She looked at Colin’s card again and picked up her cell phone. She entered his number quickly before she could change her mind and texted.
“I’ll be home this afternoon if you’d like to visit.”
Before she could put the phone down, it vibrated.
“I’ll see you at two.”
Georgie’s right, Jacey thought. What could it hurt just to visit with him? I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, as my mama says.
She went to her bathroom and got in the shower. At least when he sees me this time I won’t be covered in mud and muck—or orange tonfetti and fat lips.
She grabbed a pair of white shorts, then decided against them. Should she wear shorts around a preacher? Then she put on a sundress with spaghetti straps and decided against that as well. Too much skin. She put on a pair of black yoga pants and a T-shirt that was a little oversized and was satisfied with that. But when she looked in the mirror, she saw what appeared to be a child dressed up in her mother’s clothes.
“Ugh! This is ridiculous.”
She finally grabbed a cool white cotton dress with no sleeves, very casual and comfortable. Not too short, yet not too grandmotherish. She slipped on a pair of brown leather sandals and put on a silver bracelet. Then she took it off. “You aren’t going out to lunch,” she chided herself. “Nobody wears bracelets around the house . . . or do they?” She put it back on, then took it back off.
She sat down at the vanity and applied a very thin coat of mascara to her already dark lashes and brushed her thick, shoulder-length hair. She put on a little lipstick, then rubbed it off with makeup remover. Too dark. She grabbed another shade and dabbed a little on, then rubbed it off too. She rolled her eyes. “He’s not the pope or the Head Honcho and Bottle Washer of the Baptists,” she said to the mirror. “He’s just a guy.” She settled for a clear gloss on her lips and went to the living room to wait for his arrival. And checked her appearance every two minutes until he arrived.
At exactly two o’clock, the doorbell rang.
She answered the door and smiled. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He smiled back at her. “You look very pretty.”
“Thank you.” She felt her face flush a little. Great. Back to high school. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside so he could enter the foyer.
Her memory had certainly gotten his features right. Over six feet tall, almost black hair, longer than most men wore it—but it worked on him. Piercing eyes so dark she could barely see where his pupils began.
She gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down. Can I get you anything?”
He sat on the sofa. “No, I’m fine.”
Jacey sat down in the chair across from the sofa. “Listen, I want to apologize for yesterday. I was just so . . . stunned . . . when I looked up and saw you behind the pulpit.”
“I was pretty stunned myself.” He smiled. “The girl I’d been searching for all year turned out to be the prom queen.”
Jacey laughed and relaxed a little. “I had some harsh words for the bride, I assure you.”
“You look really good, Jacey.”
“So do you,” she said. “A lot better than the last time I saw you. On the roof, I mean.”
“Georgia told me about . . . what happened. The accident,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Jacey was uncomfortable and stood up. “I’m gonna get a drink—you sure you don’t want a drink? Oh . . . you don’t drink, I guess. But I meant like some tea or something.” She felt her face getting hotter.
Colin made a mental note not to bring up the accident again. “I’ll drink some tea,” he said. “And you can drink whatever you like. I’m a minister, not the liquor police.” He smiled again.
She smiled back. “It’s two in the afternoon. I wasn’t going for the whiskey.” She walked into the kitchen and fetched two glasses from the cabinet.
“This is Baton Rouge, right?” he asked. “I didn’t think y’all put a time limit on the Jack Daniel’s.”
“Well, it isn’t a game day.” She grinned.
“Ah . . . she likes sports,” he said. “A girl after my own heart.”
That sentence gave her a little rush she wasn’t expecting. She tried not to appear so pleased and searched her mind for a benign question.
“So, where are you staying while you’re in town?” she asked. “At a hotel? With friends? A convent?”
“You do have a wicked little sense of humor, don’t you? I think you’ve been around your friend too long.”
Jacey laughed. “Could be.”
“To answer your question, I have a travel trailer,” he said. “I’m over at the Shady Palms trailer park, although I have seen no shade and no palms, for that matter.”
“That’s funny.”
“Not a bad place,” he said. “Interesting neighbors from time to time.”
“I’ll bet,” Jacey said. “Listen, I meant what I said earlier. I truly am sorry about yesterday. The whole allergic reaction thing and . . . I guess I just don’t know how to act around a preacher. I mean, of course I know how to act around a preacher . . . It’s just, well . . . you know . . .”
“You’re stammering again,” he said. “You know, you could act like you did the last time we were together. I’m the same guy I was then.”
She took the pitcher from the fridge and filled up the tea glasses. “Not really,” she said. “I mean, you know, I’ve never made out with a preacher. That makes me feel kind of . . . weird.”
“I’m guessing you still haven’t made out with a preacher. Unless you’ve been sneaking around the seminary. I wasn’t ordained until recently.”
Jacey laughed. “Then I guess you’re right.” She gave him his drink and sat back down in the chair.
“Do you have preacher problems?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You seem a little hung up on the minister part. I thought maybe you collectively didn’t care for pastors.”
“Of course I like pastors, preachers, ministers, priests,” she said. “I just . . . you know.”
He smiled. “I don’t know. Enlighten me.”
Does he have to be so good-looking? she thought. Preachers are old and soft and chunky. Not tall and dark and gorgeous. This isn’t fair. She glanced at his lips and quickly looked away. If the thoughts running through her head right now wouldn’t send her to hell, she should at least have her ticket punched to purgatory for a century or so.
“I suppose I’m not sure what to say around you,” she said finally. “On the roof, it didn’t matter. We were . . . going to die. For a while I was sure of it. And you weren’t a pastor at that time. You were just a guy. But the rules have changed now.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Come on, Colin,” she said. “Don’t do that. You know what I mean. Things got . . . intense between us. We hid around the back of the roof and kissed and ‘carried on,’ as my late grandmother would’ve said. That’s not something I would ordinarily do with a preacher or any other guy I’d only known for eight seconds. And we said things to each other. All kinds of things.”
“What makes me different from the next guy?” he asked. “You’re a beautiful woman. I’d have to be dead not to notice that. And by the way, I meant every word and every kiss.”
Jacey put her tea on the coffee table and tried to find some graceful way to avoid telling him the truth. In the end, she gave up and spoke from her heart. “I meant it all too.”
“Then if we both meant what we said, all we have lost is time,” he said.
“This is real life, Colin,” she argued. “We were knocking on heaven’s door then. How could we possibly know it was real? We were under stress and duress and every other pressure word I can’t think of right now. And, well . . . relationships that are based on intense experiences never work.”
“Do you have an original argument or are you happy with quoting Bob Dylan and Sandra Bullock in the same sentence?”
Okay, he’s not
completely sheltered. He’s listened to Dylan and watched movies. She laughed a little. “You weren’t supposed to call me out on that.”
“But I did,” he said. “Look, maybe you’re right. Maybe the circumstances led to the feelings. I don’t know, but neither do you. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out. I’ve looked for you for an entire year, and to see you standing in front of me at a wedding I wasn’t supposed to attend . . . well, I’d call that divine intervention. What would you call it?”
She shrugged. “Fate? Serendipity? Destiny? A coincidence?”
“Maybe,” he said.
Jacey didn’t reply.
“So how ’bout it?” he asked. “Want to go out with me tomorrow night?”
“Where would we go?” she asked. “I mean, what do you do when you go out?”
He leaned in close to her. “I’m gonna tell you a secret,” he said. “Preachers eat at restaurants sometimes.”
Jacey laughed. “Smart a—” she began, but cut herself off. Her face turned ten shades of red.
It was his turn to laugh then. “You were saying?”
“See?” she said. “I’ll continuously have to watch my mouth.”
Colin stood up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. But it’s your mouth, so say whatever you want to say. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”
She smiled.
“Thank you for the tea. I’ll pick you up around seven. And wear something casual. Preachers eat crawfish too.”
She walked him to the door and held it open for him.
“See ya,” he said, fixing his eyes on her lips for a brief moment.
The look wasn’t lost on her, and she remembered just how good it felt to be kissed by this man. She put her hand on his chest and shoved him. “Get out of here,” she said, laughing.
“One day soon you’ll beg me to stay,” he said as she closed the door.
“You wish!” she called after him, smiling from ear to ear. She heard his laughter outside.
Jacey leaned up against the closed door. The memories were rolling in like waves.
The car shifted in an instant. One second she was on the road and the next she could feel herself being swept away in the rain-swollen creek. Panic and paralysis struck. When she was finally able to move again, she grabbed her cell phone. She tried to dial 911 but dropped the phone in the gush of water that came into the car. She yanked off the seat belt and searched the submerged floorboard for the phone. She finally found it, but it was already dead, waterlogged just that fast. Suddenly she realized the car was going to sink and she had to get out. She pressed the button to lower the window and shouted, “Come on, come on!” It had never moved so slowly. It finally stopped altogether before it reached the bottom. She squeezed herself out as the water poured over her face, as she coughed and sputtered. When she was free from the car, she tried to swim—but there was no swimming, only riding the current and grasping at the air for dear life because there was nothing else to reach for. Water, water everywhere . . .
CHAPTER FOUR
“I’m just curious,” Jacey said as she discarded the fifth blouse. “Have I always dressed like a prostitute?”
Georgia lay on Jacey’s bed and watched her dress and re-dress for half an hour.
“I’m curious myself. Do all the people in this city wait to do stupid stuff until I’m on duty, or am I just lucky like that?” Georgia asked.
“Georgie, focus. This isn’t about you.”
“Well, it should be,” Georgia said.
Jacey glanced at her. “Are you eating chips in my bed again?”
“Only for the last thirty minutes.” Georgia crunched the bag.
Jacey made a face. “Please sweep the crumbs out this time.”
“I’m not leaving any,” she said, swiping her hand over the floral comforter. “And I’m starving. There was no time for snacks last night. Can you believe there was a twelve-year-old who used super glue on her false eyelashes? And, oh, why is a twelve-year-old wearing false eyelashes? you ask. I don’t know! Maybe we should ask her mother, who so generously told me if I wore a little more makeup and lost twenty pounds, maybe I’d have a ring on my finger and a better attitude.”
Jacey laughed. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Georgia said. “Then there was the twenty-year-old frat boy who thought stair surfing on a mattress was a good idea. Ten stitches under his chin for him, and a nice story for his grandchildren in the years to come. And of course, let’s not forget the man having chest pains who actually entered the hallowed doors of my ER eating a chili dog. With jalapeños and extra onions.”
“You need to go to a floor and get out of the emergency room,” Jacey said.
“What? And miss all that?” Georgia said. “Yawn. It’s too boring on the floor.”
“Then stop whining and help me find something to wear.”
“Seriously? The last fifteen things you’ve put on would’ve been fine. You’re eating crawfish. Jeans, a T-shirt, and flip-flops would be appropriate.”
“I know, but all of my T-shirts look . . . racy.”
“Your T-shirts look racy?” Georgia said. “Frankly, you look like a preadolescent boy in your T-shirts.”
“You’re so funny,” Jacey said. “It’s so sad I can’t shop for bras the same place you and Dolly Parton do.”
Georgia glanced at her chest. “They do have their advantages.”
“Focus!” Jacey said again.
“Fine.” Georgia sat up and threw Jacey one of the discarded shirts from the bed. “Wear that and the jeans you have on. I’d run out and get you something new, but I have no idea where the Sisters of Aloysius shop for their habits.”
“Eat your chips and shut up,” Jacey said. “My T-shirts are tight. That’s all I meant.”
Georgia lay down again and stuck her hand in the chip bag. “They fit. Your T-shirts fit.” She waited until Jacey looked in the mirror to quickly wipe the chip crumbs from the sheets.
“I hear you sweeping,” Jacey said.
“Oops.” Georgia smiled.
“When he gets here, you answer the door,” Jacey said. “I don’t want to look too eager.”
“Wow,” Georgia groaned. “I thought we were beyond high school, but okay.”
“What are you doing tonight? Do you have a date? Because you need to have a date.”
“I do have a date,” Georgia said. “A date with Netflix and a cell phone whose battery has been removed. The perfect evening.”
“I’m sure I won’t be late,” Jacey said. “You and I can hang out when I get home.”
“You never know,” Georgia said. “Preacher Man may have some tricks up his sleeve.”
Jacey made a face. “I don’t know how I could ever kiss him without wondering if God was watching me.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but God was watching you last time you kissed him.”
“I hate it when you make sense,” Jacey said. “By the way, Buck called today. He left a message.”
Georgia shrugged, but not before Jacey saw the hurt cross her face. “Color me so surprised. You can erase the message. I’m not going to listen to it.”
“It’s been a long time, Georgie,” Jacey said. “Maybe you should hear him out and be done with it. Stop holding on to pain.”
“There is no more pain,” Georgia said, although Jacey doubted that was true. “There’s just no point in rehashing it. It’s done. He’s sorry. He made a mistake. Blah, blah, blah . . . same old message. He needs some new material.”
Jacey didn’t respond. There was no need to argue about it. She’d tried that approach before. Georgia was still hurt from Buck’s infidelity nearly two years after the fact. Jacey certainly didn’t blame her, because she was mad at Buck too. But for Georgie’s sake, she wished she could forgive him and let the whole thing go. Whether Georgia knew it or not, the hurt she still felt spilled over onto everything in her life.
“Okay then,” Jacey said. “Makeu
p or no makeup?”
“Have you taken a recent turn for the Pentecostal?” Georgia asked.
“No.” Jacey laughed.
“Then I would say put on some makeup. You know, you’re making this a lot harder than it has to be,” Georgia said. “Just go eat some good crawfish. Talk about whatever comes up. And don’t worry about the Sermon on the Mount or the disciples or the Red Sea. Just have fun.”
“You know an awful lot about the Bible.”
Georgia made a face. “I’m not a barbarian.”
Jacey laughed and went straight for the jab. “But you are a Catholic.” She knew she would light a match, and Georgia didn’t disappoint. There was a good-natured feud in part of Louisiana between Catholics and Baptists, and some folks on each side secretly thought they were just a little superior to the other. Jacey just liked to tease her friend. She personally didn’t think God really cared what label you wore.
Georgia threw her hands up and hopped off Jacey’s bed. “Why do people always assume Catholics don’t know anything about the Bible?” She began folding the discarded T-shirts. “I went to catechism, which is the equivalent of Sunday school, for your information. The difference was, the nuns beat me into submission on a regular basis.”
Jacey was laughing out loud now. She loved stirring Georgia up about religion. “No they did not.”
“Name the books of the Old Testament, Miss Bankston,” Georgia mimicked. “Um . . . Genesis . . . Exodus . . . um, let’s see . . . Whop! No, Sister Mary Pia, don’t beat me! Come again? You want me to say a prayer? Dear Lord, don’t let my parents find the cigarettes in my purse. Whop! No, Sister Mary Pia! Please!”
Jacey sat down on the bed, laughing at her friend. “Stop,” she said. “You know it wasn’t that bad.”
Georgia made a face. “No, not really. But I did get my hand popped by Sister Mary Pia. Every day. But . . . they made sure I learned, and now I appreciate that. And I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. I was particularly hard to teach, I am sure.” Georgia smiled. “You know . . . smart mouth.”
“So hard for me to imagine you with a smart mouth,” Jacey joked.
The Sweet Smell of Magnolias and Memories Page 4
