His kiss was tender and exquisite and welcoming.
He guided her over to the couch, and they sat down. He broke the kiss but held her tight.
“Lord,” he murmured, “help me be the man I need to be.”
She reached for his lips, but he touched hers with his finger, shook his head slightly. “No more. Tonight, just let me hold you.”
She snuggled against him, aware of the rich feeling of contentment within her, aware of having never in her entire life felt this good, this at peace, this connected to another human being. He wrapped his arms tight around her, pulled her into him, rested his chin on her hair, kissed the crown of her head.
And she slept.
In the morning she woke up alone and the aloneness made her feel frightened, lonely in a way she had never felt before.
Because she had never allowed herself to feel so completely trusting, to lean so hard on another person as she had come to lean on J.D.
She heard giggles from the kitchen and her sensation of being frightened and alone evaporated. She tiptoed to the doorway. Morning light was spilling in the window. J.D. and Jed were at the kitchen table slurping Popsicles, and Beauford was at his bowl eating his own blue one.
They all looked up at her, guilty.
“I know it’s not the breakfast of champions,” J.D. said.
“Who cares? What flavors do you have left?”
“Cherry and lime. Beauford got the last blue one.”
“Not lime,” she said, and held out her hand for the cherry one. She sat down at the table. She was in someone else’s clothes, in someone else’s house, she was rumpled and crumpled, and her hair was most certainly a mess.
She bit into the cherry Popsicle and decided she had never been happier.
“I guess I should put my clothes in the dryer,” she said. “I got distracted last night and didn’t take them out of the washer.”
“Really?” he said innocently.
She gave him a little punch and he howled in pretended pain until Jed was screeching with laughter.
His washer and dryer were in a little room by the back door, and she went there.
It felt so…domestic, somehow, settled.
She took her clothes out of the washer. They were ruined, of course. They would never come clean again. She should probably just put them in the garbage.
Or save them.
For memories.
Better yet, for future trips to the mud bog.
Her and Jed’s clothes looked after, she noticed that the clothes J.D. had worn yesterday were in a heap on the floor.
It increased that feeling of being settled when she picked them up to throw them in the washer for him. It was a little like playing house.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and imagined this was her life.
The boy and the man eating breakfast, her putting a load of laundry in, the laughter ringing, the love singing throughout the house.
A silly fantasy, she thought, opening her eyes. Out of long habit, she checked the pockets of J.D.’s jeans before she put them in the washer.
There was three dollars and some change in the front right pocket, a dog biscuit and several rubber washers in the left one.
In the back pocket was a piece of paper, folded, the mud had nearly ruined it. She wondered if it was important, or just something she could toss in the garbage.
She unfolded it, and through the streaks of mud, she saw masculine spiky handwriting, and the words What a Woman Should Know.
Frowning slightly, she read all about what J. D. Turner thought a woman should know.
His list might have been funny, if it hadn’t been so insulting. The list made it apparent what he really thought of her: that she was so superficial she’d put appliances ahead of her heart, that she was too uptight to raise a child properly, that left to her own devices she would end up a dried prune of a woman.
Nothing that had happened between them had been spontaneous at all. It had all been part of a plan to change her into something more palatable to him, someone more worthy of raising his son.
She had made a grave mistake. She had trusted J. D. Turner. She had let go of control. Her whole life experience had tried to tell her that both trust and loss of control were harbingers to disaster. She realized that if she was going to survive this with even a shred of her dignity intact, she had to leave and she had to leave now.
Chapter Ten
J.D. knew as soon as he looked at her face that something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t the same as that pinched look she got when she let go, and then pulled back, and then let go again. It wasn’t the same as that at all.
In fact, Tally was trying to smile bravely, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Her eyes held a terrible wound in them.
“I’ve decided,” she said brightly, “that you and Jed need some time together. Without me. To bond. So you can tell him the truth.”
“I can tell him the truth right now,” he said. “Ten seconds.”
He went down on one knee, in front of his son’s chair. He gently wiped some of the bright orange Popsicle ring from around his child’s mouth. “Jed, I have something to tell you. I’m your Daddy. I didn’t know about you for a long, long time, but now that I do, it’s about the happiest thing that ever happened to me.”
Jed flung his arms around J.D.’s neck and J.D. felt a little trickle of melting Popsicle going down his spine. “Daddy,” Jed whispered in his ear. “I always wanted a daddy.”
J.D. felt the rise and fall of his son’s chest, the beat of his heart against his own. Then Jed reared back, and looked at him, his eyes wide and round. “Is Beau my bwudda?”
J.D. might have laughed, celebrated how momentous an occasion this was by bringing out another round of Popsicles, except for the look on her face. The pain there made J.D. set his Popsicle down and get up, move toward her.
“All the same,” she said backing toward the door, “I’m going to go. I need some time to myself.”
“Tell me what happened,” he said, reaching out and touching the now familiar curve of her shoulder with the palm of his hand. She flinched, and he frowned and took his hand away.
“Nothing happened. I just feel mixed up. I’m marrying another man.”
But it was deeper than that, and he watched her face carefully for clues, at the same time as answering, firmly, “No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am!” A little temper starting to show, which was better than the sadness that was darkening he
r eyes to a shade of pitch. She looked for all the world like someone had up and died on her.
“Let me tell you something,” he said, and then tried for the gentle approach, “and sorry if it hurts, but it’s the truth and you need to hear it. That man is not very interested in marrying you, not now and not ever.”
She stiffened as if he had slapped her.
“Nothing personal, I’m sure,” he added hastily. “You just aren’t very well suited.”
“And you are the expert on what suits me for what reason?”
“Come on Tally, I’ve seen you playing in the mud. That makes me a bit of an expert.” When she looked unconvinced, he admitted, “Besides, I talked to Herbert about it. I don’t think there are wedding bells in your future. At least not with him.”
“You talked to him about our wedding? When?”
From the little edge of hysteria in her voice, J.D. realized telling her that may have been a small tactical error.
“I gave him a call the other night. Just to chat. You know, since you had led me to believe he was going to be a significant other in my child’s life. Soon. You’d set a date, were your exact words. But he said you hadn’t.”
“I never said we set a date. I said we were going to set a date. And you phoned Herbert? And talked about me?”
“I just asked about the wedding plans. That’s all. And I didn’t get the impression he was really excited. You know, Tally, the man who marries you should be excited about it. Really excited.” He could feel his own heartbeat move into double time at the thought of being the one lucky enough to marry Tally Smith.
“Just because he doesn’t show his excitement in the same way as you, does not mean he is not excited. We can’t all be Neanderthals.”
If J.D. was really an Neanderthal, he’d grab her by her hair and take her back to his cave. But the flat light in her eyes required sensitivity. Not his specialty.
“Tally, don’t be dumb.”
“I’m marrying him,” she said with ferocious resolve. “And I am not turning into an old prune because of it. In fact, I am going to be happy. Deliriously happy with my stainless steel appliances, and my rules, and my lack of germs. I am going to be happy with a life of lovely cleanliness, that unfolds predictably, without ugly surprises.”
He had a sinking feeling in his gut. The worst possible thing had happened. The opposite side had found the battle plan.
Only she didn’t feel like the opposing side anymore, and it hadn’t felt like a battle for a long time. Not until just this moment, and now it felt like he was battling for his life.
Which is what he should have said. Instead he blurted out, “You found my list! Where was it? I spent the better part of yesterday looking for it.”
It sounded like an accusation, and he realized it was another tactically poor move because of the look of deepening hurt on her face.
“It was in your back jean pocket. And you were looking for it why? So you could check my progress? Give me a report card?”
“Tally, it wasn’t like that.” It had been in his back pocket the whole time? Geez, if he had found it, he wouldn’t be in this awful predicament.
Maybe if he’d found it in time, he could have avoided the falling in love with her part, and stuck to the plan and completed his mission successfully.
Missed the falling in love with her part? But that had been the best part.
“Tally,” he said, firmly, strongly, “my feelings for you are real.”
“Your feelings for me? Which me? From the very beginning you wanted to change me into something I never was. You wanted me to be free and wild. I bet you told yourself it was for Jed’s sake didn’t you?”
“Well yes, but—”
“Was it fun for you? Playing with me? Practicing your warped form of behavior modification on me? It must have been a real laugh for you when you saw me coming around, becoming exactly what you wanted me to be, giving up myself for you.”
“You never gave up yourself for me,” he said quietly assured. “You became yourself.”
“That shows you not only know nothing about me, you know nothing about women.” She took the note from the pocket of his jeans and flattened the wrinkles out of it with the palm of her hand. “What A Woman Should Know,” she read, “as if you are some kind of expert. As if you were going to write a book or something. You arrogant, sanctimonious son of a bitch.”
He noticed, dully, she had actually cursed. In front of Jed.
That should have felt like he had gained a whole lot of ground with her. So why did he feel so terrible?
“Tally, you need to let me explain.”
“By all means,” she said. “I’ll invite you to my wedding. In the receiving line you should have thirty seconds or so.”
“Getting married to spite me is almost as bad as getting married because you think it’s a good thing to do for Jed.”
“As if I’d get married to spite you! That would mean you mattered! I’m going to marry Herbert because of the way he makes me feel. Safe. Respected. Admired. He doesn’t have a list of things he’d like to change about me.”
“He’d like it if you liked football,” J.D. said morosely, though by now he should have figured out just to keep his mouth shut.
“Jed, come here,” Tally said, throwing J.D. one last look that was solid ice, that cut him from her world.
The little boy flew into her arms. Over the ruffled surface of his son’s hair, he could see she had started to cry.
“Do you want to stay with your daddy for a little while. And with Beau?” she asked, her voice broken.
Jed touched her tears, but nodded solemnly.
“Okay, sweetheart,” she said and set him down, trying to smile through the tears.
“You’ll only be at the Palmtree if he gets lonely, right?”
“I’m going home,” she said. “I can come back and get him in twelve days or you can bring him to me.”
J.D. wondered if this was the nightmare his life was going to be, seeing her for thirty seconds while he picked up his son or dropped him off.
On the other hand, maybe all was not lost. Tally said she didn’t trust him, but wasn’t she trusting him?
With what she loved most in all the world? With her child? Her nephew, the son of her heart?
Possibly this was not nearly as bad as he thought. He just had to come up with a brand-new mission strategy. That was all.
Still, as he stood at the door and watched her go, Jed standing on the porch waving uncertainly, J.D. knew he was about to take on the mission that would affect the rest of his life. There could be no mistakes this time. Not one.
He lined up Jed and Beau, and eyed them. His team. “Okay, boys,” he said, “this is what we’re going to do.”
Tally lay on her couch, with a cold cloth over her eyes, exhausted. The drapes were closed, and despite the bright sun outside, it was dark and dreary in her apartment. The TV was on to keep her company, but she wasn’t watching the soap opera that unfolded. Her own life had become quite enough of a soap opera.
She had been crying for three days straight. The floor beside her was littered with tissues, and her cheeks were streaked and her eyes were puffy.
The phone jangled by her head, and she let it ring until she heard Kailey’s voice on the answering machine.
“Tally, pick up the phone,” Kailey wheedled. “There must be something I can do. And thanks for your message to buy Kleenex stocks, but I don’t think that’s it. Please, please, please pick up the phone.”
Tally considered this, and then groped for the phone on the end table at her head. “What?” she said. Her voice sounded raspy from crying and little use.
“What are you doing?” Kailey asked conversationally.
“Getting ready to run for the Miss Canada pageant. How about you?”
“No,” Kailey said, “I mean really.”
“Okay, I’m crying, the same as I did yesterday, and the day before. I may cry for a whole week. May
be a month. I haven’t decided yet.” Shades of the old control there. As if it was hers to decide how long this dark place of grief within her would last.
“This just isn’t like you,” Kailey said uncertainly.
Of course, no one knew the first thing about her, not even her sister. Tally had decided to give up being the strong one.
“Kailey, I am no longer engaged to Herbert and the most handsome—not to mention aggravating man—in the entire universe has played me for a fool. I have something to cry about.”
“But you never cried before,” Kailey said, “when all those things would go wrong with Elana, you never fell apart.”
“I probably should have. Maybe that’s what I’m doing now, making up for lost time.” Discovering I’m human, just like everyone else. And it sucks.
“I’m glad you’re not marrying Herbert,” Kailey said after a long silence. “I like him and everything, just not for you. How did he take it, anyway?”
“I don’t think he’s lying on his couch crying right now,” Tally said dryly. No, there had just been no mistaking the relief in Herbert’s voice, which only made everything worse, because J.D. had been right about that, too.
“You aren’t crying for Herbert, either,” Kailey pointed out, always helpful. “You’re crying because you fell madly in love with J. D. Turner, and who can blame you?”
Tally sighed. That would about wrap it up, all right. She took another tissue from the box and blew her nose, and then changed the subject. They both knew who she was crying over. She tried for a touch of humor. “Did you buy those tissue stocks?” Her delivery was terrible and it fell flat.
Kailey tried to go along with it, though. “No, but I’m going to.”
“Great. Now hang up the phone. I have several boxes to get through tonight if I’m going to drive the price up.”
“I’m bringing you a pizza for supper. You don’t have to let me in or anything. Just don’t leave it sitting in the hall. I’ll just knock and leave it for you, okay?”
Pizza sounded pretty good, actually. She’d eat it before the gallon of Double Doozy Chocolate Ice Cream that she had in the freezer. She didn’t even bother to remove the spoon, just left it standing in the ice cream for stuffing convenience.
