Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (22 page)

“You like me.”

“Uh-huh.”

She tried not to show how pleased she felt. “Let me think about it.”

“Whatever you do, that’ll be the right thing. Don’t think I’m judging you for not going. I’m just offering to be with you, if that makes it easier.”

She hesitated, then she sighed. “Thank you.”

He got to his feet. “I’ll take that glass of lemonade you promised me, then I’ll be on my way.”

She watched him climb down to the grass to throw a stick for Beau. As the stick soared through the air and the big dog barked in anticipation, she wondered whether fate was having another good laugh at her expense.

But what did she have to lose that she hadn’t lost already?

Chapter Twenty-Three

WALKING THROUGH THE
halls of BCAS felt almost as strange as the day Cristy had walked through the corridors of the North Carolina Correctional Institution for Women for the first time. School, like prison, held no fond memories, and she had attended as infrequently as she could. She had perpetually been in trouble, for truancy, for not paying attention, for not turning in homework.

In ninth and tenth grades a girlfriend had written Cristy’s English papers in exchange for Cristy doing her household chores. That way the girl could hang out with a running back on the football team while her parents were at work. Cristy had contributed what she could to the papers, telling her friend what she remembered from classroom lectures, and even, sometimes, her opinions on the subject, so the friend could include them.

The friend hadn’t been a particularly talented writer or student, but for the most part Cristy had received B’s or C’s on their mutual effort, which had allowed her to squeak by. The arrangement had worked until the girl’s mother came home early one afternoon to find Cristy vacuuming the living room.

After both sets of parents banned the girls from spending time together, Cristy had given up on school. She had cleared her locker and walked out, and she hadn’t been inside a school building since. Now here she was, twenty-two, heading for the principal’s office, a route that had been far too familiar in Berle. But this time the principal was going to help Cristy divide words into syllables.

She arrived at the office and made herself go inside. A woman on the other side of the counter asked if she could help, and after Cristy explained her reason for being there, she was led to Georgia’s office and asked to wait.

Cristy settled on the corner love seat and replaced a magazine from the table in front of her with a manila envelope she had brought along.

As she waited, she leafed through the magazine, looking at photos of strangers, and oceans of words divided into paragraphs and columns. She guessed the magazine had to do with education. Near the middle there were a few photo spreads of classrooms, and lots more of men and women in groups smiling at the camera.

For the first time she wondered what it would feel like to be one of those women, to find ways to open the doors to learning for every student. Of course, becoming a teacher had never been something
she
could consider. But now she tried to imagine it. She would teach art, of course, and she would use her classes to reach out to students like the one
she
had been, kids who didn’t fit the classic mold, who learned differently but still had a lot to give.

The idea excited her. Who would understand better what it felt like
not
to fit in? Who would try harder to change that student’s world?

Georgia came into the office and closed the door behind her. “You beat me. An emergency faculty meeting. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I liked sitting here. It made me think. I hope it wasn’t a bad emergency.”

“Growing pains, I guess you could say. We just finished an evaluation period. The recommendations were almost unanimous. So last week I laid the findings on the line. I’ve asked the teachers to stay on their feet and interact with their students. Most of them are doing that already, and won’t have to make a lot of changes. But the ones who aren’t are outraged.”

Cristy was surprised Georgia had shared so much. “That’s a good idea. Why are they upset?”

“Because it means more work, and it means getting to know their students and paying attention to them in a new way.”

“That would have helped me. It would have been a lot harder for me to shrink out of sight or pretend I didn’t care.”

Georgia went to a shelf and began to remove materials for their session. “It would have. All your teachers would have seen how bright you are, and realized something was standing in the way of you reaching your potential. And then maybe they would have dug in to change it.”

“I was pretty good at finding ways around not reading. There were a couple of students who always moved their lips when they were supposed to read silently, kind of mumbling the words under their breath. They used to drive other people crazy, but I tried to sit beside them so I could listen to what they were saying. Sometimes I could catch enough to know how to answer a question if I was called on. I had a whole bag of tricks.”

“In that case, being as bright as you are wasn’t to your advantage.”

“I was thinking...” Cristy realized how silly her thoughts would sound to Georgia. “Never mind. Maybe we’d better get to tutoring. I hate to waste your time.”

“Nothing you say is a waste of time. What were you thinking?”

“Well, it’s dumb, really, but I was thinking that I’d like to be a teacher someday. Who knows better than me how important it is?”

“Art?”

“I guess it’s wishful thinking.”

“Not one bit. Once you master reading, nothing can stop you
except
you. Frankly I think you’re smart enough to do anything you really want to.”

Cristy tried to imagine that. After a lifetime of feeling stupid, this was a lot to take in.

“So let’s get on with mastering reading.” Georgia seated herself and began to spread materials on the table between them.

“Well, just one more thing first.” Cristy picked up the manila envelope and held it out to Georgia. “I hope you won’t think I’m being pushy, but I’ve been thinking about your bracelet.”

Georgia looked up from the box of tiles. “Come up with anything interesting?”

“One thing, yes.” Cristy pulled out a sheet of paper.

Georgia took it and scanned it. “What a memory you have.”

The paper was covered by a sketch of Georgia’s bracelet, charm by charm. Cristy wasn’t sure she had them all, but she thought she was close.

“You know, they say when somebody’s blind, their hearing is particularly acute. I don’t know if it’s true, but I think I learned to memorize everything because I couldn’t fall back on notes.”

“I’m sure that’s some of it, but not all. I think you’re just extraordinary.” Georgia warmed Cristy with her smile. “So, is this what you came up with?”

“No, this was just for me, to help jog my memory. What I came up with? I didn’t notice at first that the big house with the pillars was right next to the bulldog. Then I got to thinking that maybe whoever’s bracelet this is, well, she was probably going around the bracelet adding charms as she got them. That’s what I would have done. I would put them next to each other. It would look better that way, not stringing them out a few here, a few there to call attention to how few there were. Do you see what I mean?”

Georgia got up to get her purse and came back with it. She pulled out the bracelet and handed it to Cristy, who examined it.

“I transposed the sewing machine and the cheerleader thingie.”

“Megaphone.”

“Right. Megaphone.” Cristy looked up. “Otherwise I did okay.”

“Lukewarm word for what you did, but you were saying?”

“If she did add charms right next to each other, the way I would have, then there’s something of an order here, although we can’t be sure she always put them on the same side. But that could mean that since the house and the bulldog are next to each other, then maybe they were put there about the same time and—”

“The house might be at the university.”

Cristy was glad Georgia could see it, too. “Exactly. And doesn’t it look like maybe this could be a school building? Maybe that’s why it seems so large, and not meant to go on a bracelet.”

Georgia took it and examined the charm in question. She looked at it for a long time, so long in fact that Cristy began to wonder if she had done something wrong by bringing this up. Then Georgia sighed and put the bracelet in her lap.

“I need to go see for myself, I guess.”

“Go to the university?”

“I’ve been avoiding it, but the truth is, ever since I realized this bracelet was left on my desk for a reason, I knew going to Athens had to be the next step.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“You of all people will understand how reluctant I am to face this head-on.”

Cristy knew Georgia was talking about her own reluctance to see her son. “I guess I do.”

The two women met each other’s eyes.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Georgia said.

“Me?”

“I’d like your sharp eyes and good reasoning on this trip. Can they spare you this weekend at the B and B? Or will that affect your job?”

“I’m supposed to get a full weekend off each month, so I could probably arrange it, but I have a dog now, a watchdog a friend kind of loaned me. I don’t know what I would do about him, and he’s sure too big to bring along.”

“I bet we can get one of the goddesses to stay up there this weekend and watch out for him.”

“You’re sure you’d want
me?
”

“Well, who better?”

“Your daughter? Lucas?”

Georgia smiled at that. “Sam would come if I asked her, but she and Edna are going to Chicago to visit her father’s family this weekend. Lucas is another matter.”

“You could have two sets of eyes and two people thinking along with you.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

Cristy knew that the decision had already been made. She just wasn’t sure Georgia realized it yet.

* * *

Cristy had just left when Lucas knocked on Georgia’s office door. She wasn’t surprised to see him. They’d arranged this because he was meeting with the students working on the literary magazine that afternoon. For once she was going to take him out to dinner, although she had been forced to scour the city for a restaurant where he might learn something new. She had finally settled on Limones, with its inspirational, innovative California/Mexican cuisine, and Sam and Edna were coming, too, to meet Lucas for the first time. Asheville was filled with great restaurants, but she thought Lucas was as good a cook as the best chefs in the city. Of course she was just the tiniest bit prejudiced.

“I saw Cristy on my way up here,” he said. “How did the tutoring go?”

“Surprisingly well. I gave her a story to read, just a few paragraphs using the techniques we’ve learned. She was so excited. She couldn’t wait to get home and read it.” Georgia realized she was choking up. Watching doors open for a student always did that to her. No question she was in the right field.

She cleared her throat. “How did the magazine meeting go?”

“Herding ducks. Everybody wants to be in charge, but nobody really wants to do the work. I guess we’re moving in the right direction. Dawson behaved.”

“Hallelujah. Maybe you should come every day and sit with him in all his classes.”

“My presence didn’t help much on Sunday. He was rude and obnoxious, and he humiliated poor Cristy.”

“No perfect solutions, I guess.”

“We’re now finished talking about people under forty. Let’s talk about us. Where are we going for dinner?”

“It’s always about food, isn’t it?”

He cocked his head just a little, his eyes appraising. “Not
always.
”

She had the complexion to go with her auburn hair. She could feel her cheeks heating, because the room was suddenly filled with sexual tension. Still, she didn’t drop her gaze. “I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m all ears.” He paused just long enough to make his point. “
Almost
all.”

“You need to cut that out so I can concentrate on what I’m saying.”

“I like having this effect on you.”

“Will you spend the weekend with me?”

“From innuendoes to an all-out offer?”

“It’s not as seductive as it sounds. Cristy will be with us.” She explained her plan to go to Athens to see what she could find. “It’s about three hours each way. I think we should probably spend Saturday night in a hotel down there, so we can have more time to research.”

“A hotel when my family’s not even an hour away?”

“Your family?”

He moved closer; then he surprised her by pulling her into his arms for a hug. “I’m meeting yours tonight, so why not? They live on the east side of Atlanta. I want them to meet you. I want you to meet them all, and my grandmother’s not going to be around forever. I want to be with you when you go to Athens. What could be more perfect?”

She relaxed in his arms and thought how wonderful it was to be held this way. The thought made her stiffen a little, but as if he understood, he made slow circles on her back with his fingertips.

“I like that you want my help,” he said. “That doesn’t come easily to you, does it?”

“It’s not something I’ve had much of an opportunity to practice.”

“They’ll love you. My mother will make her best lasagna. My grandmother will say it’s too salty. My grandmother will make cannolis.”

“And your mother will say they’re too sweet?”

“You don’t even have to meet them. You know them already.”

She pulled away, but not far, then she kissed him, lightly, quickly, since they were standing in her office and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to just barge in. “What about Cristy?”

He smiled fondly, and she wasn’t sure if the smile was for her or for his family. “They’ll love her, too, every one of them. They’ll know right away that she needs them. After one night, she’ll be theirs for life.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

EVERY TIME SHE
deciphered an entire sentence, Cristy read it out loud several times to absorb it. She had come directly home from BCAS, afraid of going back up the twisting road in the dark, and even more afraid of what might be lurking when she arrived. Luckily all had been well, and the sky was still light enough that it was easy to see the page in front of her. The mountain air smelled so sweet that she wasn’t ready to abandon the outdoors, so she sat on the porch and read with mounting excitement.

The story was one Georgia had written just for her, using the words and structures they had worked on. Georgia had promised there would be actual books to read, but for now, she didn’t want Cristy attempting even the simplest children’s books, because the method they were using enhanced reading in a certain way, and that was what she needed to practice.

She pushed the porch glider with her toes, swinging back and forth as she concentrated. Beau was lying just far enough away to be safe from the swing and close enough to be sure she was all right. Whenever she was home, the dog was her constant companion, as if he understood the reason Sully had left him with her and intended to fulfill his part of the bargain.

Of course the real reason he was so faithful probably had more to do with the dog treats she splurged on at the Trust General Store. She loved watching the anticipation in Beau’s eyes whenever she went into the kitchen, and the way he sat on the rag rug in front of the sink and waited patiently for her to offer one. He would take the treat, then trot out to the porch to chew and swallow, which happened instantly, since the treats were no match for the big dog’s jaws and appetite.

She reached the end of the page with disappointment. She was finished. She wanted more. She wanted to read everything in the world, and the story was like bread crumbs served to a starving child.

But she
had
read the whole thing, and she had understood the silly paragraphs about a girl going to the store to buy milk and coming home with silk instead. And now as she went back over it, she remembered the words, and she could associate the sound in her head with the shape of each one. Maybe she hadn’t yet committed them to memory, and maybe she wouldn’t recognize each one the moment she saw it in another context. But she was a step closer now, and even if she had to sound them out again, which she probably would, each word would come more quickly.

She was so engrossed in going over the story again that Beau was on his feet and growling before she realized a pickup had pulled into the parking area below. She walked to the edge of the porch, her heart thrumming, but thankfully, the young man who stepped down from the driver’s seat wasn’t Jackson.

Of course, Dawson Nedley was no prize, either.

She didn’t wave or call out a greeting. She watched him go around to the back of the truck and release the tailgate. Then he pulled out what looked like an old wheelbarrow and began to fill it with what, from the porch, looked like mounds of dirt.

Now, curiosity roused, she clicked her tongue to alert Beau that she wanted him to come with her, and she started down the steps. Dawson was just finishing loading when she reached him, and he dusted dirt off his hands.

“Who do you have there?” he asked, nodding toward Beau.

“This is Beau. He eats bad guys. What do you have
there?
” she asked.

“Raspberries. And blackberries like you should have in your garden and don’t.”

For a moment she didn’t understand. “Why?”

“Because you needed them, and we have more than we can use. You’ll find out the score on blackberries yourself, if you’re still here next year. You’ll be looking for people to give your extras to, just like I’m doing.”

“So you came all the way up Doggett Mountain just so you could get rid of a few plants you could have tossed on the compost pile?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Do you want them or not?”

“Did Mrs. Ferguson make you do this?”

He shook his head.

“Mr. Ramsey?”

“I can always put them back in the truck.”

“I only want them if you want to give them to me. I’m nobody’s charity case.” Although, as a matter of fact, she was, more or less.

“It was
my
idea,” he said, just one decibel above a mumble.

Cristy knew an apology when she heard one. “Thank you. In your defense, I know how weird it must seem that I’m just learning to read.” She changed the subject. “So, this is exciting. Real raspberries. Will we get fruit this year? And you brought blackberries, too?”

“Big ones, sweet as sugar. I’ll tell you what to do and when. You won’t get much of a crop this year, but I’ll tell you how to get a better one next year.”

Cristy had no idea where she would be next year, but the berries were a wonderful gift for the goddesses and their offspring.

“You’re going to take them over to the garden for me?”

“And help you plant them, if you like.”

“I would love that. Did you eat dinner before you came up?”

Dawson gripped the wheelbarrow handles. “I was afraid I’d run out of daylight.”

“Then I’ll make something if you’d like to stay.”

“Let’s get going.”

* * *

Cristy made hot dogs and beans, a meal Harmony and Taylor would gag over, but she’d bought the food herself, with her own money, and that made it taste twice as good. She fixed a simple salad of lettuce, tomatoes and carrots, and doctored the beans with ketchup, brown sugar and a squeeze of yellow mustard.

Dawson filled his plate and made short work of it. There wasn’t even time for conversation about anything except the cultivation of berries and how to stake them when the time was right.

She microwaved hot cocoa and they took it out to the porch, although once they were outside Dawson hinted that a cold beer might taste better.

“Well, that’s exactly what I’d need.” Cristy leaned back against the step above her. She had wanted to see the stars coming out, which was easier here than on the glider. Dawson was lounging against the post behind him, one step down from her on the opposite side so they could see each other.

Dawson’s gaze was trained on the sky, waiting for the first star to appear, and he continued to look up. “What do you mean?”

“If I
had
beer—and I don’t—do you know what kind of trouble I could get into for giving alcohol to a minor?”

He snorted in disbelief. “Nobody cares about that. You’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“You might be surprised how fast the law can catch up with you. Take it from me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Somebody caught up with you?”

She wondered why she had started the subject, but she saw no reason not to finish it. Dawson already knew one of her two big secrets.

“I was arrested for shoplifting last year, and I served time in prison. Eight whole months. I haven’t been out long. Mrs. Ferguson and the other women who own this house are letting me stay here until I get back on my feet.”

Dawson gave a long, low whistle. “Wow. You must have lifted something pretty amazing to do that kind of time.”

She looked down at him, or rather over, since even though he was a step below her, their eyes were almost even.

“I didn’t lift
anything.
I really and truly didn’t.”

When he looked as if he didn’t believe her, she went on. She realized it would feel good to tell him at least some of the story.

“I was set up by the man I thought I loved. We were looking at diamond engagement rings, and he slipped one inside a shopping bag I was carrying so I would be caught with it when the clerk realized it was missing. The clerk caught up to us in the parking lot, and pretty soon, so did the cops. I was in shock for a while, then I realized what had happened.”

Dawson looked skeptical. “Why would somebody go to all that trouble? If the guy wanted to dump you, why didn’t he just say so? Why make sure you went to jail?”

She saw no reason to lie. Dawson wasn’t part of her past and was unlikely to be part of her future. “Because I know something about him, something he has to hide. Something terrible.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell somebody that and get it over with?”

“It’s hard to explain. At the time I didn’t realize that what I knew was so important. It was only later, when I’d already agreed to serve time for stealing the ring—”

“Wait a minute. You agreed, but you weren’t guilty?”

She was sorry now that she had started this. “I
never
admitted guilt, because that would have been a lie. But there’s a provision in North Carolina law, something called the Alford plea, that says a person accused of a crime, like I was, can agree to serve time without admitting to anything. I knew if I eventually went to trial after I waited in jail first, that I’d be found guilty, because Berle is that kind of place, and the man I told you about comes from a powerful family. So I agreed to go to prison, and I served eight months in addition to my time in the county jail. But it was only after I’d agreed that I realized why he’d done it, why he had put the ring in my bag.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say.”

“Well, that’s pretty lame. How come?”

“Because if he finds out I’m talking to people about what he did, I might just disappear one day.”

“Then why don’t you tell the cops the whole truth and ask them to protect you?”

“You watch a lot of TV, don’t you?”

He snorted. “Like I have that kind of time. By the time I get inside in the evenings I’m so tired all I can do is take a shower and go to bed. Which is the way my father wants it. He figures if I’m tired from all the work I have to do, then I won’t get into trouble.”

“You get in trouble a lot, do you?”

“Whenever I can.”

She laughed, and he narrowed his eyes. “What are you laughing at?”

“You keep pretending you’re this awful person, this big, bad, nasty dude. But I told you the other day. I know what
bad
looks like, and you don’t fit the picture.”

“Leave me some illusions. I need to be good at something.”

She smiled at him, and surprisingly, he smiled back. He was incredibly good-looking when he wasn’t angry, and for a moment she wondered if he’d come back to put a move on her, despite the difference in their ages. But those vibes weren’t in the air. She was years older than he was, and Dawson didn’t seem interested in her in any way except maybe as somebody to talk to.

“Tell me about your father. Why does he treat you like that?” she asked.

“No, first you tell me why you can’t tell the cops what this guy did.”

She decided telling him that much wouldn’t come back to haunt her. “One, no cop is going to believe a felon over an upstanding citizen like Jackson.”

“That’s his name? Jackson?”

She nodded. “And two, while I was in prison, I had Jackson’s baby.”

He whistled again.

“I didn’t tell anybody Jackson was the father, but
he
knows, of course. And he’s made it clear if I talk to anybody about my suspicions, he’ll try to get custody of Michael.”

“Michael?”

“Our baby.”

“Where is he? The baby, I mean.”

“He’s with a cousin of mine until I can straighten out my life.”

He didn’t seem to think that was odd. “And this Jackson would be a bad father?”

“The worst.”

“Mine might give him a run for his money.” He turned his eyes to the heavens again.

“I have one more reason why I can’t talk to the cops, and then you have to tell me about your father. Is it a deal?”

“I guess.”

“That thing I told you I know? It can be twisted to implicate me in a crime. And now that I’ve served time in prison, it’s likely no cops anywhere will give me the benefit of the doubt when I tell them what really happened. I could end up in jail for the rest of my life. Maybe even worse.”

Dawson looked troubled, as if this made his own problems seem minor, and he met her eyes. “I guess things like that really can happen,” he said. “Even if I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“People get sent to jail for all kinds of things that don’t seem fair when you look closely. A friend I met in prison, Dara Lee, shot the man she’d been living with. When the cops got to her house that night, she had a cut across her cheek that looked like a jagged streak of lightning. Wouldn’t you think that was proof he’d been working on her with a knife, and she finally fought back? But the jury thought maybe she’d carved herself up, because they couldn’t believe a woman would ever be foolish enough to live with a man who treated her that way.”

“Well, maybe she
did
do it to herself.”

“Sure, or maybe the man just shot himself to get even with her, then wiped his prints off the gun and put it in her hand before he died. You think?”

“It sure is a messed-up world.”

“You have a real way with words, Dawson,” Cristy said. “So use some more of them and tell me about your dad.”

“You ever live with somebody who doesn’t think anything you do will ever be good enough?”

She reached across the space dividing them, and rested her hand on his arm, just for a moment. “You’ve definitely come to the right place.”

As the stars began to form in the night sky and an owl hooted in the distance, Cristy settled back to listen.