Melting into You

by Trentham, Laura

  “Did he talk back?”

  She cut her eyes to the side, a smile playing at her mouth. “Maybe a little. In my head.”

  He couldn’t seem to not smile back. “Hunter mentioned you drew him a picture.”

  “A caricature like I used to draw in Central Park to make a few bucks from the tourists.”

  “Do you miss New York?”

  “I miss my friends. I miss the galleries. There’s an energy in the city.” She paused. “But, it’s also noisy, dirty, and expensive. The winters are terrible. When I was there I missed Alabama, when I’m here, I miss New York. It’s the irony of life, isn’t it?”

  He and irony were on a first-name basis. “The grass is always greener?”

  “Something like that. On the other hand, I’ve always been able to find my groove wherever I land. I credit being the product of divorce.”

  Lilliana was the summer sun to his dark side of the moon. He’d been drawn to her laugh drifting across the field, the flip of her hair, her smile. Yet, the shadows had become a comfortable place to be and he was afraid of being burned.

  “I’d better go. What time should I pick you up in the morning?”

  “Oh God, church. Are you sure?”

  “I don’t want your aunt to stop putting my favorite books aside for me.” He tried on a teasing voice. It felt like putting on an old shirt, a little too tight and slightly uncomfortable, but oddly familiar. He’d been easygoing and charming at some point in his past. She smiled, and he smiled back feeling tingly inside.

  “Service starts at eleven.”

  “I’ll be here a quarter till.”

  She opened the front door for him, and he hesitated. If he kissed her, he wasn’t sure he could stop, yet a hug seemed too impersonal. She solved the dilemma, raising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, her breasts pressed into his arm, her hand around his forearm. Just when he’d decided to say “Fuck it” and carry her back upstairs, she pulled back and shut the door in his face.

  16

  Lilliana stared out the truck window and fidgeted, picking at the cuticle of her thumbnail to the point of pain, as Alec pulled into the crowded parking lot of Falcon First Baptist Church. The sky was a bright blue unique to fall, providing a background for the patchwork of colors on the trees lining the street. The sun warmed the air, but the breeze was a reminder winter was around the corner.

  Ladies in dresses and men in khakis or suits walked two by two toward the church, children trailing behind some. Lilliana wasn’t a regular churchgoer. Her occasional attendance was to appease her aunt. She smoothed her slim skirt down and adjusted her sweater.

  After the engine turned off, she shifted toward Alec. He looked handsome and preppy in dark gray slacks, a crisp button-down and jacket, but no tie.

  This”—she pointed back and forth between them—“is going to start talk. What kind of story do you want to go with?”

  “I thought we settled it the other night. I applied for boyfriend status.”

  Lilliana hesitated. He’d made no move to sleep over the night before—granted, he had needed a shower, but he could have used hers—and their parting had a tinge of awkwardness. When he didn’t appear ready to make a move, she’d kissed his cheek, for goodness sake.

  She swallowed down a lump of nerves, the mass churning in her stomach. “We’re officially dating, not just hooking up?”

  He laid an arm over the back of her seat and leaned in. A subtle masculine scent filtered to her, hooking her closer. She fingered the collar of his shirt on the pretense of straightening it, when she really wanted a peek of his tattoo. No, what she really wanted was to skip church and make out in his truck.

  “I wouldn’t be at church with you if we were only hooking up.”

  She didn’t put much stock into postcoitus declarations, but it seemed he had been serious about being her boyfriend. “Okay. If someone asks, then I’ll tell them you’re my”—she swallowed, the word having a hard time coming unstuck—“boyfriend.”

  He didn’t acknowledge the word that seemed to hang in the cab. Taking a deep breath, she turned away and opened her door, but as she stepped onto the running board, he was there, lifting her down. She wobbled in her heels and wrapped her hands around his forearms before finding her footing on the gravelly pavement.

  He slipped his hand under the edge of her sweater, his thumb burning the bare skin of her waist in a subtle caress. She caught his eye, wondering if he knew she was imagining him naked in the middle of the church parking lot minutes before they planned to sit through a sermon about fornication or lust. Preacher Higgs could be counted on to cover one or the other, maybe both.

  Still he didn’t release her, his eyes half lidded, his lips parted and relaxed. What if she fell into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tugged his bottom lip between her teeth?

  The breeze snapped around her bare legs. The church bell tolled, solemn and resonant, the sound vibrating through her chest.

  “We should find seats.” His voice was husky.

  She hummed. They entered on the tail end of the stragglers. All hopes of slipping into a back pew died, when her aunt stood and waved a hand, her voice the opposite of a quiet librarian. “Lilliana, Alec. I have seats for you.”

  A collective shift squeaked the pews as dozens of eyes fixed on their progress. Lilliana stifled a small unchristian curse, pasted a smile on her face, and led Alec up the main aisle. Every few rows, someone would toss a football question in their direction. Alec answered briefly but politely while she kept them shuffling toward her aunt’s orange hair.

  They slipped into the second pew from the front and sat between her aunt and Miss Jane. “Where Miss Constance?” Lilliana whispered toward Miss Jane.

  “Tippled too much whiskey last night during our bridge game. She’s sleeping it off.” Miss Jane winked, her face full of mirth and mischief.

  A giggle shot out of Lilliana, driven by the uncomfortableness of the situation. The heads above the red choir gowns of the first row all turned in her direction.

  “How are you holding up?” She whispered toward Alec.

  His warm breath in her ear sent shivers up her arms. “You act like this is a combat zone.”

  “You’re catching on. Your only weapon? A polite smile.”

  He did a better job muffling his laughter, but the vibration of his chest sped through her like a landslide. He shifted his arm to rest along the back of the pew, and she naturally scooched a few inches into his pseudo-embrace. She could easily get used to having Alec as a boyfriend.

  The church service proceeded. She stood and sat when appropriate, mouthed the words of familiar hymns, all the while sinfully aware of the man beside her. Each time they regained their seats, she managed to get another inch closer.

  Her hand was in Alec’s, their fingers twining and untwining, the caress sweet and tender and devastating to her concentration. The sermon involved some high-energy yelling from the preacher and some enthusiastic “Amens” from the congregation, but the message failed to take root.

  She risked a side-eye glance toward Alec. The sun shone through the stained-glass window, shards of color highlighting the stern, serious set of his profile, his attention squarely on the preacher. The flash of a smile turned his lips as his hand squeezed hers.

  As Preacher Higgs intoned the last “Amen,” the organ struck up the processional, and everyone stood. The buzz of a hive of gossiping queen bees filled the sanctuary. The men clumped together like the workers to discuss jobs or football.

  Brandy Hancock and her mother Patti were at the exit of their pew before Lilliana had a chance to escape. Patti allowed Miss Jane into the aisle but sidled into the pew, blocking her and Alec in. Alec’s back was to her, talking with her aunt and one of men who attended football practice more religiously than church.

  “Hi, Brandy, Ms. Patti.” Lilliana’s voice was full of faked Southern charm.

  “Lilliana.” Ms. Patti drew out each syllable in her name. “I haven�
��t seen you in months. Tell me, what’s new?”

  Brandy’s eyes flitted around the sanctuary while Ms. Patti’s gaze trailed down to Lilliana’s stomach. Heat set her cheeks ablaze. Thoughts of inflicting some form of childish revenge on Brandy circled. She knew exactly where the frying pan–sized toads lived.

  But Lilliana was hardly an amateur. “Why absolutely nothing,” she said with a beauty-queen smile and a sweet buttery drawl.

  “How are renovations to Hancock House coming? It’s been a while since I’ve been invited by.” Ms. Patti’s perfectly plucked eyebrows twitched with the volley.

  “You are welcome over anytime. I’m usually home painting walls or painting pictures. In fact, I can always use some extra elbow grease.”

  “Do you remember all the Sunday dinners at Hancock House?”

  They were a tradition that died with her great-grandmother. Southern-style family guilt poked her into saying, “We should get all the Hancocks together for old times’ sake.”

  “Well now, we should indeed. I’ll pass your invitation along.” A smile squinted Ms. Patti’s eyes into slits even as her tone veered toward sarcasm. “It was good of you to bring Mr. Grayson for a visit. Is he looking for a church home?” Again, her gaze dropped as if a baby might claw straight out of Lilliana’s stomach like in the movie Alien. Lilliana’s face felt hotter than the surface of the sun.

  Ms. Patti transferred her full attention over Lilliana’s shoulder.

  “Good morning, Ms. Patti. Will you excuse us?” Even though Alec posed it as a question, his voice brooked no argument.

  “Certainly. I’ll be seeing you in a bit, Lilliana.” Ms. Patti moved aside, waggling her fingers. Alec herded Lilliana toward the exit, a hand at the small of her back. Several ladies cast them curious looks, and a few men stopped Alec to play armchair quarterback. By the time they stepped outside, she felt like they’d run a gauntlet.

  “Why were you so embarrassed?” he asked once they were in the truck.

  She sensed an underlying insecurity to his question. “If you must know, Ms. Patti was searching for a dadgum baby bump which means everyone probably assumes you’re only with me because you want to do right by me.”

  Another of Lilliana’s relatives waved as she walked by the truck on the way to her car. Lilliana forced a smile and waved back. Alec maneuvered the truck out of the parking lot and into what was considered rush-hour traffic in Falcon. Most of the area churches let out a few minutes past noon. Except the Presbyterians, who were always the first to get tables at Adaline’s.

  “I would have done right by you, Lilliana,” he said softly. She glanced over, but his gaze was fixed on the road and this time he didn’t acknowledge her stare in any way. “But, I’m glad you won’t have to question why I’m with you.”

  He was right, she would have. She was a disorganized, impulsive mess. Yet, he had claimed she was exactly his type.

  A red light stopped them in a long line of vehicles. “You mind if I drop you off and run by Hunter’s house?”

  “Actually, I do mind.” He chose to acknowledge her answer with a frown topped with low-hung eyebrows. “I’m going with you.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “On a Sunday after church? It’ll be perfectly safe. Anyway, my guess is you haven’t been particularly diplomatic or charming when it comes to dealing with Hunter’s family. I’m good at buttering people up.”

  Alec stared at her so long, the car behind them tooted to get them moving through the green light. “I don’t like this. Will Galloway is trouble, and if Bone-man is hanging around, things could get ugly. Plus, Ms. Galloway basically told me to mind my own damn business.”

  “My guess is that Ms. Galloway had Hunter’s and Will’s butts in the church pew this morning, which means everyone is probably sober with Jesus.”

  He muttered something she couldn’t understand before clipping out a single word. “Fine.”

  They drove through Mill Town, past couples dressed in their Sunday best visiting with neighbors. Hunter’s dead-end street was deserted, their knock going unanswered. Alec drove to the end of the street to idle in front of the wooded back lot, but nothing moved.

  Alec drove out of Mill Town too fast and silent. He pumped the brakes on her street. “What’s going on at your house?”

  Six cars and trucks filled the circular drive and spilled onto the curb. Grown-ups milled on her front porch while children in Sunday clothes played tag around her magnolia trees. A rush of panic slowed her brain and dropped her stomach to her ankles like an old woman’s saggy hose. “I think this is Hancock Sunday dinner.”

  “Did you invite everyone over?”

  She mouthed a litany of “Oh Gods” and jumped out of Alec’s truck as soon as it rolled to a stop.

  A mental inventory of her pantry threw wood on the heat of her panic. A tally put the number of adults and children close to twenty. Another two cars pulled behind Alec’s truck. Two children shot out of the first car to join the melee at the side of the house, while her third cousin, once removed and his wife walked up to her.

  “Lilliana! When I heard all the Hancocks were getting together, I couldn’t resist stopping by. I’ve told my kids stories about how we used to climb Granny’s magnolias, and they’re itching to try.” Isaac Hancock pulled her in for a half hug while she shook his wife’s hand.

  “Remember when I got stuck at the top and you had to come get me? I had a little crush on you even if we were cousins,” she said, smiling in spite of the situation. The memories of those summer Sundays applied a numbing balm. Her aunt and Miss Jane eased out of the second car. They stopped to have a quick word with Alec, who was still standing in the open door of his truck.

  The slam of his door and the growl of the engine had her taking a step toward the truck. He hadn’t even said good-bye or good luck. This many people had induced a panic attack. She couldn’t blame him. Hellfire, it was her family, and she was close to a panic attack. She should give him a break, but in truth, his desertion pissed her off.

  If he was really her boyfriend, he should be standing next to her, patting her hand, telling her everything would be fine. If she couldn’t count on him for the small things, then what would happen down the road? Would he hide out in his house and pretend she didn’t exist?

  She smiled and laughed along with her cousin even though his words garbled in her head. He hugged her again, took his wife’s hand, and headed to greet the passel of Hancocks on the porch. Alec’s taillights disappeared around the corner.

  That was that.

  She pasted a happy hostess smile on her face and walked up the porch steps with outstretched arms. Although Ms. Patti was front and center, Lilliana chose to ignore her.

  “Welcome everyone! I can’t believe we haven’t done this in so long. I can’t promise a spread like Granny used to put out, but I can certainly get everyone some iced tea.”

  Blowing out a steadying breath, she unlocked the front door. Everyone poured through it, their chatter echoing through the entryway. The men migrated to the sitting room. A couple of the men who’d long ago defected from the First Baptist Church made straight for her bottles of liquor on the buffet.

  The women formed conversational circles around the base of the stairs, their voices falling on top of one another like magpies. The waft of distinctive perfume had her turning. She hugged her aunt and whispered in her ear, “Help. Me.”

  “Considering we sat together at church and you never mentioned Sunday dinner, I assume this was a surprise?”

  “Ms. Patti did some Vulcan mind trick after church. I didn’t even realize I had agreed until we drove up.”

  “Sounds like Patti,” her aunt muttered. Miss Jane added a judgmental affirmative hum.

  “What can we do, dear?” Aunt Esmerelda lay a hand on her arm.

  “Could you brew some tea?” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “All I have to feed everyone is frozen pizza and Doritos.”

  “You remember the parab
le about Jesus and the loaves of bread and fishes?”

  “If you are implying my bag of Doritos is going to supernaturally reproduce in my pantry, then my money woes are over.”

  Aunt Esmerelda shook her head; her lips thinned, but with the hint of a smile in place. “Sacrilege. Come on Jane, let’s brew some tea.” Her aunt and Miss Jane marched through the crowd and into the kitchen, a two-woman cavalry.

  With the beverage situation attended to, Lilliana visited with family she’d only seen in passing or at football games. Either the resentment she’d sensed when she inherited Hancock House had dissipated over the last two years, or she’d projected her own guilt onto her family. Ms. Patti was the only one who acted like she had a lemon stuffed in her mouth.

  Several ladies had drifted upstairs, and a shot of knee-weakening dread sent her up the stairs two at a time. Slightly out of breath, she stopped in the doorway of her makeshift studio to find a half-dozen of her relatives browsing through her work.

  “Why don’t you ladies come along and see what I’ve done to the horrid pink bathroom?” Her voice sailed too high and didn’t make a dent on the chatter.

  Ms. Elizabeth, a distant relative who was looking at the Alabama stadium scene, called her over. “Liliana Hancock, come over here right now.”

  Old feelings of inadequacy slowed her steps, but when she got within arm’s reach, Ms. Elizabeth grabbed her elbow and pulled her forward. “I would love to give to Ralph a painting like this for Christmas. An original, not one of those prints. I’ll pay, of course.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You could make a killin’ off Alabama football fanatics.”

  Lilliana laughed partly at the irony but mostly from relief. “Thank you, Ms. Elizabeth, I would be happy to. I’ll be in touch later this week about specifics.”

  Before she could escape, she fielded several inquiries about her work and whether it was available. She walked down the hallway in a dream state. Her family wandered through the upstairs rooms like visiting a museum, pointing out certain pieces of furniture or dings in the walls to their children. Laughter echoed out of rooms while the hum of conversation carried from downstairs.