Beneath a Southern Sky

by Deborah Raney

  Daria was grateful for his plan. Besides the fact that it was thoughtful of him, it would also eliminate that awkward moment when she would wonder whether she should invite him in for coffee afterward.

  Vera’s insistent pleas tugged her back to the present. “Please, Daria. If you don’t have any plans, I don’t really see how you can deny us the privilege of spending some time with our only connection to Nathan.” Though Daria knew the emotion that came over the line now was genuine, it rankled her that Vera would use it against her this way. She was glad Vera couldn’t see her clenched jaw, couldn’t hear her slap her fist on the desk in frustration.

  “All right, Vera,” she said finally. “I-I guess we can try it this once. But Natalie still wakes up at least once in the night, you know.”

  Vera’s tears turned almost instantly to glee. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I haven’t been sleeping well myself. We’ll just be up together. We’ll get along fine.”

  Vera insisted that she and Jack take Daria and Natalie out to supper as soon as Daria got off work that evening. “We’ll probably just leave from the restaurant though,” Vera informed her, “so could you have her things packed and ready to go?”

  “Okay, sure,” she answered, feeling somehow defeated.

  Daria hung up and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers, wondering what she had done. She was angry with herself, for she knew her main reason for giving in to Vera was because she did not want to have to confess that she had a date Saturday night.

  She dialed the clinic to let Carla know she was running late, then she called Jennifer to tell her that she was off the hook for Saturday night.

  She wove her hair into a quick braid, hurriedly brushed her teeth, grabbed Natalie from her playpen, and bundled her up. By the time she arrived at the clinic her head was throbbing.

  Dinner with the Camfields that evening went fine until Jack asked innocently, “So, what are you going to do with a weekend all to yourself, Daria?”

  She drained an invisible swig from her empty water glass, desperately trying to think of an answer. She decided on honesty but took her time getting there.

  “Well, I don’t mind telling you I’m looking forward to sleeping a whole night without this little squirt waking me up.” She threw a smile Natalie’s way. “Then tomorrow morning I’ll clean the apartment and then”—she put the empty glass to her lips again—“well, tomorrow evening I’m invited to dinner with Dr. Hunter.”

  Vera Camfield’s coffee cup halted midway to her lips. She set the cup firmly back in its saucer and looked Daria in the eye. “Your boss? Oh, is it a company party or something?”

  “No, we’re just going out to dinner, maybe a movie.”

  “Well,” Vera said, as if the word summed up the whole situation.

  “So you have a date, Daria?” Jack Camfield sounded rather pleased.

  “I guess you could call it that. We’re friends.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing we’ll have Natalie then,” Vera said accusingly.

  “I have several good baby-sitters, Vera,” she said, knowing it came out sounding defensive. “In fact, Cole had already arranged for a sitter. I had to call and cancel.”

  “Cole?”

  “Yes, Dr. Hunter.”

  “That’s awfully…friendly, isn’t it?”

  “Vera, everyone at work calls him Cole. We’ve always been on a first-name basis.” She bit her tongue, struggling to remain civil.

  “Vera,” Jack Camfield shot his wife a look of warning, then cleared his throat and pushed his chair back from the table. “Well, I suppose we’d better get on the road if we’re going to have this little pumpkin in bed before midnight.” He pinched Natalie’s cheek, and she rewarded him with a wide smile.

  When the Camfields pulled out of the parking lot, Daria felt a catch in her throat as she watched her daughter gaze out the window from her car seat. Natalie looked so small and vulnerable in the back of the huge sedan.

  Daria drove back to an empty apartment, her apprehension mounting by the minute at the thought of a date with her boss.

  She turned on the television for company, but on this night of all nights, Nate kept intruding into her thoughts. She wandered around the apartment and finally went into the bathroom to wash her face and get ready for bed. As she reached to put the toothpaste away in the medicine cabinet, the simple gold band on her finger caught the light and glimmered, reflected in the mirror. She had continued to wear her wedding ring—because of Natalie and the Camfields, she supposed. She wondered what Cole thought about it—or if he’d even noticed. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped the ring off and dropped it into a small porcelain dish that sat on the counter in the tiny bathroom. The slim band rolled around the edge and nestled itself among the earrings and other trinkets.

  She finally crawled into bed with a book. It was barely nine o’clock. She reached for the lamp, and there was Nate staring at her from the picture frame on her nightstand.

  She threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, heading down the hallway, not sure why. She paced through the house with her thoughts in a miserable jumble.

  What was she doing, going on a date with another man, when she still said good night to a picture of her husband every night? When she still wore his wedding ring on her finger? What had she been thinking when she said yes to Cole?

  She picked up the phone and started to dial the office number.

  Was she losing her mind? Cole wouldn’t be at the clinic at nine o’clock on a Friday night. Then she’d just call him at home. She quickly pulled Bristol’s thin phone book from the drawer and flipped to the Hs. Then just as quickly she slapped the book shut and put the phone back on the hook.

  You’re just nervous, she told herself. Cole is just a friend. It’s not like he asked you to marry him.

  She paced some more and finally wrapped herself in an afghan, flopped down on the sofa, and grabbed the remote. She clicked on the television, muted the volume, and sat there in the dark, the flickering lights from the screen casting eerie shadows over the room, reflecting the chaotic direction of her thoughts.

  It was 1:00 A.M. before she finally switched off the set and crawled into bed, and another hour before she slipped into a fitful sleep.

  Daria paced nervously through the rooms of her apartment, stopping to push the curtains aside and watch for Cole’s car each time she passed the window that overlooked the driveway.

  She’d been having second thoughts all day long. There was no doubt that she was attracted to Colson Hunter, no doubt that a part of her wanted to get to know him better. But maybe it was too soon. And he was her boss. She needed her job. What if things went sour between her and Cole? She couldn’t afford to lose this job, especially now that she’d been promoted with a nice raise.

  She went into the bathroom and fussed with her hair for the dozenth time, tucking it behind her ear, untucking it, then tucking it again. She picked a nonexistent piece of lint from her sweater and flipped off the lights over the mirror, then went back to the living room to resume her pacing.

  The sound of tires on gravel made her heart lurch. “Okay,” she whispered under her breath, “this is it.”

  She grabbed her purse and a light jacket and ran down the stairs to the door. She opened it a moment before the doorbell chimed in the hallway above her.

  “That was quick!” Colson Hunter stood in front of her, smiling, hand still raised to the doorbell button. He wore neatly pressed chinos, a cream-colored rag wool sweater, and a light jacket. She caught an appealing whiff of cologne.

  She ran her moist palms over her corduroys and attempted a smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Good, how about you?”

  “Great. All ready?”

  “Sure.” What in the world would they talk about all night?

  He led her to the passenger door, opened it for her, and waited as she got in. She thought he looked like a teenager as he ran aro
und to the driver’s side door and hopped behind the wheel. She suddenly felt fifty years old.

  “Do you like Mexican food?”

  “Sure.”

  “There’s a new place on the west side I thought we’d try. I haven’t eaten there, but I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

  “Okay.”

  He drove to the end of Bristol’s main street and down a blacktop road toward the interstate. They rode in silence for several minutes.

  “Did you get Natalie off to Kansas City all right?” he ventured.

  “Yes. Vera called this morning, and I guess they got along pretty well last night. She only woke up once.”

  “That’s good.”

  Silence.

  She twisted her watch on her wrist and stared straight ahead.

  “So…” Cole said. “It sure has been windy lately.”

  “It sure has,” she replied.

  Silence.

  “The Regier dog seems to be recovering well from the C-section.”

  “Yes.”

  “For a while there, I was afraid we’d lose her and the pups both.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I think we can probably send her home Monday.”

  “Okay.” Daria looked at her watch again.

  Finally, as they neared Wichita he turned to face her, his voice insistent, forcing her to look at him. “Daria?”

  She turned toward him.

  “Are you all right?”

  She was afraid she would cry, but she couldn’t answer his probing gaze with anything other than complete honesty. She put a hand to her forehead. “No, Cole. I’m really not all right. We need to talk.”

  Eleven

  “What’s wrong?” His voice was rough, and his brow was etched with worry, but his eyes held a deep tenderness.

  “It’s just…I…” She bit her lip then put her head in her hands with a sigh of exasperation. “Oh, Cole, I don’t know if we should be doing this. I’m not sure I…” She raked her hands through her hair in defeat.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” He sounded hurt.

  “No, but…can we talk?”

  “Uh, I don’t know if you noticed,” he said wryly, “but I’ve been trying to talk since I rang your doorbell.”

  She looked at him, saw the glint in his eyes, and couldn’t help but grin. The tension eased a little. “I’m sorry. I’m having a thousand reservations about this whole thing.”

  “This date?”

  She nodded.

  “Like…?”

  “Can I be really honest, Cole?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay. Like should I be dating my boss? I can’t afford to lose my job, Cole. What if you hate me after tonight?” She gathered steam, her words tumbling out as she listed her concerns. “Like, has it been long enough since…Nate died? Have I given myself enough time to get over him, and if not, is it fair to you? And what about Natalie? If things were to get serious between us, I don’t know how you feel about—”

  “Okay, I get the picture,” he interrupted. “How about this? Number one”—he held up a finger—“I promise not to fire you for at least a couple of months.”

  She smiled, but she was frustrated that he seemed to be taking this so lightly. He seemed to read her mind, for he shifted in his seat, and his next words were dead serious.

  “Daria, I do understand about Nate. If you’ll remember, I’ve been down that road. I promise we’ll take it nice and slow until you’re sure you’re ready for more than just friendship. And as for Natalie, she’s an angel. She doesn’t scare me one bit.”

  Daria smiled, feeling at ease again.

  As they drove into Wichita, the sun was sinking behind the city’s spare skyline. Cole took the Kellogg exit and turned west, maneuvering through the evening’s heavy traffic.

  He turned to her suddenly. “How ’bout we do a drive-through instead of the restaurant? I’ve got an idea.”

  She nodded, curious, but grateful. She was in no mood to be in public.

  He exited on West Street and drove past its mecca of fast-food joints. “Want to stick with Mexican?”

  “Um, sure, it sounds good.”

  He changed lanes and turned into the Taco Bell drive-through, ordered for both of them, then headed north again after they got their food.

  He drove to Zoo Boulevard, past the huge empty parking lot of the Sedgwick County Zoo, and turned into another nearby lot that served a nature park and walking paths.

  He cut the engine, unbuckled his seat belt, and turned toward her to dole out tacos and chips. He stripped the paper off a straw and stuck it in her Diet Coke, handing it to her. Then he took her left hand in his and bowed his head.

  “Lord, please bless this food, bless our time together, and please, Lord, please, help Daria think of something to say so I don’t have to carry the conversation this entire evening.” He peered up at her through half-closed eyes, a mischievous, lopsided grin on his lips.

  Head still bowed, she let go of his hand and whopped him on the arm, grinning madly. “Amen,” she said, feeling better by the minute.

  “Okay, let’s hear it,” he said, peeling the wrapper off a taco. “Talk to me.”

  She took a sip of her drink. “It’s a lot of things, Cole.”

  She looked at him, unsure of how much she should open up.

  But he persisted now. “Daria, let’s just get it all out in the open. Let’s be totally honest with each other and not hold anything back. Then we’ll know where we both stand and where to go from there. Okay?”

  He sat waiting for her, his taco dripping salsa down his hand.

  She handed him a napkin, took another sip of her Coke, and tried to think of how to begin.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I think mostly it’s… I’m just not sure I’m ready to date again. Every time I’m with you, Cole, I can’t help but think about Nathan. It’s not that I have you mixed up with him or anything, but the same things that attracted me to Nate are the things I like so much about you.”

  He raised one eyebrow coyly. “I like the sound of this. So what exactly is it that you like so much about me?”

  “You know, for someone who wanted to put everything out on the table, you sure aren’t making this easy for me.” But now she was glad for a little levity, glad that they were finding the easy manner they’d always had with each other.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. Go on. We’ll get back to why you like me in due time.”

  She smiled, acknowledging his wisecrack, but plunged ahead, wanting to get this over with. “I know Nate is gone, Cole. I’m not in denial. I know he would have wanted me to go on with my life and not grieve too long for him. But it doesn’t seem quite right—or fair to you—when I feel as though he’s”—she struggled to find the word—“present. It’s almost like he’s here now, between us.”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts, Daria.”

  “No, of course not. I don’t mean it that way. But the feelings I have for you are so close to what I had with Nate. You tease me or say something funny, and I can’t help but think of the way Nate used to do that.”

  He looked at her intently, seeming to drink in every word. “Is that so terrible, Daria? Your husband was a huge part of your life—your other half. From what you’ve told me, you had a great marriage. It’s only natural that you think of him often. That doesn’t threaten me. I don’t think it should.”

  She cocked her head. “Really? Do you…do you think of your wife that way?”

  He dipped his head, ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a little different for me, Daria. For one thing, it’s been a lot longer. Bridgette’s been gone for over five years now. Time has a way of erasing a lot of things. And we had some rough times at the end. I don’t know how much you know…”

  She waited, not wanting to tell him what she’d heard, wanting his own version of the story.

  “You probably heard that Bridgette killed herself.” It wasn’t a question.


  “Carla said they didn’t know for sure.”

  “Well, that’s true enough. I don’t even know, Daria. I still don’t know for sure. I came home from work one night, and the car was running in the garage. She was sitting inside, the radio on. I honestly don’t know if it was an accident or not. I-I’d like to think that she was listening to a talk show or something that caught her interest, and she just didn’t realize what was happening. It was cold outside, so maybe she let the car run to keep warm.”

  His voice was trembling now, and his face took on a troubled expression. “I’d like to think that’s what happened,” he went on. “But Bridgette was very intelligent. And she was always so cautious about things like that. If she caught a whiff of gas from the furnace, she wouldn’t rest until the gas company came out and assured her it was safe. Things like that. I think deep down I know that her death wasn’t an accident.” He said it as though it might be the first time he’d admitted it aloud.

  “Oh, Cole,” she said.

  He looked up, and his eyes found hers. “It’s okay, Daria. Like I said, time has healed a lot of the wounds. It was horrible at first. I wasn’t sure I was going to survive. People seemed to blame me for not doing enough, for not seeing her pain—rumors can be so vicious. And I felt guilty. Bridgette was dealing with—well, a lot of junk.” He swallowed hard. “I should have known something was wrong. But you do what you have to do to get through. You, of all people, know how that is. But God has been with me through it all. I have peace about it. I really do, even if the very worst is true.”

  She nodded.

  “Daria—” He started to say something else, then shook his head as if to ward off the gloom his words had brought over them. Then he started gathering up the empty wrappers from their dinner. “Do you want to walk for a while?” he asked finally.

  “Sure,” she said, relieved for the change of subject.

  He got out and locked his door behind him, tossed the Taco Bell bags into a nearby trash bin, and went around to open her door. They buttoned up their jackets as they walked across a small playground to catch the trail. They’d only gone a couple hundred yards when the trail disappeared under a canopy of trees. The air grew instantly cooler and smelled of pine needles and damp earth. The path circled a shimmering lake, and Daria felt as though she’d walked out of the plains of Kansas onto a Colorado mountain trail.