Double Wedding Ring (16 page)

“Gee.”

“Yep. Gee is right. And if I had it to do all over again, there's only one thing I'd do different.”

“What's that?”

“I'd start doing all that stuff a lot sooner. Say about—” she gave Malorie a speculative look “—oh, twenty or so, maybe.”

They were standing in front of The Picture Perfect. Rose stopped, keys to the beauty shop jangling in her hand.

“Thanks for listening.”

Rose shrugged. “No problem. Us wise, middle-aged folks like to give advice. Makes us think we didn't do all that messing up for no good reason.”

Malorie laughed softly.

“It's a while before you open up. You planning to walk some more?” Rose asked.

“Maybe. I don't know.”

Rose slipped off her jacket and draped it around Malorie's shoulders, giving her a pat as she did so. “You keep warm.”

Malorie thanked Rose and slipped her arms into the jacket. She felt warmer, inside and out.

* * *

R
OSE STOOD INSIDE
the door of her shop, watching Malorie headed down the sidewalk, head lowered, once again deep in thought.

“You're a fine one to be dishing out advice,” she muttered into the room. “Like you've got it all together, you old fraud you.”

The truth was, she'd been teetering on the edge of panic for the better part of a month.

Sighing, she flipped on the overhead lights and started through the shop to begin the morning rituals. By the time she reached her station, the front door whipped open again. Alma had arrived.

“Hey, Finley, I b'lieve the weather's turned for good this time, don't you?”

Alma, who had worked at The Picture Perfect since Rose's mother owned the shop, refused to consider calling Rose by her married name. She insisted she was too old a dog to be learning new tricks, although Rose knew for a fact that Alma and her current main squeeze were learning country line dancing at a nightspot in Tuscumbia once a week.

“It's time,” Rose said. “Thanksgiving's barely a week away.”

“Well, you don't sound exactly enthused at the prospect of the holidays.”

Alma removed the pink chiffon scarf that held her hair in place, stuffed it into the pocket of her cardigan and stared at Rose. Rose continued rinsing the plastic rods she'd used yesterday afternoon for Missy Grady's perm.

“I've got a lot of work to do before the end of the year, that's all. Exams are coming up.”

Alma grunted, a response Rose had heard often enough to know it indicated a lack of conviction.

“Still haven't heard anything, huh?”

Rose turned the water off with a fierce twist of the faucet, then grabbed up a double fistful of rods and shook them. “I don't want to talk about this right now, Alma. I've got too much to do to be worrying about...stuff.”

Twisting from side to side in the yellow vinyl chair at her station, Alma continued her steady examination of her co-worker. “It won't go away just because you don't think about it, Finley.”

Rose stopped her busy work and faced Alma, hands on her hips. “Krissy's mother will turn up. I'm not worried, so there's no reason to talk about it.”

“You think she's drinking again?”

Although it would certainly short-circuit any plans Cybil Richert might have of trying to regain permanent custody of Krissy, Rose nevertheless hoped the woman hadn't started drinking again. Krissy's mother's drinking had been a big part of the reason she'd tolerated her second husband's abusive behavior toward Krissy when she was just a toddler. A big part of the reason Ben had actually kidnapped his own daughter and brought her to Sweetbranch where Maxine ran an underground network for abused children. Rose prayed Krissy would never have to be exposed to anything so traumatic again.

“Alma, I don't know what to think. All I know is, she's walked out on her job and nobody's heard from her.”

“How far is it from here to Winston-Salem, reckon?”

“Far.”

“But not far enough, huh, Finley?”

“No. Not nearly far enough.”

T
AG STOOD OUTSIDE
the dining room, box in his arms, and watched as Susan grunted and strained to lift her stronger right leg and stand upright only on her left one.

“Hang in there,” Sam urged.

“I...am!” Susan panted through gritted teeth. Perspiration stood out on her forehead, her scar showing a brighter pink from the exertion. Her left leg, thin and laced with its own pink scar, trembled with effort.

The scene tore at Tag's heart, filling him with too many emotions to sort through. Pride for her effort, love for her courage and pain for her pain. His own bad knee twitched just from watching her. He'd been there. He knew it all firsthand.

“What are you doing in my house?”

He didn't bother turning to respond to Betsy's sharp inquiry. “I'm not here to see you, Betsy.”

Susan and Sam, having heard their voices, stopped and looked. Susan teetered and Sam caught her.

“Tag!”

Susan's exclamation sounded delighted; Sam's surprised. Tag smiled at them both, but his eyes were for Susan only. “Brought a little surprise if you two can take a rest.”

Sam looked at Susan, and seemed to see her pleasure in Tag's presence. He immediately adopted a mock-serious tone. “I don't know, Tag. When I got here this afternoon, Susan told me she wanted us to step up her program. Something about making up for lost time?”

Betsy stepped into the dining room, positioning herself between Tag and the other two. “I've warned you before, Eugene—”

“And I'm through listening to you,” Tag snapped in a tone to match hers. “Your days of ruining other people's lives are over, Betsy.”

He was astonished at the venom in her eyes until he realized it was only a thin veneer. What lay beneath was fear.

“If I have to call the sheriff, I will certainly do it.”

“No!”

At the sound of Susan's voice, Betsy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For the first time, Tag really saw her: the iron-gray hair that had no life, the shoulders that showed no sign of yielding, the grim lines etched at the sides of her mouth and between her eyebrows, all testimony to the attitude she'd brought to life. Then he had a vision of himself, equally bitter, equally determined not to give life a chance these past twenty years. Betsy Foster became a vision of what Susan's return to his life had saved him from.

“Stop it, Mother. Right now!”

Everyone looked at Susan, who stood on her own two feet, bracing herself on her wheelchair and looking as determined as she had looked back in the days when she was willing to take on anyone—especially her mother.

Tag's heart twisted in his chest. He took a step in Betsy's direction, stood so close the box he held almost touched her chest. “If I have to, I'll take Susan with me.”

She studied him for a long minute, then swept past him, pausing only to say under her breath, “This isn't over.”

But Tag knew it was, and he turned his attention to the two people he loved most in the world—the people who, amazingly, still seemed to love him.

“Come on, you two. This rehab's about to go high-tech.”

Within half an hour, while Susan watched and Sam proved himself more at home on the information highway than his uncle, a computer whirred to life on the table in Susan's room. Tag was glad Sam knew what he was doing. Disconnecting the computer in his office at the store hadn't been too tough; reassembly might have been more than his experience in motorcycle maintenance had prepared him for.

“But what am I going to do with a computer?” Susan asked.

“Ah!” Tag dug a shopping bag out of the box. “I'm glad you asked that.”

Once again, Sam saved the day. Soon, software installed, the computer screen filled with a series of icons lined up across from a series of words. Tag saw from the pleased and grateful look on his nephew's face that Sam knew exactly what the software was for. Susan, however, inched forward in her chair and stared, confused, at the screen.

“That's a dog,” she said. “Like Butch. And look!”

She pointed at the screen and looked over her shoulder at Tag. “It says ‘dog.' Right there.”

Without waiting, she keyed in the word from the list beside the icon. Both she and Sam started when the computer announced, amid the chime of bells, “Good job!”

Susan laughed, and Tag couldn't decide what to do with his pleasure. His heart told him it was okay to feel a little misty, but he didn't think he was ready to go that far yet.

“Tag, where did you get this?” Susan exclaimed, already eagerly keying in a word beside the next icon on the screen.

“In Birmingham. It's to help people learn to read and write again after injuries like yours.” He squatted beside her, couldn't help but join her when she once again laughed at the positive feedback from the computer. “I thought you and I might make more progress this way than you and Betsy were making.”

He and Sam exchanged a glance. Tag had been furious to realize that Susan had actually lost ground with her reading and writing while working with her mother. He was determined that situation wouldn't continue. He'd bought the most basic of reading and writing programs, as well as some intermediate programs. She would be needing them soon if he had anything to do with it—and if her immediate enthusiasm for the new computer was any indication.

“Oh, Tag, I love it. Now reading can be fun, just like sewing with Addy is fun.” She turned to Sam with the impish smile Tag had only seen in his hungry, tortured memories for twenty-five years. “If we had a computer to take Sam's place, maybe that would be fun, too.”

Sam laughed. “No way. I'm here to make you miserable and nobody's horning in on that.”

How long they stayed hunched over the computer, laughing over Susan's exploration of the lessons at her fingertips, Tag wasn't sure. Even young Cody joined them. Tag boosted him into Susan's lap and the game continued.

They were all surprised to hear Malorie's soft voice from the doorway. “I see there's a party and I wasn't invited.”

She sounded strained to Tag, and he looked up to study her. Her face confirmed what he'd heard in her voice. Although she was clearly striving to look and sound normal, her face was paler than usual, and there was no sparkle in her eyes.

He also noticed the mix of emotions on her face. Sympathy and concern as her glance strayed from her mother to her boss and back again. A sad, hurt look at little Cody, who pounded happily on the keyboard. Then she glanced at Sam and immediately looked away. But Tag didn't miss the flicker of feelings she exhibited. She had the wary, excited, secretive look of a young woman in the agonies of falling in love, and battling it every step of the way.

A quick look at Sam told Tag his nephew was in the same boat. Except he wasn't fighting the current at all.

Sam took Malorie by the hand and drew her into the room. “Take a look. My uncle's embarking on a new career. What do you think of Tag as a teacher?”

“Wait a minute,” Malorie said. “That's
my
computer. What about inventory? Orders? Billing?”

Tag shrugged. “Emergency conscription?”

Amid Malorie's playful complaints about the downward spiral of efficiency at the store, they explained the new software and Susan demonstrated her efficiency. Even Cody took a hand at mimicking her and thrilled himself and everyone else when the computer declared, “Good job!”

Worried that Susan might be tired, Tag suggested that they quit for the day. But Susan wasn't ready to stop. Then Tag noticed she was leaving her left hand in her lap, keying in her responses one-handed. He realized that her speech had also grown slower, a little less distinct, in the past half hour. He questioned Sam with his eyes; his nephew nodded almost imperceptibly.

Tag knelt beside her. “Let's not wear out the computer on its first afternoon, how about?”

Susan looked at him, unable to hide her weariness despite her enthusiasm. “Do we have to stop?”

“I'll be back in the morning,” he promised. “We'll spend as long as you like. I've got enough software here to have you writing
War and Peace.
“

At her quizzical expression, he amended, “A real big book.”

She laughed softly. “Okay. But don't leave yet. Let's sit on the porch first. It's...we don't have to go to supper yet, do we, Mal?”

Malorie leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek, then lifted Cody out of Susan's lap. “You guys sit and visit. I'll take Cody for a walk. I think he needs a little time to calm down from all this excitement.”

“I'll come with you,” Sam volunteered.

Tag watched the silent interplay between the two, looked down to see if Susan noticed as well. She did. The struggle between the young people was hard to miss. Malorie was trying to escape, Sam determined to pursue. Malorie relented.

As the young people left, Tag was grateful that things would be simpler for him and Susan. They both knew what they wanted. They had both been without it too long to be indecisive now, he told himself as he pushed her onto the side porch and sat in the wicker rocker facing her.

“They like each other,” he said.

“She's stubborn,” Susan said. “Something's holding her back.”

“What?”

He saw her hesitation. “I don't know. I keep thinking I should. But...” She tapped the side of her head. “If the reason's up here, it's still hiding.”

She let her hand drop and closed her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. “I wanted to work as hard as you did. That's what I told Sam when he got here today.”

Tag thought back to his first weeks in therapy, when he believed he had to recover quickly so he could go in search of Susan. He remembered what a setback he had suffered when his old man told him she was married. He'd almost quit right then. “It's easier when you have something to work toward. Something worth fighting for.”

“I do,” she said, her voice tired but determined. “I have to get away from Mother.”

Tag leaned forward, took her hand in his. She gripped it weakly, but he knew the effort it took. “I'll take you away, Susan. Come with me and—”

She was already shaking her head. “When I'm back to normal. Then I'll come with you.”

Uneasiness flirted with the euphoria he'd felt all day. All that Sam had told him about her injuries whirled in his busy mind. “Susan, you don't have to be perfect for us to be together.”

She opened her eyes. “Oh, yes, I do. And I will be. I'm going to work so hard I'll be all well in no time at all.”

Tag didn't know what to say that wouldn't discourage her. All he knew was that he didn't intend to wait another twenty-five years for Susan to figure out that she might never recover completely.

* * *

C
ODY SCRAMBLED ALONG
the edge of Willow Creek, stumbling over his puppy and squealing in delight as his chubby fists splashed in the water.

“Be careful,” Malorie called out from farther up the bank, where she stood with Sam. “Maybe I should get him before he scrapes his knee or something.”

“He'll be fine,” Sam said, taking her hand to restrain her. “Kids are supposed to scrape their knees. That's how they learn to slow down and watch where they're going.”

Malorie looked up at him, knowing he couldn't understand her fears, but irrationally expecting him to do so, anyway. “I thought that's what mothers were for.”

“And big sisters?”

She looked away. “Yes. And big sisters.”

She walked off and sat on a big, flat rock, keeping a careful eye on Cody. All these changes were hard for her to handle. Her emotions were upside down, and Sam's presence didn't help a bit. As if doing his best to be contrary, Sam dropped to the ground at her feet, propping his elbow on the corner of the boulder.

“Susan was different today.”

Malorie nodded but said nothing.

“What happened? Do you know?”

Darting an uncertain look at him, she clasped her hands on her knees. He was so close, too close. What would she do, she wondered, if he kissed her?

Run.

She tried to steer her thoughts back to the things that were really disturbing her. Sam was a distraction, that was all. “She and Grandmother had a big fight.”

“Mrs. Foster seems to fight with a lot of people.”

Malorie shook her head. “I've never seen Mother argue with her. It was scary.”

“I suppose Tag has something to do with all this.”

She wondered how much he knew and toyed with the idea of sharing her secret with him. The idea gave her a lift. “You wouldn't believe what Rose McKenzie told me this morning.”

“I might.”

She looked at him, saw the amusement in his eyes. “You knew? And didn't tell me?”

“We both knew they were friends,” he pointed out. “I just didn't know how friendly until Tag told me the other night.”

Malorie sighed. “Do you think they'll fall in love again?”

“I'm not sure they've ever been out of love.”

Hurt flickered through her heart. If that were true, what did it say about her parents' relationship all those years? Wasn't it bad enough that her whole future was in question? Did she have to lose everything she'd ever believed about the past, too?

Sam put a hand on her wrist. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant, I'm not sure Tag's ever been out of love with Susan.”

His hand on her wrist felt so comforting. Too comforting. She pulled away. “I never thought my parents were unhappy, but—Cody! Be careful!”

She had glanced up just in time to see him lunge into the water and sprawl, facefirst, in the shallow creek. Malorie's heart gave a fearful leap, but when Cody looked up, he was grinning gleefully.

“Fwogs, sissy! See the fwogs!”

Sam laughed. “Bring one up here for sissy to see, Cody.”