Hot Georgia Rein

by Martha Sweeney

  Despite the fact that I’m wearing designer knock-off heels, I park as far away from Henry’s home as possible. The walk will help take the edge off, and if needed, the distance will be the perfect getaway to make a run for it with my shoes in hand. I take off my large hat and sunglasses and check myself in the rearview mirror. I haven’t cried yet, so my makeup still looks good. With my accessories back on, I slowly get out of the car and proceed toward the house. The dirt road is amenable under my three-inch heels since it oddly hasn’t rained for a few days. The ground is strong enough to support my unsteady legs as they carry me closer to my impending doom.

  With the amount of cars lined out on the road, and through the long gravel driveway, one would suspect that practically all eight hundred and some residents of Blackburn are in attendance for the wake. As I study the house, I note that though there are a lot of people, not everyone from town is in attendance. I keep my head steady as I pass by each person who is chatting on the lawn and on the porch. I don’t dare seek anyone out let alone reveal myself to the crowd.

  No one seems to notice me as I venture into the kitchen and grab myself a glass of wine and pop a few finger foods into my mouth. With my drink in hand, I slowly make my way through the large home, trying to find a room that has the least amount of people in it while also trying to explore as much as I can of Henry’s home. I’m desperate to find any indication as to how his and Julianna’s relationship was doing all these years. I know it’s not polite, but if I can learn more about how they were together, it’ll make it easier for me to know if I should bother to make things right between us.

  Each room is more stylish than the next, clearly something Julianna paid a lot of money and attention to while here. Pictures of the happy couple and their wedding day are found scattered between a few rooms as well as some general pictures of them and other friends and family in the living room.

  When I see my parents and Grady, I avoid them like the plague, needing to stay incognito. My parents’ attention is with some old friends of the family while Grady’s is with someone who appears to be a younger second-cousin of Julianna.

  Room after room on the lower floor is flooded with people which starts to make me feel claustrophobic. When I spot an unopened bottle of Blackburn Whiskey, I snatch it and quickly make my way upstairs, hoping for some reprieve.

  The only people I find on the second floor are a few who are standing at the top of the steps overlooking the entry way and a person or two entering or leaving a bathroom that has a short line. I open the door to the first room on the left just after the bathroom and find it empty. I check the windows, hoping to find a ledge where I can perch myself for a little while. When that room reveals not a single option, I move on to the next.

  I’ve had this thing since I was little. When I didn't want to be around people or needed time to think, I would climb out on the roof and gaze at the sky. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, I’d just do it. It didn’t matter the reason for the need to find solitude. Sometimes when Grady would get on my nerves, when I had a bad day or a fight with a friend or family member, and especially when I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do in life, I’d climb out past my bedroom window. I debated with myself many nights on whether or not to go to college so far away from Henry and my family.

  When I get to the last room, I notice that it’s larger than the others. Then, I realize that it must be Julianna’s and Henry’s bedroom. I tell myself that I’m not going to go in, but my feet start moving on their own. I inspect the room, not noticing any one thing in particular. I peer out the windows and catch sight of a possible roof exit in the room to the right of where I am.

  I quickly make my way out of Henry’s room, not wanting to disrupt anything. When I get into the other bedroom, I twist open the lid of the whiskey and chug a few gulps. The amber liquid burns my throat and nose, my eyes tear up, and I revel in the feeling. It’s been years since I’ve chugged any kind of hard liquor.

  I kick off my shoes, remove my hat, push up the window further, hike up my dress, and fling my left leg out the window. Once I get my foot steady, my upper body slinks down far enough for it to pop up on the other side. Right as I’m about to get my other leg out the window, I catch movement in the corner of my eye and stop dead in my tracks.

  “Ivy,” he says hoarsely.

  “I…” I stutter, lifting my gaze to find Henry sitting off to the side of the roof. Panic rises inside me and my body impulsively shifts to go back inside.

  “Don’t,” he beckons.

  For some reason, I turn back to look at him and just stare. I find his eyes and their amber hue shining like gold in the sun, trapping me in his spell as they always do anytime I look into them. If he smiles, it will be my undoing. Just him being here right now is my undoing and logic is quickly leaving my head as my heart pounds with eager anticipation.

  “Please, don’t go,” he begs.

  My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Can this be the sign I’ve dreamed of?

  “Here,” he says, carefully getting up and walking toward me. Henry offers me his hand. “Join me, please.”

  I nod, still unable to find my voice. Our hands unite and the spark that was always there anytime he touched me in the past immediately returns as if it never left. I glance up at his face, trying to gauge if he felt it too or if it’s just wishful thinking. It’s got to be too soon for him to have any kind of desire for me or any woman. The man just lost his wife for Christ’s sake I remind myself.

  “You good?” he checks when we’re both standing upright.

  I nod again since I’m still unable to utter a single word.

  Henry guides me out across the roof, and as soon as he sees that there’s something in my other hand, he takes it, allowing me the use of my limb should I need it. He makes sure I get settled on the shingles first before he takes a close seat to my right. Henry screws the cap off of the bottle, takes a long pull, and then offers it to me.

  It takes me a few seconds to reach out for the bottle, too distracted by his lips wrapped around the opening, knowing what that man can do with his mouth to a woman’s body. When I realize that I’m taking too long to reply, I take it from him carefully, gulping back a few large mouthfuls. My eyes shut instinctually to hide from the sun above, but I thank my lucky stars that I never removed my sunglasses for Henry would have found me gawking and perhaps lusting after him.

  We sit in silence, glancing back and forth on occasion at the other as if to make sure we aren’t dreaming. We pass the bottle back and forth as we each take a few sips of the whiskey, slowing our pace down while trying to access the situation.

  “Looks like you’ve picked up my habit,” I state nervously.

  “Just started,” Henry replies, looking down at the ground. “I see why you’d come up to a roof when we were kids. It’s peaceful.”

  My head bounces a few times. “Yep.”

  After a bit of silence, Henry says, “Grady never mentioned that you were coming back.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t know if I should,” I admit quietly, looking down at my manicured toes.

  “I’m glad you did,” he states coolly.

  My head turns to look at him. “Really?” I question softly.

  A small smirk flits across his lips and that’s when I feel the alcohol begin to take effect through my body, causing moisture to gather rather quickly between my legs.

  “Really,” he hums.

  “Remember when we’d spend hours late in the night walking through the park?” I ask suddenly. “It would drive Momma nuts.”

  “Yeah,” Henry chuckles. “She’d ground you for the first two summers…after that, she stopped.”

  I nod as I take a swig of the bottle.

  “I remember when you sucker punched Bobby Gene Parkers in the stomach when we were fourteen,” Henry recounts. “Fucker had it coming to him…he should have known how you wouldn’t let anyone talk shit about your family…it’s like he forgot about th
e beating you gave Billy Riggs for the same shit.”

  I giggle. “I remember how I was nervous after it happened.”

  “Nervous? Why?” Henry checks.

  “I was sure Momma was going to ground me for both of those times,” I admit.

  “You were defending her,” Henry reminds. “Plus, they deserved more than what you did to them. They were lucky they only had a black eye to show for it.”

  My head bobs in agreement.

  “Ivy Lynn Abney, what the hell do you think you’re doing up there?” Momma’s voice calls from and some distance away.

  I glance down and find her on the ground. My mouth opens slightly to answer, but she cuts me off.

  “Are you drinking alcohol while you’re on the roof?” she asked heatedly. “How many times have I told you….”

  “I’m coming down Momma,” I interrupt, moving carefully toward the window.

  “Henry Lee Rein, you too!” Momma scolds as my hand already grabs a hold of the frame.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Henry returns promptly.

  It’s like we’re kids again and I almost want to giggle at the oddity of how Henry and I are getting to meet each other after so long. Three and a half years had felt like a lifetime, yet it’s all rushing back in a matter of a few seconds.

  My mind tunes out everything and focuses on being able to get back inside the house quickly and quietly. The last thing I want is a scene, but from the way Momma was just yelling at me, I know that it’s already happened. Everyone knows that I’m back in town and I feel so exposed and trapped, second-guessing my intentions and why I even bothered to come back to Blackburn.

  My mouth gapes open when I see her standing inside the room. I swear Momma has super powers, because the few seconds it took for me to get my body back inside the house, she’s already here. She’s not uttering a single word, but I can hear every curse word and expletive she would be shouting if we weren’t in a house full of people.

  I chance a look behind her to see if a crowd has already gathered. I let out a sigh when I don’t see anyone, praying that no one really heard her scolding me like I’m still a child.

  Momma never really raised her voice unless Grady and I did something that she thought was stupid and dangerous, which did happen a number of times during our childhood. She was bold enough to scold the other children too if they were even in our vicinity when it happened.

  I remember one time in particular when Momma yelled at Grady, Davis, Henry, Tyrell, Atticus, Jed, Dixie, and me when she was driving by the river where the train tracks crossed. We were just barely teenagers and thought we were invincible. Jed, Tyrell, and Atticus started climbing on the outside metal rail of the bridge and would jump off and into the water below. Davis and Henry were quick to follow. Feeling left out, I climbed up all the way to the top, needing to show up the boys who were jumping off in the middle.

  Everyone but me was back in the water from their jumps when Momma came driving by. She didn’t hesitate to yell at me, or the boys who let me go up there, and insisted that I climb back down before a train came whirling past. Knowing that it would be safer to just jump, I did. I was proud of myself until I got home and Momma grounded me for two weeks. Grady got off with just three days since he was just in attendance according to her. I protested, saying that I wasn’t the only one to jump, but Grady never confessed and she never questioned his lie.

  Since it was summertime, it wasn’t easy to find out who else was in as much trouble as me. I forgave Grady a little bit when he agreed to be my spy and mode of communication with Henry when he was let out of his prison sentence. He let me know that Henry fessed up to Davis and him climbing and jumping, so they got a similar fate as me. Tyrell got a little whooping from his momma, and Atticus’ and Jed’s parents never really cared what the boys did. Dixie barely had a talking to, probably because she knew how to play her parents and the town’s people well enough so she’d never really been in trouble.

  “Sorry, Momma,” I apologize while taking off my sunglasses, not wanting a fight.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Abney,” Henry says from behind me.

  Momma looks back and forth between the two of us as if she’s trying to figure out what to say to two twenty-six-year-old children. She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she yanks the bottle of whiskey from Henry’s hand, opens it, and chugs a few rounds before putting the cap back on and handing it to Henry.

  The three of us just stand there for several long moments until we’re suddenly not the only people in the room.

  “What happened?” my father asks from the doorway.

  “Nothing,” Momma replies.

  The look on my father’s face lets me know that he knows exactly what happened without a word. “They’re both fine, Suellen,” dad declares. “Give them a few minutes.”

  Momma doesn’t budge. I can feel every single thing she wants to say to me coming out of her eyes from one mother to another, especially since having my son, she’s never seen me do anything this stupid. I’ve been overly cautious with everything in my life since he was born.

  “Sorry, Henry,” I mutter, barely turning to face him. “Sorry for your loss.” I look to Momma. “Sorry, Momma.” I grab my things off the floor and then take a few steps toward her, kiss her check, and move toward the door. I kiss Papa on the cheek as well before exiting the room entirely.

  I don’t look back and I don’t pay attention to the people around me as I put my sunglasses and hat back on. I leave the house with my shoes and keys in hand. As soon as I know I’m clear enough from being seen by anyone who is up at the house, I make a run for it to the car, not bothering to look back for anyone or anything.

  I drive off into the distance, driving past my parents’ home, not sure what to do or where to go until I get settled. Halfway to the next town, I decide it will be best to get Momma’s truck—another reason to escape, another reason to avoid.

  I chide myself for my stupidity, thinking that things could just go back to the way they were with Henry. How could I think that all of the years since I first left could be erased? I’m a thoughtless mother who could have made her child never see her again.

  Before leaving the car rental location, I check the time and decide to call Cece, knowing that my son is still awake and that Cece is probably in the middle of feeding him.

  “Hey,” Cece greets cheerfully. “How did it go?”

  I let out a heavy sigh.

  “That bad?” she giggles.

  “If you only knew,” I reply, on the brink of crying.

  “Spill,” she instructs.

  6 Henry

  Looking back on what just happened, I’d swear that I hadn’t drunk that much at the wake when I saw her leg suddenly stick out of the window. I’d swear on my life that I was hallucinating if it hadn’t been for her body still visible after I blinked rapidly several times in the attempts to clear my head.

  I didn’t need to see the rest of her to know that it was Ivy, my Ivy. A man doesn’t forget the curves of a woman that he’s seen naked and obsessed over for years. Time doesn’t matter when it comes to remembering a woman’s body that you know intimately. A man doesn’t forget her scent or the way she moves and breathes either—not when you’re still in love with her and never stopped loving her.

  My gaze fixated on the scar on her ankle that she got when we were twelve. Ivy got it from slicing her ankle on a fence while we were playing with some of the kids in the neighborhood. Finding that mark was the final confirmation that I was in fact not hallucinating.

  Ivy looked like an angel; my confirmation from God that we do have another chance to be together again. She’s more beautiful than ever, something I didn’t think could ever happen. Though I couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglasses, I knew that I had an effect on her when she saw me. Her body told me everything, everything she wouldn’t want me to know. I knew that she experienced a wash of emotions from the moment she saw me: shock to relief and even desire with how her body moved. Wh
en our hands touched, I didn’t want to let go, afraid that I would lose her just like trying to catch fireflies in the summer.

  I wanted to go after Ivy when she left the room, but I was scared thanks to the way Mrs. Abney was staring me down. “I’m sorry, Mrs. A,” I said lowly. My eyes shifted to Ivy’s father. “Mr. A.”

  “Henry,” Mr. Abney replied kindly with a nod. “Looks like the hardest part for you both is over.”

  Mrs. Abney held up the bottle of liquor that had remained in her hand to show her husband.

  “Since when do you drink the hard stuff, Suellen?” Mr. Abney joked light-heartedly.

  “This is what I found the two of them drinking out there on the roof,” Mrs. Abney states sternly. “And, I only had a sip to settle my nerves from the sight of it.”

  “Looked more than a sip,” Mr. Abney snickered.

  He and I exchanged a knowing smirk, but we quickly whipped them off our faces when we caught Mrs. Abney unamused by his statement.

  “It’s as if she’s never grown up,” Mrs. Abney stated. “After all this time, you think she would have with what she’s been doing and with….”

  When Mrs. Abney pauses, I look up, catching a silent conversation between her and her husband. My gaze darted back and forth between them, hoping to understand all that is hidden behind their glances. I still haven’t mastered deciphering the art of Mr. and Mrs. Abney’s language like Ivy can most of the time.

  “It was my fault,” I claim. “I had the bottle with me. I’m sorry Mrs. A.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Henry,” Mrs. Abney directed. “I know my daughter.”

  I nod shamefully at her calling my bluff.

  “Let the boy be, Suellen,” Mr. Abney instructed. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to encourage Ivy. They’ve both been through a lot and all.”

  Mrs. Abney regarded her husband and me for a few seconds. “This’ll stay here,” she announced. “Just don’t do anything either of you would regret.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I returned.