Bless Her Heart

by Debby Mayne

  I shake my head. “No, I’m very tired.”

  He doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine.”

  All the way to my parents’ house, he talks about when we might be able to get together again. I wish he would give me a little bit of quiet time. Michael and I used to have long stretches of silence that I thought were annoying at the time, but looking back, I realize I came to find comfort in them.

  When we make our last turn toward my parents’ house, I spot Michael’s car at the curb. The house is dark, but the front porch light is on, and Michael is sitting on the steps, his head down, shoulders slumped—almost like last time.

  “Is that . . . ?” Hank’s jaw tightens. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He didn’t show up at the party.” I can’t stop looking at Michael, but that old familiar flutter in the tummy doesn’t happen. “I have no idea what he’s doing here.”

  “I’ll tell him to get lost.” He pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park.

  I place my hand on Hank’s arm. “No, don’t. Something is wrong, and I don’t wanna be mean.”

  “But he’s—” Hank looks at me and shakes his head. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

  By now I know for sure I’m not in love with him. “No, I’m not in love with him anymore, but he and I have a history.”

  Hank slams his palm on the steering wheel. “That’s what bugs me. If he doesn’t stay out of your life, there’s no chance for us.”

  “Don’t say that, Hank. Michael has nothing to do with . . . us.” I’m not sure I’ll ever feel anything romantic toward Hank, but at the moment, I want to find out what’s going on with Michael and let him know he’s responsible for whatever he’s going through.

  I look back over at Michael and see that he’s watching us. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s not worried about anything happening between me and Hank. Michael has always had a superiority complex. All he has to do is snap his fingers, and he gets what he wants. Maybe that used to be the case, but not anymore.

  “Why don’t you pick me up in the morning for church?” I smile at Hank.

  He glances over at Michael then back at me. “Are you sure about that? What if the ex wants to take you to church?”

  “The ex doesn’t always get what he wants.”

  “Okay. What time?”

  “Church starts at eleven, so how about ten-thirty?” I sigh. It’s time to go face Michael. “Well, are you gonna walk me to my door?”

  Momentarily flustered, Hank scrambles to get his seatbelt unhooked, opens his door, and gets out, while I wait for him to come around to get me. No matter how independent I’ve become, I still enjoy some of the old-fashioned southern etiquette in a dating situation.

  He casually places his arm over my shoulder, but I can tell he’s nervous about encountering Michael. When we get within a few feet of the steps, I turn around to face Hank and say in a voice loud enough for Michael to hear, “I had a wonderful time tonight, Hank. Don’t be late pickin’ me up in the mornin’.”

  I can tell he’s not sure whether or not to kiss me, so I stand on my tiptoes, give him a quick little lip smack, and back away from him. The stunned look on his face is so comical, it makes me want to laugh, but I don’t.

  “G’night, Hank.”

  Hank slowly walks toward his car, gets in, and backs out of the driveway. When I turn around to face Michael, I see him staring at me in disbelief.

  “What was that all about?” He doesn’t even bother to stand up.

  I put my fist on my hip and stare down at him. “I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question. Why are you sittin’ on my porch again?”

  “Trudy . . . ” He finally stands up and reaches for me. When I don’t move toward him, he jerks his head back and pats the spot beside him. “C’mere.”

  I fold my arms. “No. I’m not taking orders from you anymore, Michael.”

  “But you and I . . . we’re meant to be together. I’ve made some big mistakes, Trudy, and I want you to know I’m ready to take you back.”

  “Yes, you’ve made some humongous mistakes, but I’m not going back to you.” I tilt my head forward and glare at him. “Ever.”

  “Oh, Trudy honey, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You know we’ll wind up together.”

  “Honey? Uh-uh. You lost the right to call me honey when you said I wasn’t good enough for you.” Disgust toward Michael starts to flow through me, and that gives me the courage to say what’s on my mind. “How about your pregnant girlfriend?” I have no intention of going back to Michael, regardless of the girlfriend, but I’m curious what his plans are. “Are you just gonna cast her aside like you do everyone who cares about you?”

  He pouts, but I can tell it’s fake because he has his body in the old stance he’s always used to show his power over everyone. “You’ve never turned me down before, Trudy. What has that . . . ” He makes a face. “What has that sorry excuse of a boyfriend of yours said about me?”

  I give him one of those smiles he used to tease me about giving people who don’t really matter—the kind that shows all my teeth but doesn’t crinkle anything on my face. “You may not believe this, Michael, but my . . . boyfriend doesn’t say anything about you. We have much more important things to discuss.”

  “Important things? Like what?” He leans closer and tries to hold my gaze like he did when we were too young to know what love was.

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  “So do you think you and what’s-his-name have a future together?”

  I shrug. “Maybe, but that’s really not your concern, now is it?”

  Michael’s shoulders slump. “I’m not sure how to deal with this situation I’m in.”

  “So now you’re calling your pregnant girlfriend a situation?”

  He nods. “She trapped me.”

  I can’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of his comment. “You weren’t exactly innocent.”

  “But I was. I never told her I wanted to settle down. She asked me to move in with her, but I told her I wasn’t ready for a commitment.”

  “Looks like your actions speak louder than your intentions.” They always have, but at least I was smart enough to hold out. “In case you didn’t know this before, if you don’t want a commitment from a girl, there are certain things you shouldn’t do.”

  “I didn’t ask you for a lecture, Trudy. All I wanted was your help, but now I see what kind of friend you truly are.”

  “I’m not your friend, Michael. I’m your ex-wife, and I have no intention of getting you out of any mess you got yourself into, just to stroke your ego.”

  “You need to get past your grudge.”

  “I do?” I laugh right in his face, and forgive me, Lord, but it feels mighty good. “I have yet to see why.”

  “It’s not very becoming.”

  The front porch light blinks at us—the sign that my parents know I’m on the front porch, and they want me to come in. “You need to leave now.”

  Michael doesn’t budge from his spot on the step. He just stares at me as though that will change my mind.

  I point to his car. “Leave. I have nothing else to say to you.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow so we can talk about it when you have more time and you’re not so cranky.”

  “No, don’t. I’m going to church with Hank, then later on, I’m heading back to Atlanta.”

  He frowns. “You’ve really changed, Trudy.”

  “Yes, Michael, I have changed.” Thank you for that, Lord. “I’ve grown up, and it’s time for you to do the same.” I open the door and see Daddy standing there. I take a step inside, lean over, give him a hug, then look back at Michael. “Good night.” Then I close the door behind me.

  “What was that all about?” Mama asks in her sleepy voice as she walks up from behind Daddy. “Was that Michael I heard you talking to?”

  “Yes, he was si
tting on the porch waiting for me to come home from the reunion.”

  Mama’s eyes squint with concern. “Is there a chance—?”

  “No, Mama, there’s no chance on earth for Michael and me to ever get back together, if that’s what you were asking.”

  “So you had a nice time with Hank?”

  I nod. There’s no point in going over all the details about my conflicting feelings, but I want to reassure her that my evening went well. “I had a wonderful time with Hank . . . so much so, he’s picking me up for church in the morning.” I hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Go back to bed now. Love you.”

  As I lie in bed a half hour later, I reflect on the night with Hank. I remember seeing him at the ten-year reunion and thinking about how sweet he was with Marlene. That was when I made my decision to give Alan a chance once I got back to Atlanta, but he surprised me with his announcement that he’d gotten back with his old girlfriend. I was disappointed, but the experience taught me a valuable lesson: sometimes things aren’t as they seem, and just because someone is geeky doesn’t mean he’s not worth loving. Hank is very similar to Alan, only I knew him back in high school, when Michael and I were the hottest couple in town. It’s difficult to get past the image, but I really need to work hard at seeing beyond the facade. So what if he’s a Star Wars–loving, graphing calculator–toting, infrared pen–loving, sports-hating, championship-debating nerd? He’s got enough redeeming traits to capture and break the heart of the second runner-up in the Miss Mississippi pageant. And I can be pretty certain he won’t ignore me when the Super Bowl is on, even if the New Orleans Saints are playing.

  38

  Priscilla

  I shouldn’t be surprised by anything that happens in Piney Point, but I have to admit a few things have caught me off-guard. First, being faced with Laura and Pete’s daughter’s shoplifting unsettled me, but Carolyn’s reaction at the shop threw me for a loop. She should never have made such a big deal of my career success. As it stands now, Bonnie Sue will think that if she’s successful or well known, she can get away with theft. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.

  It’s Monday morning, and I already have a full schedule for the week. I’ll need to make sure everything is in order here at the Piney Point salon, drive over to Jackson to check on Mandy, then fly up to New York for my appointment with the TVNS execs. Every time I think about it, I get a tummy flutter.

  But before I leave town, I need to have a chat with Bonnie Sue—that is, if Laura lets me. After her kids got into trouble on the night of the big party, she’s acting even more cantankerous than before, and she’s always been the type to let you know when she feels put-upon.

  Mother comes to my bedroom door to let me know that my second surprise is on the phone. It’s my Realtor.

  “Hey, I got good news.”

  “They accepted my offer?”

  “Well . . . ” Her voice gets a little scratchy as the pitch goes up. “Not exactly but close.”

  I grab a pen and paper to jot down the notes. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  She gives me a list of the seller’s conditions and lets me know their asking price has shot up. “That’s what I was afraid of,” she says, “but I thought if we gave them an offer quickly enough, they wouldn’t realize the place is worth more as a vacant lot.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “Their asking price is still in my range.”

  “So you wanna take their counter?”

  “No, of course not. I want to get the best deal I can.” I give her a counter to their counter. When I hang up, Mother knocks on my bedroom door. She’s obviously been listening from the hallway.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing.” She takes me by the hand and leads me to the edge of the bed, where I sit and she stands. “Please, Priscilla, I beg you to think this through before you become even more committed than you already are. Buying that property is a huge investment, and if you change your mind . . . ” She shakes her head. “It’ll be an even bigger mess.” She might be talking about my offer on the old ice factory, but I see the parallel of her relationship with Dad.

  “Mother, my commitment is already established. I have several dozen people working for me already. They depend on my business to support their families. I consider that much more important than the building.”

  She ponders that, even though she continues to frown. I wonder if she catches the depth of what I’m saying. “Your father wants to discuss this with you before you make any final decisions.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Okay, but I have to leave on Wednesday to go to New York.”

  “That’s okay. He’s in the kitchen waiting for you now.”

  I should have known that. “Let’s go have a chat with Dad.”

  “You go on ahead, dear. I have to straighten my room before Teresa gets here.”

  When I walk into the kitchen, Dad is fiddling with the napkin holder. He looks up and smiles. “Why don’t you pour yourself some coffee and have a seat?”

  I do as he tells me and join him at the table. “So what did you want to talk to me about, Dad?”

  “Your mother is worried about you.” He purses his lips, looks down at the table, then meets my gaze. “I just happen to be very proud of what you’ve become, so I’m not sure how to approach this.”

  I scoot my chair back from the table and fold my arms. “Approach what?”

  “Do you really know what you’re getting yourself into with that property?”

  “Yes, I think so. I’ve been in business for a long time now, and I’m fully aware of how to buy property.”

  “You’ve been renting that space on Main Street, which is quite different . . . ”

  “Don’t forget, I bought the land and built the salon and office in Jackson.”

  “But this is Piney Point.”

  “Yes.” I tilt my head forward and hold his gaze. “Why does that make a difference?”

  Dad frowns. “I’m afraid your mother thinks that if you fail . . . not saying I agree with her . . . you won’t have a place to go.”

  “You mean I won’t have a place to hide?”

  He holds out his hands and bobs his head in the affirmative.

  This is utterly ridiculous. I stand up. “If I fail, the last thing I have to worry about is having a place to go or hide. In spite of what you and Mother believe about me, I’m a very good businesswoman, and I take extremely calculated, well-thought-out risks before I make decisions. Y’all do not need to worry about me. Instead, I’d like to suggest getting some outside help with your marriage.”

  I hear a gasp behind me, so I turn around. Mother is standing there, her face red, her mouth open. “Priscilla!”

  “Mother, you and Dad are worrying needlessly about something you can’t control. I love both of you, and I see something going on with y’all that has me even more concerned than anything having to do with my salons.”

  “That’s not—”

  Dad clears his throat. “Suzanne, I think we’ve said enough now. Let’s leave Priscilla to her business, and we can tend to ours.”

  “You’re supposed to be with me on this, George.”

  I’m done with this conversation, so I hold up my hands. “If y’all want to argue about me, do it after I leave. I’m going to Jackson tomorrow.”

  “But you said . . . ” Mother darts her gaze back and forth between Dad and me. “I thought you might want to stay the whole week.”

  “You obviously haven’t been listening to me then. I’ve been very clear that I’m going up to New York to discuss my product line with the folks at TVNS.”

  “So you really are serious about hawking your stuff on that silly TV station?” Mother shudders. “How will your father and I explain that to our colleagues at the college?”

  I shrug. “Maybe you can tell them to tune in and find out how to add volume to their limp locks?”

  Dad snickers until Mother glares at him. He covers his mouth with his fist and pretends to cough.

/>   “Why don’t the two of you go out for dinner tonight?”

  Without consulting Dad, Mother shakes her head. “We won’t do any such thing, not with you going back to Jackson tomorrow.”

  “I have a date with Tim, so don’t worry about me.”

  “You have a date on your last night here?”

  “I’ll be back after my trip to New York.”

  She starts to argue with me, when Dad clears his throat to get our attention. “I would love to take your mother out for supper if she’ll do me the honors.”

  “George, that’s just plain silly.” In spite of Mother’s reprimand, her cheeks are red, and she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands.

  I smile at his choice of words and her flustered reaction. It’s almost like I’m watching him trying to court Mother, and she’s too embarrassed to show she likes it.

  When I arrive at the Piney Point salon an hour later, Sheila lifts her shears in greeting. I stop off at each station and chat with the hairdressers as they create their masterpieces. Pride swells inside me as I realize I couldn’t have handpicked better people to associate with.

  “We’ll be prayin’ for ya,” Sheila says. “Go knock those TV executives over with your hair products. Got a name for the system yet?”

  I shake my head. “I want to come up with something that’ll stick in people’s minds.”

  “How about Priscilla’s Fancy Hair System?” she says.

  Chester rolls his eyes. “That’s way too old school.”

  Sheila stops cutting her client’s hair, spins around to face Chester, and does her best to bob her head but looking more like she’s lost her mind than anything. “Okay, Mr. Bigshot, if you’re so smart what do you think she should call it?”

  “Hmm.” He glances down at his client before holding his comb like a scepter. “How about Priscilla’s Hair to the Sky?”

  “Oh that’s just plain stup—”

  “Wait a minute, Sheila.” I hold my hand up to shush her while I turn to Chester. “That’s actually pretty good, only just a tad off.” I tap my chin with my index finger as I mentally try to tweak it. “Sky-High Hair?”