Sweet Southern Hearts

by Susan Schild

  Jack ambled in from the barn and gave her that slow, meant-only-for-her smile that made her melt a little. “Hey you,” he said and pulled her into his arms.

  “Hey, there,” she murmured, her face pressed into his chest, breathing him in. She hugged him tightly and just wished she could stay in this safe, protected place forever. The timer for the oven dinged and, reluctantly, she let him go. “Supper’s ready, but I want to hear all about your day after we eat.” With Neal staying with them more, she missed the intimate catch-up conversations they’d had when it was just two of them at supper.

  “How was work?” she asked.

  “Wanted to run something by you.” Jack gave her an apologetic look. “Remember this winter I told the director of the Animal Guardians group that I’d volunteer for eight weeks at their low-cost spay and neuter clinic? Well, they sent me an email and have me on the schedule starting next week.” He rubbed his chin with his hand, looking troubled. “The timing’s not great, but I’d given them my word.”

  Linny nodded. The state she loved still had such a problem with overcrowded shelters and high numbers of unwanted animals being euthanized each year. Part of the problem was that the legislature wouldn’t do enough to regulate puppy mills—a source of many of the abandoned, neglected and abused dogs in North Carolina.

  Linny thought about it. That would be such an important and meaningful thing for Jack to do, but she’d be in charge of Neal one more night a week. If she only had some litmus paper she could press to the boy’s forehead to tell her whether she’d get the boy who was practically bubbling as he showed her how to use his telescope and point out stars or the boy radiating baleful you’ve-ruined-my-life looks before slamming the door so hard the house seemed to shudder. Linny pushed her shoulders back. She could take him. “You need to go help at the clinic,” she said simply.

  “Thanks, Lin.” Jack shot her a grateful look. “It’s every Tuesday night from four to nine.” Neal wandered back into the kitchen and Jack gazed at his son. “Hey, buddy. Can I count on you to help Linny around here every Tuesday night, and to behave well?”

  Neal nodded his assent and leaned his shoulder into his dad’s for a brief moment, a teenaged version of Hello, Dad. Hope you had a good day.

  At the supper table Linny watched Neal push the potpie around his plate, cutting the golden crust into mush and hiding the chicken and vegetables under the leafy greens of the salad he hadn’t touched.

  This nutty supper routine happened almost every other meal. Because Jack had been scrawny up until he was a senior in high school and didn’t want Neal to be picked on the way he had been, he tried to coerce the boy into eating instead of picking at his food. Linny would feel hurt and take it personally that Neal turned his nose up at a dish she’d prepared especially for him. Then, later on, the boy would sneak back into the kitchen, eat all the leftovers, rinse his plate, and slip it in the dishwasher to get rid of the evidence.

  She and Jack had talked about this. If Neal got no reaction to picking at his food, maybe he’d stop. She tried to mentally telegraph Jack not to ask the boy about his appetite.

  “Not hungry, Son?” Jack asked, pointing his fork at Neal’s full but rearranged plate. “That’s an awfully nice meal Linny has cooked for us.”

  Linny tried to send him signals, but her narrowed eyes and foot nudge under the table didn’t hit the mark.

  Jack just gave her a confused smile and looked at Neal. “If you want ice cream for dessert, you need to eat more than that. . . .”

  As he went on talking about the vitamins and minerals needed to grow into a strong and healthy man, Linny steamed, forking her own chicken potpie. She ate fast and rose, speed walking to the stove to dish up seconds. She scooped out the rest of the mashed potatoes and a hungry-truck-driver-sized portion of the chicken potpie that remained. She saw Neal watching her, his eyes widening. “Adding half-and-half to those potatoes made them extra smooth,” she announced to no one, went back to the table, and dove in.

  Before the wedding she’d lost a stubborn ten pounds by drinking green protein shakes for breakfast and ordering salads when they ate out. But as she shoveled in the last bite of pot pie, Linny tried to look like the ecstatic foodie judge tasting the winning dish on a cooking competition on TV. Swallowing ice water to wash down the last bite, Linny felt bloated and regretful already.

  Jack watched her, looking bemused.

  “That was dee-licious,” she said brightly and flushed. She’d never said dee-licious before in her whole life. Patting her mouth with her napkin, she shot a quick glance at Neal. He looked indignant, like someone had snatched a forkful of food away from his mouth. Hah. Mission accomplished. No leftovers for young Mr. Avery.

  After the men started their kitchen cleanup, Linny rounded up Roy—who stopped mooning over Jack long enough to trot after her—and went to their bedroom to read. But her distended belly pooched above the waistband of her shorts and her stomach gurgled. She groaned and looked at Roy, who had curled up at her feet. “I need to rethink this eating-all-the-leftovers plan.”

  A soft knock sounded and Jack appeared in the doorway. Giving her a slow, sweet smile, he toed off his shoes, eased his long frame onto the bed beside her, and put his arms around her. “Good supper, Linny.” He added mildly, “You were hungry.”

  Nestling into him, she blew out a breath and admitted, “I was being childish. I’m sick of trying really hard to cook what Neal likes and have him pick at it and then sneak back and eat it later.” She gave him a reproachful gaze. “We were supposed to not comment on his lack of appetite, remember?”

  He grimaced. “Sorry, Lin. I’ll remember next time.”

  “You need to or I’m going to get really big, fast,” she said.

  “More to love, darling,” he said, gathering her into his arms and breathing out a deep sigh.

  Gazing at him, she heaved a happy sigh. “I miss talking to you alone over supper.”

  “I know, honey. We’re just doing what needs to be done, and you’re being flexible. You don’t know how much I appreciate it,” Jack said.

  Linny did know, but it felt good to hear him say it.

  “So tell me more about today. So Kate looked bushed?” Jack asked.

  From her spot in the crook of his shoulder, Linny filled him in. She stopped when she heard Neal’s phone ring from the other room—the distinctive Carolina Hurricanes fight song, “Roll with It”—from the other room. After a beat, an insistent rap sounded at their door.

  “Dad. Dad!” Neal’s muffled voice held a note of alarm.

  Linny sprang up and Jack rolled out of the bed and opened the door. “What is it, Son?”

  White-faced, Neal thrust the phone at him. “You talk to her.”

  A cold feeling of dread crept over her. The call had to be from Vera, and Linny instinctively knew it would mean trouble.

  Jack took the phone and listened, raking a hand through his hair. He leaned into the doorframe and spoke in a tone he used with scared dogs at the clinic. “Okay. Okay. Slow down. So Chaz has left for a few days.”

  Vera’s volume went up and Linny could hear her crying through the phone. She gave a worried glance at Neal, whose face looked etched in granite as he stood there listening, arms crossed.

  Jack glanced at Neal, too, shot Linny an apologetic look, and walked toward the living room to continue the call. “Well, time apart might help,” he murmured into the phone.

  Linny felt like groaning, falling back onto the bed and putting a pillow over her mouth to yell her frustration. The man she had been seeing as delectable just a few moments ago sounded like one of those new-style Ken-doll-looking preachers Mama liked to watch on TV: the ones who talked earnestly about overcoming challenges in their own marriages and their own lives but probably flew around in their own private jets. Through the thin walls of the house, Linny grimaced as she heard him encourage Vera to see the positive and give things time. She fought the urge to march in, snatch the phone from him, an
d end the counseling session with his ex.

  But as she stewed and tried to slow her breathing, Linny saw Neal. His eyes were stormy and his shoulders sagged. Her heart squeezed. Poor guy. He’d been through enough churn and didn’t need to listen to this.

  Linny pushed her hair back from her face and arranged her features in what she hoped was a calm expression. She touched his shoulder, half-expecting him to shake her off, but he didn’t. “Come on, buddy. I just had a craving for a Heath bar double-dip cone. Let’s hit the Dixie Pixie Ice Creamery.” Linny waved to Jack, then pointed to Neal and to the door. He nodded. Steering Neal out of the room and out of earshot of the call, Linny grabbed her purse and paused, picking up the keys to Jack’s prize vintage muscle car: the one he didn’t like to let her drive. The Camaro had been part of the load of debt Buck had left her, but it turned out Jack had been ecstatic about the muscle car. When Linny finally cleared the debt, she’d given Jack the car. The Camaro was his pampered baby.

  As Neal trudged toward her Volvo, Linny held up the keys to the Camaro, shook them, and gave him a devilish smile. “Feel like riding in a convertible tonight?”

  Neal nodded, a spark coming into his dark eyes. “Yeah.”

  The two walked toward the barn, where Jack kept the fiery red rocket of a car protected in a converted stall. After they lowered the top Linny turned the key and felt a thrill as the powerful engine rumbled. She glanced over at Neal, who was trying not to smile, and she knew she’d done the right thing. She’d talk later to her preacher-man husband about getting sucked into Vera’s latest drama. But for now Neal needed to be distracted by the cool air rushing through his hair, the starry sky, and pretty high-school-aged waitresses in short, pink-striped skirts serving him up as much ice cream as he wanted to eat.

  CHAPTER 5

  In the Sky with Diamond

  On Friday morning Linny and Mary Catherine sat on the wooden swing on the porch and grinned as they watched Diamond’s white Range Rover motor speedily toward the house and pull up with a dust-raising flourish.

  Diamond hopped down in her stilettos and a very short red linen sundress, her bleached blond hair in a haystack of a hairdo. Her eyeliner was as swoopy as usual. This was Diamond’s typical workday attire, which raised brows among the bar association crowd.

  Diamond gave them both extravagant hugs. “Hello, darlings. So glad you could play hooky with me for a while.”

  Mary Catherine pointed to the car tires, her mouth twitching. Though the SUV was stopped, the whirling rims on the wheels made it look like it was still moving. “Nice spinners.”

  Diamond clasped her hands together delightedly. “Don’t you love them? My masseur has them on his car and they just look so festive. So I had those put on. They’re fun, aren’t they?”

  “They are,” Linny marveled, picturing that ride pulling up at the Oakwood Hills Country Club, where Diamond’s mama and daddy were charter members.

  Despite her heels, Diamond strode confidently around the car and hopped up into the driver’s seat. Mary Catherine and Linny climbed in, exchanging isn’t-Diamond-a-kick grins. The blonde switched on the engine with long French-tipped fingernails and sped off.

  Linny tightened her seat belt and swayed left, then right, then left again. Diamond wasn’t big on braking at stop signs or slowing for curves.

  Despite it being just the three of them in the SUV, Diamond called to them in a confidential tone, “I’m saving my big WRAL News–type headline for the restaurant.”

  “Okay,” Mary Catherine said and then tilted her head. “Been on any exotic trips? I vicariously enjoy hearing about them.”

  Though she claimed she worked her fingers to the bone lawyerin’, Diamond spent a good bit of time jetting off to one hot spot or another.

  “I did a spa weekend at Jekyll Island Club last month, strictly because my skin looked tired and needed detoxification.” Diamond scowled. “You really should be able to write those trips off as medical expenses.”

  Mary Catherine nodded solemnly. “What is wrong with our tax system in this country?”

  “Exactly.” Diamond gave a world-weary sigh.

  Linny glanced at the directional road signs, puzzled. They were headed west, away from Willow Hill and from Raleigh.

  After a while Diamond turned down a county road lined with green soybean fields and drew up at a tarmac dotted with tied-down aircrafts. They drove down beside a row of metal hangars and she wheeled in beside an elegant small plane.

  Linny gaped. “Where are we, and what exactly are our lunch plans?”

  “We’re at Worth County Regional Airport and we’re going to the coast for lunch,” Diamond said gaily and stepped out of the car. She beamed at a man in a crisp white shirt who walked toward them and gave him a finger wave. “Hey there, Jim. Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

  “Always a pleasure, Ms. Diamond,” the man said and held out a steadying hand for each of them as they climbed the stairs into the plane. He settled in the cockpit.

  Diamond led the way into the handsome cabin. She plucked three Diet Pepsis from a refrigerated cabinet, handed one to each of her friends, and slid into a leather seat.

  “I love having rich friends.” Mary Catherine tried out the recline feature and took a pull of her soft drink.

  “What kind of plane is this?” Linny asked as she sank into the buttery leather seat. Glancing around, she tried to memorize every detail so she could tell Jack about it, if she ever decided to talk to him again.

  “It’s a King Air: a twin-engine turboprop. It cruises along at two-hundred-seventy miles per hour.” Diamond patted the burled wood on the side of the seat. “We don’t use it much anymore. My parents are flying commercial these days. Coach.” She wrinkled her nose. She sipped her cola, and gave them each a level look. “We need to enjoy it while we can. The plane’s for sale. So is the big house. I’ll fill you in at lunch.”

  Shooting Mary Catherine an uneasy glance, Linny fastened her seat belt, and instead of enjoying the glamour of flying to the beach for lunch in a private plane, she worried about Diamond’s family. Her parents were wildly wealthy, something about venture capital and oil. Maybe they were in financial trouble. Linny’s stomach flipped. Though Diamond was successful in her own right, family money accounted for the “cottage” at Holden Beach, her frequent jaunts to Cabo, the Homestead Resort, and shopping in New York. Linny shivered. The idea of Diamond running out of money didn’t compute, and it scared her, too.

  But as they taxied down the runway and picked up speed, Linny felt herself relax. She loved how she got pushed back in her seat on takeoff and marveled at how quiet it was in the cabin. Looking out the window, she searched for her and Jack’s farm, the aqua blue trailer, and Mama’s house.

  Diamond offered them packages of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. “So give me the skinny on each of your love lives and your work,” she said. “Linny Lou, you start. How is married life?”

  Mary Catherine was busy tearing the snack bag open with her teeth.

  “Mostly lovely.” Linny talked about some of the good parts and the troublesome ones, determined not to be one of those married women who acted like it was endless love all the time when she talked to her single friends.

  After she and Mary Catherine finished giving Diamond their CliffsNotes, both women looked at Diamond. “How are things with Butch?” Linny tried to sound nonchalant.

  “We’re at an impasse. Stuck like rats in a trap,” Diamond said, her features clouding. Her brow furrowed as she crunched a few Goldfish. “We’re crazy about each other, and I was hoping it was ring time, but instead we have a talk.” She gazed at them, not masking the disappointment on her face. “He says he’ll never make enough money to give me the lifestyle I’ve been used to.” She waved dismissively. “Money is no worry. I have piles of it.”

  “Some traditional Southern men have trouble with a woman who makes a lot more money than they do,” Mary Catherine mumbled. She’d popped in a few too many f
ish.

  Diamond nodded her agreement. “The bigger sticky wicket is how we’re going to live. I told him I had no intention of trying to drag him into my world, but he says he can’t see me living at the farm. He doesn’t think I’d be happy without shopping and travel and . . . frippery.”

  “Would you?” Mary Catherine asked.

  “I would,” Diamond said with an emphatic nod.

  “You’ve put effort into being the whimsical gadabout. You’re really good at it,” Mary Catherine pointed out.

  “I know,” Diamond said, smiling modestly.

  “I’d miss it if you started acting normal,” Linny said.

  “I’m ready for big changes. I’ll tell you more at lunch,” Diamond promised as she reclined her seat, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

  Soon the women sat on the pier at the Big Kahuna Restaurant, looking out at the glittering, azure-blue Atlantic Ocean. After placing their orders, Linny closed her eyes for a moment, sighing contentedly as the ocean breeze lifted the hair from her neck. Heavenly.

  “What’s your breaking news flash?” Mary Catherine asked Diamond and slipped on her sunglasses.

  Diamond looked at them, all playfulness gone from her pretty features. “I hate being an attorney. I’m burned out.”

  Linny shuddered inwardly, remembering how stressed out she’d been at her old job, working with employees who’d just been laid off.

  “People burn out, especially attorneys,” Mary Catherine said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Diamond squeezed the lemon slice into her glass of ice water. “I went into law because Daddy wanted me to, and because I like challenges. I’ve had a good run with it.”