Southern Gentlemen

by Jennifer Blake

  At the sink he turned to Kitten. “I’m going to put Chris on the floor for a minute. Will you watch him while I get the juice for your mama?”

  “I can take care of him.”

  He guessed that Kitten was only five or maybe six, but he was sure that if she said she could take care of her brother, she could. “Great. I’ve probably got orange juice. Will that do?”

  “She likes orange juice.”

  “What about you? What do you like?”

  “I like it, too.”

  “And can Chris drink some?”

  “If you don’t give him a lot.”

  “Kitten, do you know everything?”

  “Just about.”

  He opened the refrigerator and found the juice. Also what looked like a chicken casserole, a fresh green salad and a blackberry pie. On top of the pie was a white envelope with his name on it. Hattie hadn’t forgotten his birthday, either.

  He bet she hadn’t imagined it would end like this.

  Carolina knew she had to rest, but she couldn’t keep herself from studying Billy Ray’s house. She had always pictured the inside much this way, simple and homey, the kind of place that grown children visited on holidays to relive childhood memories. It was a house where there would always be a bed if one was needed, a place at the table, a hug, a listening ear.

  She knew, of course, that what she’d imagined had not been Billy Ray’s experience. Like everyone else in Moss Bend, she had watched Yancy Wainwright deteriorate from a brilliant attorney into a belligerent alcoholic. Yancy hadn’t been a storybook father, and Billy Ray hadn’t had a mother at all. His had died bearing a brother who hadn’t lived, either. His grandmother had died soon afterward, and Billy Ray had been raised in a house of men, with Joel Wainwright firmly at the head.

  But the house…The house cried out for better times. For a family who loved it, for children to play in the fields and down beside the creek. In the years of her marriage to Champ, she had been told repeatedly that she imagined things she shouldn’t, that she was too old for fairy tales, and that her delusion that life could be one big happily-ever-after made her unfit to be a wife and mother. But old habits died hard, and despite everything, she heard the house cry out for better times at the same time she heard Whittier Grayson’s accusations.

  The room began to recede, then to spin, gathering speed until she closed her eyes to shut it out. She wondered how high her temperature had climbed. She had been running a fever for days, but this morning she had awakened with a normal temperature. She had been on antibiotics long enough that she had believed herself to be past the crisis.

  She supposed exertion and stress had brought on the relapse. The Graysons’ house was nearly two miles from Joel’s garage. She had carried Chris and her largest purse, stuffed with supplies, the entire way. Since the accident, she hadn’t even been allowed to lift her son, but tonight, despite pneumonia, she had toted him the entire distance. And she had made it, too. Despite every obstacle, she had made it.

  Just in time to collapse into the arms of Billy Ray Wainwright.

  She supposed it was fitting that Billy Ray had been there to catch her. So often in the years of her marriage she had seen Billy from a distance and remembered the sweet innocence of their adolescence, the hours of passionate conversation, the pleasure of stolen kisses. Billy’s attractions had been doubly evident when viewed from her position as Champ’s wife. By then she knew only too well what integrity looked like. She knew how it felt to be seduced by power and prestige, and how little it meant to have the admiration of people she couldn’t admire herself.

  The distant Billy Ray had become the symbol of all the parts of herself that she had given up to marry Champion Grayson. But she had always known that if the distance narrowed between them, that if somehow Billy stepped back into her life and they were face-to-face again, he might swiftly become more than a symbol.

  “Mommy?”

  Carolina opened her eyes to find her daughter standing before her with a plastic tumbler of orange juice. She took it with unsteady hands, and Kitten held out a fist containing two white tablets. Carolina took those gratefully, too, and swallowed them with her juice.

  Kitten snuggled beside her, and although a warm little body was the last thing she needed, she put her arm around her daughter and pulled her even closer.

  “Tell me about the new house,” Kitten said.

  Carolina didn’t have the heart to tell Kitten she was too sick for the game. Her daughter was already too responsible, too grown-up. She closed her eyes and gave it her best shot. “There will be children in the…neighborhood.” She coughed, then went on. “You’ll ride bikes on the sidewalk and climb trees. Big trees…with lots of branches.”

  “Will I have to wear a bike helmet?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Too bad.”

  Carolina gave her a quick squeeze. “We’ll have sleepovers with pizza and video games…and all the little girls you want to invite.”

  “Ten?”

  “If that’s what you want…and in the morning…”

  “Blueberry pancakes!”

  “Exactly.” Carolina rested her head on the back of the sofa. “You’ll ride…a bus to school, or maybe you can walk or even ride your bike if we live close enough. I’ll take you…and Chris swimming every single day in the summer.”

  “In a lake. A real lake,” Kitten reminded her. “Not a pool like Grandpa’s, where I have to stay in the shallow end.”

  “And we’ll bring a picnic to eat…under the trees.”

  “I wish we were there right now!”

  Tears filled Carolina’s eyes, and she squeezed her eyelids tight. “I’m so sorry, Kitten. I guess…I just didn’t know how sick I was.”

  “Are we still running away?”

  “We’re trying….”

  “I don’t think we’re very good at it.”

  Carolina’s next breath sounded like a sob, even to her. “I’ll get you to that house…. I swear I will, sweetheart.”

  “Carolina?”

  She opened her eyes at the sound of Billy’s voice, and the jig was up. The tears slid down her hot cheeks. Some leftover feminine instinct made her wonder what she looked like, flushed and tearstained, but she didn’t really have the strength to care.

  “Joel’s agreed to get your car and bring it here.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He frowned, turning what had always been a solemn face into a somber one. “I’m going to take the kids upstairs and see if I can get them settled. Then I’m going to come down so we can talk. Will you be all right till then?”

  She nodded, because she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “I don’t have a crib. Will Chris be all right on a bed against the wall if Kitten sleeps beside him?”

  “He’ll be fine. Kitten, you won’t mind, will you?”

  Kitten was frowning, too. “Where will you be?” she asked Carolina.

  “Your mama will be in the next bed,” Billy said.

  Kitten looked unhappy, but she followed Billy out of the room. She was too responsible not to.

  Carolina was surprised at how quickly Billy accomplished putting her children to bed. Or maybe she fell asleep while he was doing it. When she opened her eyes again, he was standing in front of her, and his face was still somber.

  “If there was anything else I could do…” She let her voice drift away. She felt marginally better, as if whatever he had given her had nibbled away at the fever. But inside, where it really mattered, she just felt devastated that she had failed. Again.

  “It should still be a little while before Joel gets here. I know how bad you feel. But I’d like a better explanation of what’s going on before he arrives.”

  She studied him. This was the closest they had been in a dozen years. He was the same man, yet so very different. Champ had been beautiful in his youth, but as he matured, marks of the man inside had surfaced. He had grown fleshy because he was un
able to deny himself anything. His boyish smile had given way to a cynical smirk that hardened into something more sinister in the final year of his life.

  Billy had never been beautiful. As a boy he had been tall and lean, even-featured, but so serious that his face seldom lit with a smile. And that had been much too bad, because Billy had a fine smile indeed.

  He had been well liked in high school, but he’d never called attention to himself. In those days Billy Ray could fade into the background whenever the situation called for it. And it often did. He was adept at working behind the scenes. He had learned to bail his father out of jail or avert yet another family disaster with calm logic, a steady gaze, a sincere handshake. She remembered that Joel had tried to protect his grandson from the worst of Yancy’s exploits, but Billy had been forced to deal with many of them, anyway.

  Now Billy’s integrity and maturity were evident in his face. He was a man who would grow more handsome as he aged and Mother Nature stripped away all artifice. He had blue eyes that saw clear through to tomorrow. A chin that said everything about how stubbornly dedicated he was to anything he believed in. A mouth that knew how to smile, but also how to speak plainly.

  If she could trust anyone, she could trust this man.

  “What have you heard about me?” Carolina asked, her voice carefully low so that the children wouldn’t hear. She supposed her pain showed through. She knew exactly what Billy had heard. She knew what everyone in River County believed about her, and she knew why.

  “There’s talk that you were drinking the night Champ was killed.”

  “There’s talk…I was drunk.”

  He didn’t nod, but the acknowledgment was in his eyes.

  “I can’t tell you I wasn’t.” She forced herself to keep her eyes locked with his. “I remember…getting ready for the party that night. And nothing more.”

  “Nothing?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve learned it’s…not uncommon. I suffered a severe concussion. And sometimes our bodies shield us from remembering….”

  He moved to sit beside her. She turned so that they were face-to-face. “Do you drink, Carolina?”

  “Socially. It’s never…been a problem.” She saw that he didn’t believe her. And who could blame him? His father had probably said the same thing. Didn’t alcoholics usually deny that they drank too much?

  “What does this have to do with you leaving tonight?” he said.

  “Has anyone told you…how unstable I am?”

  He frowned. Billy would not be the kind of man who listened to idle gossip, but Moss Bend was a small town. She was surprised that this particular rumor hadn’t caught his attention. After all, when the judge talked, people repeated his words as if they’d fallen off a page of the Good Book.

  “I’m supposed to be an…emotional basket case. I’m supposed…to be incapable of caring for my children.” Despite her hesitation, her voice had risen. She swallowed, and that provoked a coughing spasm. For a moment she couldn’t suck enough oxygen into her lungs, and fear filled her.

  “Calm down, Carolina.” Billy took her hand. “You’re all right. Try for a little breath, not a big one.”

  She managed after a moment to begin breathing normally again.

  “You’re upset.” He didn’t drop her hand.

  “I have a right to be.”

  “I don’t want to tire you. This is hard. I can see—”

  “Whittier wants my children!” The words exploded from deep inside her. “He wants them, particularly Chris. And if…I don’t cooperate with his plans, he’ll put me…out of the picture! And I can’t let that hap-pen.

  He covered her hand so that it was enclosed in his. He rubbed it, and only then did she realize how cold it was. She was burning with fever, but her hand was like ice.

  “They’re his grandchildren, Carolina. Are you sure he’s not just looking out for their best interest? You’ve been ill. First you were injured, and now this….”

  “He’s blackmailing me, Billy.” She looked down at their hands. “He’s spreading rumors that aren’t true. And if…I don’t go along with whatever he wants, he’ll…have me declared an unfit parent And he’ll take the children away. He’s told me so.”

  “But rumors are rumors, Carolina. He would need proof.”

  “Billy, what county…have you been living in?”

  She saw recognition in his eyes, and for the first time since this conversation had begun, she saw understanding.

  “Yes,” she said. “He would lie. He would pass out favors. He wouldn’t…think twice. He never has. He wants his grandchildren. Nothing…will stand in his way.”

  “You know this for a fact? Or you’re guessing?”

  “He has…a piece of paper damning me!”

  He didn’t ask what it was. He waited.

  She debated what to tell him, but in the end she could only tell the truth. She’d lived with enough lies in her marriage to last a lifetime.

  “The judge has the results of my blood alcohol test…on the night of the accident.” She made herself take a breath, then another. Then she delivered the bad news. “According to the test…I was legally drunk.”

  She looked up at him. “How can I prove it’s a lie, Billy? I can’t…remember the accident. I can’t remember the party. And no one…will stand up to the judge. They know what could happen. So…they make themselves believe what they hear about me. And one lie turns into another. I was drunk that night. I killed my own husband. I can’t…take care of my children. I’m imagining things…about the people who’ve tried so hard to help me.”

  She realized she was crying, but she didn’t care. “These tears…could be used against me. I’m crying to get my way. Or I’m crying…because I can’t control myself. Don’t you see how it works? Running away will just be another sign that I’m unstable and unfit.”

  “Carolina…”

  “All I’m asking…is that you not tell anyone I’m here. Please, Billy. I’m not asking you to believe me. Just give me…the benefit of the doubt. Please.”

  He was weighing her words. She envisioned the scale of justice, but it wasn’t tipping in her favor. And why should it? What proof did she have?

  “The judge and I have an uneasy truce,” he said at last “But I believe he’s capable of the things you say. My father hated him. I don’t know why, but I know he did.”

  “I’m still the girl you knew.” She touched her chest. “Deep inside. I’m still that girl. Please, Billy, believe in that girl, even…if you can’t believe anything the woman has told you.”

  He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “I want you to go up to bed now. I’ll be sure Joel doesn’t tell anyone you’re here. We’ll take this a step at a time. But I won’t betray you, Carolina.”

  He touched his chest, then he smiled a little, but it was a sad smile. “I guess the boy you knew is still here, too.”

  3

  Hattie McFerguson was big-boned and big-hearted, a strong woman with strong opinions about everyone she encountered. She was the perfect choice to come to Billy Ray’s to take care of Carolina, and she agreed without hesitation as soon as he phoned her the next morning.

  Hattie, in jeans big enough for a stevedore and a bright yellow River County Road Race T-shirt, arrived before Carolina woke up. But Kitten and Chris were sitting at the kitchen table sampling Billy Ray’s selection of cereals, and Kitten, at least, was giving a spoon-by-spoon critique.

  “I’m not supposed to have sweet cereal.”

  “If you think that’s sweet, try this.” He poured his final option into the last clean bowl and pushed it across the table. “Marshmallows and chocolate chips.”

  She looked at it longingly. “Pretty teeth make a pretty smile.”

  “Did your mama tell you that?”

  “My grandpa.”

  “Ah. The judge.”

  Kitten took a big bite. “I’m not supposed to talk when I chew, either.”

  “I guess you might lose a
marshmallow or two.”

  She giggled, a sound he hadn’t heard before. He was admiring the effect when Hattie marched in.

  “You feeding these children your trashy cereal, Billy Ray?”

  “I’m trying to. They’ve been taught better, but I’m making headway.”

  “Hi, Kitten.” Hattie strode across the room and swept the little girl into her arms. “And Mr. Christopher.” She put an arm around the toddler, too. “Where’s your mama, Kitty Cat?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  Hattie looked up at Billy Ray. She had a plain square face and golden-brown skin bequeathed her by a mixture of ancestors. Elaborate cornrows peeked from under a colorful African print scarf, and handmade turquoise earrings hung past her chin. “How’s she doing?”

  “She coughed through the night, but it seemed to ease early this morning. I think she wore herself out yesterday and relapsed.”

  “That would be like Carolina.”

  “She said you were a friend.”

  “She doesn’t have enough.” Hattie glanced at the children, and Billy Ray knew that more revelations would have to wait.

  “She doesn’t want anyone to know where she is, Hattie. Can you keep this a secret?”

  “You don’t work in the houses of this town without knowing how to keep secrets, Billy Ray. Some I’ve kept forever. Some I’ve saved until…”

  He knew he had chosen the right person to help.

  “Hattie?”

  Everyone turned toward the doorway. A wan Carolina entered the room. Billy Ray started toward her, but she waved him away. “I feel better. You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late.”

  “You shouldn’t be up at all. I was going to bring you breakfast,” Billy Ray said. “And Hattie’s here to watch the children for the day. All you have to do is rest.”

  She looked as if she had something to say about that but would save it until later.

  “I’m eating cereal,” Kitten said. “It’s like candy.”

  “I’m ruining their smiles.” Casually Billy Ray took Carolina by the arm and steered her toward a chair at the head of the table. “Watch them, would you? They may go into insulin shock.”