That Jones Girl (The Mississippi McGills, Sequel)

by Webb, Peggy

  “For all the ways I’ve hurt you, I’m truly sorry, Tess, my girl.”

  “We were so young,” she whispered. “So young.”

  “And very much in love.”

  “Yes. That too.”

  He lifted her into his arms, and she leaned her head against his chest. It felt so good, she thought, so right to be held this way by him.

  “I’m taking you up to bed, Tess. You’re tired.”

  “Thank you.”

  She reached out and flicked off the light as they passed through the kitchen doorway.

  “Can you see in the dark, Mick?”

  “I have a flame to light the way—your hair.” He leaned down and pressed his face in her hair. “It’s beautiful in the moonlight.”

  They passed silently through the den toward the staircase; then he started the long climb to the top. His boots made a muffled cadence on the carpeted stairs, keeping time with the beat of her heart. She didn’t know where he was taking her—to her bedroom or to his. It didn’t matter. Not tonight. Destiny had brought them to Tupelo, and chance had put her in his arms. If it hadn’t been for the baby and the scotch and the past, they might not be on this particular staircase with the moon lighting their way to the top.

  Tess closed her eyes and pressed her face into the front of his shirt. All the wonderful fragrances of the day were mingled in his clothes—the scent of grass where he’d sprawled with his pimiento sandwich, the essence of chocolate where he’d dropped a crumb of cake, the sweet smoky smell of his cigar, even the sharp, bright smell of sunshine seemed to be hidden deep within Mick Flannigan.

  At the top of the stairs Mick hesitated. Then he headed resolutely toward Tess’s door. He carried her into the bedroom and kicked the door shut with his boot.

  “Here we are, Tess.”

  She opened her eyes. The moon was streaming across the bed.

  “Do you remember the first time we ever made love, Flannigan?”

  “I could never forget.”

  “The moon was shining, just like tonight.”

  “It was summer,” he said.

  “You were scared.”

  “I was bold. You were scared.”

  “I was pretending. I didn’t want you to think I was an easy girl.”

  He chuckled softly. “You were never easy, but you were always wicked.”

  “That’s part of my charm.”

  “So it is, Tess, my girl.”

  He started toward the bed, then stopped in the middle of the room, gazing down at her. She put both hands on his cheeks.

  “Kiss me, Flannigan. One more time.”

  “Once was never enough for us, Tess.”

  Time stood still as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips touched, and they knew what heaven was like. She clung to his shoulders, and he held her against his heart. He slid one hand into her hair, and she slipped her hand under the back of his shirt. Her hair was fragrant, and his skin was warm.

  “Tess... my Tess,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Flannigan... my love.”

  Her fingertips raked his skin, and he shuddered.

  “You are almost more temptation than a man can bear. You bewitch me, Tess.”

  “You’re worth the price of sorcery.”

  Their lips joined once more, and they clung together a while longer. Then, slowly, resolutely, he started toward the bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The mattress sagged under their weight. Flannigan spread her across the bed, just the way he used to, with her hair fanning brightly on the pillow and her silky gown smoothed down so her body made one long, lithe line in the moonlight, uninterrupted by wrinkles. Propped on one knee, he leaned over her, his hand warm on her thigh.

  “When I see you like this, Tess, I call myself a fool.”

  “You never were. Only scared.” She traced the arch of his eyebrows, the shape of his cheekbone, the fine outline of his full lips.

  “That feels good.” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “I could fall asleep right here, lying next to you on this mattress with your hands on my face.”

  “Sleep, Flannigan?”

  “Among other things.”

  He stayed where he was awhile longer, with his hand on her leg and her hand on his face. He felt selfish, taking so much pleasure and knowing he couldn’t give any in return. But he felt noble too. It wasn’t often a man was called upon to leave the bed of a woman like Tess.

  “You tempt me to stay, Tess.”

  “You tempt me to invite you.”

  Abruptly he stood, before he changed his mind. Looking down at her, he gave a sad, wistful smile.

  “I could never hurt you again, Tess. You’re too important to me.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for that.” She reached out for a second pillow, and propped herself up so she could see him better. “Instead I’ll ask for one last favor.”

  “Name it. It’s yours.”

  “Kiss me good night, Flannigan, and then go quickly.”

  He bent over her and tenderly cupped her face. Then he gave her a kiss that started music in her soul. It was tender and sweet and endearing. And it was good-bye. She could feel the loneliness of parting, even as they clung to each other.

  At last he broke away. Their eyes met briefly; then he turned quickly and left the room, as she had told him to. The door closed behind him, and she wished she had told him to stay. But what if he had? The loving would have magnificent; there was no doubt about that. They would have stayed in each other’s arms all night long. But when morning came... what would happen then?

  She tossed one of the pillows across the bed and lay down on the other. She was foolish to be wishing such things. Forgetting that her shoes were still on her feet, she drifted asleep.

  o0o

  The sounds of a baby crying woke Tess. She pushed her hair out of her face and peered at the bedside clock, but OToole had his tail curled over its face, so she had to shove him out of the way before she could see the dial.

  Six o’clock. She hadn’t been awake at six o’clock in the morning since she was fourteen and Aunt Bertha had rousted her out of bed to dress for school. “But it’s two hours before school,” she’d complain every morning. And Aunt Bertha would always say, “The early bird gets the worm.”

  “But I don’t like worms,” she’d retort knowing full well that Aunt Bertha would tell her that real ladies didn’t sass their elders.

  Tess crumpled back onto the bed, preparing to fall asleep again, but the baby resumed crying. She was fully awake now. Funny how nothing less than a freight train could wake her when she was in Chicago, and now the small sound of a newborn baby brought her out of a deep slumber in Tupelo.

  She slung her peignoir over her shoulders, found her shoes, which had come off during the night and were hidden under the covers, and cracked open Lovey’s bedroom door. Lovey was sitting on the bed, holding the crying baby, and Jim was still sound asleep on the cot he’d pulled out of the hall closet the night before.

  “Is anything wrong?” Tess asked.

  “No. She’s dry and fed, and this is not a cry of pain. I think she’s lonesome. It seems to be the universal human condition.” Lovey smiled at Tess and motioned her into the bedroom. “Come in and visit.”

  Tess tiptoed inside. Lovey patted the mattress beside her.

  “Are you sure it’s all right? I know we were all in here last night... but I’ve read about hospitals protecting babies from germs and that sort of thing.”

  “Isolation is a far greater threat than germs. Believe me. Jim and I both think that bonding far outweighs caution.”

  Tess sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at the baby.

  “She’s so fragile. Aren’t you afraid of hurting her?”

  “As long as you keep them close to your body so they won’t think they’re falling and you’re careful to support their little heads, babies do fine.” She looked at the naked longing in Tess’s face. “Do you want to hold her?”
/>   “If you think it will be all right.”

  She arranged her arms stiffly, and Lovey placed the baby into them. Little Babs was still sniffling and making unhappy faces, and this new turn of events didn’t cause her any great pleasure. She yelled louder.

  “What do I do now?” Tess was genuinely alarmed.

  “Why don’t you try walking her and singing to her? Babies love the sound of the human voice.”

  Tess stood up and began to walk the baby, uneasily at first, and then, as she got the hang of it, with more confidence. She started humming too. An Irish lullaby she’d learned years ago when she and Flannigan were first dating.

  The baby quieted immediately. With her little hand tangled in a long strand of Tess’s red hair, she gazed at her latest source of entertainment.

  “I think she likes me.”

  “She loves the sound of your voice. And who wouldn’t, Tess? You still have the voice of an angel.” Lovey leaned back against the pillows.

  “You must be exhausted.”

  “More tired than I should be. It’s my age, I guess. I was much younger when I had the last one.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “If you’ll entertain little Babs for a while, I’ll catch a catnap.” Tess looked alarmed, and Lovey laughed. “I think I saw a rocking chair downstairs. You can’t go wrong with a rocking chair, Tess.”

  “Come on, then, little one. Tell Mommy goodbye, and we’ll go downstairs for a grand old rocking chair adventure.” Tess grinned at Lovey.

  o0o

  Mick was sprawled on the deck of a sailboat, covered only with a towel, and Tess was sitting nearby, combing her wet hair and singing. The song was one of his favorites, Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man. Her beautiful voice lulled him, and he drifted near the edge of sleep, the boat rocking gently from side to side. The singing grew more distinct, and he came up out of the fringes of sleep to listen to the words.

  Tess sang of being sad when her lover left and happy when he came back, and Mick knew she was singing to him. Opening his eyes, he lifted himself onto his elbow. He wasn’t on a sailboat at all; he was in Johnny’s house with Johnny’s white sheets tangled around his naked body. But the song was real. Tess’s voice drifted up the staircase, as clear as a summer day.

  Mick slid into his shorts and jeans and hurried down the stairs, barefoot. When he reached the bottom step, he sat down. Tess was in the rocking chair, holding Lovey’s baby and singing. It was a picture too beautiful to disturb.

  Mick watched and listened and coveted. What if that were their baby Tess held? What if she were singing blues lullabies to a tiny baby girl with her red hair and his blue eyes? Mick knew what her name would be. Jenny. He and Tess had picked it out many years ago.

  Grief gathered in his heart for what might have been, and he sat on the bottom step, watching Tess rock Lovey’s baby and mourning for Jenny.

  “I wonder where you are, Jenny, my girl?” he said softly.

  Was she up there with the angels, crying because he and Tess had never given her a chance to be born? Was she dreaming of strawberry ice cream cones and pony rides and teddy bears and grand adventures with her daddy, carried high on his shoulders, giddy with excitement as he pointed out the different animals at the zoo or named the constellations or showed her the fireflies on a summer evening?

  Mick rose from the stairs and walked softly across the room until he was standing behind the rocking chair. Tess slowed her rocking and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes lit in the center, but she didn’t stop singing. Leaning over the back of the chair, he noticed that the baby was almost asleep.

  He tiptoed around the chair and sat on the sofa, facing them, one bare foot propped on his knee.

  “I heard you singing,” he said, quietly so as not to wake the baby.

  “I’m babysitting for Lovey and Jim.”

  “You look natural, Tess.”

  “I don’t feel natural. I’m a little scared of this tiny bundle.”

  He was somewhat in awe himself, but he didn’t say so. Tess rocked and Mick watched, and finally he got up enough courage to say, “Do you think she’d mind if I held her awhile?”

  “Let me ask her.” Tess leaned close to the sleepy baby. “Little one, there’s a big man sitting on the sofa who is dying to hold you. I think he’s all right, but I wouldn’t want to hand you over without getting your opinion.”

  Baby Babs yawned and blinked her blue eyes. Tess smiled up at Mick.

  “I think she said yes.”

  Tess stood up, and they met in front of the rocking chair. They made the transfer from her arms to his as carefully as if they were negotiating world peace. After Mick had the baby, Tess kept her hand under Babs’s bottom.

  “She seems to be sagging, Mick.”

  “I’ll fix that.” He pulled the baby closer to his chest, and somehow Tess got tangled in with the baby and he ended up holding on to both of them.

  He looked at her flushed face and grinned.

  “This babysitting does have its compensations. I don’t know who is the sweetest package, you or the baby.”

  “You’re still full of Irish blarney, aren’t you, Mick?”

  “Only with you, Tess. You always seem to bring out my charm.”

  Laughing, Tess took a seat on the sofa and watched while Mick made the acquaintance of baby Babs, his head bent close and one hand cupping the tiny face.

  “Sure and if you’re not a wee angel come straight down from heaven to gladen the heart of your old uncle Mick.” He glanced up at Tess. “I think she smiled at me.”

  “I have no doubt about it.”

  “Look at her tiny hands, Tess. See how she hangs on to me. I think she loves me.”

  “Hmmm,” was all Tess could manage to say, for she had a huge lump in her throat.

  “Did you see her little feet?” Mick kissed the sole of one tiny foot. “This baby is a miracle.”

  Tess wiped her tears with the sleeve of her robe, blinking away the feathers that tried to get into her eye. It was far too late to cry over what might have been.

  Jim came down the stairs and reclaimed his baby.

  “Feeding time for this little one.”

  Tess felt a dreadful sense of loss when Jim carried the baby back upstairs. She sat on the sofa, staring at Mick, slumped in his chair. She had never seen him slump. It seemed to her there was something she should say. But what would it be? I’m sorry? She was, of course, sorry for all the things they had missed—the babies with pink- soled feet, the midnight feedings, the birthday parties, the exhilarating feeling of being called Mommy and Daddy.

  In the end she decided it was best to say nothing. After all, today they would be saying goodbye. Forever.

  She stood up and quietly left the room. A single purple feather drifted to the floor behind her.

  Mick sat in his chair until he could no longer hear her steps on the stairs; then he picked up the feather.

  “Dear Tess... always leaving a trail.” He turned it this way and that, and it seemed to him that he could see her reflection in the deep purple feather. “Is that so I can follow you wherever you go?”

  He pressed his lips against the feather, then put it in his pocket. How could he follow Tess? They were going in different directions.

  o0o

  By ten o’clock that morning everyone except Lovey was downstairs. It was Sunday morning, and they were going to say a formal good-bye to Babs.

  With Johnny in the lead, they trooped into the rose garden behind the house. The sun slanted across the roses, and distant church bells rang out their melodies of worship.

  Johnny placed Babs on a stone bench in the center of the garden. Then, with his hands folded across his chest, he gave a simple eulogy. One by one, the friends came forward and said good-bye to Babs. Each one spoke from the heart.

  And when the ceremony was over, Johnny gathered Babs and led the way to his station wagon. Lovey waved good-bye from the second-story bedroom window.
They were silent on the drive to the airport where Mick’s Cessna Skyhawk waited.

  When they were all in the plane, Mick in the pilot’s seat and Tess in the seat beside him, Johnny leaned over and plucked Tess’s sleeve.

  “I want you to be the one, Tess.”

  She knew what he meant. They were going to scatter Babs’s ashes over the Mississippi River.

  “Are you sure, Johnny?”

  “Yes. I know this is what she wants. We talked about it many times. She always said to me, ‘Johnny, take me high into the sky and scatter me over the Mississippi. That way I can always be traveling to new places. Who knows how far the river will take me?’ “ He dashed a tear from his eye. “I can’t do it, Tess. I’m too selfish to let her go.”

  Tess took the urn. “I’ll do it, Johnny.”

  “Will you sing while you do it? She’d like that.”

  “Yes. I’ll sing.”

  “Thank you, Tess.” Satisfied, Johnny sat back and strapped himself in. “Ready when you are, Mick.”

  Mick nodded. Just before he took the controls, he reached over and squeezed Tess’s hand. She looked down at their joined hands for a second, then up at him. Their gazes touched, lingered, then pulled apart. Mick released her and took the Cessna into the sky.

  Tess watched the way he handled the plane with such ease. He’d always been fascinated with flight. She remembered the day he’d got his license. They had cut classes, packed a picnic hamper, and rented a plane. He’d flown all the way to the Gulf Coast for a celebration. And what a celebration. She could still feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair as they’d made love on a secluded sandy beach.

  They flew in silence through crystal sky and shining cloud castles with the roar of the engine in their ears. Far below, the earth divided itself into patches of green and brown with an occasional gray ribbon threading across the landscape.

  “River coming up,” Mick shouted, pointing downward.

  Tess nodded. Mick took the plane down, skimming the treetops. Tess still knew how to open the window. It was one of the many things Mick had taught her. When he dipped his right wing, she began to sing.