“You were married at Woodmont?”
“Right under that tree. It was a small gathering. My grandfather had passed, so it was just my grandmother Olivia and Ted’s parents and siblings. Margaret and her husband were here. So were Colton and Ginger. Neither Ted nor I wanted to make a fuss.”
“What about you, Colton? You on the tree?” Libby asked.
“I’m there somewhere, but I’ve forgotten where my letters are.” He took a long pull from his beer.
She guessed he knew exactly where he had left his mark and that they were attached to initials he did not want to remember right now.
Libby crossed the grass to the tree and ran her hand over the rough bark. There were dozens of letters, some carved deep into the wood and others less legible. Many had dates beside them. ’19, ’41, ’00, ’05.
“Who was the last to carve into the tree?” Libby asked.
“Ginger and Cameron. They carved their initials on Friday night,” Elaine said.
“What a coincidence. I heard they didn’t bury a bottle in the moonshine graveyard,” Libby said.
“Sadly, they did not.” Elaine’s tone was serious, but her eyes danced with humor.
“I warned them, but they did not take heed,” Colton said with a grin.
“Where did that moonshine tradition come from?” Libby asked.
“Rumor has it that it started a couple of hundred years ago. The Carter men have always loved a good sip of moonshine, and I think it was their way of paying homage. My grandfather was known to prescribe it from time to time to expectant fathers while they waited on the birth of their child.”
“Can I put my S on the tree?” Sam asked. “I’m big enough now to hold a knife. Right, Dad?”
“He’s not big enough, Dad,” Jeff said. “He’s not six.”
“Daaaad!” Sam shouted. “Tell him I’m old enough.”
A faint smile tipped the edges of Colton’s lips. “I don’t see why he can’t start working on his S,” he mused.
“Can I make mine deeper?” Jeff asked.
“Sure.” He fished a penknife from his pocket. Jeff rushed to snatch the knife, but Colton held it out of his reach. “Your brother goes first.”
Sam stood a little taller and puffed out his chest. Colton flicked the knife open with a quick flip of his wrist.
“I’m going to hold it too,” he said.
“I can do it by myself,” Sam said.
“My help or nothing,” Colton cautioned. “Your choice, pal.”
“Okay.”
Elaine grinned as she raised her glass to her lips. “He reminds me of Lofton. Always needing to prove herself.”
“How old is your daughter?” Libby asked.
“Twenty-seven. She graduated from the University of Virginia law school last year and is now working for a Washington, DC, law firm. Takes after her father and me. Loves to argue. My grandfather wanted me to be a doctor, and he even set up an internship with me in your father’s office, but I could never stand the sight of blood.”
“So you knew my dad?”
“Our paths crossed for just a few weeks. I remember how gentle he was with the kids, especially the ones that were afraid of needles. He almost had me convinced to make a run for med school, but in the end, my heart just wasn’t in it.”
Libby sipped her wine. “I’d say small world, but Bluestone is super small. Did you know my mother?”
“I never met her. After college I moved away, but my grandmother and Margaret kept me updated on the goings-on in town. I remember when they told me when your parents adopted you.”
It felt a little odd to have someone Libby barely knew be so familiar with her history. “Dad never mentioned that he knew you.”
“I lost total touch with him and didn’t catch up with your dad until last fall. We ran into each other and ended up having lunch. He talked about you a lot. He was very proud of you.”
Libby swallowed a lump of emotion, hoping a smile would keep tears in check.
Just then, Margaret called them all in to dinner, and Libby was grateful to follow the boys inside. Colton refreshed the dogs’ water bowl and set out handfuls of kibble for them.
Dinner turned into a little bit of a blur. Maybe that was the second glass of wine. But Libby listened to the boys tell stories about school, Sam establishing himself as the guy who always needed to upstage his brother. Colton was patient as Sam spoke, but when the boy took a breath, he redirected the conversation back to Libby and her work.
“I’m basically a couples’ photographer,” she said. “Engagements, weddings, anniversaries, you name it.”
“And there’s a broad market for that?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“Yes. In fact, business is booming. Which is a great problem to have.”
“Did you start off wanting to do this work?” Elaine asked.
“No. I wanted to be an artist,” she said, nodding to Elaine. “But it doesn’t pay, and my dad convinced me to go to nursing school for a steady paycheck. I became an oncology nurse.”
“You have children?” Sam asked.
The honest question was so straightforward it did not knock her off balance. “No, I don’t have any children.”
Her tone had Colton clearing his throat as he set down his fork. “Sam likes to ask questions. Did he just step in sensitive territory?” Colton asked.
“It’s no big secret,” she said. “I was married; we tried to have children. None of it worked out.” She tapped her ring finger against the side of her empty glass, missing the clink of metal. As tempted as she was to reach for the wine bottle, she did not. Experience had taught her a hangover did not make anything better.
“Your father told me a little about what you were going through,” Elaine said.
Again, weird they had been talking about her. “We all have something, don’t we?”
“I suppose so.”
Margaret rose from the table and reached for her plate and Libby’s. “I have dessert. A hummingbird cake.”
Libby stood. “I’ll help.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Margaret said. “You’re our guest.”
Still, she stood and reached for the boys’ plates. They had each eaten the noodles and had done an expert job of pushing around the chicken and vegetables while consuming little of both. She carried the dishes into the kitchen and scraped the bits of food into the trash can under the sink.
While Margaret sliced the fruity hummingbird cake, Elaine scooped ice cream. As Colton set more dishes on the counter beside her, faint hints of his aftershave mingled with a masculine scent.
As he scraped dishes, she studied his wrists and again felt a pull she had not experienced for so long. What was it about this guy’s hands?
Colton did not remind her of Jeremy in any way, shape, or form. And for that, she was glad. She had her hang-ups, but she was certain there was no desire to re-create what she’d had with an ex-husband. Maybe that was why she was so attracted to him. He was truly different.
Sierra would have called it stress sex. Easier to focus on desire than on what was really happening in your life. Whatever stress she was feeling, it would hopefully pass as soon as she left Woodmont and returned to her real life.
“This hummingbird cake recipe has been in Margaret’s family for generations,” Elaine said. “How far does it go back?”
“My great-grandmother, I think,” Margaret said. “My grandmother made it for me when I was growing up, though then she flavored it with honeysuckle syrup.” And then turning to Libby, she said, “I was raised by my grandmother.”
Margaret offered no other explanation about her mother, and Libby, who had been on the receiving end of too many intrusive questions, did not press.
Libby helped carry the dessert plates to the table and sat down again next to Colton. Coffee gurgled in a dated percolator that hinted at Margaret’s attachment to the old kitchen.
More small talk rattled around the table. Most of it centered on the cake, which w
as delicious. She drank two cups of coffee and, between the caffeine and the sugar, chased away the effects of the wine.
Finally, Colton gathered his sons, wished them all a good night, and escorted his boys, who were not really ready to leave yet, back to their home, located on the Woodmont Estate.
When Colton drove off with the boys, a welcome silence settled over the house. Libby knew children were work, but the boys had consumed all the energy in the room.
“Lofton always made a racket as a kid,” Elaine said, smiling. “Were you a busy child?”
The question hung between them. “Always asking questions. I liked to draw and play soccer. But I didn’t have any siblings, so there was no competition for attention.”
Elaine frowned. “Did you mind being an only child?”
“It’s all I knew. And I lived next door to Sierra, and she and I were like sisters. After Mom died, I spent a lot of time at her house. Her mother took me under her wing, and they’re still there for me now.”
“But they aren’t family,” Elaine said.
“Just like it.”
“Either way, you’re not really alone,” Elaine said quietly. “You have such a full life.”
She drew in a slow breath. “You’re right. I have good friends and a great job. I stay on the go.” She smiled, but it felt stilted and a little forced. “Don’t mind me. Just having a little pity party at the moment.”
Elaine’s eyes softened. “Everyone is entitled to a short one. I’ve certainly had my share over the years.”
They stood side by side, neither speaking as their own thoughts walled the other off. The silence grew heavier, and as it stretched, Libby grasped for something to bridge the gap widening between them.
Elaine shifted and cleared her throat. As she looked at Libby, her expression suggested she had more to say. However, she simply smiled. “It was nice having dinner with you, Libby. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you for dinner. Margaret put my proposal on the desk in the nook. Call me if you have any questions about the prices or anything.”
“I’m sure it’s just fine. Can you be here tomorrow morning? Colton is cleaning out the greenhouse. Currently, it’s in a terrific before state, and it would be worth photographing for posterity. Everyone loves a comeback story.”
“Sure. I can be here. I’m in town until Wednesday afternoon. I’ll see you bright and early.”
“I look forward to it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SADIE
Wednesday, December 24, 1941
Bluestone, Virginia
Sadie shifted gears on the truck, wincing when the engine ground and sputtered. “Don’t make that face; you know the clutch sticks sometimes. And it’s hard for me to reach the pedals.”
“You got to push the clutch in the whole way now,” Johnny said.
“I know.” She scooted up on the seat, not bothering to look at her brother. She guessed he was frowning like always. “My legs are too short. Pa used to put blocks on the pedals for me.”
“Well, I don’t know where the blocks got to, so you best grow a couple of inches. You need to drive this truck proper so that it lasts,” Johnny said.
She shifted in her seat, hating the way the cold air blew up through the floorboards and froze her backside. “I don’t like being out on Christmas Eve when there’s a ham waiting for us back home,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“You’ve told me a few times. And Dr. Carter’s daddy always pays me six dollars for moonshine around the holidays.”
“Six dollars. I don’t think I’ve seen that much money ever in one place. You think his son will pay the same?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s a tradition.”
The gears strained as she downshifted to turn a corner. When he frowned, she added, “I don’t see why it’s so important I drive us up to Woodmont.”
“Better get used to driving.”
“Why?”
He was silent for a long moment. “I’m not going to be around for a while.”
Her struggles to get the stick shift in third distracted her from the full weight of his words. Only when the truck was rumbling along the dirt road did she speak. “What do you mean? Are you leaving?”
“I signed up for the army,” he said.
“The army? When did you do that?” The headlights showed barely a dozen feet in front of the truck, but she had driven the roads enough to know there was a sharp curve up ahead.
“I signed up a week ago when I was in Waynesboro making a delivery. They are looking for men to fight.”
“Why in the world would you do that? You heard Mr. Sullivan say that war ain’t all that easy.”
“I suspect because it ain’t easy, that’s why they’re going to need men like me.”
She twisted toward him, knowing every bit of shock she felt was on her face. “I need you.”
“Not as bad as the country does. Watch the road.”
She refocused on the headlights barely penetrating the darkness ahead of them. “When do you leave?”
“The second of January.”
“What?” she said, glaring at him again.
He pointed ahead. “The road.”
The truck’s wheels rumbled over a small pothole, drawing her attention back to the narrow band of headlights. “That’s less than two weeks!”
“I know.” He stared ahead, his gaze not really looking at anything, especially her. It was as if he felt poorly about his decision at this moment. But his jaw was set in a way that signaled he had made up his mind. He could be so stubborn that she often joked he was part mule.
“What are Mama and I going to do?” Her question was selfish. He was heading off to fight in a war that she wanted no part of, and here her first question was for herself.
“You two will be fine. You’ll keep making the shine, Mama’s got her piecework sewing, and I’ll send money home each month like Danny.”
“And the farm?”
“It’ll be more work for you, but that’s just the way it is.”
“Danny never sends money or writes.”
“Well, I will. The army pays better than the factory in Waynesboro, and I won’t be having to pay for the back-and-forth travel.”
“That’s why you’re making me drive tonight?”
“Might as well get used to it.” She had first driven when she was twelve, but her first driving lesson had been cut short when she had hit the side of the barn as she had tried to park. Her father and Johnny had been in the car, and neither had let her forget it for years.
“I don’t think you should leave.” The panic churning in her belly leaked out in her tone. “Your place is here.”
“The war is going to need me. Nazis and Japs are killing people right and left, and someone has got to stop them.”
“Why does it have to be you? The army’s already got Danny.”
“And they’re going to need me. Besides, someone’s got to do it.”
She slowed as the truck approached the twin pillars that marked the entrance to the Woodmont Estate. Downshifting, she made the turn and headed down the long driveway flanked by tall bare trees dusted with snow.
She had never been to the Woodmont Estate, but Johnny had worked here several days in October helping a crew from New York put in a house made of glass. She had wanted to see it, but he had never felt comfortable bringing her along.
As they rode in silence down the long driveway, the bare tree limbs draped across the road, reaching for them like clawed hands. As the truck came over the last rise, Woodmont came into view. It was the biggest house she had ever seen, and every window in the front was lit. As they pulled around the side, she heard the faint notes of music.
“Go in that side entrance. That’s where the kitchen is,” he said.
Sadie kept silent as he shut off the engine and set the parking brake.
“You need to be on your best behavior, Sadie,” Johnny said. “No cussing. Speak when
you’re spoken to. In fact, better you don’t talk at all. You can get long winded.”
“I do not get long winded. I just say what’s on my mind, and you know my brain is full of all kinds of ideas.”
Johnny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Like I said, keep quiet.”
As she opened the car door, a gust of icy wind caught it. She barely grabbed it before it all but flew off its hinges. “Damn it.”
“No cussing like that,” he said.
She slammed her car door, determined to show her brother just how angry she was over his leaving.
Johnny carefully closed his door. “You ain’t going to see a revenuer at Woodmont.” As they met at the back of the truck, he added, “Better to not speak at all. Let me do the talking.”
“I’m going to have to talk to them at some point if they want more hooch.” Prohibition had ended a decade ago. During the dry years, her pa had said he could not make the shine fast enough, and the money from it had built their house. The sales were not near the same anymore, but they still got enough orders to make the still worth keeping. The Carters could have afforded any kind of booze, but Dr. Carter considered the honeysuckle blend a holiday tradition.
“It’ll be up to you to make all the deliveries now,” Johnny said. “And you’ll be mixing the mash too.”
“I have been doing that for years.”
“Yeah, well, most folks don’t know that. They think it was Pa, Danny, and me.”
“I’ll just keep pretending you’re doing it magically from wherever you are.”
He lowered the tailgate on the truck. “Tell folks I mixed up a good amount before I left.”
“Who’s going to believe that?”
“You like to make up stories. If that one don’t work, find a better one.”
Johnny took the heavier of the two milk crates while she lifted the smaller.
Jars rattled as icy wind off the James River cut through her thin coat. “Must be nice to live in a house like this. Did you ever wonder what it would be like?”
“No. I’m too busy to wonder.”
“I bet Gene Tierney lives in a house like this. She’s like the Carters. They don’t worry a bit about putting food on the table or heating the house in the winter. If they got problems, it’s only the kind rich folks have.”
Honeysuckle Season Page 9
