Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance) (28 page)

If they don’t die.

But they were all perfectly healthy and, in the two weeks since Arabelle had been living here, they were always turning up to drink coffee, eat Lanie’s never-ending supply of chocolate, coo over Lucy, and—much to Arabelle’s disdain—offer her solace that she didn’t need.

Why should she? The separation was just so
civil,
so
polite
.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take Avery for the night. Feel free to come over before bedtime.”

“Yes, of course. And I will stop by to kiss him goodnight. That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do. You’ve been great about letting me come over to play with him before bedtime.”

Just yesterday, Arabelle had gone to the diner to pick up a sandwich because Will had said he was going to see Avery at lunchtime. And there they sat in the first booth.

“Mama!” Avery had called out and clapped his hands. “Daddy give me dump trucks!”

Will had never hesitated. “Join us.” He gestured to the empty seat across from them. So she had. She had thought the news would spread through town once the book club girls knew, but it hadn’t. Most of the town didn’t seem to know they were living apart.

After a couple of days, Luke had even stopped giving Will the death stare when he came over to see Avery.

“I don’t get it,” Luke had told her. “Will’s a good guy. It’s clear you love each other.”

Ha! Spoken like a man in love.

When she didn’t reply he went on. “How could the two of you get on so well if you didn’t love each other?”

Because we never loved each other at all!

Since Avery saw them both every day and they both put him to bed most nights, he seemed oblivious that anything in his life had changed. But how long would that last? The day was bound to come when Avery would know. What then? How many adjustments could one little boy be expected to make? And sooner or later, Will would find someone else. He’d probably get married again and Avery would have a stepmother.

She wanted to shake herself for the melodrama wreaking havoc in her head and heart. There had been no mention of divorce yet, though that had to be coming.

Still, she needed to find a place to live—a place where there was no revolving door of chipper women, no Luke looking at Lanie like she was the best ice cream in the case, and no Emma calling Lanie Mommy.

She’d look for a place right after Avery’s birthday. Right now, she didn’t even much care what it was like as long as it could be a safe and permanent place for Avery.

For her, it didn’t matter where her empty, lonely bed would be. It didn’t matter where she lived with her ghosts of Carrie and Sheridan. And Will.

And to be sure, Will was a ghost. What might have been was just as dead as the friends of her heart.

• • •

Will drove to Sercey to escape his shop, the woods, and most of all that big empty prison of a house. He had thought the feeling would pass after a few days, had convinced himself that his woods would feel like a sanctuary again as soon as he got used to Arabelle and Avery being gone.

But it wasn’t true. He was never going to get used to being without them. Oh, Avery had been there often enough. Arabelle had not denied him access to his son a single time. But he didn’t live there anymore.

And neither did she. The woods brought no comfort and neither did his work. His workmanship hadn’t suffered—yet. His eye was critical enough to tell that. But there was no feeling anymore, no kinship with the wood. It was probably just a matter of time before the quality of his products suffered, before he was like every other woodworker who’d learned by rote and sold birdhouses at craft fairs. Then he’d have nothing.

Who was he kidding? He didn’t have anything now, not like he’d imagined. The only diamond chips of the dust of his life were the times spent with Avery. Sure, right now Arabelle was being very generous but what would happen in a few years when Avery had friends, homework, and social activities? What would happen when Arabelle remarried? And she would. She’d find someone like her, someone she wanted.

Sometimes he wished he hadn’t let them go, but what choice did he have? What kind of man would he be to keep her tied to him when she didn’t want to be?

This morning, he’d gone to the farmhouse to pick up Avery to take him to the sitter. Arabelle hadn’t even pointed out the uselessness of that, since she drove right by on the way to work, that most days she left her car parked behind Heavenly Confections and walked to work. She’d just stood there with that sad smile on her face, with Avery perched on her hip while he explained what he wanted. Then she’d handed him over without hesitating.

Maybe she was afraid he’d tell her secret or maybe she really did think it was good for Avery to be with him. Who the hell knew?

He didn’t even know why he couldn’t forgive her. He only knew that bitterness lurked inside him and he couldn’t let Avery live with that. He knew what it did to a boy to live in an unhealthy home. Who knew what would have happened to him if the woods and his work had not rescued him?

But he didn’t have that anymore.

So after dropping Avery off, he’d gone to his shop and picked up the two sections of altar he’d built and headed to the church in Sercey, though that had not been his plan for the day. He’d finished Avery’s birthday present and he’d intended to start on the altar furniture.

But his heart wasn’t in it. Still, it would please the church board to see progress with the altar. Just when had he gone into the business of pleasing boards of directors?

The drive hadn’t taken long enough. He needed to kill more time. He and Arabelle had agreed to meet at the diner tonight so they could eat dinner with Avery and talk about the details of Avery’s birthday party. It was a long time until then. As he unloaded his tools, he promised himself he’d take time with the installation, be meticulous to the nth degree. Not that he wasn’t always.

When he’d first inspected this property with Brantley, it had felt peaceful and positive. He didn’t feel that now. It wasn’t that he felt evil or even negativity. He just didn’t feel anything. As he sanded a bit off of an altar section in order to achieve a perfect fit, he thought if people knew what was running through his head, they’d think he was crazy. And he might be. For several days now, he’d felt like someone was watching him. He felt it now. He didn’t even look over his shoulder anymore.

Maybe that feeling came from wishful thinking; maybe he was hoping Arabelle was watching, like she used to watch as he peeled off his clothes and walked into her arms.

Damn. All he needed on top of being maudlin was to be horny. Too late.

He backed off and surveyed his work. Not bad. He briefly considered calling the chairman of the board to see if he wanted to come down and see what he’d done. But he decided against it. Let them see it when they found it on their own. He wasn’t a little boy anxious for praise anymore.

On the way back to Merritt, the car behind him caught his eye. It looked like Aspen’s car, even had the pink Mardi Gras beads hanging from the rearview mirror. But it couldn’t be. She was in North Carolina. Or was it South Carolina? He couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter. Oh, well. The car turned off anyway.

He turned on the radio and tried not to think about Arabelle.

Birthday party day. It was unseasonably cold for March in the south so there would be no bouncy house or outside picnic. So much had changed in a year. Arabelle supposed this would always be a bittersweet day. Two years ago she had handed Avery to Sheridan and last year Sheridan had still been alive. But was it so wrong for her to take joy in that, for the first time, she was with her child on his birthday as his mother? Wrong or not, she didn’t have time to languish in grief and guilt.

When it became clear that the party would have to be inside, Will had insisted on hiring caterers, a puppeteer troupe to put on a giraffe-themed show, and someone to make balloon animals and do face painting. It was all too much but it was important to Will. No doubt the pictures would be great. There was a professional photographer coming.

They had agreed that the farmhouse was the best place for the party. Because Gail Avery was not the kind of woman to choose between a screened in porch and a sunroom, concealed windows would slide up to cover the screens when the occasion called for it. To be sure it would be warm enough, Will had rented two outdoor heaters to supplement the big stone fireplace.

In spite of the money Will had thrown at the event, there was plenty to do. The favor bags had to be put together, the caterers and entertainers would arrive soon and need direction, and Arabelle’s parents would be there by noon. She needed to warn Will that she hadn’t told them yet about their separation; it could wait until after the party.

It had been hard to get the kids down for late morning naps but with a
2 P.M.
birthday party, Arabelle and Lanie agreed it had to be done.

“Emma might not go to sleep but she’s got to at least have some downtime,” Lanie had said.

“I’ll get the boys down,” Arabelle offered.

“Thanks,” Lanie said. “I’ll lie down and read with Emma. With any luck she might just drift off.”

Finally, Avery and John Luke were asleep and Arabelle wondered if Emma was. She stopped outside Emma’s door to listen. No. She was chattering away.

“Tell me about the party, Mommy.”

This had been Emma’s favorite topic this week. Though she’d been told numerous times, Lanie patiently acted like it was all new information.

“Well, there will be a puppet show. That’ll be fun. And balloon animals. And you can get your face painted. You know how much you like that. Remember you a have a pretty new outfit to wear—giraffe spotted leggings and a shirt with a picture of a giraffe.”

“’Cause Avery likes Jiffy.”

“Yes. That’s right. Just like you love Purr Kitty.”

“Are we eating giraffe cake?” Emma asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Yes!” Lanie said. “Want to know a secret? It’s not made of giraffe. It just looks like a giraffe.”

“Silly Mommy! People don’t eat giraffes.”

“Uh. No,” Lanie said hesitantly. “I’m sure they don’t. Anyway, we’ll have ice cream, too. And little giraffe-shaped chocolates that I made at the shop. But before that, Daddy and Uncle Will will roast hotdogs over the fireplace.”

“I want to roast my own. I know how.”

“Maybe. We’ll see. If there’s a grownup who’s not too busy to help you.”

“Me and Beau, we’re the biggest. We can do our own.”

“Like I said, Emma, we’ll have to wait and see. This isn’t a promise.”

Arabelle was about to get on with her chores with Emma opened a subject impossible to walk away from.

“Miss Lucy’s growing a baby in her tummy.”

“That’s right. Isn’t that exciting?”

“It’s going to be a girl baby this time.”

“Is it? Maybe. We have to wait and see. We have to wait all the way through the spring and summer. Then, in September, we’ll see that baby.”

“And it’s growing in her tummy right now?”

“Right now.”

“Lulu grew in Beau’s mommy’s tummy.”

“Yes,” Lanie confirmed.

“So did Beau.”

“That’s right.”

“Did Kirby grow in Miss Tolly’s tummy?”

Lanie laughed. “No, Emma. Miss Tolly isn’t old enough to have grown Kirby. But when he was a teenager he didn’t have anyone to take care of him, so Miss Tolly did. She and Coach Nathan love him just the same.”

“Baby Avery didn’t grow in Aunt Belle’s tummy.”

“No. But she loves him just the same as if he did. Like Aunt Tolly loves Kirby.” Except not like Tolly at all.

“John Luke grew in your tummy.”

“Yes, he did,” Lanie confirmed.

“And
I
grew in your tummy,” Emma said emphatically.

Arabelle’s breath caught. What would Lanie say?

“No, Emma,” Lanie said with kind firmness. “We’ve talked about this. You know that you grew in your Carrie Mommy’s tummy. And do you remember what else?”

Emma’s little voice came out thoughtful. “She didn’t want to leave me but she had to go to heaven.”

“That’s right! And, honeybee, she loved you. She loved you
so
much. And she loved your daddy so much. And I am so lucky because you know what I think? I think she looked down from heaven and thought, ‘There’s someone who I think would love my Emma. I think she could be a good mommy to her.’ And I do love you, Emma. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t grow in my tummy like John Luke. I
am
your mommy. I will always be your mommy and you will always be my sweet honey bee.” Lanie’s voice broke.

And something broke in Arabelle. She’d never heard Lanie talk about Carrie before, had assumed she never gave her a thought or wanted Emma to remember her. But then, when had she given Lanie a chance to talk about anything?

“Why are you crying, Mommy?”

“Two reasons, I guess. Partly, I have happy tears because I love you so much. And sometimes I cry for your Carrie Mommy because she doesn’t get to be here with you.”

Arabelle had cried plenty over Carrie for her own loss, but never for what Carrie had lost. Shame washed over her.

“Did you know my Carrie Mommy? Do you love her?”

“That’s a funny answer. I didn’t know her but I love her just the same. And I’m always going to do my best to help you know her and love her. We can look at the book with the pictures again if you want to.”

And Arabelle, who
had
known Carrie, had never done one thing to ensure that Emma remembered her or loved her, had never assured Emma that Carrie had loved her. Yet, here was Lanie doing those very things.

Emma yawned. “No pictures today. We looked yesterday when you showed me the bride dress that I can wear if I want to.”

“And only if you want to. Your Carrie Mommy would want you to wear a dress that makes you happy. You might wear that dress. You might wear the one I wore when I married your daddy. Or you might want a brand new dress all of your own.”

“I was a
good
flower girl.”