The Wedding Audition (9 page)

But she’d never been followed by
him
.

*

Annamae locked her
red Beetle and glanced around the area. The parking lot was still, undisturbed. There was no movement, except for a dull breeze that set the grass dancing. No one had followed her. She loosed a sigh of relief as she jogged along the sidewalk toward the path to the garden. She was running late after her talk with Heath. She could still feel the heat of his eyes as he’d watched her.

Wanted her.

A want she couldn’t help feeling in return.

Just a healthy, normal attraction. Right?

A really strong attraction.

Adjusting her sunglasses, Annamae stepped lightly on the slate path that wound into the marigold garden. Pockets of morning glories and rose bushes welcomed her into the thick of the garden. The red of the roses caught her eye and for a moment, her mind turned away from the task of talking to her grandmother.

For the briefest moment, her mind wandered back again to this morning and her exchange with Heath. Did she care what he thought of her? Should she care? He was rough-spun, so blunt and honest. He clearly wasn’t interested in empty flattery or fifteen minutes on screen with her. He had nothing to gain from their interaction.

Focus, she reprimanded herself, scanning the neat fields of the community garden just outside the hedgerow around the walking paths through the flowers. She searched for a trace of her grandmother. Annnnnd nothing. No sign of her.

Marigolds encircled the marble fountain, a trio of angels spewing water from their mouths. The path curved around the right side of the orange flowers and cherub trio. Tall stalks of sunflowers hugged the other side of the path.

The back edge of the garden was lined with a cluster of Slash Pines standing like guardians of this little sanctuary, benches strategically placed for elderly residents to take a breather whenever needed. The white flowers of witch alder swayed beneath the pines, making the garden feel full of life.

But absent of her grandmother, Annamae noted. Her stomach plummeted.

Was Hazel Mae the sort of woman to stand her up? She had been absent in her life for all this time. This whole impulsive plan—

Out of the corner of her eye, Annamae noticed there was a floppy sun hat in the midst of the witch alder, a hat filled with little white flowers. It had to be her grandmother.

Was everyone in her life going to make a habit of hanging in trees and shrubbery to talk to her?

“Are you sure no one followed you?” Hazel Mae asked in a stage whisper, eyebrows arched as Annamae drew close.

It was a question Annamae was already growing used to hearing.

“I’m certain.” She had a sneaking suspicion she would become an expert at hiding in plain sight over the next few months after the way she broke off her engagement.

“Your disguise is good. You always did like to play dress up as a little one,” she said, stepping out from the bushes. Hazel Mae swooped her hands along her t-shirt, brushing off stray twigs from the faded carnival logo.

Shock washed through Annamae faster than the water from the angels’ mouths. “How do you know that?”

“Your mother let me see you some, in the early days before she found her a new husband.” She pressed on the knees of her jeans as she sat slowly on a bench. “I have pictures. I keep them in an album in my room.”

“You do? I thought …” Her voice trailed off. Her mother had intentionally misled her. For years, Annamae had been allowed to believe that her grandmother was ashamed of her, that she had never wanted to meet her. That she even blamed Annamae for the way her son had left for Australia.

“What?” Her grandmother watched her with a sharp intensity.

“I thought that we never met.”

Her lips pressed tight, thinning. “That I just walked away from you?”

“Didn’t you?” The accusation came out sharper than Annamae intended. She couldn’t help it. Years of frustration pressed against her tongue.

“In the end, I didn’t have much choice.” Bitterness edged into Hazel Mae’s words. What had Annamae’s mother said to keep her away?

And why would it matter now?

“I’m an adult now. There’s this thing called the telephone. Or the Internet. Or the good old U.S. Postal Service.”

“True enough.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Is that why you came here to Beulah? To chew me out for being a crummy grammy?”

Annamae shook her head and let out a wavering sigh as she sat beside her grandmother. “I’m not doing this right. I haven’t done much right lately.”

“You walked out before you married the wrong man.” Hazel patted her granddaughter’s knee. “I’d say that means you did something right.”

Something right? This was the last place she’d expected to get absolution, from someone who barely knew her. But she couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know he and I were wrong for each other?”

Her grandmother leaned in, conspirator-like, the scent of gardenia perfume and those flowers in her hat mixing. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re not that good of an actress. You weren’t really in love with Boone any more than he was in love with you.”

Ouch. That hurt.

But not as much as it should, which spoke volumes. She’d already half guessed as much anyway. “Then would you like to explain why we almost got married – since you seem to have all the answers? Because, quite frankly, I’m coming up dry here.”

Hazel Mae smiled at her as she snapped a bloom from a bush and tucked it in her granddaughter’s gathered-up hair. “You’re a people pleaser.” She tucked in another tiny blossom on the other side. “You wanted everyone to love you, so you went along with the plan to marry the golden boy of Atlanta.”

“You’re making me sound like a wimp.”

“A wimp wouldn’t be here confronting me.” She tucked another blossom in her hair before cradling her cheek briefly in a lotion soft hand.

Tears burned along with a pressing question she couldn’t fathom.

“You say I was going along with the plan. But what about Boone? If Boone didn’t love me, then why did he propose?” What had been visible on camera that had been hidden from her? She desperately wanted answers about her failed attempt at happily-ever-after. Even if they hurt. She needed to know.

“My guess? He thought it was time to take that next step in his life and you are a pretty girl. He was probably infatuated. Maybe even a little smitten, but being with you was safe. Plenty of men flinch at deeper emotions.”

Seriously? That was it? She was convenient? They’d both been part of one big reality show hoax because real life was too scary? That meant she and Boone both were big fat cowards after all. Although she couldn’t help but wonder how many people fell into that same trap off-camera.

“Is that what happened with my mom and dad?”

Snorting on a laugh, Hazel shook her head. “Oh not at all. They were deeply, passionately in love. The kind that heats up a room when they so much as walk through the door.” She fanned herself with both hands. “That kind of love either lasts a lifetime or combusts. Your parents, well, they combusted. But at least they made you, so something very wonderful came of their love.”

“He loved my mother so much he left for Australia?” That didn’t seem to add up.

Hazel Mae’s laughter faded along with her smile, sadness settling into her eyes. “He wasn’t a steady kind of guy. He was the sort that had restless feet like his daddy.”

“So when he heard my mother was pregnant with me, he left the country.” That sounded like a step beyond restless feet to her.

“Actually, he asked her to go with him. He was going to strap you into a backpack for a walkabout.”

She tried to envision her mother in outback gear trekking with wallabies and the image didn’t come close to gelling. “My mom said no.”

“She did.”

“Figures.”

“Hold on now. Life isn’t always that simple. She said she didn’t believe he would stick around for the long haul once they got there, and honestly, girlie, I’m not sure I can blame her. It’s one thing to be a single mom in her own hometown. But to be in another country, left alone with no support system, that would be devastating.”

The thought of her mother alone in a strange country with a baby was beyond scary. For any new parent. “My mom opted for security for my sake,” she said, realizing it for the first time and more than a little stunned.

“She did.”

“And so did I. Almost.” Maybe she had inherited restless feet too. Maybe that’s why security and constant invasive cameras were too high a cost for Annamae.

“Almost being the operative word.” Her grandmother cocked her head to the side. “Instead, you came here for answers.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Hazel Mae stared thoughtfully at her. Gently she said, “Did you find them?”

“Some, not all.”

She still ached to know more about her father who’d abandoned her, but also didn’t want to know him, the walkabout guy who ditched her—and ditched her mom, too. Feeling sorry for her mother was a new emotion, which brought up a whole new batch of questions. And the biggest question of all. “Gramma,” the name unearthed from somewhere deep, maybe from buried memories of long ago play dates, “what do I do now?”

“Oh sweetheart, that’s the easiest question of all. You do what any girl does after a bad breakup.” She leaned forward. “You find a smoking hot man and have a fling.”

‡

T
he whole drive
back to Heath’s place, Annamae couldn’t stop thinking about what her grandmother said about having an affair.

She steered her VW through the security gate in back, which somehow the press had not yet discovered. Could she really indulge in an affair?

Her grandmother’s words rolled around in her mind. All of them. The parts about her parents, her father wanting to be a part of her life, but her mother being responsible and careful. So many shades of gray to something that had seemed black and white before.

No wonder she didn’t have a clue about how to build a healthy relationship with so many mixed messages and misinformation. What a mess she would have made of her life if she’d actually gone through with marrying Boone. And what a time to realize they hadn’t even slept together in over a month. How had
that
happened? They were supposed to be in love. Ready to get married. And yet they’d both been too busy—him with spring training, her with the show—for even a heavy petting make-out.

She didn’t know if she was ready for an affair. But she did know she couldn’t so much as consider the possibility until she had complete closure with Boone. And that meant talking to him.

She pulled up outside the carriage house and shifted the car into neutral, the air conditioner still blasting over her. She pulled out one of her throwaway phones and texted.

Please pick up your phone. We need to talk.
She paused, knowing a simple plea wasn’t enough.
If you don’t call me back at,
she looked up the digits to the temporary phone and typed them in. Then finished her text with,
I will go to the press and tell them about the tattoo on your butt.

Fifteen seconds later, her second throwaway phone rang.

“Annamae, damn it,” Boone barked through the airwaves, “I made it clear I don’t want to talk to you. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“Boone, I’m really sorry.” Her voice was calm, despite her slamming chest.

“For dumping me? Or breaking my heart? Doing that on the radio and television, simultaneously?”

Guilt hammered her again. “All of the above. For any embarrassment I caused you. For not being brave enough to face you.” For still not being brave enough to face the music in Atlanta. “For not figuring this out earlier. And most especially for any harm I did to your heart.”

She threw in that last part just in case her grandmother was wrong, just in case maybe she had truly hurt this very perfect man.

“Harm to my heart?” He laughed darkly. “That sounds like some melodramatic line from your TV show.”

Except it wasn’t a line. She really wanted, needed, to know. “Did you love me?”

“That’s a strange question to ask. We were a day away from being married.” Yet he hadn’t answered her question.