Take Me Back To Texas

by Amy Lillard

  JD worked in the master suite, hammering and banging, but even without the noise she would have known where to find him. He just seemed to draw her in. It had been that way fifteen years ago, and it was still that way today.

  “Bethie Grace?”

  She backed out of the guestroom closet carrying two large hatboxes. A third still remained inside. All three were too heavy to carry at once. There was no telling what her grandmother had squirreled away in those deep round boxes, but one thing was certain: it wasn’t hats.

  JD hurried to her side and took them from her, setting them on the floor while she dusted her hands down the sides of her sweatpants. Once upon a time she thought they might have belonged to her grandfather, but now they were perfect for cleaning out closets.

  “I’m heading out.”

  She nodded, her ponytail swishing behind her. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Next week, remember?”

  “Oh yeah. Right.”

  He gave her a small wave and walked out the door, leaving Elizabeth to wonder why next week seemed a lifetime away.

  Chapter Five

  What was he doing here? JD killed the truck’s engine and stared at the old Victorian. He’d told Bethie Grace that he’d see her next week. It was only Friday afternoon. He should be enjoying himself and what little free time he had before school let out for the summer.

  With Rosie in New Mexico, his summer would be filled with challenges. Even more than facing his one-time love.

  JD slipped the key from the ignition, telling himself that he had come to check the work the painter was scheduled to complete. His visit had nothing to do with the blast from the past who owned the house.

  He’d hired Travis Mcabee because the man was down on his luck, but JD had legitimate concerns, like Trav would forget everything he learned at AA and start drinking again. The fact that Bethie Grace’s rental car was the only vehicle in the drive gave more credit to his concerns than he would have liked. At least she had managed to have her tire repaired and was no longer driving on the flimsy little donut.

  He loped up the porch steps and let himself into the house. Out of sheer habit, he caught the screen door before it could slam closed. But Georgia McGee wasn’t there to fuss at him if he forgot.

  “Bethie Grace?”

  No answer.

  A neat row of boxes lined one side of the hallway. He picked his way around them and headed for the back of the house.

  “Are you back here? Bethie Grace?”

  “Upstairs,” she called.

  He climbed the steps to the second floor, stopping outside the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there?”

  “Taking a bath.” As if to back up her words he heard the water slosh in the old porcelain tub.

  Bethie Grace McGee was on the other side of that door. Wet, naked. He groaned.

  “Are you okay?” she called. More sloshing.

  He could well imagine her rising out of tub, water dripping and—

  What was it about her that had his libido jumping back fifteen years? “I’m fine,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Fine.”

  She pulled the door open and stepped from the bathroom, the scent of jasmine escaping on the steam.

  “I thought you weren’t coming today.” She said the words as if she wasn’t driving him out of his mind.

  “I needed to check on Travis.”

  Thankfully she had wrapped herself in a thick terry robe that couldn’t quite hide the curves he knew hid beneath. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, damp tendrils curling around her ears. The smooth column of her neck inviting him to lean in and kiss its length.

  “The painter?” she asked.

  He swallowed hard. “Yeah.” She seemed completely in control while he was slipping down the slippery slope of the past.

  “I never heard from him.”

  JD shook his head, pulling himself together. “I was hoping.”

  “Hoping what?”

  He opened his mouth to explain, then closed it instead. “How ‘bout you uhum, get dressed, and I’ll explain.” Maybe not as much in control as he thought.

  She looked down at robe wrapped around her. He couldn’t say that it didn’t adequately cover her. She had one arm around her waist, the one hand holding the lapels together clear up to her throat. Yet there was something far too intimate in knowing that she was naked, sweet smelling and damp, under that one layer of terrycloth.

  Her eyes darkened with something akin to mutual desire, but the mood was tempered as she gave him a sheepish smile. “Meet you downstairs in ten?”

  He swallowed again. “I’ll be there.”

  ****

  “So what’s the deal with the painter?” Elizabeth asked. She had to admit that she was a bit more comfortable fully dressed and standing in the kitchen with JD than she had been nearly naked and a hair’s breadth away. But she had made a vow to herself, and she wasn’t backing down.

  Yet a few more minutes of JD staring at her like that and she would have forgotten all about being ‘just friends.’

  “Trav’s had a drinking problem in the past. He’s trying to get himself together. I hoped that a decent paying job would keep him focused for a while. Apparently not this time.”

  “That’s too bad,” Elizabeth murmured, mulling over how things had changed once again. She crossed to the refrigerator and studied the contents.

  “Is there a handyman in town?” she asked. A change of subject was definitely in order. If she wanted to become JD’s friend—and for some strange reason she had decided that she did—she needed to act like one and not a nag.

  “You’re looking at him.”

  “Seriously.”

  “I am being serious.”

  Elizabeth crossed her arms and stared at him. “Can’t we hire someone from San Antonio?”

  “Sure. If you want to pay out the nose to have them drive all that way.”

  “Fredericksburg?”

  “Same thing. And you’ll be lucky to have them here by next week.”

  “High school kids?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Yes.”

  “I’ll do it,” JD said with a quick dip of his head.

  She supposed it was the only solution they had. But that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. The last thing she needed was JD Carmichael continually underfoot.

  “I guess there’s no hope of Travis coming back?”

  JD shrugged. “Hard to say. He used to be reliable, then his wife left him a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since.”

  “What about you?” The words slipped out before she could check them. But now that the question floated between them, she wanted to know. Wanted to ask if he had loved his wife so much that his heart was broken when she left this world. It wasn’t any of her business. But she wanted to know as much as she didn’t.

  “What about me?”

  “Your wife died. You managed to pull yourself together.” She shut the fridge without getting anything to drink and turned back to face him.

  “I had Mallory to think about.” He ran his fingers over a spot on the counter as if it needed his expert attention, but Elizabeth was sure the action was to keep him from having to look her in the eye.

  “I didn’t mean to pry. I just…”

  “It’s all right.” He shook his head and smiled, but the action didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled his phone out of his clip-on holder and scanned the screen. Another hiding tactic?

  “You don’t want to talk about her do you?” What was it about his silence that set her teeth on edge? It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did. He fell in love with someone else, fell in bed and landed in fatherhood. He hadn’t gotten his heart broken. He wasn’t the one left behind.

  “It’s not that,” he hedged.

  “Then what is it?” It shouldn’t matter. That was fifteen years ago, but somehow it still did.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Nuh-uh.” S
he shook her head. “You can’t say that.”

  His phone chirped and a relieved look crossed his face. “I need to take this.”

  “Really?” Some demon from the past pushed her on, incited her anger and frustration. “That’s fine. Just fine,” she said.

  “It’s the floor guy from the other job site.”

  “Oh, sure.” She waved a hand as if she were swatting flies. “Go right on ahead. You wouldn’t want things to get complicated.”

  He pressed his lips together, then gave her a curt nod. “I’ll be back to paint next week.” Then he turned on his heel.

  The next thing she heard was the slam of the screen door and the rumble of his truck engine.

  She slid into one of the kitchen chairs and laid her head down on her folded arms. “You are a coward, JD Carmichael.”

  But what did that say about her?

  ****

  Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, the perfect Texas, cusp-of-the-summer day. Elizabeth made her way downstairs and into the kitchen.

  Or at least the day would have been perfect had her dreams not been haunted by a dark haired, sexy man.

  She sighed and filled the automatic drip coffee maker, wishing she had a French press and some freshly ground beans. Maybe she should just take the rental to Cupcakes and see what Ginger had going on this morning.

  Or maybe she should stay on task.

  She grabbed an apple and a yogurt from the fridge and set off to her me-maw’s bedroom.

  Weeding through the closet was like a trip down memory lane and a mission of discovery all rolled into one. She found several dresses of the Alice Kramden variety, a couple of pairs of faded Levis, some pearl-button shirts, and a worn pair of cowboy boots she supposed had once belonged to her grandfather. At any rate, they fit and put a smile on Elizabeth’s face. What would her LA friends think about the vintage boots? Not that it mattered: she loved them. Everything else she put in trash bags to load up for charity. Maybe she could find a community theater who would want the clothes for costumes and such.

  In the bottom of this closet mixed in with the boxes of shoes, all a size too small for Elizabeth to wear, she found more boxes of pictures. But she had just gotten on a roll with the sort-through so she left them unopened and carted them into the spare room at the back of the house.

  All those pictures chronicling all the years. Her family. Her siblings. She grabbed her phone and sent a blanket text message to all of them. She had been too caught up in herself to realize, not one of them knew about the task ahead of her. None of them knew that her father had closed the doors to the Victorian and pocketed the key, leaving everything inside just the way it had been.

  She slipped the phone into the pocket of her sweats and went back into the master bedroom to resume her sorting.

  A few minutes later it buzzed.

  Elizabeth took it out again and read the text message from her sister Daisy.

  What can I do to help? Say the word and I’m there.

  She smiled, as another message came through. This one from her brother, Nathan.

  In the south of France doing research. Can be there in three days…maybe four.

  One by one her sisters sent messages. The last one was from MiMi, the baby of the McGees.

  Let’s all get together. We can sort through everything as a family.

  The only one of her siblings that she didn’t hear from was her vagabond brother Charlie. The way he moved around, it’d be a miracle if the country he was in even had cell phone towers. But Elizabeth knew how big his heart was. He’d be there in a flash if she asked it of him.

  Uncovering yet another box of keepsakes, Elizabeth carted it to the back room and mulled over MiMi’s suggestion. It would be best for them to all get together and sort the pictures as a family. Perhaps she could send the boxes to Nathan’s house on Lake Michigan.

  She sent a blanket thank you message with the explanation that if it was all right with everyone, she’d clean through the most of it and save the family keepsakes for a time when they could get together.

  Her phone seemed to go off non-stop as she continued to clean through her grandmother’s closet. It made for slow going, but it was as if her siblings were right there with her as she worked steadily through the afternoon.

  But she nearly jumped out of her skin as the doorbell chimed. She placed a hand over her tripping heart and willed her breathing back to normal.

  She wasn’t expecting anyone, but in a town the size of Loveless, off-the-cuff visitations were a common occurrence.

  She made her way through the house and wrenched open the front door to find JD Carmichael standing there.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.” She had managed to push him from her thoughts for the entire morning, but there he was. Even more handsome than the day before.

  They stood there for a heartbeat.

  “Can I come in? Or am I public enemy number one?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” She stepped back and allowed him into the house, kicking herself for standing there like an idiot while he waited for her to come back to her senses.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “I have.” She nodded. “I ate an apple and a yogurt just after I got up this morning.”

  JD made a face. “It’s after three.”

  Bethie Grace’s stomach rumbled in agreement. She placed a hand over it and laughed. “I hadn’t noticed.” She led him down the hallway and into the brightly lit kitchen.

  He held up a wicker basket plenty big enough for a picnic lunch. “Wanna join me?”

  Like she could turn him down. She hadn’t been able to resist him fifteen years ago. She didn’t think she could start now.

  “Have you run across any quilts?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  “Then get us one, and we’ll have a picnic.”

  She hesitated, not long, but enough for him to notice.

  “I’m trying to make up for yesterday. Please let me.”

  She wanted to tell him no, push him back out the door, and shut it in his face. Instead, she sighed. “I’ll get a quilt.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she sat cross-legged next to JD questioning the soundness of her decision as he pulled container after container out of the basket.

  “Did you cook all this?”

  He shook his head. “You know how Rosie is. She froze a bunch of casseroles and threw a roast in the slow cooker yesterday before she left. Mallory and I had sandwiches last night. As you can see there’s still a lot left. It’s probably not what you’re used to but…”

  “It looks fantastic,” Elizabeth said.

  And there was plenty, along with homemade potato salad, fresh slaw, and bread and butter pickles. Her favorite.

  “And…” He proudly held up an unmarked bottle full of dark red liquid.

  Elizabeth warily eyed it. “What’s that?”

  “Try it first.” He poured her a glass.

  She took it, but sniffed the contents suspiciously. “Whoa. I think I’ll pass.”

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  Her gaze locked with his as she raised the glass to her lips. The wine was full and woodsy with the tang of sweet cherries. “This is good. Did you make it?”

  He shook his head. “This is Laney’s.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t drink anymore.”

  JD laughed. “Don’t worry. He’s settled down over the years.”

  “Haven’t we all.” Elizabeth reached for the container of beef and made herself a sandwich.

  JD followed suit, and they shared the meal under the apple tree in her grandmother’s backyard.

  “Where’s Mallory?” she asked, holding out her glass for a refill. It was best to stick to the safe topics instead of dwelling on how much this looked like a date, apology or not.

  JD obliged, pouring her another cupful of the sweet red wine. “She had soccer practice this afternoon. Then the team is going out to eat pizza.”


  “You didn’t want to go?”

  He pressed his lips together. “She’s at that age now. It’s not so cool to be seen with her old man.”

  JD was far from old, but Elizabeth stopped herself from saying it out loud. “What’s she like?”

  He took a deep breath, then stopped, as if not sure how to answer.

  “You don’t want to tell me?”

  “It’s not that.” His voice was tight, choked with emotion. “I told myself that I wouldn’t do this today.”

  “Do what?”

  “Shut you out.”

  She looked around at the seductive picnic, then back to her handsome companion. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to protect her…us.”

  “What do you think? That she’s nothing more than a reminder to me?”

  He didn’t respond. That in itself was answer enough.

  “She’s a child, JD. Your child. Despite our…past, it doesn’t change anything.”

  “That’s why I came today. To tell you the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  He nodded, but was silent, plucking out blades of grass and tossing them into the wind.

  “Can we start over?”

  “I thought we had.” His voice sounded choked, as if his throat was clogged with emotions she couldn’t begin to name.

  “Maybe starting over isn’t an option.”

  He plucked another blade of grass and tossed it aside. “What then?”

  “How about we go forward.”

  “And that’s different from starting over?” he quietly asked.

  She shrugged. “It means we don’t have to forget about the past.”

  “No more apologies?”

  “I think we both know we have a lot of regrets. There’s no sense in voicing them every time we’re uncomfortable.”

  He nodded.

  “So,” she started, taking a deep gulp of air to boost her courage. “Are you going to tell me about Mallory?”

  “I think you deserve to know.”

  She forced a laugh, trying to take the edge off the conversation. “We aren’t going down that road, remember?”

  He turned to face her, his sapphire eyes locking on hers. “There’s something I need to tell you.”