The gasps behind her were audible. Gloria reached her husband’s side and put her hand on Carolina’s arm. She was a small woman who disappeared to Atlanta every five years and returned weeks later looking like a much younger woman. In addition to face-lifts, she pursued a rigid diet and had her hair colored an attractive ash blond. Only the expression in her eyes gave away the fact that she was nearing sixty-five.
“You’re not well,” Gloria said. “I believe you need to rest awhile, dear. Why don’t we go back to the—”
Carolina shook off her hand. “I am perfectly well. But Billy Ray Wainwright isn’t. Tonight someone followed him to his grandfather’s garage and beat him senseless. The same garage where you tried to take custody of my children this morning, Judge. Without a court order. Without my permission. Doesn’t that seem like an odd coincidence?”
“I don’t patrol the streets of Moss Bend, Carolina. I try criminals, I don’t arrest them. I’m sorry if your boyfriend was attacked, but the fact that you think it had anything to do with me is proof that your children need someone else to care for them.”
“Billy Ray gave me shelter when I took my children and escaped from this house, and now he’s acting as my attorney. Today he stood up to you and refused to let you steal my children. Even your most ardent supporters will have trouble discounting the possibility that you were behind the beating, Judge.”
He laughed. “My most ardent supporters know I’m not a thug.”
“But you’re a powerful man who is not above hiring thugs to do your dirty work. Power has a funny way of corrupting people. They begin to believe they have a right to make the world work the way they want it to. They begin to believe they have a right to control everyone who steps into their path. Their wives, their children, their in-laws.”
She switched her gaze to Gloria. “Gloria, this man destroyed your son. Champ was an alcoholic and a drug abuser when he died, a violent man with no self-control and no morals. Will you allow your husband to destroy your grandchildren, too?”
“You’ve said enough!” The judge grabbed her by the arm. “You may say whatever you like about me, but I won’t have you talk about my son this way!”
“If you take me to court and try to get custody of my children, I’ll say a lot more, and I will back up every word of it.” She shook off his hand, but she knew he only let her go because the room was filled with people.
She turned, but she didn’t leave. “Please don’t be embarrassed that you were forced to witness this,” she told the gaping guests. “I’m here right now because I need witnesses. You’ve watched me grow up. You know who I am. I’m not the person the Graysons are claiming I’ve become. I’m the woman you’ve always believed me to be. But I’m a woman who will not let these people steal her children or destroy the people I care about. Not anymore.”
She sighed and shook her head. “That’s it. And now you’ll have something really interesting to talk about tonight, won’t you.”
She headed for the door, and the guests parted nervously to give her a clear path.
She was almost there when she heard a rapid click of heels behind her. She turned to see her mother-in-law bearing down on her. Carolina stepped out onto the porch and Gloria followed her, closing the door behind them.
“Just what are you trying to do to us?” Gloria demanded.
“I believe that’s perfectly clear.”
“Must you destroy us all?”
Carolina searched her mother-in-law’s artificially young face. “Gloria,” she said at last, “you and I have had our differences, but I know you’re a better person than he is. And you know it, too. Don’t let him do this. We both know what Champ had become by the time he died. We both know why. You can’t do anything about Champ. But you can be sure the same fate doesn’t await Kitten and Chris. That can be your redemption.”
“Who are you to speak of redemption? You killed my son!”
Tears sprang to Carolina’s eyes, but she shook her head. “I was at the wheel of the car that night. That’s all I know. But I can tell you this. Sometimes I think Champ is better off dead. He was in hell while he was living here on earth. Whatever was waiting for him on the other side couldn’t have been worse than that.”
7
Billy Ray lowered himself to his desk chair and turned it sideways so he could stretch out his legs. It had taken a week before he could sit comfortably at all, but now, two weeks after the beating, his bruises were fading. Yesterday he had discarded the sling Garth had given him to immobilize his shoulder.
“What do you want first? The morning’s faxes, the mail or the phone messages?” Fran had followed him to his desk; now she stood over him like a mother who was determined to make her teenage son clean his room.
“Give me the most important of each.”
“We’re still not caught up. Next time you get beat up, do it on vacation.”
“Good idea. Next time I’ll ask for a rain check.”
Her voice didn’t soften, but her expression did. “You look a little better today.”
“No place to go but up.”
“I’d like to wring that Doug Fletcher’s neck. If he wanted to, he could find out who did this!”
But, of course, Doug didn’t want to find out. Billy Ray had limped into Doug’s office the morning after the attack, only to find Doug unavailable to him. Doug had taken three days to get around to talking to him, and nothing good had come from their conversation.
Doug hadn’t bothered to ask Billy Ray how he was doing. He’d sat at his desk with his feet propped high, and he’d shrugged after listening to Billy Ray’s account.
“If you didn’t see anybody, I can’t help you much. We didn’t get any leads worth following from evidence at the scene. Most likely somebody was looking for cash or parts to sell, and you got in the way. But I’m sending a patrol by the garage a couple of times a night for a week. That ought to keep vandals away.” Doug didn’t look at Billy Ray as he delivered that message. He looked just past Billy Ray’s injured shoulder.
Billy Ray wasn’t quite speechless with anger. “It went beyond vandalism, Doug, and you damned well know it! Somebody beat me but good. And they did it because I’m involved with Carolina Grayson.”
“Why are you involved with that woman, Billy Ray? Back in high school she threw you over ‘cause you weren’t worth a plugged nickel to her. She’ll do it again the minute she doesn’t need you anymore. Now, I’m not saying what happened to you had anything to do with that. I’m not saying that at all. But I am telling you, friend to friend, that you’d be a whole hell of a lot better off without her.”
“Friend? What kind of friend, Doug? It’s been three days since the attack, and you’re just getting around to an interview.”
“Joel told me you didn’t see anybody that night. I was busy trying to figure out who might have done it.”
“You were busy losing the trail.” Billy Ray lowered his voice and advanced on the desk. “You were busy letting Judge Whittier Grayson tell you when to piss and when to grin, you lowlife Judas!”
Doug got to his feet. “Get out of my office, or you’ll wish you hadn’t come in the first place!”
And because, and only because, there was no reason to stay, Billy Ray had left.
He hadn’t heard from Doug again, but he hadn’t expected to. Doug had declared his allegiances.
Now Billy Ray looked down at the papers covering his desk and grimaced. “If Carolina calls, or my grandfather, put them through. Otherwise, hold all my calls. I’m going to try to make some headway.”
Fran left, and an hour passed. He was just taking a break when his intercom buzzed. “Carolina’s here. Do you want me to send her in?”
Billy Ray got to his feet as Carolina opened the door.
“Billy…” She smiled with her lips, but her eyes were sad. Something had happened. Something more than just seeing him bruised and battered.
“Close the door.”
She did. He ca
me around his desk and perched on the edge. “What’s going on?”
“You want the good news first?” Before he could answer, she went on. “Sure you do. Because once I tell you the bad, the good’s going to get lost.”
“Let’s hear it, then.” He held out his hands.
She took them in her own, but she didn’t move closer. “I got the job.”
“Carolina…” He pulled her between his legs until they were face-to-face. He smiled at her. She had applied for half a dozen jobs in town, but he knew she was talking about the job at Wilton Mills. “I’m so glad. That’s wonderful. When do you start?”
“I go in next week to fill out forms and have the company nurse do a physical. I can take the rest of the week to settle the kids into their day-care classes. Then I start the following week.”
“When did you find out?”
“Just about fifteen minutes before I got these.” She dropped his hands and reached inside the purse slung over her shoulder. She presented him with a sheaf of legal documents.
He scanned them. As expected, the Graysons were petitioning the court for custody of their grandchildren.
“We knew.” He handed the papers back to her. “Now the fight’s out in the open.”
“I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be. We’ll win.”
“Will we?”
“We’re going to pull out all the stops.” He took her hands again. “Look, I’ve been thinking about something. Hear me out.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to give the Graysons visiting rights in the meantime. Now that they’ve begun this thing, they’ll petition Judge Sawyer to let them visit, anyway. If you fight, it will make you look bad. If you let them visit without dragging it through the court, you’ll be in a position of strength. We’ll have them sign a document promising they’ll abide by your terms. Time, place, frequency. If they don’t sign, that will make them look like they don’t want to cooperate.”
“I don’t want the kids in the middle of this.”
He squeezed her hands. “They already are. I’m trying to make sure they aren’t torn apart in the tug-of-war.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “I trust your judgment.”
He pulled her hands to his chest, cupping them against his tie. “Why don’t you let them take the children late Wednesday, from say, four to seven?”
“The judge won’t even be home until six or so.”
He grinned. “That occurred to me.”
“You think this will appease them?”
“It’s a start. But if you have any reason not to let the children go, anything you haven’t told me before, now’s the time. Will they be safe?”
She nodded reluctantly. “Safe, but not happy.”
“You’ll have to prepare them well.”
She sighed and nodded again.
He didn’t say anything else. Carolina had waited on him hand and foot during his recovery, but they hadn’t been this close since the day he had kissed her.
“I’m proud of you.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “You’ll get through this.”
“Billy…”
He smiled at her with his eyes.
“Does it hurt when I touch you now?”
“We could see.”
She slid her arms around his waist, but she didn’t squeeze. “What will I do Wednesday? I’ll go crazy.”
“Have an early dinner with me.”
“The last time I tried to have dinner with you, somebody beat you senseless.”
“Come to my house after you drop off the children.”
She leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. The kiss was achingly sweet, and much too short. She stepped away. “Maggie has the children over at the drugstore. I have to go.”
“Guess what?”
She smiled. “What?”
“That didn’t hurt.”
She touched his cheek tenderly.
Kitten didn’t want to see her grandparents. She liked Maggie’s house better. Maggie’s house smelled like blackberry pie, like jasmine flowers and the cool, wide hallways of the old town library, where Kitten went for story hour. At Maggie’s house her bedroom was painted as red as the hibiscus in Maggie’s yard. Maggie took Kitten to pick hibiscus each morning, along with the other flowers that grew in her garden.
The flowers reminded Kitten of Billy Ray’s house, where flowers grew as wild as weeds. She missed Billy Ray’s house and Three Legs the cat. Billy Ray had promised her she could see Three Legs soon, and she wanted to go there real bad.
But she didn’t want to go to her grandparents’ house.
“Kitten, are you listening?”
Kitten faced her mother. Her mother was wearing a yellow sundress with little purple flowers scattered like polka dots all over it. Her mother was pretty when she smiled, but even now, with a frown on her face, she still looked nice. “I don’t want to go!” Kitten bit her bottom lip.
“Kitten, it’s only for a little while. I promise. We have a piece of paper that says they can’t make you stay. I know that’s what’s worrying you.”
Kitten didn’t think a piece of paper could make her grandfather do anything. Once, in Sunday School, her teacher had asked what God looked like, and Kitten had said her grandfather. The teacher hadn’t seemed surprised.
But God was supposed to be good, and Kitten didn’t think her grandfather was. Not really. He made people do things. He punished people, the way God had punished people by sending a flood to cover the earth. But she didn’t think he loved people, the way God was supposed to love everybody.
She didn’t think he loved her.
“I don’t want to go!” She stopped biting her lip. She stuck it out instead.
“Well, you’re going to. And this will be easier on Chris if you cooperate. I’ll take you there, and I’ll pick you up. Billy Ray will come with me to get you afterward. Please?”
Kitten knew that when her mother got that certain look on her face, nothing anyone could do would change her mind. That happened more and more now. Since they had come to live at Maggie’s house, her mother seemed very sure about a lot of things.
Kitten tried again. “They’ll make me be polite.”
“Being polite is important. Please remember your manners.”
Kitten rolled her eyes. “They won’t let me forget.”
“I’ll get Chris up from his nap, then we’ll go.” Carolina left Kitten’s room. Kitten knew she had little choice but to follow.
In the car, she sat with her arms crossed and her lip down to her chin, but her mother didn’t waver.
“You don’t love me!” Kitten said at last. “Or you wouldn’t make me go!”
“I love you. You still have to go.”
When they pulled up in front of her grandparents’ house, Kitten considered a struggle. But already she could feel herself turning into the little girl her grandparents wanted her to be. That little girl seemed like a stranger. That little girl always had to color in the lines and speak softly. That little girl ate everything on her plate and sipped her drink without slurping.
Kitten hated that little girl.
Her mother looked determined, but not one bit happy. Still, she got out of the car and came around to open Kitten’s door before she reached for Chris in the car seat.
She set Chris on the ground and took his hand before she spoke again. “Kitten, try to be on your good behavior. But you’re allowed to be yourself. You don’t have to pretend to be somebody else.”
Kitten frowned. She was surprised her mother knew about the other little girl, the good one who wasn’t really Kitten at all.
She looked up and saw her grandmother waiting, arms crossed over her chest just the way Kitten’s were. Her grandmother was smiling, but she didn’t look happy. She never played with Kitten or Chris. She just told them what to do. Kitten didn’t think that her grandmother really loved her, either.
“If I’m me
, she’s not going to be happy,” Kitten warned.
Carolina squatted in front of her so that she could look straight into her eyes. “Nobody can make you something you aren’t, not unless you let them. Do you understand?”
Kitten wasn’t sure.
“You don’t have to be somebody else to make people love you. Because then they don’t love you. They love somebody you aren’t.”
Kitten nodded, because in a funny way, that made sense to her.
“You’re a wonderful little girl. And I love you very much just the way you are. Remember that, sweetheart. No matter what.” Carolina got to her feet and turned to face her mother-in-law.
Kitten slipped her hand inside her mother’s and walked up the sidewalk.
Billy Ray had planned to be home by the time Carolina got there, but a long-distance telephone call kept him at the office later than he’d expected. When he arrived, Carolina’s car was already parked in front of his house, but she was nowhere in sight.
“Carolina?”
“I’m over here.”
He faced the direction her voice had come from, but no one was in sight. “Send up a signal,” he called. “I can’t see you.”
“Left at the camellias, right at the azaleas.” She appeared behind a thicket of overgrown shrubbery in his father’s garden.
He picked his way through the tangle of vegetation, along what had once been a path. Carolina had made a home for herself right in the center of it with a basket of rusting garden tools from the barn.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” He was puzzled. “Are you kidding? But what are you trying to do?”
“I’m going to restore the Garden of Eden.”
“I believe you might need the Lord’s help for that.”
Her face had been painfully serious, but her expression lightened. She nearly smiled. “I don’t think He’ll mind. I’m just pulling a few weeds.”
He didn’t touch her. She didn’t look like a woman who wanted to be touched. “Why?”
“Therapy. I just want to set something to rights. And I can’t tell you how good it feels to jerk weeds out of the ground and banish them to the compost pile.”
Southern Gentlemen Page 23
