by Sharon Sala
When Mike handed him their invitations, the footman scanned the names against the guest list, then loudly announced in the same sonorous voice:
“Mr. Michael Dalton and Miss LilyAnn Bronte.”
The chatter below trailed off into a murmur and then into complete silence as they descended the stairs.
LilyAnn knew how to play the part. It was a little bit like walking the runway during a beauty contest, only easier, because here there were no interviews or trick questions at the end of the runway to separate her from the others, and no crown to fight over.
Her chin was up, her shoulders back, and she was smiling and whispering to Mike in little asides, just enough to put a smile on his face.
“Pretend I’m witty. Look at me like you can’t take your eyes off me,” she whispered.
Mike grinned. “I don’t have to pretend, and I’m afraid to take my eyes off you, even for a second. Your dress is TNT with a fuse, and I’m scared to death someone is gonna strike a match.”
LilyAnn giggled.
And all the crowd saw were two people with eyes only for each other, which was exactly the point.
Almost immediately, Niles Holland, the president of the country club, stepped forward and shook Mike’s hand.
“Mr. Dalton. Miss Bronte. It is a pleasure to have you here. The champagne is flowing. The buffet is full to overflowing, and the music is about to start. Miss Bronte, if I may be so bold… May I be the first to ask if you would save me a dance?”
“Of course, Mr. Holland, but the first and last dances are reserved especially for my fiancé.”
Niles’s eyebrows rose. “Fiancé? I hadn’t heard. Congratulations, Dalton. You are a lucky man.”
LilyAnn flashed the ring. “On the contrary, sir. I believe I am the lucky one.”
Niles Holland knew about futurities and the stock market, and he knew gems. When he saw the rock, his eyebrows arched.
“That is absolutely stunning.” He eyed Mike with new appreciation.
“Thank you, sir.”
LilyAnn flashed him a smile as they walked away.
All of a sudden they heard the sound of glass breaking.
“Keep walking,” Mike said.
“What happened?” LilyAnn asked.
“Holland just dropped his champagne. I think he caught sight of the back of your dress.”
“Then I have achieved success,” she said softly, then leaned over and kissed the spot right beneath his ear, knowing it made him want her. “In more ways than one.”
Mike groaned. It was going to be a long-ass night before he got her out of that dress and in his bed, but it was definitely something to look forward to.
Chapter 18
It was fifteen minutes until midnight. The countdown to going home was about to become a reality, and none too soon for LilyAnn. Her grandma used to say that the best way to tell if a party was a success was how bad your feet hurt and how loud your belly growled. According to Grandma, a lady didn’t graze from the buffet table, she nibbled, and then never ate anything that could go bad. It was a Bronte rule, and one LilyAnn had conformed to from an early age. She’d guided Mike through the same rule all night, steering him away from the shrimp and smoked salmon appetizers, choosing bites of cheeses and savory crackers for him instead of pâté, treating him with petit fours and fruit tarts, in lieu of mini quiches with cream sauces.
She’d danced with Niles Holland, and then the mayor, and then the chief of police, who managed to whisper a quick aside about what a remarkably brave woman she was. She had thanked him kindly, while keeping an eye on all the pretty women who were hovering around Mike. After his heroic rescue, he had his own group of admirers, many of whom seemed to have him cornered.
The only thing that kept LilyAnn from getting green-eyed jealous was the ring on her finger and the looks he kept giving her. Tonight was a nice break from the reality of their lives. They were not quite in the same social structure as the movers and shakers of Blessings, but good enough to keep them respectable on this very special night.
As soon as the music stopped, LilyAnn smiled but waved away the next gentleman who’d walked up.
“I’m sorry, but my fiancé is looking far too comfortable in the midst of all those pretty ladies. I feel the need to remind them of their boundaries.”
She flashed him a smile to soften the turn-down as she walked away. She heard a faint wolf whistle behind her and smiled. God bless Mrs. Ling for the masterpiece she was wearing.
Mike saw her coming and was again struck by the change in her. It had very little to do with the weight that she’d lost, and more to do with how she’d come alive from inside.
“Sorry, ladies, but I have come to claim my one and only,” LilyAnn said.
They smiled and giggled and said all the right things, but LilyAnn knew women, and she knew when she walked away with Mike that they would not be admiring her dress so much as picking her apart at the seams, because it was what women did.
“You’re tired,” Mike said.
The smile she was wearing slipped, and her eyes got a little teary.
“But it’s a good kind of tired. I want to dance with you, Michael. I want you to put your arms around me. You center my world. You make me feel safe.”
A wave of emotions washed through him as he took her in his arms and swung into a waltz step.
LilyAnn let Mike’s strength flow through her, filling her heart and calming her soul, settling the chaos that came with memories of thinking she was going to die.
They circled the floor, over and over in a mindless daze, just happy to be here and with each other.
One moment they’d been moving in waltz time, and just as suddenly the music stopped.
LilyAnn glanced toward the clock at the top of the stairs. It was only seconds before midnight.
“I have always wanted to do this,” Mike said.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Kiss the woman I love at the stroke of midnight.”
She shivered with sudden longing.
“I’ve never done this either,” she whispered.
“Not with—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Not ever.”
A muscle jerked near his jaw.
She knew what that meant to him—being her first.
The crowd hushed, everyone’s eyes on the second hand as the bandleader began a countdown.
“Ten. Nine. Eight.”
The crowd was counting down with him now.
“Seven. Six. Five.”
Mike cupped her face.
“Four. Three. Two.”
The second hand swept past the one.
As the bandleader shouted “Happy New Year!” the crowd erupted.
The notes of “Auld Lang Syne” swelled within the room as balloons began to fall. Party horns were blowing, little poppers spewing bursts of confetti, and then streamers and even more confetti began to rain down from the ceiling.
But LilyAnn didn’t see it. Her eyes were closed. Her arms were around Mike’s neck while she was held close in his embrace. Their kiss was a symbol of what they had laid to rest and of the years to come.
Someone bumped into them in the crowd, then mumbled a rather drunken “sorry” and staggered off.
Mike traced the shape of her cheek all the way to her chin, then tapped the center of her lower lip with his finger. It was still damp from his kiss.
“Happy New Year, my love.”
“Happy New Year, Michael, and for all of our years to come.”
* * *
They were still asleep when the first round of guests from the New Year’s Eve ball hit the ER with full-blown symptoms of food poisoning. If they weren’t throwing up, they were battling dysentery. It became obvious that there were nowhere near enough bathrooms in the hospital
to accommodate the nearly one hundred victims in varying stages of distress.
Ruby Dye heard it straight from the banker’s wife that the police chief’s wife threw up in the mayor’s lap and then passed out on the floor at his feet. She said the orderlies couldn’t mop fast enough to keep up and that it was basically a fecal free-for-all.
When LilyAnn heard the news, she silently thanked her grandma’s wisdom and took Mike’s gratitude as her due.
* * *
The day in February when Mike and LilyAnn boarded the cruise ship for Jamaica, T. J. Lachlan was one of a bus full of prisoners unloading at the Georgia State Prison.
His hair was just beginning to grow back, although the scar on the side of his head would be a vivid reminder of a woman’s wrath, as were the scars on both cheeks, running perpendicular from his eyes to his chin.
His ear had healed to a funny-shaped knot where the lobe used to be, and he walked with a slight limp. He had but a shadow of his former bravado and was far from ready for what lay ahead. Unfortunately for T. J., the facial scars he abhorred only added to his sex appeal for the men who still thought him pretty.
Karma was a bitch.
* * *
The good thing about being on an island teeming with tourists is that when you don’t know another soul except your partner, it’s the same thing as being in exile. You are as alone as you want to be—with no phones to answer, no demands to be met—and that is how Mike and LilyAnn were welcomed to Jamaica.
The sun was setting on their second day in Jamaica when Mike and LilyAnn walked onto the beach. Mike was in a loose shirt and matching pants, and LilyAnn in a sheer summer dress with an empire waistline and a long, flowing skirt, garments as white as the sand between their bare toes.
A garland of red orchids around Mike’s neck hung midway down the front of his shirt.
LilyAnn had a matching orchid over her right ear and a bouquet of white ones in her hands.
They stood with a preacher before them, a photographer to his side, and their backs to the ocean as a bright yellow moon rose over their heads.
“Are you happy?” Mike whispered.
“Beyond measure,” she said.
And then the minister began.
“We are gathered here together, in the eyes of God…”
LilyAnn’s heart was pounding as she blinked away tears. Growing up, like every little girl, she had expected to be on her daddy’s arm on this day as he walked her down the aisle. She’d always pictured him standing before the altar as he gave her away.
But he was long gone and LilyAnn had come close to missing out on everything. It had taken an emotional shock and a physical assault to set her feet on the right path. That it had led to this island and this night, with this man, was nothing short of a miracle.
Mike’s fingers curled around her hand. She felt both strength and tenderness in the touch, and it was good. Then the minister commanded:
“Repeat after me. I, LilyAnn, take thee, Michael…”
Lily’s throat swelled with tears as she turned to face Mike and repeated the vow, knowing that with every word she spoke, her heart and soul were binding to him forever.
“Michael, please repeat after me. I, Michael, take thee, LilyAnn…”
And he did, repeating the vow word for word while he watched the reflection of the moon rise in her eyes and knew he had been bewitched.
The ceremony was brief, the vows straightforward. When they exchanged the rings, LilyAnn’s hands were as shaky as Mike’s were sure.
The photographer was snapping pictures all the while, but Mike was waiting for the magic words that legally bound them together in the eyes of God and of man.
And finally, they came.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
With the path of moonlight across a dark ocean behind them and a big yellow ball of moonlight above them, he took her in his arms. He had a momentary flash on all the empty years they’d lost, and then let go of the regret. Good things come to those who wait.
He cupped her face with both hands and lowered his head.
LilyAnn lost track of everything but the kiss, letting her hand fall to her side, the bouquet of white orchids dangling loosely from her fingers.
And that’s when the photographer snapped the shot.
They emailed the picture to the local paper in Blessings. It made front-page news.
Ruby was at home having breakfast when she opened the paper and saw the picture. It was so beautiful that it made her cry. She liked things to be in their proper places, and the Lord knew those two were meant to be together.
Later, as she was opening up the shop, she saw a young girl walking past pushing a baby carriage. Ruby paused, eyeing the sadness on the girl’s face and the innocence of the child.
She knew the girl’s story and that the baby’s daddy was long gone. It was a shame how young men were these days: out for all the fun with none of the responsibilities.
Ruby watched until the girl turned the corner at the end of the block and walked out of sight. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost time to open.
The Conklin twins came in the back in their usual dark mood, needing caffeine and sugar before they could be civil.
Mabel Jean was on their heels and talking to someone on the phone. She waved hello as she headed for her manicure table.
Ruby turned the Closed sign to Open, and unlocked the front door.
The Curl Up and Dye was open for business.
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Chapter 1
Adorable Grant rolled over in bed and shut off the alarm as a familiar cramp rolled across her belly. The monthly miseries had arrived, and by the smell coming from the baby bed where her son, Luther Joe, was sleeping, the baby food jar of prunes she’d fed him last night may have been a mistake. Between her cramps and Luther’s runs, it was not the optimum way to start a workday, but she had already learned the hard way what it was like to live on leftovers.
She made a mad dash down the hall to the bathroom and came out a few minutes later carrying a tube of ointment for Luther’s diaper rash. There was nothing glamorous about being a seventeen-year-old unwed mother, but after giving birth, she had vowed never to complain about getting her period again.
She hastened her steps as she headed back to her bedroom. Luther was awake and beginning to whine, and she didn’t want to wake Granddaddy until the very last minute.
“Hey, little man,” she said softly as she hurried toward the crib.
Luther was big for his age and already pulling himself up and standing inside the baby bed. His little, fat hands were curled around the spindles, and he was chewing on the bed rail, probably trying to cut teeth, but it had yet to happen. As soon as he saw her, he smiled that toothless baby smile she loved while saliva dripped down onto his chin and points below. He clutched the bed rail and squealed as she approached.
Dori chuckled. “Shh, now! You’re gonna wake Granddaddy.”
The mere mention of his favorite male sent Luther’s gaze straight toward the door.
Dori sniffed, then rolled her eyes.
“Ooowee, Luther Joe! You sure do stink. Here, lie down a minute and let Mama get you all cleaned up again.”
She unsnapped the crotch of his pajamas and began to clean him up while making faces at him, then laughed as he tried to mimic the expressions she was making. It was a game they’d been playing for almost a week now, and she was convinced that he was going to be a genius. As soon as she finished, she picked him up out of the crib, settled him on her hip, and headed for the kitchen.
; It was still dark outside, but Dori’s job as a dishwasher at Granny’s Country Kitchen began at six a.m., when they started serving breakfast. She settled him into his high chair, handed him a teething biscuit, and started making coffee and warming milk to put in his cereal as she glanced out the kitchen window. The sky was still dark, but she could see darker, heavy-looking clouds. May was always a rainy month and this May was no exception. Maybe if she hurried, she’d get to work before it began.
Within minutes, she had bacon frying and beaten eggs in a bowl ready to scramble. She was putting bread in the toaster when Luther let out a big squeal. She turned to see her grandfather entering the room. He was slightly stooped from so many years as a roofer but still in fine form for seventy-six.
“Mornin’, Granddaddy.”
“Morning, honey,” Meeker Webb said and wiggled his fingers at Luther, who squealed again and whacked his teething biscuit on the tray of the high chair.
Meeker eyed his granddaughter closely as he kissed the top of her head and swiped a piece of crispy bacon. From the day she’d been born, he’d always thought she was the prettiest thing in Blessings, Georgia, and still did, although her blue eyes weren’t as sparkly as they used to be, and she didn’t pay much attention to how she looked anymore.
He’d given up trying to get her to tell him who Luther’s father was. He had already figured out that she wasn’t telling because of what she feared he’d do to him. She wasn’t a run-around girl, and she hadn’t had a boyfriend when she turned up pregnant. Meeker might be old, but he wasn’t stupid. Somebody had his way with Dori and left her to suffer the consequences alone.
“Looks like rain,” he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
Dori nodded as she strained off the bacon grease, then poured the eggs into the hot skillet and began to stir.
“I know, Granddaddy. I’m going to leave just as soon as I feed Luther.”
“I’ll feed ol’ Buster here, and you sit yourself down and eat breakfast for a change. You’re wasting away. I can eat after you’re gone.”
