Double Wedding Ring (15 page)

B
ETSY
F
OSTER WATCHED
from her upstairs bedroom window as Tag strode away from the house in the gray light of predawn.

Seeing him leave, she hated him for walking tall, for not having the common decency to sneak away or feel the shame of taking advantage of Susan at her most vulnerable. Bitterness toward him burned in her gut, and fear whirled around her racing heart.

She had awakened in the dead of the night, jabbed by a sense of foreboding. Something was wrong in the house and she knew it. Unable to shake the feeling, she had risen, finally, and crept through the house.

She looked in on Cody, found him sprawled on his tummy, covers kicked to the foot of the bed. The moonlight silvered his fair hair and shadowed his plump cheeks. She wanted to touch him, to feel his soft baby skin, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Just looking at him brought out feelings she couldn't control and couldn't express. Disgust and shame, she used to think.

Now she wondered if it wasn't her own guilt that kept her from caressing this little one. Had she ruined his life, too?

Standing outside Malorie's door, she had listened for the even breathing that would reassure her, and when she heard it, she slipped down the stairs. As always, Susan was at the heart of her greatest fears. That was what drove everything in her life, her fears for the precious daughter she had always loved more than anyone or anything in the world.

Betsy heard the soft murmur of Tag Hutchins' voice.

Clutching her robe close to her throat, she stood for a long time, unable to move, barely able to breathe, certain her heart would give out on her. But it didn't, and she mounted the stairs and posted herself in the straight-back needlepoint chair at her window. Sleep wouldn't have come in a million years, so she waited and worried.

Hadn't she always known the kind of man Tag would turn out to be? Hadn't she watched his father ruin the life of her best friend? How many times had she counseled Eula Hutchins, giving her the best possible advice?

“Leave him, Eula. Take those boys and get out now, before it's too late.”

“You talk to a lawyer, Eula. You'll see I'm right. You don't have to live like this the rest of your life.”

Over and over she had urged her friend. Until finally their friendship had suffered, while the troublesome marriage endured.

Betsy had known, of course, that what she urged Eula to do wasn't easy. Hadn't she learned that herself when she walked away from Jacob Finley? But she'd been right. Look what that rascal had done with his life, while she'd had all the security in the world with Reid Foster.

And what about being happy?
a little demon in her head asked as Tag Hutchins disappeared into his house across the street.
Have you ever been happy?

Or have you caused more heartache than you've ever prevented?

Betsy dropped her face into her hands, afraid for a moment that the sob rising in her chest might escape. She caught it just in time.

T
AG OPENED THE STORE
not long after daybreak.

Showered and shaved—he even trimmed his mustache, although he stopped short of his impulse to trim his hair off his collar—he had dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and the only sweatshirt he owned whose printed design hadn't faded beyond deciphering. Wide-eyed and wide awake despite his sleepless night, Tag had been unable to hang around the house. Any minute, he feared, he would be pounding on Betsy Foster's front door.

Later there'd be time enough for a little justifiable homicide.

Instead he went to the store, just hoping some poor early riser would be seized by a compelling need for peat moss before his morning coffee kicked in.

Nobody came, of course. And Tag found he was no less fidgety here than he had been at home. He paced. And as he paced, he began to discover all the little things Malorie Hovis had done in the past month.

Not a speck of dust to be found anywhere in the store, he discovered, although he well remembered the coat of gray that had dulled every surface a few short weeks ago. She had even rearranged the shelves, grouping like products and moving the slower-selling products to the top shelves and the big-sellers to eye-level. Neatly hand-lettered signs alerted browsers to special buys. And the table in the front, with its colorful display of gourds and pumpkins and multicolored corn gave even crusty old Tag Hutchins a festive feeling this morning.

Malorie Hovis was turning around Hutchins' Lawn & Garden. Making it a place where people might enjoy shopping again. He was proud of her. Wanted to give her a big hug the minute she walked in the door this morning.

“Slow down, Junior,” he told himself, boosting himself onto the counter, where he sat and viewed the cheerful-looking store. “Don't start acting like she's your daughter yet.”

But he knew the warning was pointless. Susan was his again. And this time, the whole world could go straight to hell before he'd let her go. He could finally stop running, could finally slow down and make a life for himself. He hadn't realized, until the thought came to him, how much he had ached for a real home, a normal life, people to help. People to love.

In fact, he had an idea. Betsy Foster be damned, he was going to do it.

Jumping down from the counter, he turned off the lights, locked up once again and went back out to his bike. By the time he got to Birmingham, the stores would be open. And if traffic was light, he could get back by midafternoon. He would surprise Susan. And Sam. And Betsy, damn her black-hearted soul.

* * *

S
USAN DIDN'T WAIT
for her mother to come down so help would be within calling distance while she showered and dressed. She didn't wait for her mother to make the coffee, either, and was sitting in the kitchen, staring into the dregs of her first cup when Malorie came down.

“Mom! What a nice surprise.” Malorie dropped a kiss on her cheek, then poured herself a cup of coffee. “Already up and raring to go? You must've rested well last night.”

Smiling at her daughter's exuberance, Susan said, “The best night in a long time.”

“Is that so?” Betsy's brittle voice said from behind her.

Susan didn't turn as Malorie greeted her grandmother, and she didn't respond to Betsy's ill-tempered question. “Sit down, Mother. I have a few questions for you.”

Malorie looked at her quizzically, then glanced uncomfortably at Betsy. Betsy remained at the counter, behind Susan, presumably pouring coffee.

“I don't have time to sit around and chitchat, Susan,” she said. “I have breakfast to make for all of us and a baby to wake and dress and—”

“You don't have to do a damn thing but answer my questions!”

Malorie's cup clattered into her saucer.

Some of the determination had gone out of Betsy's voice when she responded, “Watch your tone, young lady.”

Susan had hoped to keep her fury in check, but her emotions ran too close to the surface this morning. If she'd had any other choice, she would have left this place immediately. But she was trapped and she was angry and she teetered on the verge of hating the woman she called mother. And Betsy's imperious attitude this morning wasn't helping one iota. “Watch yours, Mother. I'm not a little girl anymore.”

Noticing that Malorie stared at the table, too uncomfortable even to get up and leave, Susan reached out and covered her daughter's hand and gave it a squeeze. Betsy walked around, sat at the table and faced Susan for the first time.

“All right. Whatever it is, you might as well get it off your chest.”

Now that she had her mother's attention, Susan feared the confrontation more than anything else she had faced in the past three months. When she lost Tag, she lost her spirit. And ever since, she had simply accepted her mother's domination, caved in whenever Betsy passed judgment on all their lives. Did she really have the courage—now, of all times, when she couldn't even balance her own checkbook—to throw her mother's deceptions in her face?

The memory of all she and Tag had shared the night before was the only answer, the only bolster, she needed.

“Why didn't you tell me Tag had been released?”

Pity scrabbled at Susan's heart as she saw the color drain from her mother's already pale face. Betsy looked old and drawn.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“He came home weeks before the wedding, Mother. And you knew it. You and Eula Hutchins were best friends. Of course you knew it. And you didn't even tell me.”

“To what good purpose, for heaven's sake? To stir everything up? Everything was settled.” She moved to stand. “That's all another lifetime, Susan. Stop obsessing over the past. Don't you have enough problems to keep you busy today?”

“I loved Tag and you knew it! You knew how long I'd waited. You knew how much I hurt.”

“Well, Susan, I'm not a mind reader. If—”

Susan picked up her empty coffee cup and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall. Malorie and Betsy jumped.

“Don't lie to me anymore! I talked to you the night before the wedding. I told you I wasn't sure! And you...you knew! And you didn't say a goddamn word.”

“I know you aren't exactly stable right now, Susan, but that is no excuse for airing this unpleasantness in front of Malorie. Now, if you—”

“She deserves to know all this. She deserves to know what lengths you'll go to just to get us all to live our lives your way.”

“I know what's going on here, Susan. And I won't see this start up again. You're still living with me, you know. This is still my house. And I warn you—I will do everything I can to keep Tag Hutchins out of your life.”

Susan was the one who was startled when Malorie jumped up, sloshing her coffee across the table. “What
is
this? What is all this about?”

“Don't worry...” Susan began.

“This man has—” Betsy started.

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Malorie looked from one to the other. Color was high on her cheeks. Before Susan could speak again, before Betsy could continue, Malorie turned and ran out the door.

Betsy glared at her daughter. “Satisfied?”

“No, Mother. Not yet.”

Then she wheeled herself out of the kitchen and left her mother to clean up the mess.

* * *

O
NLY AFTER SHE STOPPED
running did Malorie realize she had come out without her jacket. The cool fall air cut through her cotton sweater. A few blocks from the house, she felt chilled all over. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and wondered where to go. Too early to go to the store. Too late to go home.

Too late for a lot of things, she supposed.

How had she let these things happen? How had she allowed her grandmother to manipulate her into making an even bigger mess of her life than she had made of it on her own? She longed to talk to her mother. Maybe soon she would be able to do that. Memories were recurring at a lightning pace, it seemed. This morning, Malorie had been so proud of her mother, so thrilled to see a side of Susan she'd never seen before. Even so, the confrontation had frightened her so much that all she could do was run away.

Your typical response,
she thought.
Run away. From Cody. From life. From Sam.

Oh, God, why did she have to remember Sam right now? Getting him and his kiss out of her mind even for a few minutes had been a blessing. A short-lived one, apparently.

A little girl's voice startled her. “You're s'posed to not forget your coat.”

Malorie looked down into a pair of round, dark eyes belonging to Krissy McKenzie, Rose's stepdaughter. The dark-haired little girl clutched a book bag to her chest. The concern on the girl's face drew a smile from Malorie, despite her preoccupation with her own fears.

Malorie shrugged. “My mommy forgot to remind me. Does your mommy have to remind you sometimes?”

Now the little girl shrugged. “My mommy isn't here.” After a solemn moment, her face broke into a grin that revealed a missing front tooth. “But my stepmommy remembers me to do a lot of stuff.”

The little girl looked back down the sidewalk. Rose McKenzie was only a few steps behind. Calling out a greeting that was cheerier than she felt, Malorie stopped to wait for her mother's long-time friend.

“The lady forgot her coat.” The little girl said by way of an update, then skipped off ahead of the two women.

“That's Krissy for you,” Rose said. They followed the child at a slower pace. “She's learned from spending so much time with my Uncle Bump that sometimes grown-ups need taking care of, too.”

Malorie forced a chuckle. “She's smart.”

“How's your mother getting along? We really were tickled when she came into the shop the other day.”

Something in the motherly warmth of Rose's voice made Malorie want to talk, spill all this to someone wise and tender and compassionate. She fancied she saw all those things in Rose's green eyes.

“She's...better, I think.”

“Sam's a good therapist, I hear.”

Sam. An inner tingle crashed head on with the goose bumps she already had from the morning chill. Perhaps she should work late again tonight, maybe start on the preholiday inventory. Just to make sure Sam was gone by the time she got home.

“Mrs. McKenzie...?”

“Lordy, honey, call me Rose. I'm not ready to feel that old yet.”

Malorie smiled again; this time it wasn't quite the effort it had been moments before. What a comfort to talk to someone like Rose. Someone loose and easygoing. It hit her then that Rose might know more about some of the things Malorie barely understood. She looked over at her neighbor.

“Okay. Rose. Do you... I'm not trying to be nosy or anything... Well, I don't know, maybe I am. But I wondered if you might remember anything about Mother and...Mr. Hutchins. You see, my grandmother... That is, Mr. Hutchins acted... Well, it just seems like everybody knows what's going on but me.”

Rose chuckled. “You're just right in the middle of a twenty-five-year-old feud, that's all.”

“I am?”

“Mmm-hmm. You see, Betsy never did want Susan to have anything to do with Tag. I don't think it had a thing to do with anything Tag ever did. I think Betsy just had her own ideas about how Susan ought to live her life.”

Malorie grunted. “Some things never change.”

“But they fell in love, anyway.”

“They did?” A shiver of anticipation coursed through Malorie. She had wondered, of course, when Sam said they dated all those years ago. But to hear it confirmed by someone who had been there made it all so real. “Mother and Mr. Hutchins?”

“Then he shipped off to Vietnam, although as I recall they got engaged first. But Tag...he was a POW for...I don't remember how long. A lot of years, anyway. And when he finally got home, Susan had married somebody else.”

A sick uneasiness invaded Malorie's belly as her mother's accusations that morning grew clear. Her grandmother had known Tag Hutchins was already home the day Susan married Buddy Hovis. She had let the wedding go on. Malorie felt light-headed with dismay. Did that mean her mother had never loved her father? Did that mean her mother had been sad and miserable all her life?

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“You okay, honey?” Rose put a hand on Malorie's shoulder.

“Yes. I mean, no. Not really.” She looked up at Rose, not bothering to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I'm realizing how much my grandmother has manipulated everybody's lives, that's all.”

They continued on around the corner to the elementary school. Krissy already stood on the front sidewalk in a circle with three other children her size, comparing lunchbox contents. Waving goodbye to her stepdaughter, Rose turned and gave Malorie a hug.

“Don't hate Betsy for it. She's doing what she thinks is right.”

“But it isn't. It's wrong!”

“The only defense is for everybody to stop letting her manipulate them.”

“But how? I'm so confused. It's scary.”

“I know. I remember how I let myself be coaxed into staying here, seeing after my father, then my mother. You know, I was forty before I realized I'd lived my life for everybody else but me.”

“You were?”

“Yep.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Well, shoot, I just started figuring out what
I
wanted for a change.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“I know. And I know it's not.” Rose raised her face to the early-morning sunshine and breathed deeply of the crisp autumn air. “But you know what? Just a few years later, I'm working on a college degree, I have a stepdaughter I adore, a son—imagine that, a son of my very own—who makes me feel younger every day...well, except when he keeps me up all night...and a husband who's also my best friend. Honey, today I have the most perfect life I ever dreamed possible. And all because I decided I'd better start figuring out for myself what I wanted and how to get it.”