Magnolia (11 page)

O
kay, the fridge is fully stocked, and I left a couple casseroles in the freezer for you.” My mom glances down at the list she's left on the kitchen counter and sighs. “Are you sure you don't want to go stay with Lucy? Dr. Parrish said they'd be happy to have you. I could just give her a call and—”

“And who'll feed the dogs and cats? C'mon, Mama, I'll be fine.”

“We could board them. I can call the kennel now and see if they—”

“Just stop.” I can't help but roll my eyes. “We're not boarding the dogs. Stop worrying and go before you miss your flight.”

She glances down at her watch. “Daddy's picking up Laura Grace right now.”

Laura Grace has a degree in nursing even though she hasn't worked as an RN since before Ryder was born. But she insists that she can advocate for them at the hospital in Houston—you know, talk to the nurses and relay information, stuff like that. I think more than anything, she just wants to be there to provide moral support for my mom.

“Actually,” Mama says, “maybe I should see if Ryder'll come over here and stay with you.”

“No way. Forget it. I told you. I'll be fine.”

“I just hate the thought of you here all by yourself. Besides, Rob's leaving for Jackson in a few days, and Ryder'll be alone. He could come stay in the guest room.”

She can't be serious. “What the heck, Mama? Why don't we just share a bed?”

“Aww, honey, you know I don't mean it like that,” she says. “But that reminds me. . . . No boys in the house while we're away.
Especially
Patrick Hughes.” She stares at me sharply, one blond brow arched. “I had to listen to Cheryl Jackson yesterday going on and on about the two of you, about how surprised she was that I'm letting you see him.”

“Ugh! Why do you listen to that woman? I swear, you don't to have to worry about Patrick. Seriously, I know the rules. Anyway, between school and cheerleading and play tryouts—”

“You're trying out for the play?”

“I figured I would. I usually do.” It's something that Morgan
and Lucy and I have always done together. Lucy always gets a good part, while Morgan and I are relegated to standing around onstage like scenery. Still, it's fun.

Mama nods. “Just don't overextend yourself. Now's not the time for your grades to slip.”

“I know. I know. Sheesh.”

The sound of tires in the driveway announces my dad's return. I let out my breath in a rush, both eager for them to leave and terrified about it, all at once.

My mom wraps me in a hug. “Oh, honey. Are you sure you'll be okay?”

“I'll be fine,” I repeat, a lump forming in my throat. “Just . . . take care of Nan, okay?”

She releases me and steps back, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. “Lou said she'd drop by and check on you every once in a while, but if you need anything, you know you can call me or Daddy anytime—day or night.”

I just nod.

“And if there's a problem here at the house, call Ryder right away. He'll come over and—”

“But you said no boys,” I argue stubbornly.

She gives me a pointed look. “
Except
for Ryder. Nan!” she calls out. “C'mon, Daddy's back. It's time to go.”

“Coming!” Nan clatters down the stairs, her suitcase in tow. Looking at her, you'd never know she's headed to the hospital
to deal with a brain tumor. She looks all bright and cheery and healthy, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Tears well in my eyes, and I fight to keep them from falling.

Nan shoots me a stern look. “Do
not
start crying, Jemma. Seriously, if you do, I'm going to lose my shit.”

“Watch your language,” Mama admonishes from the doorway where she's wrestling her bag out.

Nan rolls her eyes. “Just come over here and give me a hug, okay? No good-byes. I mean it.”

I have to rise up on tiptoe to hug her. Her quick, staccato heartbeat belies her calm demeanor as she squeezes me tightly, then releases me. “Now, you listen to me,” she says as soon as Mama's through the door and out of earshot. “I'll kill you if you don't apply to NYU, if that's what you really want to do.”

We'd had a long talk on Saturday morning, and I'd told her everything—about Patrick, about film school and Mama's and Daddy's reluctance to let me apply.

“Don't you worry about me,” she continues. “Be the person you want to be, Jemma. Don't let Mama and Daddy make all your decisions for you, okay?”

I nod, my throat aching as I continue to fight back tears.

“Pinkie swear?” She holds out one hand, pinkie extended.

I loop my little finger around hers and squeeze. “Pinkie swear.”

I follow her out onto the front porch and lean against the
railing, watching them load their luggage into the back of the rental SUV. I'd offered to drive them to the airport in Memphis, but Daddy didn't want me driving back alone. He'd ultimately decided that renting a car made the most sense. After all, they have no idea how long they'll be gone. No point in leaving one of our cars in the airport lot, racking up fees.

Sadie and Beau lope up the porch stairs and sit on either side of me, their tongues lolling as I reach down and stroke their fur.

“Okay, I think that's it.” Daddy slams shut the back hatch and hurries over to me. He bends down and gives me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Love you, half-pint. We're just a phone call away.”

“I know,” I say, sniffling now. “Love you too.”

Laura Grace waves from the backseat beside Nan. “You take care, sugar! Call that boy of mine if you need anything, you hear?”

“I will.” I wave back as Daddy gets in the driver's side and closes the door.

The engine starts up, and off they go in a cloud of dust. I just stand there watching until the car disappears over the rise. “Well, I guess it's just you and me now,” I say to the dogs. “Plus the cats,” I add as Kirk struts up to the porch in a way that would make his namesake proud. “Where's the rest of your crew?”

Kirk just meows, stopping to arch his back.

Not a care in the world. Must be nice.

With nothing left to do, I head back inside and retrieve my video camera. The sun will be setting in an hour or so, and I figure I might as well film some sunset footage for my application project. Maybe I'll drive over to the old covered bridge and film there. If nothing else, it'll take my mind off the fact that my entire family is headed off to Houston without me, and that Nan—

Stop
. I can't let myself go there. I take a deep, calming breath as I reach for my keys and head back out, herding the dogs inside before I lock up. As soon as I step outside, Ryder's Durango pulls up. He cuts the engine and jumps out carrying a small floral quilted bag.

“Did they leave yet?” he asks, sounding breathless.

“Yeah, you just missed them.”

“Damn. Mom left this on her bed—I'm pretty sure she meant to pack it.”

It looks like her makeup bag. “Uh-oh. Maybe you could FedEx it to her?”

“I guess. Do you know where they're staying?”

“With the Prescotts,” I say. Lana Prescott is one of Mama's and Laura Grace's sorority sisters. “They've got a guesthouse or pool house or something like that. Anyway, Mama left the address on the kitchen counter. You want to come inside and get it?”

“Yeah, if you don't mind.”

I open the front door and he follows me inside. Which, of course, makes the dogs go crazy.

“Hey, you two keeping Jemma here company?” he asks, bending down to scratch them both behind their ears.

Ryder loves dogs, but Laura Grace won't let him have one—not even a yappy little lap dog. She swears she's allergic, but I think she's actually afraid of them. Beau and Sadie are as sweet as anything, but we have to lock them up when she comes over.

“Here you go,” I call out from the kitchen. “On the bottom of the last page.”

He steps into the room and takes the sheaf of paper from me. “Wow. Three pages, huh? That seems a little . . . excessive.”

“Yeah, well. You know how my mom is.”

He takes out his cell and starts entering the address. “I was surprised to see you at Josh's party on Saturday,” he says, his eyes glued to the screen.

“I don't know why. Everyone was there.”

“Yeah, but you know . . . with Nan home and all, I just figured that you'd want to spend time with her.”

“I
have
been spending time with Nan, thank you very much,” I snap in annoyance. How dare he insinuate that I'd abandoned my sister? She's the one who made me go, who swore that it would make her somehow anxious to know I was “missing out”—her words, not mine.

“You and Patrick looked awfully cozy,” Ryder says, setting Mama's note back on the counter.

So I was right—he
had
been watching us.

“So?”

“So, nothing.” He shrugs. “Just making an observation.”

“Yeah, you
never
just make an observation. Oh, and you and Rosie looked pretty cozy, too. I sure hope you're not leading her on. You
know
she likes you.”

A muscle in his jaw works furiously as he shoves his cell phone back into his pocket. “That's the kind of guy you think I am? Seriously, Jem?”

I swallow hard, unable to reply. Because the truth is, I don't know.

“I'll see you later,” he says, his voice cold and clipped. He turns and stalks out.

For some unknown reason, I follow him—down the hall, out the front door. “Don't walk out on me,” I holler as he rounds the Durango and opens the driver's-side door. “If you have something to say to me, then say it.”

He gets in and slams the car door shut, but I throw it open again. “C'mon,” I taunt, motioning with one hand.

I'm totally losing it now—white spots dancing before my eyes, tears streaking down my cheeks. I can barely catch my breath, like I'm about to hyperventilate.

This isn't about Ryder, I realize. It's about Nan. The sudden
realization hits me hard. What if I never see her again?

My knees buckle, and I start to go down. Somehow, Ryder manages to catch me just before I hit the ground. “Shit, Jemma! What's the matter with you?” He drags me to my feet and presses me against the side of his truck. “Take a deep breath. Jesus!”

I do what he says. By the third, I've slowed my heart rate to something nearing normal. Only, my cheeks are burning with mortification now. This is the second time I've broken down in front of Ryder. He must think I've lost my mind—that I've totally gone off the deep end.

“Just go,” I say, my voice shaking.

He rakes both hands through his hair. “Are you kidding me? I can't leave you alone like this.”

“Go,” I repeat, more forcefully this time. “Just get in your car and leave, okay?”

“C'mon, Jemma. You know I can't.”

“I swear I'm okay.” I straighten my spine and lift my chin, trying my best to look calm, collected, and reasonably sane. “Seriously, Ryder. I just need to be alone right now.”

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “If you say so.”

I step away from the car, feeling queasy now as he slips inside and starts the engine.

But before he pulls out, he rolls down his window and meets my gaze. His dark eyes look intense, full of conflict. For
a split second, I wonder what's going on inside his head—if he's judging me. If he has any idea what I'm going through. If he even cares.

“She's going to be okay, Jemma,” he says, then slides his sunglasses on and drives away.

I guess he
does
get it, after all.

F
ive days later, I sit at my desk staring at my laptop as I wait for my video-editing software to load. I've managed to get a lot of new footage—good stuff, too. Pretty much all the county's historical sites, plus Magnolia Branch's important landmarks. I'm still not exactly sure what I'm going to do with it all—how I'll frame the film's narrative—but the project has turned out to be an excellent source of distraction these past few days.

Because the news from Houston hasn't been good. Nan's tumor has grown at an alarming rate since her last set of scans. They've scheduled her for surgery—a craniotomy, which means cutting open her head—early next week.

As if that isn't enough, there's an enormous late-season hurricane brewing in the Gulf. They're not quite sure of its
projected path, but there's a chance it'll hit the Mississippi coast as a category one or two and then move slowly inland, right over Magnolia Branch.

Of course, my parents are totally freaking out. There's no way to reschedule Nan's surgery. It has to be done now, before any more damage is done. At first, Daddy was thinking about flying home for a couple of days, but with the uncertainty of the storm's path, it's just too risky.