Shelby smiled sadly and took them. It was a bittersweet moment and she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. You were supposed to get flowers at the beginning of the relationship, not the end.
“I wanted to talk to you, to try and explain.”
She shook her head, eyes still on the impossibly bright red globes. “Ransom, there’s not really anything to talk about. I think it’s better if we just go our own way.”
There was a pulse of silence. “Just hear me out, please. Five minutes and then I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.”
Five minutes wasn’t long. Part of her screamed that it was too short. She wanted to drink him in, to remember every touch and breath they had shared. Instead, she shrugged and sat on the couch, waiting for him to talk.
He sat on the love seat and looked at his hands. “I only saw about two seconds of that video, just enough to know it was your office. I thought I was saving myself some grief, but it was the opposite. If I had watched it through, I would have known that it wasn’t you.”
Shelby sighed, wishing this conversation was already over. “Because of the tattoos?”
“No,” he raised his eyes to her. “The whole thing was wrong. The way she moved, the young kid. But there was one moment I knew for sure.”
Shelby waited, knowing with a dark certainty whatever he said didn’t really make any difference in the long run.
“About a minute into it, right before she gets on the desk, that girl sweeps some books onto the floor.” A wry smile touched his lips.
Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help laughing. “You knew it was an imposter because she threw books on the floor?”
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you toss hundred year old diaries off your desk everyday,” he dared her, grinning.
Shelby clutched her stomach, laughter bubbling up. “Not even Rebecca noticed that,” she gasped.
“It was a total giveaway.” He sobered, the mirth slowly fading from his eyes.
“So, when it first came out, I didn’t see the video, but I let myself believe what I thought was the truth by the title. I didn’t know what was on it, but I thought I could imagine.” He paused, running a hand over his face. “People change, Shelby. Maybe it was years old, maybe it was a terrible mistake from your grad school years here. I didn’t know.”
Shelby hated to admit it, but she could see his point. “Still, you should have asked me.”
“And you should have called me,” he shot back. “Imagine how I felt, waking up to this bomb, and then not hearing anything from you for days.”
“But I was in shock, and my aunt had just died,” she protested. Even saying the words, as fresh and cruel as they were, was difficult. To her alarm, tears sprang to her eyes. She impatiently brushed them away with the back of her hand.
He crossed the room, and sat next to her. Tentatively reaching out one hand, he clasped hers, eyes pleading with her. “I’m so sorry. This has been a nightmare in every way. And you’ve been so strong. I hate that I added to your grief by not giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
Shelby looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity there, and the love. It shone out so strongly that her breath caught in her throat.
“If you can’t forgive me, I understand. But I need to tell you one more thing.” His gaze was intense, she could feel the energy coming off him in waves. “When I came to Midlands I was an angry, grieving man. I hated that my wife had died, that our baby had died. I refused to talk to God, refused to love anybody ever again.” He looked down at their hands, fingers intertwined, and said, “You changed everything. You said things no one else was brave enough to say. I realized I was as dead as she was, inside. And she wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Shelby couldn’t tear her gaze from his, her heart was pounding out of her chest.
He said, so softly, “I’ve never been at peace like I am right now. Even if you tell me to go away and never come back, I’m grateful for having known you.”
She gazed at his rough hands, tracing the callouses and thought of the little wooden easel he had made for her. It had roughened his hands just by the making. She thought of how love shapes a person. He had changed her permanently, and she had changed him.
“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered. And bent her head to lay a kiss on that roughened palm. He caught his breath but stayed still. “But I need to tell you something.”
He watched her silently, and nodded.
“I’ve had a job offer from Millsaps College. I know the head of the history department there, we’d talked once before about it. This trouble,” here she faltered, “with the video, it made me realize that Finch has never really been on my side. Just like you said. Not when I was a grad student, not when I was hired as a professor. He went along with it because I was easy, and didn’t kick up a fuss, and didn’t care if he was only around two hours a week.” She looked up at him, eyes clear and filled with determination.
“I was telling myself I should be proud of how far I’d come from Flea Bite Creek but that was wrong. See, being from that place, from my kind of people, and being who I am, I should have expected more. At the very least, a boss that believed in me. So, I’ve accepted the position. I think it’s a good time to make the move.”
Ransom said nothing. She could hear his breathing, slow and deep. She wanted to lay her head on his chest and inhale his scent, pretend that nothing existed except each other.
“I think you’re absolutely right,” he said. “When I wondered why you were here, I didn’t mean to imply that Yale was better. But I saw how he treated you.”
She nodded, staring at her hands. “ So, you’ll be heading back to home soon,” she said. “I’m- I’m glad we had this time together.” She lifted her eyes, willing herself to be strong.
“Shelby,” he said, her name bearing all the love he felt for her. He stroked her cheek and his eyes were full of uncertainty. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. The past two weeks have been brutal.”
She frowned, unsure of what he was trying to say.
“But, I hoped we could... continue where we left off.”
Her mouth dropped open. “But how? I’m leaving, you’re leaving, and that video... Do you really think,” she asked, her voice trembling, “that we can move on from that?”
He nodded, his gaze burning her with its intensity. “And about the moving-”
“No, this just won’t work. I don’t want to live states away from you. And I know you’ve got a great position, tenured even.”
“Wait-“ he started.
“Please, don’t. I know the woman is always expected to follow the man, especially if he’s got the kind of job you have. But I’ve worked my whole career in this field, and I don’t want to leave the South, and my family, and-
“Shelby,” he laughed. “Wait! Maybe I should just...”
“I’m sorry, Ransom.” With those words, she lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. Gently, so gently, she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his perfect mouth, her eyes filling with tears. He returned the kiss, but didn’t deepen it. He sat back and removed his hand from hers. Her eyes went wide as he knelt before her on one knee.
Out of his pocket her brought a small black box. “A few days before your aunt died, I had a jeweler make this.” He opened the box, and Shelby saw a gold band with a ring of multicolored stones. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hardly hear him.
“Remember that dinner? With Tasha?”
“Who could forget?” Shelby fought the laughter that was bubbling in her throat.
“You said a lot of things about women, and careers, and kids.”
Her eyes were glued on the box, and the gold ring inside. She kept shaking her head, hand over her mouth.
“Shelby, I’ll follow you. Wherever you want to teach. I can try for a position there, or I can just write. And when we have kids, I’ll stay home with them.”
She blinked back tears and laughed, not daring to belie
ve they were even discussing their future children, when she was trying to say goodbye. “What if I want to stay home with them?”
He chuckled, “Then you stay home and I’ll go teach. Or we can both stay home. I’ll write in the attic, whatever. We’ll make it work. If you want, that is.”
Shelby reached out a finger and gently touched the beautiful ring. The stones were perfectly aligned and sized. Gray and green on each end, with two white stones paired in the middle.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she said breathlessly, and threw her arms around his neck.
He kissed her with a passion she hadn’t known before, as if his whole heart was hers to treasure.
“Don’t you want to know what it says,” he laughed, kissing her hair and her eyes.
“Oh, right,” Shelby tried to focus on the ring as he took it from the box with slightly shaking fingers and slipped it on her finger.
“Hematite, Opal, Opal, Emerald... Hooe?” She asked, pronouncing it like the pig call.
Ransom’s eyes widened and he started to laugh. He laughed until tears filled his eyes.
“Hooie? I did call you a blind hog once...” Finally, he wiped his eyes and held up her hand, pointing to the stones. “Hematite, Opal, Moonstone, Emerald. All mined in the South.” He sobered, eyes locked on hers.
“Shelby, when I fell in love with you, I was wandering, hopeless. I didn’t really care about anything or anyone, and I liked it that way. I was never going to love anyone again. I’d lost my home, and my wife, and our child. You reminded me what it was like to belong, to feel safe. Now, where ever you are is home to me.”
Shelby felt tears start to trickle from under her lids, and for the first time in weeks, they were tears of joy. And looking into his eyes, she knew her heart had found its way home at last.
“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed
myself to hope before.”
-Mr. Darcy
Chapter Forty Four
“Will you please stop crying?” Shelby hissed as Jennie Anne sniffled into her tissue. “I know people cry at weddings, but I can hardly hear.”
Her sister glared at her, tissue poised half way to her swollen, red eyes. “I’m not crying from happiness! I just can’t believe you’re getting married before me.” With that, she burst into another round of racking sobs, her chest heaving under her baby blue sheath gown.
Shelby rolled her eyes and tried not to fidget. Her dress was feeling hotter by the moment, although the simple creamy white satin draped flawlessly over her curves. The elegant arrangement of her auburn curls with tiny white rosebuds nestled in a simple French twist would only last so long in the humidity.
The photographer had assembled the bride’s family in Bellepointe’s front garden and the setting was glorious. Blooming plants and flowering trees provided a stunning backdrop to the groomsmen in tuxes and bridesmaids in long gowns. Their wedding party was small, comparatively, which is the one thing she had insisted on. She couldn’t believe that they had been able to reserve a spot at just a few months’ notice, but having Tasha as the world’s pushiest wedding planner had to help.
Ellie stared off to the side, the toe of one pointed shoe tapping impatiently on the grass, most likely thinking of the reception bar that would open in a few hours.
Her father glanced across at Shelby, smiled warmly and blinked back tears, for the third time. She knew what he was thinking, wishing that Aunt Junetta could have been here. Shelby resolved not to catch his eye during the service or they’d all be sobbing. He hadn’t believed her when she had called with the news. But once he had met Ransom, had spent time with him, he saw how they loved and understood each other.
Her mother was in fine form, commanding them to stand this way, then that, heedless of the photographer’s instructions. Shelby had let her and Tasha hash out the details, knowing they would enjoy the planning much more than she ever could.
Shelby glanced at the photographer and hoped he’d last through the service. He said he’d shot hundreds of weddings, but if the sweat pouring down his pinched face was any indication, none of those had anyone like her mother at the helm.
Rebecca hovered at the edge of the group. As maid of honor, hair dresser, gown fixer and the one who kept her sisters out of trouble, she had more roles than anyone else but managed to look like she was enjoying every second of it. Shelby watched Tom, who had flown in from Miami, at her side and smiled, betting Rebecca had her own wedding on the horizon.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the frazzled photographer declared them finished and started to pack up his gear to move indoors. Shelby took her chance and slipped away from her mother, waving a silent thanks to Caroline. Her old friend pretended to notice a spot on the sleeve of Mrs. Roswell’s silk dress and both women became absorbed in banishing the phantom stain.
“Mr. Fontana? I know we agreed to have the photos of us- Ransom and me- on the grand staircase. But I was wondering...” She almost stopped at the haggard look on the man’s face. But then rushed on “I was wondering if we could take a few outside, if there’s time.”
He didn’t pause, zipping cameras and lenses into black leather cases. “I guess, if it’s not too out of the way. But we need to hurry. The service is starting in twenty minutes.”
*****
“What on earth is going on?” Ransom said, his hand outstretched, walking as quickly as he dared, eyes shut tight.
“Just don’t peek. I wanted to get a few pictures out here instead of in the entrance hall,” Shelby said, tugging him along the uneven grass.
“Crazy girl,” he said, but his voice was filled with laughter. “Carl swore he would hunt us down if we tried to elope, so we have to come back.” Shelby snickered and glanced up at him, and almost stumbled, even though her eyes were wide open. He was heart-stopping in his tux, hair smoothed back, handsome face alight with happiness.
“Almost there,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“We only have a few minutes,” the photographer called as they came into view.
“Coming,” she called back, gripping Ransom’s hand and steering him into the spot she wanted him. “Okay,” she whispered. “Open your eyes.”
Ransom opened his eyes, and realization spread over his face. He slowly surveyed the scene, taking in the overgrown bushes, the crooked olive tree weathered by storms, the old timber framework, the broken panes of glass dully reflecting the bright sun. The grass had been allowed to grow unchecked, and it stood waist high in several tufts.
She watched his face, nervously waiting for him to say something, anything.
Instead, he touched her cheek and leaned down to kiss her lips, a kiss so soft and deep that she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Okay, let’s get some pictures of you two right over here,” the sweating photographer barked, recalling them from the sweetness of the moment.
“Although, it’s sort of beyond me why you’d want to take your wedding photos in front of an old greenhouse,” he muttered as he twisted the lens into place.
Ransom smiled down at Shelby, brushing a curl away from her temple. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face, so alive with hope and promise.
“Because,” he said, bending his dark head down to touch his forehead to hers. “To us, it looks just like home.”
Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits (Austen Takes the South) Page 25
