A Forever Thing (5 page)

She’d made dozens of excuses for him those long months after
she moved to Florida and sulked around like the love-struck fifteenyear-old she was. He didn’t like to write letters, and he didn’t have
the money for phone calls. He was in mourning for her and
couldn’t bear to write her name on an envelope. He didn’t have a
cell phone.

At Christmas, when she called Hattie to wish her happy holidays, she learned Chris had left Albany.

“Joined up in some branch of the service,” Hattie had said.
“Best place for him. They might make a man out of him, if they
work real hard and don’t give up too soon. Or if he don’t get killed like that worthless boy your momma eloped with. If that happens,
then Becky Barrington will be reliving your momma’s life.”

“What are you talking about, Granny?” Fancy had asked.

“Becky is in the family way and says she and Chris eloped the
day he left. I knew that boy was bad news. I’m glad your momma
moved away from here before he ruined your life like hers was
ruined when she did the same thing with your daddy.”

Fancy hadn’t believed it, not back then, but fifteen years later
she had matured from a teenager with stars in her eyes. However,
part of her had secretly still waited for Chris to reappear and offer her that forever thing she’d told Sophie and Kate about. A big
part of her had wanted to prove her mother and grandmother
wrong, but now, after all the years gone by, she wrinkled her nose
in disgust. Why had she let so many wonderful potential relationships slip through her hands because she was using some kind of
illusive dream as a measure?

She felt like a complete fool, lying there on her back with her
hands laced behind her head. She couldn’t imagine calling Chris.
He was married! She wrapped a rubber band around a ponytail at
the nape of her neck, amazed at how much lighter her heart felt
without the extra weight of Chris Miller embedded into it like some
kind of life-threatening cancer.

She’d planned to visit Hattie for a while that afternoon. Maybe
the old girl would be in a good mood. That would be hoping for a
miracle, but then, Hattie had always been independent, and perhaps the broken hip and having to depend on others was what was
making her even more caustic and demanding than Fancy remembered.

She braved the first blast of heat from her car when she opened
the door and quickly started the engine so she could turn on the
air conditioner. Ten minutes later she parked in front of the nursing home. She absolutely dreaded going inside and sat in the car
for a few minutes before opening the door. Finally, she took one
last breath of cold air and opened the door. From there it was only
a few feet to the lobby, where Hattie waited, confined to a wheelchair and not liking one minute of it.

“Hi, Granny,” Fancy said, and she kissed her on the forehead.

“You’re going to muss my makeup.”

“So what’s going on today, Granny?” Fancy asked.

“I promised the doctor I’d stay here three weeks, and I will, but
I want to go home, and I want you to get on back to Florida. I don’t
want you to live with me, and I don’t want any help. Gwen made
her bed when she ran off and left me, so I’m not going to ease her
conscience by letting you come and help me out. If you want to live
in Albany, find your own house, and get out of mine,” Hattie said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Fancy bristled. “I’m staying at your house right
now. I didn’t get the job at the school, so as soon as they let you
come home and I get you settled in, if you don’t want me there, I’ll
go on back to Florida. I expect the home-health services can help
YOU.”

“Yes, they can. I don’t need you or Gwen. Don’t you eat in my
living room, and don’t you overload the washer either. Run it on
delicate so the motor don’t wear out. If you use the stove, then I expect you to clean it up. I won’t come home to a mess that you made,”
Hattie said.

“I’ll see to it that everything is exactly as you left it, and if you
like, I’ll make arrangements to be out of the house before you even
come home. Now, do you reckon we could have a little conversation like a grandmother and a granddaughter?”

“Why waste the time? You’re leaving as soon as they let me go.
Only reason you came back was to sponge off me for rent and
groceries while you teach. What’d you do, get run off down there
in Florida? Probably acting like that no-account good-for-nothing
father of yours. Blood is blood. You got his blue eyes and mouth
and God only knows what else. That’s why they fired you in Florida, ain’t it? You couldn’t behave yourself.”

“Granny, I left my job there because Momma and I thought it
would be nice for you to have family to help you. I came to do that
and to teach at the school here, but I didn’t get the job.”

“Good. Now you are free to go. So get on out of here and leave
me alone”

“Okay. Maybe you’ll be in a better mood tomorrow,” Fancy
said.

“Don’t count on it”

On the way home Fancy stopped by the Dollar General Store to
pick up cleaning supplies. She wheeled a cart to the back of the
store and tossed in some kind of lemony-fresh cleaner. The hype
on the label declared it was the best thing ever invented for hardwood floors. She added a box of laundry soap and a new mop. Far
be it from her to leave a speck of dust or a trace of herself anywhere in the house when she left. She was whipping around the
end of the aisle when she bumped into another cart.

She looked up to see Chris’ wife, Tina.

“I’m so sorry,” Fancy apologized honestly. “I wasn’t watching
what I was doing.”

“That’s okay. They need to put traffic lights in this place. Looks
like you’re going to be busy. I came for cleaning stuff too, and a
couple of other things I forgot. I’ve got to clean the trailer-or buy
some seeds and plant a garden in it, it’s so dirty,” she said with a
soft southern accent.

“I can’t let my grandmother come home to a single evil dust
mote,” Fancy said.

“Old folks have their ways set. My grandmother is the same way
over in Alabama,” Tina said with a smile. “Nice seeing you again.”

They went their separate ways, with Fancy heading toward the
checkout counter and Tina to the back of the store.

Fancy paid for her purchases and was putting them in the backseat of her car when that eerie, uneasy itch began to prickle her
neck. It was the forewarning of someone being too close or something horrible about to happen. It crawled up her backbone and
caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand straight. She banged
her head on the door as she whipped around and bumped right into
Chris Miller.

For heaven’s sake, she thought instantly. Years of nothing and
then twice in one day.

He slung an arm over the door and looked down at her. “Fancy
Lynn?”

She didn’t like the insolent look on his face, and he had a wife
who might be coming out of the store at any moment who wouldn’t
like it much either.

“Hello again.” She moved back several feet.

He smiled. “Helllloooo to you again,” he drawled. “You are just
as beautiful as you were way back when.”

“Thanks, Chris. So, when’s your baby due?” she asked pointedly.

“Any day now. I meant to write you a letter, you know.”

“But Becky kept you kind of busy after I left, I suppose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

She couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “No. But thankful. Very.
That was a long time ago.”

“Chris?” Tina called from a few feet back.

He jumped like he’d been hit with a branding iron and whispered, “Call me. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do”

Fancy muttered, “Don’t bet on it”

Fancy was seething by the time she parked back at the house. It
was a good thing they weren’t going to hire her at the school, because she didn’t want to face Chris Miller every time she bought
groceries or glass cleaner. She filled a bucket with warm water
and cleaner, realizing finally that the yardstick with Chris Miller’s
name engraved on it-the one she’d depended on all these years
when she measured any man in her life-was broken.

In the twinkling of an eye and in less time than it took to fill a
mop bucket with water, Fancy Lynn Sawyer had let go of the past.
If Chris believed she was going to call him or invite him to her
grandmother’s house, he’d better exercise the two or three brain
cells left in his head and think again. She slammed the mop down
into the water and attacked the kitchen floor.

“And to think I could be the one with a tat of his name on my
ankle. Wonder if Debbie ever drops down on her knees and gives
thanks he’s out of her life. I can’t wait to call Momma and tell her
she was right and I was wrong. I might be hardheaded and a determined brat, but I was wrong about that two-bit jerk!”

God hated Fancy.

It was the only explanation.

She stood in the doorway of the Sunday school class for six- to
eight-year-old children and looked across the room straight into
Theron Warren’s green eyes. She’d only planned to go to Sunday
school and church, sit in the young singles’ classroom, attend morning services after that, and go home to an afternoon with Sophie
and Kate. They’d decided to have a weekly gabfest, and Fancy was
the middle point of the triangle. It was about twenty-five miles to
Breckenridge off to the east and twenty-five down south to Baird,
so they’d decided to meet in the middle for an afternoon together
once a week.

The preacher had caught her as she was entering the church and
informed her they needed help in the little kids’ class, and, since
she was a teacher, she’d do very well. He’d talked the whole way
through the sanctuary, down the hallway to the classrooms, and
quite literally shoved her into one.

“Theron, this is Fancy Sawyer, Hattie’s granddaughter. Of course
you already know her, since she’s a teacher at your school. Tina
Miller had the baby last night, so I’m moving her down to the
nursery when she’s able to come back to church. Fancy is going to
help with this class, since she’s familiar with this age group,” he
said; then he hurried off before Theron or Fancy could say a word.
“Trust me, it’s a one-week job,” she said.

“You quitting or am I?” he asked.

“Seniority wins. I’ll quit.”

Ten children rushed into the room, all dressed in their Sunday best, hair combed, smelling fresh instead of like the sweaty sixyear-olds she was used to seeing first thing in the morning. This
time of year they came off the playground with their hair plastered
to their heads, red cheeks, and sweat already pouring off their
faces, and it didn’t get any better as the day progressed. It was nice
to see the kids all sweet and clean.

They stopped when they saw Fancy and looked at Theron.

Theron answered the questions in their eyes. “Miss Tina had
her baby last night. It’s a girl, and I’m sure Jimmy is with her this
morning. Miss Frances will be helping us today.”

“That’s Miss Fancy,” she corrected him.

Theron raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a nickname you adopted
because you hated Frances?”

She gave him a drop-dead look and turned to face the children.
“It’s my real name. From what I see, it looks like we are studying
Jonah this morning. Shall I read the story aloud before we color a
picture of Jonah in the belly of the great fish?”

“I do the reading,” Theron said coldly.

He pulled out a chair and sat down in the midst of the children,
motioning for them to gather around. They made a circle on the
floor and looked up at him. He ignored Fancy and started the Bible
story about Jonah.

“Sit by me,” a little girl whispered to Fancy.

Theron shot Fancy a look meant to fry her on the spot. Evidently she was supposed to slither out the door in shame and disgrace. Well, Theron Warren could think again. Fancy had done
nothing wrong.

She plopped down on the floor beside the child, who immediately took Fancy’s hand in hers and squeezed. The gesture would
have brought tears to Fancy’s eyes if Theron hadn’t been sitting
close enough that she could smell his aftershave and see herself in
the well-polished shine of his cowboy boots. No way was she giving him the satisfaction of seeing even one dewdrop of a tear.

When Theron finished reading, he asked the children a few
questions, then turned them loose at the long, low table to color a sheet of Jonah in the belly of the whale. The little girl who’d taken
Fancy under her wing colored her fish purple, and Jonah wore a
pink robe with a turquoise sash.

“I miss Jimmy. He’s my friend,” the little girl said as she picked
up a yellow crayon to work on Jonah’s hair.

“What’s your name?” Fancy asked. “And who’s Jimmy?”

“I’m Rachel. Jimmy is in my grade at school, and he comes to
church on Sunday too. His momma is nice. I don’t like his daddy,”
Rachel said.

“Why not?”

Rachel shrugged. “He yells at Jimmy, and he’s got a pumpkin
smile”

A pumpkin smile? Fancy wondered what Rachel was talking
about.