Waking Up in Dixie

by Haywood Smith

  “I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth said as she laid the roast beef and gravy onto the table. “Touring Europe would certainly be educational.” She sat and put her napkin in her lap. “What do you think, Howe? I know we said Patti needed to work and go to school, but all that will be here when she gets back.”

  Hope bloomed in Patti’s expression. “Please, Daddy. Pleeese.”

  Howe nodded to Elizabeth, graciously allowing her to take the credit with, “It’s your mother’s decision.”

  “I think it would be wonderful.” Elizabeth smiled at Patti. “As long as you promise to buckle down to your studies once you get back.”

  “Oh, I will. Mama, thank you!” Patti exploded, practically tackling her with a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Elizabeth savored the brief joy of Patti’s gratitude and the feel of her daughter in her arms for the first time in so long.

  Then Patti let go and plopped back into her seat, serving herself a huge dollop of mashed potatoes. “When can we leave?” She helped herself to butter peas. “Where are we going? How long will we be gone?”

  Augusta actually smiled, and her face didn’t crack. “We can go whenever we want. I thought the first of the month. That gives us two weeks to get ready and pack.”

  Augusta handed her plate to Howe for a serving of beef. “We’ll have our own driver, with five-star accommodations, all the way.” She’d obviously done a lot of planning. “We’ll start with four days in London, then on to Stratford and Bath and the Cotswolds. Then up to Scotland for the Isle of Skye and Inverness. Then on to Paris for four days, to see the museums. Then Switzerland and Prague. Then Italy. We’ll be gone a month, in all.”

  “What a fabulous trip,” Elizabeth said.

  “I think this calls for a special blessing,” Howe announced, taking Charles’s and his mother’s hands.

  Augusta stared at his hand holding hers, then awkwardly took Patti’s as they formed a circle and bowed their heads, something else they hadn’t done before.

  “Heavenly Father,” Howe prayed, “We thank You for this meal and the hands that prepared it, and all the many blessings You have given us. Most of all, we thank You for this family, especially for Mama and the generous offer she’s just made to share this special trip with Patti. I ask for protection and special blessings as they travel. Bring them home safe and sound. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.”

  Elizabeth felt herself relax. Augusta was right. A month without her or Patti to contend with would be a welcome respite for everyone. And Patti was so happy. Buoyed, Elizabeth started serving her plate.

  “Well, Charles,” Howe said as he did the same. “What’s up with you besides the garden?”

  Charles beamed. “It’s not as exciting as Gamma’s bombshell, but you know I’ve always wanted to get into politics. Well, a few of the movers and shakers I’ve met want me to run for mayor.”

  Howe almost choked. “Of Atlanta?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Augusta sputtered. “That is preposterous. Nobody white can get elected mayor of Atlanta.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyes heavenward at the comment, which was probably true but came across as racist.

  “Damn, boy,” Howe blustered. “Talk about a no-win job. That’s almost as crazy as wanting to be president.”

  Charles smiled. “I might just want to do that, too, someday.” He shrugged. “I’ve got to start somewhere. This is it.”

  “Cool,” Patti told her brother. “But you know you don’t stand a chance.”

  Charles laughed. “Oh, they don’t expect me to win. They just think it would be good exposure. Get my name out there, and my face. It’s strictly preliminary. I’ll drop out before we get into the big bucks.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Elizabeth said.

  “What then?” Howe asked.

  “After I finish clerking, I’ll go with the DA’s office; get my sea legs trying cases. Then I may run for state representative. After that, Congress. We’ll see.”

  “I’ve never doubted for a minute that you’ll go far in this world,” Elizabeth told her son.

  Howe stood, glass lifted. “I think this calls for a toast. To the next Charles Howell Whittington in the State House.”

  “Hear, hear,” Augusta said as they rose and touched their glasses while Charles smiled with pride.

  Just as they sat down, the phone rang. When Patti started to get up and answer it, Howe caught her arm. “They can leave a message. We’re eating.” After the fourth ring, the call service picked up.

  But before thirty seconds had passed, the phone rang again. Patti shot a pleading look to her father, but Howe didn’t budge. “This is the first time we’ve had dinner as a family since I came home, and we are not taking any calls.”

  The ringing stopped, then started again. Elizabeth decided to put an end to the disruptions. Closest to the phone, she rose. “I’ll ask whoever it is to call back later.” She crossed to the counter and saw “Insufficient data” on the cordless receiver’s screen, then pushed the talk button. “Hello?”

  “Thank God it’s you.”

  P.J.! What was he doing, calling her at home? “Are you all right? Has something happened?”

  “I have to see you.”

  What was he thinking? Her mind raced. She had to cover. “I’m sorry, Anne,” she said with deliberate calm, “but I’m having dinner with my family right now, so we’ll have to go over that later.”

  “Meet me tomorrow,” he insisted. “Houston’s at noon.”

  He had some nerve. “I’m sorry, but that really won’t work for me. I have to go now.”

  “If you don’t come, I’ll come to you.”

  He wouldn’t! Elizabeth’s heart pounded in panic. The others were watching her, wondering what was going on.

  “Elizabeth, I don’t make idle threats,” P.J. said. “Meet me, or I’ll come there and tell Howe how I feel about you.”

  “Why don’t we go over that tomorrow?” she relented, furious at him for pulling such a stunt. “We could have lunch.”

  “I’ll see you at noon.” He hung up.

  Elizabeth felt as if he’d pulled a plug and all the blood had run out of her.

  Howe eyed her with a peculiar expression on his face. “What was that all about?”

  Elizabeth focused on her plate as she sat. “Anne had some big idea for the Altar Guild.” Damn. She did not just say that!

  Howe winced as Augusta went stiff as a board.

  Perfect. Nothing like rubbing salt in the wound.

  Howe came to her rescue with, “So Charles, how can we help you out with this campaign?”

  “Don’t sock anybody in vestry meetings,” Charles quipped. “And try to stay out of the papers.” He looked to Elizabeth and his father. “But I don’t need to worry about you two.”

  Unless P.J. turned up on their doorstep professing love for Elizabeth. It wouldn’t matter that Elizabeth hadn’t done anything. Everybody in Whittington would believe the worst, and the scandal would humiliate the whole family.

  Holy heaven. What was she going to do?

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, just to be on the safe side, Elizabeth told Howe something had come up, preempting her lunch with Anne. He could clearly tell that something was amiss, but he didn’t press. “I’ll be home by three,” she said as she left. Did he suspect the truth? She couldn’t tell from his newly shuttered expression.

  On her way down to Atlanta, she wondered if it had ever been as hard for Howe to lie to her as it was for her to reciprocate. The thought made her even angrier at P.J. for making it necessary.

  She would end it, pure and simple. Then she’d tell Howe the truth.

  By the time she walked into the restaurant, she was feeling cold fury at P.J.

  “Ah, Mrs. Whittington,” the hostess said. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

  Elizabeth faltered. How in blue-bloody hell did the woman know her
name?

  “Please follow me. Mr. Atkinson is already at your regular table.”

  Names? Regular table? Elizabeth had a bad feeling about this. Very bad.

  She scanned the restaurant for any familiar faces, but didn’t see any. Thank God.

  P.J. rose when she reached the booth, leaning over to give her a very public peck on the cheek, but Elizabeth dodged him, sliding into her side with a glare of rebuke.

  P.J. kept right on smiling as he sat to face her. “You look wonderful, as always.”

  The waitress came immediately. “Good afternoon, Mr. Atkinson. Mrs. Whittington.”

  Again with the names! P.J. had to be the one who’d told them. Very not good!

  “And what may I bring you to drink, Mrs. Whittington?”

  P.J. grinned. “Bring us your best bottle of champagne. We’re celebrating.”

  “We are not,” Elizabeth countered. “I’m not staying.” She glared at the waitress. “Please leave us.”

  The waitress pulled a face and slipped away.

  Elizabeth leaned across the polished table to murmur harshly above the din of the restaurant. “P.J., I cannot believe you’d pull something like this. Have you lost your mind? Surely you don’t think this is going to win me over.” She didn’t pause for a response. “Because it’s done just the opposite. So I’m ending it. Now. It’s over.”

  He didn’t react, just sat there, smiling with the confidence of a cat with its paw on a mouse’s tail.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded. When he failed to respond, she tried another tack. “I’ve decided to try to make my marriage work. If you really care about me the way you say you do, you’ll respect my decision.”

  P.J.’s expression hardened, intensifying the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Not if that decision is destructive. Howe’s no good for you, Elizabeth. He can say he’s changed all he wants, but underneath it, he’s still the same man. He’ll end up using you, just like he always did.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she defended.

  “I can’t let you do this,” P.J. said. “You’ll thank me in the end. I have no intention of giving up on what’s best for you, ever, and what’s best for you is me, not Howe. I can’t let him have you.”

  At last, the truth. It hit Elizabeth like a semi. P.J. didn’t love her. He wanted her, like some trophy.

  But why her? He could have his pick of young and willing Atlanta babes.

  Was it the chase? The fact that Elizabeth wasn’t available?

  “If I have to,” he said smoothly, “I’ll tell everybody about us.”

  “But there’s nothing to tell.”

  His mouth curled into a cold smile that Elizabeth recognized all too well from Howe’s past. “Do you really think people will believe that?” he asked.

  Elizabeth’s throat constricted. “P.J., that’s crazy. You wouldn’t.”

  He leveled a chilling stare at her. “Don’t bet on it.”

  She had to think. Buy enough time to tell Howe the truth before P.J. lied to him. “I . . . I have to think about this.”

  “Don’t take too long,” P.J. warned.

  A woman’s voice sounded from behind her. “Elizabeth? Is that you?”

  Adrenaline shot through Elizabeth as she turned to find Carole Thompson from Garden Club with her daughter Hannah. Blood rushed to her face. “Carole,” she said, belying her alarm. “So good to see you.”

  P.J. rose. “We were just about to have some lunch. Please join us.”

  Carole shot a pointed glance from him to Elizabeth, then declined with a snide, “Thanks, but we wouldn’t dream of intruding.” She gave Elizabeth a subtle nudge. “Have fun.”

  “Actually, I was just leaving,” Elizabeth said without looking at P.J. “Howe’s had a minor emergency with the house. You know how renovations go.”

  The sommelier chose just that moment to arrive with the champagne in a bucket. “Your champagne. Enjoy.”

  Perfect.

  Carole’s eyebrows lifted as she shepherded her daughter toward the next booth. “Come along, Hannah.”

  Elizabeth forced herself to turn back to P.J. “It was nice running into you, P.J., but as I said, I really do have to run.”

  P.J. took out his cell phone and waggled it in threat. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth headed outside as fast as she could without attracting attention, groping for her own cell phone in her purse. Heart pounding, she reached the awning outside and hit speed-dial for her house.

  Howe answered. “Hey there.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she breathed out. “Howe, I need to talk to you.”

  He read the panic in her voice. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing. Yet. But I have to tell you this in person.” She picked a place halfway between Whittington and Buckhead. “I’m on my way home, now. Can you meet me at that little place where we used to eat in Crabapple?”

  “Sure. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound okay.”

  “I’m fine. Please, Howe. This is really important. Just grab your car keys and come. And don’t answer the phone, no matter who it is. Just come.”

  “I’m on my way.” She heard his cell phone ring in the background.

  “Don’t answer that,” she pleaded.

  “I won’t.” The ringing stopped. “I’ve turned it off,” he said. “Be careful, Elizabeth. Drive safely.”

  “I will.”

  She didn’t. She broke every speed limit between there and Crabapple, but didn’t get caught—maybe because everybody else was doing the same thing.

  Even so, Howe was waiting outside the little diner, which had gone out of business, when she drove up.

  He got out of his car and came over to open her door. “There’s a nice little park over there.”

  “Good idea.” It was a lot more private than a restaurant.

  He took her cold hand in his warm one to help her out.

  Elizabeth had been rehearsing what she’d say all the way from Buckhead, but when she stood beside him, words failed her.

  He didn’t press. Just strolled toward a small gazebo with benches. “That looks like a nice spot.”

  Elizabeth nodded, a huge lump in her throat and a stone in her heart. Caught in a cycle of guilt and recrimination, she couldn’t stop thinking she should have realized things could get messy when she first felt attracted to P.J. She should have realized what could happen.

  How could she have been so weak?

  When they reached the little gazebo, Howe sat facing her. “Okay. Let’s have it. What’s this important thing you have to tell me in person?”

  She wrapped her arms across her chest, closing her eyes in shame. “I’ve been seeing someone.” Oh, hell. She’d made it sound as bad as P.J.’s version. “I mean, just seeing someone. Not seeing someone.”

  She hated the hurt-child look in Howe’s eyes, hated the fact that she’d put it there. The last thing in the world she wanted was to make anybody feel the way his unfaithfulness had made her feel, even Howe.

  He bent forward as if she’d struck him from behind, bracing his arms on his thighs, hands fisted. “I . . .” He straightened, tears running down his cheeks. “I can’t blame you. God knows, I gave you reason to turn elsewhere.”

  “It was stupid, but I was so lonely, and he made me feel important, desirable, for the first time in so long. But nothing happened, Howe,” she said with passion. “I wouldn’t let it. No matter what, I wouldn’t let it.”

  He looked to the trees beyond them. “It didn’t have to.”

  “Howe, you must believe me. Nothing happened.”

  “I believe you,” he said, but there was no relief in his tortured expression.

  “I tried to break it off today,” she went on, “but he got angry. Threatened to lie and tell you we’d had an affair, so he could break us up.”

  “Sounds like a real sonofabitch.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “For some reason, he
’s obsessed with having me.”

  “I can’t say I blame him,” Howe admitted. “Who is he?”

  “P.J. Atkinson.” The fact that it was somebody they both knew seemed to strike him another blow. “We ran into each other a few times when I was shopping at Phipps, and we had lunch. All very casual. We just talked. Caught up on old times. Strictly on the up-and-up.”

  “But then,” he prodded.

  “Then you had your stroke. And the coma.” She faced him. “It’s not an excuse. I knew he cared about me more than I cared about him. But he made me feel like a woman again. He cared what I thought, how I felt.” She hadn’t meant for it to be an indictment of Howe’s neglect, but it came out that way.

  “Do you love him?” Howe asked, the question harsh.

  “Not now.” She saw his pained reaction at the implication that she once had, and felt compelled to explain. “I was attracted to him at first. And flattered. Maybe I thought I loved him in the beginning, but not now, not after seeing what he’s capable of. I can’t stand him, now.”

  “They say hate is the other side of love,” Howe said, his voice tight.

  “Not in this case. I’d be happy never to see him again.”

  “Maybe that’s just because of the scandal he might cause,” Howe said. Despite his own past sins, he was still a man, a man whose wife had been attracted to somebody else. He lapsed into troubled silence.

  “I tried to discourage him,” Elizabeth explained, “but the more I did, the more persistent he became. When he called me at supper yesterday, I knew I had to put a stop to it.”

  She reached the breaking point at last, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. “Now he’ll tell everybody we had an affair, which is a lie, and the whole thing will be an awful scandal, humiliating our children.”

  After all her years of silent sacrifice, she was the one, not Howe, who had destroyed their respectability.

  Elizabeth covered her face with her hands and wept. “How could I have been so stupid? Now I’ve ruined everything. I’ll never be able to face everybody.”

  Howe got up to sit beside her. “You haven’t ruined everything.” He drew her close, his hand stroking her hair as she sobbed mascara all over his golf shirt. “You were human. You were lonely.” He exhaled heavily, as if to purge himself of pain. “I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite if I didn’t forgive you, even if you’d slept with him.” He rocked her gently, his voice filled with longing when he told her, “I love you, Elizabeth, but our marriage can’t be based on duty or concern about what people think. Still, I’m human, too. I can’t share you with another man.”