Simple Gone South (Crimson Romance) (27 page)

He thanked the Rotary and praised all the volunteers who had made the parade a success. Then he began to enumerate the strides Merritt had made in the past year—repaired roads, new businesses, the continued work by the Downtown Revitalization Committee. Then he went on to talk about Little League triumphs, the money the Junior League had raised for the hospital, the addition to the library, and Nathan’s team’s trip to the playoffs.

“That isn’t all that happened in our town this year. It’s just the highpoints. But, as most of you have heard, we have had exciting news of late. Beginning in January, work will begin to restore one of our historic treasures, the Brantley Building. Once it’s complete, it will fulfill a need that has been lacking in our community. We have long dreamed of having a multi-purpose center for cultural endeavors. And now we will have one, courtesy of the Brantley and Kincaid family.”

This was met with applause, maybe because people were pleased or maybe because they knew the mayor was almost finished.

But he said, “Mrs. Brantley, would you like to say a word?”

Miss Caroline was here? Lucy looked around. She was sitting with some of her friends not far from where Charles sat with Tiptoe Watkins and Laura Cochran’s father, Dr. Vines. Lucy gave them a little half wave.

Miss Caroline stood. “Thank you, Mayor Henry, but I believe I was quite loquacious enough on the subject at the press conference a few weeks back. Perhaps my grandson might say a word?”

More applause. Brantley didn’t flinch. He got up, mounted the little stage, and took the microphone. Lucy was so proud.

“Thank you, Mayor. I’ll be brief. My family is thrilled for this opportunity. I will not enumerate all that we plan to do, but Lucy Mead, Will Garrett, and I are already hard at work making plans. Just one of the things I am excited about giving this town is the ballroom. It sustained water damage in 1968 and has not been used since.” He gave the audience that million dollar melting smile and cleared his throat. “That was before my time but it is my understanding that it was once quite the little venue for good times and bad behavior.” Much laughter. “I may never have danced there but I did fight a couple of wars up there with the help of my trusty plastic soldiers and my second in command, Missy Jackson Bragg.”

“Second?” Missy called. “Not how I remember it.”

Laughter rang out and as it died, Brantley let his smile go. “But I will dance there. I’m looking forward to it. When I left this town, I thought I’d never be back for more than a visit. Then my grandmother asked me to take on this project and, well . . .” He gestured to Miss Caroline. “You all know my grandmother. Have any of you ever told her no?” Everyone laughed and Miss Caroline blew Brantley a kiss. “Back at you, Big Mama,” Brantley said. “Right back.” After a pause, he continued. “I have an announcement to make. No one knows this except my grandmother, but I hope this is something that will be considered an asset to Merritt and I am counting on it being welcome news for those dear to me. I thought I would only be here a short while, but I have changed my mind. Once the Brantley Building is restored, I plan to reopen Kincaid Architectural Design and Restoration in Merritt—in my grandfather’s former office in the Brantley Building.”

Brantley met Lucy’s eyes and smiled. And she smiled back. Oh, what this meant! They did not
have
to be temporary. They still might not end up together, but they had a chance!

Brantley was finally ready to stop running.

If this had been a romance novel, this would be the end, the happily ever after, where the reader just knew all would be well—because they would have time, sweet time.

Her heart was so full.

Brantley began talking again. “I’d like to tell you all that I decided to stay in town because of my ties, my family, my friends, and the charm of Merritt that cannot be denied. Those things are factors, but they’ve always been factors.”

Brantley stepped off the stage and came toward her.

“Now there is a variable—one I did not see coming.” He took her hand. “I am staying because of this woman.”

What? Surely this could not be happening. And why was he kneeling at her feet?

“Lucy Mead is a treasure beyond measure, though I think you all knew that before I did.”

Hell and double hell. People were on their feet applauding and catcalling. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw her three best friends clutching about each other and crying.

Yet, she still did not know what was going on until he said, “Lucy Mead, please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

And suddenly she was on a carousel spinning out of control. Oh, it was pretty. Tempting even, but wrong because it was going to overturn and crash any second. Faces swirled around her. Miss Caroline, Charles, Missy, Lanie, Tolly, but most of all Brantley. He was smiling and so sure.

Then it occurred to her that it must be a joke. They must be filming a reality show and she was being taped for her reaction.

But Brantley reached into his pocket and pulled out a platinum ring with a diamond as big as a grape. And then there were the other diamonds around it.

That’s when she knew it was no joke. That ring had not come from some reality show prop room. It had not come from the mall, or even Reed’s Jewelry. It had come from someone’s jewelry chest or safe deposit box. And she knew whose.

What if she let him put it on her hand? What if she married him? Had his babies, lived and loved him for the rest of her life? Wasn’t that what she wanted, what she had wanted since that fifteenth summer when she learned about love and heartbreak and he learned about grief?

Love. Grief.
Those were the keys. He had not said one word about loving her. He needed her as a crutch for his grief. That was clear. And staying in Merritt was not a sign that he was ready to stop running. This was just another way to run, to hide.

The carousel spun faster and faster and faster. Out of control.

This was no romance novel; it was a horror story.

Lucy jumped to her feet and ran.

Lucy was in the Merritt High School parking lot before she remembered that she had no car and no way home. Lanie had picked her up before the parade and Brantley had brought her here. It was too far to walk, and public transportation in Merritt amounted to calling family or friends.

She might have called Annelle, but she was on her way to Charleston. Calling any of her friends was out of the question. That was the last thing she wanted. She had to get out of here, though. They’d be hot on her trail in no time.

Despite the distance, she was about to strike out walking, at least until she thought of something. Then she heard the laughter a short distance away and saw the cigarette smoke drifting from between two cars.

She hot footed it over there where she found three teenage boys in letter jackets smoking. She knew one of them, had sold his mother a rug last week.

“Robby Sipes, does your mother know you’re out here smoking?” Then she thought of an even bigger card to play. “Does Coach Scott?” All three boys hurriedly put out their cigarettes.

“No, Ms. Mead. We don’t smoke. Not usually. You’re not going to tell on us, are you? Please.”

“I might,” she said, “and I might not. Either way, I need a ride home. Right now. Who’s got a car?”

The boys started tripping over each other like the Three Stooges, with a chorus of
“Yes, ma’am.” “Right here.” “Get in. We’ll take you.”

• • •

Inside, the gym was totally silent. Brantley was the first to recover. He turned to the crowd and smiled. “Note to self and to all you guys out there: don’t propose to your girl in public. I think she’s a little overwhelmed. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go find her. Merry Christmas!” And he tipped an invisible hat.

“Brantley.” That was Missy’s voice. He did not slow down. Nor did he slow down in the parking lot until he got to his car. He had no intention of looking for Lucy, even though she didn’t have a car. Missy and the others would catch up with her any second. They were probably all texting right now. Lucy would be fine.

He drove directly to the interstate and pointed himself north, toward Nashville.

Lucy was a doer, not a crier. At least she never cried until she took care of business. As soon as she got home, she sat down and sent a text to Tolly, the friend she could most trust not to take things into her own hands “for Lucy’s own good.”

I am home. I am fine. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone tonight and maybe not tomorrow. If anyone wants to know what they can do for me, it’s that. Can you make that happen for me?

A moment later, the answer came.
Yes.

And that’s when she began to cry.

Why did he have to go and ruin everything? Why could he have not just let things progress on, like
normal
people? They could have worked on the Brantley Building—and who knew what would happen with that now—made love, laughed, and ended up in forever.

Except they couldn’t. He needed a savior, someone to hide in. But if he had let things progress, maybe she could have helped him. Maybe he could have grieved until he ended up in a healthy place, ready for a healthy relationship. Of course, if that happened, he wouldn’t need her anymore.

Oh, it was too crazy, too confusing.

She crossed her legs and shook her head in frustration. That’s when she heard the jingle of the bells on her toes and hat and realized she was still dressed as an elf. Well, she couldn’t change what happened tonight with Brantley, but she didn’t have to sit around looking like a refugee from the North Pole. That she could change.

It was when she was in the shower that she realized she’d made a mistake—and a bad one.

The only man she’d ever wanted had knelt at her feet and offered her an engagement ring. And she had run, like he had always run.

Oh, it would have been ludicrous to get engaged. After being involved for this length of time, his emotional baggage aside, that would have been insane. But maybe she should have taken the ring publicly and later, in private, told him that they had to slow it down. Or she could have not taken the ring and said something like, “As romantic as this all is, I just don’t think I can get engaged wearing an elf suit. Maybe we’d better go somewhere else to talk about this.”

And everyone would have laughed. Then they could have gone home and she could have confessed that she loved him, that she was here for him, but this was too much, too soon.

Then a kernel of an idea took root. Maybe it wasn’t too late for that. Maybe she could still tell him those things. She got out of the shower and reached for her phone. Then stopped. No. This needed to be done in person. She dried her hair, dressed, and grabbed her keys. She would drive around until she found him, no matter where he was.

• • •

Thanks to those trying to reach hearth, home, mistletoe, and the foolishness that went with it, the traffic between Merritt and Nashville was a nightmare—slow and congested. It was looking like a three-hour trip was going to turn into closer to four.

Many men would have been humiliated by what happened, or at least embarrassed. Not Brantley. He didn’t do embarrassment. Never had. Many men would have been mad. He certainly wasn’t that, not at Lucy. He’d brought the whole thing on himself, made assumptions about how she felt. He’d been stupid and he’d lost her. It was that simple.

He was sure he had not realized the full impact of that yet. He’d never been impacted much when a relationship ended, but none of those relationships had been with Lucy Mead, with the healing laugh and the comforting touch. She was practically magic, but he had not been destined for magic, it seemed.

Though there for a little while, he’d thought . . .

Well, at least no one could expect him to do Christmas now. Or the Brantley Building. Out of the question. Good thing his townhouse hadn’t sold yet. He’d hole up there for a few days and pretend he wasn’t supposed to be with her. And next week, he’d make some calls and figure out where to go next. The New Orleans job might still be open. Or New England. Or maybe something else. He’d land in a new place, do some new things, and think some new thoughts.

Unless she called. That could still happen, though it hadn’t yet.

As if on cue, his phone rang. He checked the caller ID, like he had every time. Missy, again. He’d lost count of the number of times she’d called. He pressed the ignore button like he’d done numerous times already—for his dad, Big Mama, Luke Avery, and Missy many, many times.

“Melissa,” he said to the empty air of his car. “Did you know that the true meaning of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Lots of people know that but not everyone knows Albert Einstein said it.”

The phone rang again. Dad. Not Lucy.

It was after midnight when he pulled into the driveway of his townhouse that still had the realtors’ lock on the front door. It had started to rain and there was sleet mixed in. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. At first he thought he’d wandered into the wrong place but then he remembered that on the advice of his realtor, he’d hired a property stager. She was supposed to make the place look homey, like somewhere you’d want to live.

It looked pretty good, he had to admit. Not as good as it would if Lucy had done it, but way better than when he’d lived here. For one thing, it had furniture. There were magazines on the coffee table and a half knitted something with needles sticking out of it on an ottoman. Hell, there was even a decorated Christmas tree and stockings hung on the mantel.

He wondered if the liquor in those crystal bottles on the bar was real. He took a sniff. No such luck. He shook an elaborately decorated package under the tree. Empty, of course.

His phone rang again. Dad. He would listen to the voicemails tomorrow, but tonight, he just couldn’t. He considered turning the phone off, but she might call. It could happen.

Then something occurred to him. They might be worried about him, as in thinking he was dead.