by L. M. Pruitt
“Always.” I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, studying his face with the same obviousness he was studying mine. “Poor people have to care about the law. Rich people don’t.”
“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re the same woman who didn’t wear underwear to church and then fucked me in a car in the middle of day.”
“First, not wearing underwear to church isn’t illegal. Maybe a little immoral but not illegal.” I shrugged. “Second, we were on private property. Pretty sure that takes care of the illegal factor there, too.”
“And here I always had the impression you were a risk-taker.” He sighed and shook his head. “Shattering dreams over here, Jeannie Jackson.”
“I’m pretty sure I know the impression you had of me in high school.” The little bubble the afternoon seemed to exist in burst with a dull and wet sort of plop and reality started to creep in. I sat up, raking my hands through my hair in an effort to untangle the various snarls before pulling it in to a quick, no-nonsense braid. “I have to go.”
“Hey.” He stretched out one hand, his fingertips barely brushing my calf as I stood up and started searching for my clothes. “Hey—what’s wrong?”
“I told you, I have to go. I have things to do.” I sighed and closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as a thought struck me. “And I have no car. Damn it, I have to call Tammy.”
“If you need to get back to the kids, I’ll take you home but I’d like to know what I said to piss you off so I can apologize.”
“If I have to tell you what to apologize for, is the apology even worth anything?” I opened my eyes, massaging my temples for a moment before huffing out a breath. “There has to be a phone in here. Like a landline. Can I use it, please?”
“I said I’d take you home.” He rose, stalking around the bar only to bend over, disappearing for a second before coming up with my dress and bra. Tossing them at me, he snapped out, “Let me get dressed and we can leave.”
If I’d had my way, I’d have called Tammy and started walking back to town but I was smart enough to know when I’d pushed someone to their limit. So I tugged on my clothes, shoved my shoes in my purse, and waited while he yanked on his pants and shirt, not bothering to button the latter. He grabbed his keys and stalked toward the door, not looking at me when he said, “If you want to go, let’s go.”
The next five minutes were filled with the sort of stiff silence which always seems comical in movies but in real life was about a hundred shades of awkward. I stared out the window, doing my best to pretend I didn’t remember what we’d been doing in the same space barely an hour ago. Every few seconds, I heard a slight creak as Abraham adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knowing without looking his knuckles must be white from the pressure he was exerting.
“Fuck it.” He jerked the car to the shoulder, throwing it in park, and killing the engine. “I hate these kinds of fucking games. Would you just tell me what I did so I know not to do it again?”
“I doubt you can change that much.” I whipped the seatbelt off and shoved the door open, grabbing my shoes and purse. “What I will do is tell you where you can stick your offer of a ride.”
“Oh, the fuck you will.” Between one breath and the next, he lunged across the seat, grabbing the door behind me and yanking it closed, effectively trapping me between it and him. He shook a stray lock of hair out of his face, his gaze hard and cold. “I can’t fix a problem if I don’t know what it is and while normally I don’t give two flying fucks if anybody in this godforsaken backwoods hellhole likes me, for some reason I care if you don’t. So tell me what I need to do to fix whatever happened.”
“For starters, you could stop implying you know me. You don’t know me.” My plan to stay somewhat calm and collected went straight out the proverbial window. I wasn’t yelling, not yet, but I knew it was almost a foregone conclusion. “You don’t know me now and you sure as shit didn’t know me fifteen years ago so stop acting as if you did.”
“You were the smartest person in our entire class—fuck, the entire school—all the way from first or second grade until we graduated. You were on the yearbook staff every year and the school newspaper. You always wrote these funny little articles....” He trailed off, his frame relaxing just a little, his lips curving in a tiny smile. “And you were obsessed with food. The year you took home economics, you would make these elaborate plates while the rest of us were struggling to make chocolate chip cookies.”
“How sweet.” I purposefully kept my voice acidic because if I let myself believe what he was selling, there was a good chance I’d find up back in his bed again. “Do you also remember when you said I was the best guarantee for a fuck on prom night? Because that’s the memory that tends to stick out for me when I think about high school.”
“I didn’t say....” He trailed off again, closing his eyes and sighing. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did say that.”
“Yeah, you did. Well, congratulations for finally achieving your goal. I guess that’s what they mean about never giving up on your dreams.” I tried to open the door again, biting the inside of my cheek in an effort to hold back tears. They were temper tears, not real tears, or at least that’s what I told myself because I refused to be the woman who cried because someone hurt her feelings in high school. The effort turned in to an all-out war when he grabbed the door handle, holding it in place. “Can I go now, please?”
“Do you know the sort of hell they would have put me through if they knew the real reason I asked you? The sort of hell they would have put you through?” He barked out a laugh, leaning forward and resting his forehead against mine. “I told them the only reason they wanted to hear. I didn’t tell them the truth.”
“What—.” I broke off when my voice cracked, closing my eyes and swallowing hard before continuing. “What was the truth?”
“I liked you.” He laughed again, softer this time, the edge of self-deprecation painfully obvious. “I mean, liked you, liked you.”
“Why?”
“Because even though you were nervous as hell every time you talked to me, you still talked to me. Not the... the image of me, if that makes sense.” He pressed his lips to my cheek, whisper soft, and I couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Ninth grade, I couldn’t figure out the basics of area and square footage to save my life. It just wasn’t clicking. And nobody cared because I was on the varsity football team and varsity baseball team so what did a single bad grade in math matter? But you stayed after class one day and explained it to me, drilled it in to me, and when you left I realized you hadn’t treated me like anything other than ordinary the entire time.”
“I remember.” And I did. I’d been certain he’d reject my offer of help but he hadn’t. And he’d smiled and said ‘thank you’ and my pitiful little teenage heart had tripped over itself and landed at his feet. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because in high school I was still scared to death of what my parents thought and what my friends thought and what everybody in town thought.” He threaded his fingers through my hair, palming the nape of my neck. “And so I said stupid, mean shit rather than admit the truth.”
“Yeah, it was stupid and mean.” I leaned in to his touch. “You were an asshole.”
“I was an asshole.” He rubbed his thumb over my cheekbone, waiting until I opened my eyes and met his gaze before continuing. “But I promise you, I’m not an asshole anymore. At least not to you. And at least not on purpose.”
“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have time for a relationship.” I wet my lips, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before exhaling. “I will say I don’t know how to be in one because I’ve never been in one and I’m probably a bad bet and people are going to give you all kinds of shit for being with me.”
“Then we’re well matched because I haven’t been in a relationship either and I know I’m a bad bet and believe me when I say people are going to give you shit for me, too.” He pressed his lips to mine, easing us in to the
kiss, not pulling back until my head started to swim. “Do you still want me to take you home?”
“No.” I sighed. “But you should anyway. School starts next week for the kids and I need to take them shopping which means I have to figure out what they need first.” I rubbed my temple, even though the headache was only a vague memory now. “And I need to go over the articles my staff sent me and start working on the mockup for next month’s issue.”
“I have to drive over to Savannah on Tuesday to meet with a distributor about a new beer. Why don’t we get a couple hotel rooms for the night and you can take care of the stuff for the kids while I handle my business?”
“Why don’t we?” I waited until he’d slid back over to his seat, started the car, and pulled out on the road before speaking. “Abraham—have you ever taken a road trip with a teenager and two kids under the age of ten?”
“No.” He glanced over at me and frowned. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
I slipped my sunglasses on and leaned my head back against the seat. “Guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, I stumbled in to the kitchen only to draw up short, frowning as I studied the table. “Something isn’t right here.”
“What do you mean?” Tammy wiped her hands on her apron, one with honest to God frills, cocking her head and smiling. “There’s coffee. And pancakes. And bacon. I know you love bacon.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m thinking something isn’t right because as much as I love bacon, you think it’s a tool of Satan.” I dropped in the closest chair and pulled the coffee cup toward me, my suspicion mounting when I saw she’d already doctored it the one I preferred. “Okay, kid. Spill. What do you want and how much is it going to cost me?”
“That’s not a very nice way to say ‘thank you’.” She lifted her chin and sniffed. “Why can’t I want to do something nice for you?”
“Because when I came home yesterday, I’m pretty sure you throw Holy Water on me and I know for a fact I heard you praying for my immortal soul last night, probably because you were standing right outside my bedroom door, throwing your voice to make sure I heard you.” I took a tentative sip of coffee, biting my tongue to hold back a sigh of appreciation. She might be a stuck-up little prude but she knew damn well knew her way around a cup of coffee. “So, why don’t you cut through the crap and tell me what you want?”
“I wanted to see if whenever we go to Savannah I could invite Kitty.” The words came out in a single, long rush of breath, and if it hadn’t been for that first sip of coffee there was a good chance I wouldn’t have been able to decipher what she’d said. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before blurting out, “She needs stuff for the baby and she can’t get it here and her parents won’t buy anything and—.”
“Stop, please, before my brain starts leaking out of my ears.” I set the cup down, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead while I tried to think of a single reason why what she was asking to do was a bad idea. I knew there was one I just couldn’t see to think of it at the moment, probably because she’d ambushed me before I’d really had a chance to get any caffeine in my system. “I guess we could see about taking Abraham’s car—it’s a little bigger than mine—but I’m not going to get the pair of you a separate room. You’ll just have to share with Dolly and Conway.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine, that’s totally fine.”
“And yet there is something about your tone of voice which makes me think there’s still another shoe waiting to drop.” I opened my eyes, not surprised in the least to find her chewing on her lower lip and wringing her hands in her apron. “What, Tammy?”
“Do you think maybe you could talk to her parents? Instead of her asking them?” She game me another smile or at least attempted to, the effort falling more than a little flat. “Since you’re an adult and everything.”
“I think the jury is still out on whether or not I can really be considered an adult but I’ll make an attempt in this case.” I stared at her, certain there was something she wasn’t telling me. “You’re not setting me up for failure here, are you? Because if you are, I’m not going to be happy.”
“No, of course not.” I might have bought the outrage if her smile wasn’t still one shade shy of sickly. She laughed, the sound brittle and harsh. “I mean, her parents are a little strict but that’s it. I promise.”
“Uh-huh.” I took another sip of coffee, continuing to study her. “Let me eat breakfast and wake up and I’ll go see what I can do.”
AN HOUR LATER, I knocked on the flimsy glass door of the trailer Tammy had pointed me toward, turning a slow circle while I waited for someone to answer. It was nicer than most of the trailers in the park—the Havertys had added a large, spacious screened front porch, wood siding, and a veritable sea of flowers. The car in the gravel parking space might have been a little old but it was shiny and clean and obviously well-maintained. If I had to guess on the character of the occupants, I would have said they were firmly upper lower class, struggling to pull themselves up to middle class and doing a better job than most of their neighbors.
I turned back to the entrance when the interior door creaked open, blinking once in surprise. “You’re very, very pregnant.”
“Yeah.” Kitty—because I doubt my niece had more than one pregnant friend—rubbed her hand over her protruding stomach with a sad, Madonna-like smile. “Thirty-two weeks. Feels like thirty-two years.”
“I bet it does.” I’d never even come close to being pregnant—thank you, Depo shot—but I’d heard enough from Loretta to know that carrying another human was never a walk in the park, especially during the summer. “Uh, is one of your parents home? I needed to talk with them about something.”
“My mom is in the kitchen.” Kitty pushed the glass door open and then stepped to one side, her profile reminding me of Alfred Hitchcock, minus the cigar. “She’s organizing her coupons.”
“Sounds... fun.” It was the best I could come up with under the circumstances so I tucked my tongue in my cheek and followed the waddling girl through a living room stuffed with knick-knacks and plastic-coated furniture. I wasn’t surprised to find the kitchen, when we reached it, was as spotless as a showroom and just as cold. “Mrs. Haverty?”
“Yes?” The woman who glanced up from the papers strewn over her kitchen table was an older, somewhat softer version of her daughter, her dark hair cropped in a pixie cut, brown eyes carefully lined, lashes long and dark, her Betty Boop mouth painted a dusky pink. She blinked once, cocking her head before narrowing her eyes. “You’re Loretta Jackson’s sister.”
“One and the same.” I stuck my hand out. “Jeannie Jackson.” When she didn’t take it, only stared, I pulled my hand back, sliding it in my pocket. “I hope I’m not interrupting but I wanted to see if you had a few minutes to talk.”
“I’m very busy at the moment.”
“Five minutes.” I tried a smile, the kind which usually managed to get me the interview everybody said was unattainable. “After that, you’re more than welcome to kick me out.”
She made a humpf sound in the back of her throat but gathered her papers together in a neat stack and set them to one side. Folding her hands neatly on the table, she nodded at the chair opposite her. “I suppose I can spare five minutes.”
“Thank you.” I glanced over at Kitty, rubbing her stomach absently. “Do you want to sit down, too, since this concerns you?”
“Me?” Kitty looked from her mother to me and back again, waiting until her mother gave an almost imperceptible nod before taking the third chair, settling herself awkwardly in the stiff-backed wood. “What about me?”
“Since school is starting next week, I’m taking the kids over to Savannah for clothes and supplies and... whatever.” I was praying there was a list or something I could consult because I had no idea what sort of crap kids needed for school. “Tammy asked if Kitty could come with us and I don’t have a problem if you
don’t have a problem. We’ll leave tomorrow morning, stay the night, and be back—.”
“Thank you for the offer but no.” Mrs. Haverty pressed her lips in to a thin line, her knuckles turning white as she clutched her hands tighter. “If there’s nothing else—.”
“I’m sorry, do you have a problem with the offer or with the person making it?” I’d caught the quick flash of disdain in her eyes when she’d placed me, the subtle lifting of her chin, the faint edge of ice which crept in to her voice. I’d been prepared to ignore them because Kitty was Tammy’s friend and I already knew my oldest niece didn’t have many friend but I’d be damned if I let this woman with her pretensions at superiority look down her nose at me. “Because unless I’m mistaken, I’m the one with a business and a house and you’re the one clipping coupons.”
“Having nice things doesn’t make you a nice person.” She sniffed and I finally understood where my niece had picked up the disgusting habit. “Everybody in this town knows what kind of person you are, Jeannie Jackson.”
“First, I can promise you almost nobody in this town knows the kind of person I am.” I mirrored her position, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “And second, even if I was the kind of person people think I am, I’m also the kind of person who knows treating a teenage girl who was unlucky enough to get pregnant like she’s trash is not only bad parenting it’s a fucking disgrace to humanity.”
“How dare you.” Her cheeks went ice white before ugly red color rushed back in to them. “You come in to my house and insult me? Curse at me?”
“If you knew as much about me as you thought you did, you’d know I’d curse God Himself if I thought He was being a dick.” I turned to Kitty, sitting and watching the entire scene play out with her mouth hanging open. “I’ll ask this once and I expect a straight answer—do you want this baby?”
