“I try to tell myself that all the time,” she said. “When I start to feel panicky, I remind myself it only happened once. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
“You will remember it all one day,” Colin said softly, “but not until your mind is ready. That’s okay. Don’t force it to happen.” He touched her face gently with the back of his hand.
She looked at him silently, trying to decide if she should say what she was thinking. The old Jacey would never even consider it. She was cautious and careful. But After the Flood Jacey thought, Why not? She guided his hand back to the side of her face. “The only thing I remember clearly and quite vividly . . . is you.”
Colin pulled her closer. “I remember you clearly, too, and I’ve remembered you every day and night since,” he said. Then he lowered his lips to hers.
He kissed her, his lips gentle and undemanding. Then he pulled away quickly.
Jacey looked at him for a moment, then pulled his head back toward hers. This was what she’d been missing. No other kiss had measured up. Colin’s kiss became more intense, and this time it was Jacey who pulled away.
“Not bad for a preacher,” she said, trying to lighten the moment even though her heart raced.
He chuckled. “Yeah? We have tongues just like regular guys.”
She laughed. “And apparently you know how to use it.”
He smiled. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I’d like that,” she said, opening the car door. When he started to get out, too, she held up a hand. “No, stay. I think I want to be alone for a while.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night.”
Colin sat in the car and watched Jacey walk up the sidewalk and disappear inside her house. He felt like jelly inside. No one had ever made him feel the way Jacey did. He’d felt it a year ago when she was on the roof with him, covered in mud and cuts and scrapes and bruises. It wasn’t just the situation that made his feelings so intense, as she had suggested. It was her—the way she carried herself with grace and confidence, even when in dire straits. He was attracted to her spirit and strength. He watched her compassion for those children and their mother, the way Jacey gathered the youngest boy in her arms and held him, told him stories, sang to him. The way she encouraged the obviously poverty-stricken mother and tried to help her plan for a better life after they were rescued. Amid a hopeless situation, she gave that family reassurance, and her cheerfulness never subsided. In Jacey he glimpsed a woman who was selfless and loving instead of one obsessed with money and prestige and appearances. It had been a long time since he’d met someone like that. He thought then that he was falling in love with her after only two days on a poorly shingled rooftop in the middle of a muddy sea. If he was falling then, he was plummeting now.
Jacey fixed herself a cup of tea and went to the patio. She sat on the chaise and looked at the stars. She absently traced her mouth with her fingertips where Colin’s lips had been. The man sure could kiss, but she’d known that long before tonight. She’d dreamed of those kisses for a year. No one else’s kisses stood a chance. She knew because she’d kissed a lot of frogs in the last few months . . . and that’s exactly what they had felt like. Frog kisses.
She could remember every physical second of being on the roof with Colin—every touch, every gesture. Why couldn’t she remember anything else? She closed her eyes and drank in the night air. She could smell the jasmine that climbed the garden wall near the fountain. And charcoal. One of her neighbors must have barbequed today. And of course she could smell magnolias. Magnolias had a distinct aroma, sweet and lemony. The south was full of magnolias, and they were in full bloom. Their shady street was lined with them. She tried to concentrate only on the clean, citrusy smell of the huge white flower because maybe it would take her back again. In a few short moments, she was back in the water.
The current had slowed a bit, and she no longer struggled for air. She was still moving quickly, but at least she wasn’t being tossed around like a rag doll. She could see her surroundings, even though the rain came down in sheets. But the lightning was terrifying, and she needed to get to land . . . if only there was land. She saw only water and trees in every direction. No landmarks to lead her, no familiar sights. She had no idea where she was or how far from the road the water had taken her. Her arms fastened around the magnolia limb and she relaxed her legs. It wasn’t like kicking them would help anyway. The undercurrent was way too strong. Even though the water had slowed, it still moved her into trees, debris, and other things she could feel beneath the surface but couldn’t see. The slimy things she felt in the water made her scream with terror.
She looked for a tree with branches low enough to climb, but she could never position herself close enough to one. The current was still too strong for that. It would be dark in a little while, and she’d still be in this water. She could feel the first wave of panic beginning to creep into her mind. She had to get out of this swirling death trap before dark.
And then . . . she heard it. Children? Children crying? She whipped her head around every which way to find the sound, and finally she saw them. Straight ahead. A woman and four children on top of a roof, maybe fifty yards away. The woman was motioning to her, and the children were shouting to her. She repositioned her grasp on the limb and held on. She was headed directly toward them, thank God.
The top of the roof was surrounded by more trees, so it must have been in the woods. If they hadn’t screamed to her, she might have never seen them. The water was moving faster now and she struggled to hold on, but her limb slammed into a tree. The branches slapped her in the face, but she barely noticed, and after she lost her grip on the limb she began swimming for the roof. Twenty feet away. Ten. They reached for her, all of them. She dragged herself up as they tugged her clothes and arms. She finally lay flat on the broken shingles, panting and bleeding from a deep cut above her right eye.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked. “Are you hurt?”
Jacey lay on the edge of the roof and panted, trying to catch her breath. As the family gathered around her, a sudden rush of water carried her magnolia limb onto the roof beside her. One of the boys pulled the branch farther up on the roof, then leaned over her. “We’ll keep it just in case we have to ride it out of here,” he said.
“Hello! Jacey, are you here?”
Jacey opened her eyes, expecting to find herself lying atop black shingles. But Georgia was sliding the patio door open.
“It’s early,” Georgia said. “Why are you already back?”
It took Jacey a moment to collect herself. “What?”
Georgia’s brows furrowed. “Are you all right?”
Jacey sat up straighter. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yep, all good,” Jacey said, fully back in the present.
“Where is the good reverend?” Georgia sat down in a patio chair across from Jacey’s chaise.
“I sent him home,” Jacey said.
“Oh?” Georgia said. “He try to sprinkle you with holy water?”
Jacey smiled. “No, he was quite the gentleman.”
Georgia looked deflated. “Oh. How . . . boring.”
“He did kiss me,” Jacey said.
“Ohhh . . . better, much better. Tell me more.”
“Nothing more to tell,” Jacey said. “Were you here when I came in?”
“No, I had to run to work for a little while,” Georgia said. “So much for my Netflix date.”
“I’m sorry. I know how close you and Netflix are.”
Georgia laughed. “I’m still about to binge. I just covered for another chick so she could go to a ball game or something. I didn’t really ask. If you ask questions, they’ll tell you, then you have to act interested, and then they think you’re friends. Blah, blah, blah.”
Jacey shook her head. “You are an awful human,” she said.
“I know. But it sort of balances out your sickening sweetness, which is nice.”
Jacey smiled. “Again . . . you are an awful human.”
“Agreed,” Georgia said. “So, what are you doing out here all alone?”
Jacey shook her head. “I’m just trying to remember. And it’s driving me crazy.”
Georgia looked at her and sighed. It was hard to watch her friend struggle, but she knew these were demons Jacey had to face by herself. She couldn’t tell her about the boy or about his mother. Jacey needed to remember it in her own time. There was nothing she could do about it now, and forcing the memories on Jacey could cause more harm than good. As a trauma nurse, Georgia knew not to push the mind’s limits when it had seen things it just couldn’t accept. Jacey would find her way out of the darkness. The best Georgia could do was to be there, without questions or judgment, and without urging. She leaned back into the chair. “I’ll just hang out here with you for a while.”
Jacey smiled at her again. “You aren’t really an awful human.”
Georgia smiled back. “I know.”
CHAPTER SIX
Colin drove away from Jacey’s condo with a frown on his face. Jacey’s state of mind worried him. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure his presence was beneficial to her. As much as he wanted to be here with her, if he thought it was harmful, he’d leave and never return. Maybe he could help her spiritually. It was his job to help her spiritually, but his feelings for her clouded his own judgment. It was easy to advise people when you only had their best interests at heart. But with Jacey, it was different. It had everything to do with her ending up in his arms. All he wanted to do was wrap her up close to him and shield her from every bad thing in the world, including the memories that tormented her . . . the very memories that Jacey wanted to flee and embrace at once.
The cell phone rang and he smiled, hoping it was her. But when he looked at the screen, he saw the name. Jasper Jennings. He immediately felt the anger stir inside him. What did his father want this time?
“Hello?” Colin said.
“Well,” Jasper said. “I’m surprised you answered.”
“I’m surprised you called,” Colin said.
“I’m going to cut to the chase and offer you the reins of this company one more time.”
Colin clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to do this with you again, Dad,” he said. “I’m not interested. Sell the company.”
“Colin, you can still be—what did you call it?—a ‘good man’ and run this company.”
“Like you are?” Colin asked, immediately regretting the words. He had to forgive this man—if not for his father’s sake, then for his own.
Jasper drew in a sharp breath. “Contrary to what you believe, I have a good reputation in this city.”
“I don’t know what bothers me more,” Colin said, resigned to the fact that forgiveness was not coming tonight. “The fact that you care about what other people think, or that you couldn’t care less about what I think.”
“You have the same blood running through your veins as I do, son,” Jasper said in a low and cautionary voice. “You may hate it, but it’s true. Eventually, the Jennings will come out. This is your company, and I won’t have a stranger sitting at the helm.”
“Are you done?”
“One more month,” Jasper said. “I’ll give you one more month to come to your senses. Then I want your answer. If I have to sell this company, I will cut you off from the money and from this family. Not that you’d mind the latter. Don’t be a fool, Colin.”
Colin cut the connection and dropped the phone on the seat beside him. He shook his head. It was just like his father to threaten him with money. That’s all the man knew—all he’d ever known how to do. He sent Colin a ten-thousand-dollar check every month and assumed Colin used it to live on. He had no idea his son lived in a travel trailer that he pulled around behind his truck, or that he only used the Jennings money to buy materials for rebuilding homes. In fact, his father didn’t know much of anything about him and never had. His mother and the hired help raised him in a Biloxi mansion that Jasper Jennings rarely graced with his presence. He was always at work. Or in another city. Or in the arms of another woman. Or God only knows where else. When he did come home, he had very little to do with anyone in the house—especially his only child. Colin had spent his lifetime wondering why his own father resented him. He certainly wanted no part of the multimillion-dollar Jennings Construction . . . or what his mother had so appropriately dubbed “Jennings Destruction.”
He thought about his mother. Ava McKinna Jennings was the consummate long-suffering Southern belle. Always a lady, ever aware of the outside world watching and waiting for the make-believe castle to crumble. The women of the society page weren’t always as kind and gentle as they looked. Their tongues were sometimes more deadly than swords. Sadly, his mother was included in that clique. She called it survival. She could be kind and tender, especially with Colin, but he’d seen her cut other women to the quick with her words, and he’d seen them do the same to her. Colin loved his mother but didn’t understand her. He’d never understood why she allowed herself to be sucked in by this life of pretend marriages, where prestige equaled material things and children were mostly trophies. He pitied her and could not comprehend why she stayed in a loveless and emotionally abusive marriage. Several times in the past he’d asked her why she didn’t divorce his father. Most of the time he got no answer at all. If he did get one, it was always the same: “You should try to reach out to your father, Colin. He isn’t as bad as he seems.” Colin couldn’t comprehend why she always defended the man.
Growing up, he’d played the part of a child of privilege. Mostly for her, but he hated it. He loathed boarding schools and country clubs and the brand of clingy Southern belles who were groomed to marry well and do little else. He had very few close friends, and most of them felt the same way he did . . . even if they did accept their fates in their father’s offices, or the reins of companies they never wanted. They were heirs apparent to the thrones that were thrust in their paths. Only Colin and his lifelong friend, Joshua Aaron, took different roads. And both of those roads enraged their fathers.
Joshua was Colin’s best friend and had been since they were in grade school. Joshua had been groomed since childhood to take over his father’s medical practice, a highly regarded and successful orthopedic clinic that catered to athletes. But Joshua wanted to be a football coach, a far cry from the prestige he could acquire by joining the family practice. He and his father had debated, fought, slammed doors, and disowned each other many times after Joshua announced his intent to forgo the medical practice for coaching. It had taken many years before Dr. Aaron forgave him, but eventually he had. The difference in the Jennings household was Colin and his father had never shared the same relationship as Joshua and Dr. Aaron. In fact, they hadn’t shared a relationship at all.
Colin drove up in front of his travel trailer in the Shady Palms trailer park and turned off the ignition. He let his thoughts turn to Jacey. Just thinking about her made him smile, and the unpleasant conversation with Jasper was temporarily forgotten. He knew Jacey had been jealous of the little waitress earlier. He saw the girl flirting with him, but didn’t want to encourage her or let on to Jacey that he’d noticed. Jacey’s reaction had delighted him. He wondered what she was doing in that moment, and hoped the memories would leave her alone tonight and let her rest.
The little boy whimpered in Jacey’s arms. She whispered in his ear, “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.” But no amount of soothing helped. The fretting soon turned into sobs, and she held him on her shoulder and rocked him. She began singing the first song that popped into her head. The words of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” filled the stillness of the night. The rain had mercifully stopped for now, and the only sounds were Jacey’s voice and the water lapping at the roof. The boy, Demarcus, grew still in her arms while she sang, and she felt an overwhelming sense of peace as she g
ently swayed him back and forth. Then, suddenly and without warning, he was ripped away from her.
Jacey sat up in bed and screamed. Georgia was by her side in seconds.
“Another dream?” Georgia asked.
Jacey wiped the sweat from her face. “Somebody jerked him out of my arms,” she said. “It was dark . . . I couldn’t see who it was. But they took him.” She was shaking and close to tears.
Georgia turned on the lamp by Jacey’s bed. “It’s okay,” she said. “It was just a dream.”
“But that’s just it,” Jacey said. “I don’t think it was.”
Georgia remained quiet. She offered no hints. “You want some water? You want to get up for a while?”
“I want to get up,” Jacey said. “But you go back to bed. I’m fine. I promise. You have to work tomorrow.”
They walked into the living room, and Jacey sat down on the oversized sofa. “You can go back to bed, Georgie. I’m fine, really.”
“I’ve worked on less sleep than this,” Georgia said. “I’ll stay up with you awhile.”
“This is happening more frequently now, isn’t it?” Jacey asked.
“What do you mean?” Georgia asked. She went into the kitchen to fill the kettle with water.
“It just seems like these dreams and little snippets are coming fast and furious now,” Jacey said.
“Maybe it’s your mind telling you that you’re ready to remember all of it,” Georgia said.
Jacey remained silent and thoughtful for a few moments. “I think it has something to do with Colin showing up. What do you think?”
“I think sometimes a person, or a song, or a smell even, can trigger . . . all sorts of things,” Georgia said. “Even if we wish it wouldn’t.”
Jacey glanced at Georgia dipping tea bags in and out of their cups on the kitchen island. She knew Georgia was thinking about Buck, but she’d never admit it.
The Sweet Smell of Magnolias and Memories Page 6
