Replacing Gentry (5 page)

“Oh Danny,” Daniel’s mother bleated. “Isn’t that Tommy’s project? You mustn’t put the vote off for too long. He was your daddy’s oldest and dearest friend,” she reminded him with a censuring eye that made me think there was more behind her admonition than just a life-long friendship.

Daniel breathed out a quiet sigh. “Yes, Momma,” he respectfully agreed. “But as Paul is well aware, I have reservations about callin’ a vote on a bill that will divert funding to a ball field when the state has no immediate possibility of procuring a National League team.
And
the public schools are in desperate need of those funds.”

“Right,” Paul consented with a hint of derision. “Crumbling buildings, no money for substitute teachers, custodians being laid off . . .”

I felt Daniel stiffen at my side and without thinking, jumped to his aide. “If I’ve learned anything in my years of working in state bureaucracy,” I offered, “it’s that there’s always a compromise to be made.”

“That’s very helpful, Marlie,” Paul said, although the look he gave me was anything but grateful. “Only it’s not Daniel’s place as deputy speaker to stipulate the specifics of the bill.”

Obviously, Paul didn’t appreciate me intervening, which was exactly why I decided to continue. “Then why not talk to the person whose
place
it is?” I said, doing my best to assume a placating smile.

Cooper spoke next. “Because that would be unethical,” she said, her eyes warning me not to say another word.

“Besides, what’s the point?” Paul’s wife put in. “How long can this country continue throwin’ money at a broken system? If private enterprise were allowed to run the schools, like
some
have suggested, we wouldn’t be havin’ this discussion.” She shook a bejeweled finger. “And it would do those kids some good to clean up after themselves every now and then. Teach them they have to work for what they get.”

Visions of nineteenth century children in factories learning their ABC’s on scant lunch breaks unfolded before my eyes, and I opened my mouth to say something. But then Anna-Beth’s voice resonated in my head with one of the Southern social graces she’d tirelessly repeated over the years like a mantra:
In public, a lady is never rude, brash, uncouth, or causes a commotion. Only trashy types and Yankees do such things.
I knew I should do as advised and let Paul’s wife’s stupidity go, but unlike my fellow dinner guests, I was a product of public education. Without the help of government grants and loans I would have never gone to college much less to graduate school. And anyway, I wasn’t a Southerner, nor was I a Yankee, but born and raised in southern California where women were neither demure nor brash, but spoke their minds plainly.

I felt like a coward, but for Daniel’s sake, I cooled my reply to conciliatory. “So, your answer to fixing the problems with public education is to turn the teaching of this country’s children over to the greedy corporations—”

Daniel closed his fingers around my knee with a cautionary squeeze and I clamped my lips shut.

“I think what my wife means to say is that it’s rude to discuss politics in a social settin’. And that this might be a subject more appropriately left for debate within the legislative chamber,” he said, turning to me. “Isn’t that right, sugar?”

That was my cue to follow his lead and steer the conversation to a more benign topic, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say. “I, um,” I stammered, my gaze darting from one critical look to another.

Once again I’d come up with an opinion in direct opposition to everyone around me. As I scanned the table, I noticed an undercurrent of disapproval that hadn’t been there before. Or had it? Now that I thought about it, hadn’t I noticed a look here, a cutting remark there, throughout the evening; subtle of course, but derisive all the same?

The sensation that I was standing in the middle of a crowded arena being forced at knifepoint to endure the jeers of a resentful mob closed in around me, and I saw myself through their eyes for the first time. From my new vantage point, I studied the Marlie sitting next to the handsome state senator. Eyes gob smacked by her surroundings underneath a borrowed veneer, she was ordinary, misplaced. In all the times I’d visited Nashville during our engagement I remembered feeling somewhat out of place, but never before had I felt unwanted.

And then it happened. I felt like I was sinking, the tent walls collapsing in as if pulling me deeper and further from the light, my surroundings gradually slipping away. Grasping onto what little decorum I had left, I pushed back my chair. “Pardon me, I think I need some air,” I quietly excused myself.

Anna-Beth reached out with a soft touch to my arm, but I slipped from her grip and disappeared through the folds in the tent.

Chapter Five

M
y ankles wobbled unsteadily on the uneven cobblestone path that stretched between the wedding tent and the veranda behind Daniel’s house. Where I was heading was less of a concern than what I was fleeing from. I couldn’t understand how Daniel had remained so calm, politely glossing over a topic he felt strongly about instead of coming to my defense. That wasn’t the Daniel I knew. The man I thought I’d married.

Circling around the sun porch and into a small English garden, I had hoped to find the space unoccupied, but it was not. My hurried steps skidded to an abrupt stop. Slipping the butt-end of a cigarette between his lips, Johnny Hutchinson turned to me.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked, annoyed that he was impeding my desire for a few minutes alone to think.

He removed the carcinogen from his mouth and held it out, offering it to me. “I should be asking
you
that question. A bride shouldn’t go missin’ from her own reception.” He tsked.

I shook my head at his offer. “The bride needs a break,” I said, pressing my fist back to the ache in my stomach.

He slid the cigarette into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket. As he did, a spark of fading daylight reflected off the polished gold on his right pinky. Zeroing in on what I could see was the same ring both Daniel and Paul wore, I caught a glimpse of two dragons. The backs of their heads pressed together under a solitary crown, their bodies bowed out, tails curling around to make the shape of an inverted heart. Prior to meeting Daniel, I had only once seen another ring like it. Though he’d attended the University of Virginia a full decade or more later than Daniel and the others, Finn had worn one too.

Johnny’s casual gate swept away the space between us as he extended a hand along with a smile. “So, you’re Daniel’s social worker?” His accent was smooth and sexy, as was his charm. “I’m Johnny.”

The skin around his light green eyes crinkled with the lopsided smirk he gave me. Gold flecks around his irises pulsated with energy, like a shock that had me wanting to turn away, while holding fast so I couldn’t. The sensation was alarming and exciting at the same time. I felt like I was being drawn into something untoward that I would later regret, and still, I didn’t care.

I met his gaze straight on. “Nice to meet you, Johnny. Please, call me Marlie.” I reached for his hand and as our palms met, just for an instant, I felt a jolt of shared electricity. I pulled my hand away.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” I asked.

He gave me mocking smile. “I believe we just did, darlin’.”

I considered the man standing before me. Tempting in that semi-grunge, cowboy-meets-business-man sort of way, Johnny Hutchinson was the type of man who could win a woman’s affection then toss it away when he’d had his fill. If what Anna-Beth had told me was true, I could see why Daniel had wanted Gentry to stay away from him.

“What happened that had you runnin’ for your life?” he asked when I failed to respond. “Did someone puke in the punch bowl?”

I shook my head no, although, if someone had, I’d have gotten a kick out of watching Cooper’s horrified reaction.

He ventured another guess. “Did Uncle Charlie put his hands on your butt while you two were dancin’?”

The sweaty, bald man who had a girth wider than he was tall?
Ew!

“No.” I scrunched my nose at the thought. “We haven’t begun the dancing yet.”

He made a pensive face again. “You found out Carl, I mean Carla, is really a man?”

I tried to match the name Carla with a face and came up with a tall, broad-shouldered woman with a gruff voice. I felt a giggle starting. “She is not.”

“I think you should take a closer look.” He made cutting motions high on his thighs. “That skirt of hers is
perr-
itty short,” he said with a sour pucker of his lips.

I couldn’t help myself. “Stop,” I said, choking on the chuckle I was suppressing.

“She didn’t help you get ready, did she?” He lifted a mocking brow. “Cop a little feel at one point or another?”

My cheeks got warm. “No, of course not,” I denied, covering my mouth to keep from laughing.

With a snap of his fingers, he pointed at me. “Oh, I got it,” he said with a knowing glint. “Daniel sneezed and his momma produced a hanky, held it to his nose and told him to blow?”

Taking comfort in the easiness of his smile, I finally snorted out a laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that . . . I don’t know. I guess I don’t feel like I fit in,” I sputtered through the laughter that was bubbling up. “I mean look at this place.”

I motioned around at the manicured topiaries, rosebushes readying to burst with spring blooms, the enormous plantation-style house that dwarfed it all, and then back to my dress. Embossed silk, the fabric and design resembled that of Kate Middleton’s wedding gown but shortened to t-length and fitted perfectly against my body. I’d never been comfortable in form-fitting clothes but then again, I’d never worn Vera Wang.

“I think this dress cost more than my entire wardrobe put together.”

Johnny gave me a thoughtful look. “It must be exhaustin’, adaptin’ oneself into a life she has no idea how to live with folks whose offensive opinions and connivin’ ways strike like a punch to the gut.”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed, my arms outstretched dramatically. “But how did you know . . .”

“You seem like a sensible woman,” Johnny answered. “And so, as a social worker slash therapist, how would you advise a client if she were in your shoes?” he asked, and for a moment, I got lost in the pleasant way his full lips closed around each syllable.

“A woman in my shoes?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he cajoled. “Coming down here where she doesn’t belong, marryin’ a man she hardly knows.”

His playful tone contradicted the intensity in his eyes, and had me shaking my head, hoping all these competing feelings would settle back into neat, organized compartments. “That she should follow her heart,” I said as my thoughts became more jumbled.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Cause followin’ yours isn’t turnin’ out so well for you.” He raked his fingers through his disheveled ocher-colored hair. “You’ve only been married a few hours and I bet you already feel like you’re drownin’.”

“What did you say?” I asked, just in case I’d heard him wrong. Cluing into how hard it was for me to step into Daniel’s lifestyle was one thing, but repeating my thoughts? That was uncanny . . . and disturbing.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his casual charm taking an abrupt turn to cynical. “What are you trying to prove, Marlie?”

“What makes you think I have anything to prove?” I asked with growing suspicion.

“You can’t fix what went wrong in your past by ruinin’ your future. Daniel’s not the man who left you all those years ago. And his boys aren’t the child you lost, or replacements for the children you’ll never be able to have,” he said like he was pointing out the obvious.

His words slammed into my chest, delivering a searing blow straight to my heart. I hadn’t thought anyone knew about my baby except Finn and me. Not my parents, my sister, not even Anna-Beth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Don’t I?” he questioned with a patronizing tilt of his head.

Impossible.
I stabbed him with a distrustful look. “How do you know so much about me?”

Johnny released a mocking chuckle. “Maybe I’m just an interested party who wants what’s best for the both of us,” he said, the amusement fading from his amber-green eyes. “Around these parts, secrets have a way of surfacin’ at the most inconvenient times. And when they do, it’s not just the person who’s keepin’ ’em that gets hurt.” He sent me a sardonic wink. “I’d keep that in mind if I were you—”

“There you are.”

Daniel’s voice reached out to me, and I knew I should turn to him. But I couldn’t seem to tear my focus away from Johnny.

“Paul’s about to make his toast,” Daniel said and then, “Marlie?” he questioned when I failed to address his presence.

With considerable effort, I peeled my eyes from Johnny and turned to my husband.

Daniel’s expression was guarded, his gaze volleying between Johnny and me as he came nearer. “Why’d you run out like that?”

“What’s the matter, Danny?” Johnny asked. “Afraid you’d lost another one, and so soon this time?”

The two men exchanged sparring glances. “Come on, sugar, we have guests to attend to,” Daniel said, extending his hand to me.

My feet held firm to the ground beneath me. I looked from Daniel’s outstretched hand back to Johnny. Not that there was a choice between going with the husband I didn’t recognize anymore or staying out here with a man I was certain had just threatened me. . . . I hesitated.

Was there a third option?

Chapter Six

A
bellhop set our overnight bags in the living room of our honeymoon suite, and then Daniel followed him back out through the door. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I’d always fantasized being carried over the threshold by the man of my dreams, giggling with nervous energy, my shoes dangling from my toes. But then the Mr. Wonderful in my dreams had never been important enough to warrant an escort by both a bellhop
and
a hotel manager.

Expelling my disappointment through puffed cheeks, my breath skidded to an abrupt stop with a muffled ringing from my purse. I glanced down at the lighted display of my cell. My sister Maureen was calling again. I was desperate to hear her voice. Chewing the tip of my thumbnail, I wondered if it was an appropriate time to answer. I needed to talk with her about what had happened at the reception and whether there could have been more to Gentry’s death than Daniel was saying. Then there was that strange encounter with Johnny.

I jumped when my phone sang out again. A new concern joined the fray—what if there was an urgent reason for her calls. Snatching the phone from the side pocket of my purse, I slipped into the bedroom and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Maureen, is everything okay?” I said in a rushed whisper. “Is the baby all right?”

“Yes, fine,” she said. “Did you go through with it? Are you married?”

“Of course,” I said. “The wedding was hours ago.”

Maureen hesitated. “Where are you now?”

“Where do you think?” I said. “It’s my wedding night. I’m at the hotel . . .
with
Daniel
.”

“Then why are you answering your phone?” She sounded like she didn’t believe me. “Where’s your husband?”

I peeked around the corner to see Daniel’s shoulders half in, half out of the door. All I could make out from his conversation was words like, “discretion,” “appreciate,” and “privacy.” Rolling my back around the doorframe, I slumped against the crimson-painted wall.

“He’s having an unusually long conversation with the bellhop and hotel manager.” Blowing out a breath, I gathered my thoughts before trudging on with what I wanted to discuss with her.

“So, it’s not too late?”

“Too late for what?”

“To back out, to rethink this whole thing,” she said, her voice a mixture of excitement and relief. “You haven’t consummated the marriage, so it can still be annulled, and you can come home.”

I pushed away from the wall to stand at attention. “Seriously, Maureen.” Sure, I was experiencing some post-wedding jitters that border-lined on trepidation, but I wasn’t about to abandon my marriage just yet. “Not this again.”

“You can’t stay with him! You don’t even
know
him. A weekend here, a few days there, doesn’t a relationship make. And you and I both know you don’t have the best track record when it comes to choosing husbands. This one could be a child molester for all you know.”

“Maureen, I know what I’m doing this time,” I disagreed and prayed what I’d just said was true. “Besides, he’s a state senator—he’s not a child molester.”

“Right, he’s a politician.” I could hear the eye roll in her voice. “What about all those senators out in DC who take advantage of young interns? You’ve heard the stories.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. As usual, she was taking her sisterly concern for me too far. “Yes, and this isn’t DC. This is Nashville. Please tell me you haven’t been dipping into your painkillers again.”

“No!” she said, her voice insistent. “You’re the one who’s acting like she’s been drugged—”

“He’s not a child molester,” I reiterated. “Look, there’s something I wanted to—”

“Fine, but what if he has some twisted sexual dysfunction and he wants you to do all these demented things in bed?” she cut in, upping her game. “What about that? You haven’t slept with him, so how could you know?”

My lips parted to refute but then closed again as what she’d said gave me pause. In some ways, I was an old-fashioned girl and had insisted that Daniel and I waited until we were married to sleep together. So what? Was my sister insinuating that our lack of premarital intimacy might have misguidedly contributed to our hasty nuptials? My gaze drifted across the room to the king-sized bed. Over the headboard hung a painting of a single rose in a bud vase sitting on an iron table, surrounded by a lovely French garden. It was the type of painting that became clearer the further one stepped away. How does an artist paint something he’s unable to see clearly at arm’s length? But then we can never quite get a grip on the things we hold too close.

I dropped my face into my hand, worried again over what I’d gotten myself into. The door in the other room clicked shut, followed by the squeak of Daniel’s Prada’s on the marble floor. I knew I was out of time.

I crossed my fingers behind my back for luck. “He doesn’t have a sexual dysfunction,” I whispered into the phone.

“What if he does?”

“Then you can be the first in a growing line of naysayers to tell me, ‘I told you so,
’
” I said. “I have to go. Love ya, mean it, bye.”

Pressing the end button on my touch screen, I held my iPhone to my chest, trying to determine Daniel’s whereabouts in the suite. Though his smile had remained tight, his enthusiasm forced, his eye contact minimal, he had been the perfect host throughout the remainder of the reception, but then quiet during the ride over to the hotel. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

Listening again, I heard the sound of scraping metal followed by the distant rush of falling water drifting into the silence. The sound grated across my frazzled nerves. Why was I so uneasy? All brides were anxious on their wedding nights, weren’t they? Second-guessing the decision to spend the rest of one’s life with the same person was perfectly normal. Right? Maybe what I’d felt at the reception was just anxiety manifesting as insecurity. But then there was that awkward scene with Johnny.

Then again, what if I was just nervous because Daniel and I would be taking a large step into a physical intimacy I’d been excitedly dreading? What if we discovered that the heat between us didn’t hold past the smolder of our scarcely shared embraces? What if, as I expected, it did? Was I ready to dive headfirst into a pool of intimacy, I knew first hand from my experience with Finn, could drown me as easily as it could lift me up?

But then what was the point in trying to clarify all of these what-ifs when our plummeting would not be immediate? Prior to our dip into the unknown, Daniel and I would have to put the unpleasantness from the reception behind us. Dragging in a heavy breath, I set my phone down on the cherry wood dresser and ventured on light feet back into the other room.

His back to me, Daniel was gazing out the bay window, into the atrium of the Opry Land Hotel. Appropriately, our whirlwind courtship had begun and was ending in this very hotel.
A full circle
, I mused, my mind taking a short detour from my current dilemmas, scrolling back to the night we’d met and the way he had swept me up in his arms, leading me effortlessly around the dance floor before we’d shared our first kiss. The memory of our meeting had barely coaxed a smile from my lips when the grim face of the cadaver flashed before my eyes, leaving a trail of goose bumps down my arms.

That night my opinionated ways had lit the spark of interest that had drawn Daniel to me. Tonight, my boldness at the reception seemed to have had the opposite effect.

So, what has changed?

“What happened to you at the reception?” he asked, directing his question beyond the window. “Why’d you disappear?”

Threading my fingers together, I twisted my hands one way and then the other. “I just needed a little air,” I said, my response hinting at the complexity I’d omitted.

“So you left me there, lookin’ like a fool in front of the only people whose opinions matter most to me?”

I took a step forward. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I said, wondering why I was sparing his feelings. He should know full well why I’d excused myself. I shouldn’t have to explain. “I was feeling overwhelmed and just needed a little break.”

“From what?”

“All those people with their narrow-minded comments and disapproving looks,” I said, my words heated with the frustration and confusion I’d harbored for the remainder of the evening. “And then the one time I try to offer an opinion on something, you cut me off!”

He turned to face me, his eyes, taut and dark. “There are times and places for assertin’ one’s self, Marlie.” His voice was tired, matter-of-fact. “Contradictin’ a friend in a public settin’ is rude and uncalled for.”

“I see,” I said, shifting my weight to one hip. “It’s perfectly acceptable for others to pelt me with their offensive remarks, and what’s my option?” I poked a finger to my chest. “Put a smile on my face and take my licks like a
big
girl
?”

His expression took on a churlish edge. “I’m disappointed, Marlie,” he matched my clipped tone, “I thought you were stronger than this.”

“Pretense is not strength,” I threw back.

“But knowin’ when to bite one’s tongue is,” he lobbed in return, “and knowin’ when it’s appropriate to fight back, and when to turn away because it’s not worth the effort.”

I threw my hands up in disgust. “Then, if I’m to spend the rest of my life smiling in the face of bigotry and ignorance, the next time I’ve gone missing from a group of ‘the only people who matter to you,’ you’ll know
right
where to find me!”

“So, that’s what I’m to expect from now on?” he said, his voice maintaining a controlled brusque. “That whenever things get tough you’ll be runnin’ off somewhere to hide with the likes of Johnny Hutchinson?”

We’d hardly “run off” together but I could see that finding me alone with Johnny had hurt Daniel, maybe even made him jealous. I softened my tone. “We were just talking.”

“It looked like a whole lot more than just talkin’ to me,” he snapped.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked not sure if what he’d said was an observation or accusation.

He raised his disillusioned eyes to mine. “Perception is very important to people in my position, and now yours.” Raking his hands through his hair like a man torn between an unpleasant decision and an impossible one, he added, “If someone other than me had found you two out there alone, the way you were, we’d be at the office right now working on damage control.”

“As opposed to what?” I balked. “Fighting?”

“Stay away from Johnny!” he roared.

His sudden outburst should have had me pulling back on my anger, but if I backed down now, I’d never be able to stand my ground with him again.

“Issuing orders now, are we?” I took an assertive step forward. “I’m not one of your staff, nor am I your child. I’m an adult. I can talk to whomever I want, whenever I want!”

For a moment he just looked at me through distant eyes. “Are you blatantly disregardin’ my wishes by refusin’ to stay away from Johnny?” he asked. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but last I checked, I
am
your husband.”

I could tell that he wanted to say more, and the fact that he was holding back only added to my malcontent. “Yes, I’m your wife, your equal,
not
your subordinate.”

Wiping his hands down his cheeks the way a man does when he’s spent, when he is about to walk away, he looked at me with disappointment.

And that’s when it hit me. I knew what he wasn’t saying. “But I’m never going to be your equal, am I?” I said, remembering that look all too well. Though it had been on another man’s face, Finn’s face, there was no mistaking what he was thinking.

Finn . . .

I said his name again in my head, trying to see if the sting would return to call me a fool for not seeing this coming. He too had promised to love me forever. But when it had come down to choosing between his inheritance and what his parents had deemed an unworthy, no-classed social worker, he’d chosen the money. Eight months later, a boating accident had taken him from this earth and from me forever. But like the night of The Cadaver Ball, and the times since that I’d visited Nashville, I couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence, lurking, mocking my love for Daniel, my desire to be a part of his life.

“You come from money, I don’t,” I said, hurt stinging my throat. “That difference will always be the degree that separates us, won’t it? I can see it in your eyes. You’re worried you made a mistake.”

Covering his face with his hands, Daniel rubbed the tension from his forehead. “Oh, Marlie,” he sighed.

“It’s not too late, Daniel. If you want out,” I said, hiding my humiliation beneath a mask of indifference. “You can still change your mind.”

He held a palm out to stop me from saying any more.

“I love you, Marlie, and have no intention of rethinkin’ this marriage, but if that’s what’s in
your
mind,” he motioned toward the French-style sofas, “maybe we both need to take a time-out to cool off.”

Had I misread his thoughts, or was he only trying to mollify me before I caused a noticeable commotion? “Stop placating me,” I insisted.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said with a leveling stare. “Look, I’m only concerned with preservin’ both our reputations and in keepin’ you safe.”

He came to stand before me, resting a hand on my arm. “What if the situation had been reversed? What if I’d disappeared with a woman whose questionable reputation would cause anyone who saw us alone to think the worst?”

I gave a thought to a few of the salacious looks I’d noticed Daniel getting from women during our engagement, considering how I would have felt finding him alone, eyes locked, with one of them—at our wedding.

“I’d be mad, embarrassed, and worried,” I admitted, pulling away from his grasp—I wasn’t ready to back down just yet. I needed to know what was driving his anger. “But I wouldn’t bully you.”

“You would if you understood what,” he started, then paused to reword, “
who
Johnny really is—his motives.”

“Then why don’t you explain it to me?”

His gaze drifted over my shoulder, his head swaying in a slow shake. “I wish I could,” he said in a hollow voice.

There was a fear in his eyes just now and in the vacant way he’d drifted off that sent a foreboding, like a polar breath, to fill the air separating us. And that was when I knew.

“This is about Gentry, isn’t it? And Johnny?” I persisted. “I know about the rumors, that she and Johnny were having an affair—”