Sweet Gone South (18 page)

“No,” Lanie said. “We were right for you. You all wanted us to be a couple.”

“Then why did you keep it up?” Lucy asked.

Vague. She would be vague. “I don’t know. It was easy. I wasn’t interested in anyone else. For whatever reason, I don’t think Nathan wants a relationship right now. We just drifted into it.”

“So Nathan isn’t hurt?” Tolly asked.

Nathan
hurt
? Over
her
? “Oh, Nathan’s hurt, all right. He’s hurt because he promised he’d bring the team to the Breast Ball to park cars and check coats and he hasn’t got a date now. But I can assure you he isn’t hurt over me.”

Finally, Missy spoke. “I know everyone always thinks that I don’t like anything that isn’t my idea.” She laughed a little. “And that’s probably true. But I’m worried for you over this. For all that he can ruin an Iron Bowl party, I like Luke. But this scares me for you, Lanie.”

“Because you think he’s still in love with his wife?”

“Partly.”

“You’re worrying over nothing. I’m not in love with him,” Lanie said. “We’ve been dating a week.”

“Dates lead to love,” Lucy said. “I don’t want you to be the bridge between his past and his future — the one that it takes to get him from point A to point C.”

“And I wouldn’t call it so much dating as spending every waking moment together,” Missy said.

“Not every waking moment. And I’m helping him out with Emma. I told y’all how I ran his nanny off.” Were they right? Did he just want help with Emma? Was she just a stopgap between then and the future? Would she even care if that were true?

“You have to admit, you love that child,” Tolly said. “And living in such close proximity, it’s easy to be thrown together.”

“So, I was good enough for the football coach but not the judge? The senator’s son?”

A cacophony of voices exploded in protest. It was hard to make out which voice was coming from which mouth.

“No, no, no! We love you.”

“If anything, he’s the one who isn’t good enough!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a football coach! He could have gone to work for ESPN. Still could!”

“We’re just worried. It’s a lot of baggage.”

Lanie closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. Right now she just wanted to go home and eat fish sticks with Luke and Emma.

“Stop!” Lucy was on her feet. “Enough.” She turned to Lanie. “We needed to tell you our concerns, just as any of us would have expected from you. And we’ve done that. Luke is lucky to have you. Anyone would be. But we’re done here. We love you and support anything you do,” Lucy said sternly looking over her shoulder. “Don’t you agree? Tolly? Missy?”

“Yeah,” Missy said reluctantly.

“Sure,” Tolly said, even more reluctantly.

“Now.” Lucy sat down in the rocking chair. “Who read
Three Cups of Tea
?”

Exhilarated from his early morning run, Luke entered the back door of Heavenly Confections. Though it was not yet 7:30, the air hummed with noise from the people lined up to buy coffee and baked goods. Luke took the stairs two at a time. Was it really so recently that it had taken every ounce of energy he had to drag himself up these same stairs? Must be the exercise. Except for a couple of days when it had rained, he’d been able to run every day of the two weeks since Lanie had been taking Emma to school.

He was also sleeping better. The old nightmare had only wakened him once last week, and not at all since. He and Lanie had settled into a routine that she seemed just as pleased with as he was — and that was saying a lot. Lanie knocked on his door every morning at 6:30 so he could run. Lanie watched Emma two afternoons a week and he’d made a permanent arrangement with Pam Carson for the other three days. Pam also did laundry and errands. Lanie spent most evenings with him and Emma, though sometimes Pam kept Emma so he and Lanie could go to the movies or out for dinner.

Since they’d fallen into eating most of their meals together, Lanie had taken to doing all their grocery shopping, though he had insisted on paying. Little by little, her kitchen equipment had been gradually drifting across the hall. He liked going in his kitchen and seeing her yogurt in the refrigerator and her shiny red mixer and good knives on his counter. Last Saturday, they’d driven up to Nashville for the day to shop for summer clothes for Emma and have dinner with Brantley — something his fraternity brother had been urging him to do since January. If he was tempted to feel a little guilty over accepting so much help from Lanie, he pushed it aside. The routine was working too well.

As he started to fit his key in the apartment door, Lanie emerged with Emma in tow. They broke into simultaneous laughter. For the last four mornings, they had met at exactly this same spot. Emma laughed too, though she didn’t know why she was laughing.

“We’re getting boringly predictable,” Lanie said.

“Just predictable.” There was nothing boring about stability. Right now, there were clean towels, full sock drawers, and fresh milk. There would be something for him to eat waiting on the kitchen counter. It might be something really good like an egg and bacon sandwich or something easy like a bagel with cream cheese, but he could count on it. There would be bananas in the fruit bowl, like there had been ever since Lanie had learned that he liked one when he came back from running. By the time he ate, showered, and dressed, Lanie would be downstairs getting ready to make candy. As he went through the shop on this way to work, he’d kiss her goodbye and she’d hand him a go cup of espresso. Sometimes she sent muffins or pastries to his staff if there were any left.

“Pick me up, Daddy!” Emma demanded.

“Better not, honeybee.” He knelt to her level and rubbed his nose against hers. “I’ll get you sweaty after Lanie has dressed you so pretty. You don’t want to go to school all sweaty, do you?”

“No!”

“You be sweet today.” He kissed Emma’s cheek and patted her head. “And I’ll see
you
in a little while,” he said to Lanie.

“Okay,” Lanie said. “I thought I’d make lasagna tonight.”

“Sounds great. Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” Most nights, Lanie cooked and now that it was warm, they had grilled on the balcony several times. But if Lanie wanted to go out, she would say so, which was fine with him. These days, there was always a plan and he didn’t have to try to read her mind to know what it was.

“I thought we’d go to the diner tomorrow night, if that’s okay. Come on, Emma,” Lanie said. “We don’t want to be late for school.”

Ha! Since Lanie had taken over, Emma hadn’t been late a single time. And neither had he.

Life was good. The only fly in the ointment was, he was ready to have sex, and Lanie was not. But that would come. He smiled to himself. Lanie refused to go down the hall to his bed but they’d had some pretty intense times on the sofa that took him back to high school. He had to admit it was fun.

Life wasn’t just good. It was great.

• • •

“Who’s that going over my bridge!?” Luke’s gruff troll voice rang out.

A sleepy little giggle emanated from Emma and she snuggled closer into Lanie’s arms. Lanie sniffed her fresh-from-the-bath little girl smell and joined in her laughter. According to Tolly, Luke was quickly developing a reputation for being the razor-sharp judge that missed no detail. Lawyers all over the county quaked in their boots at the thought of appearing before him. It was a good thing they couldn’t see him now. His intimation factor would zero out.

“It’s me!” His voice was high and squeaky now. “The littlest Billy Goat Gruff.”

“I’ll eat you up,” Emma said around a yawn, with her eyes half closed. From the looks of things, she wasn’t going to make it to the next clip, clomp. It was no wonder. Lanie was tired herself. After dressing, feeding, and taking Emma to school, she’d made candy and paid bills. This afternoon had been what Emma called a “Lanie day” as opposed to a “Pammy day.” They’d eaten lunch with Missy and Beau and gone to the library for a puppet show. Emma had taken a short nap before they’d gone to play in the pocket park. Then they’d gone to Big Starr for groceries. Lanie loved wheeling Emma around the store and answering her little questions and denying (and sometimes giving in to) her requests for sugar cereal and cheaply made overpriced toys. She never asked for candy in the grocery store. At three, Emma was already a candy snob. Lanie had seen to that. A child in a grocery cart was one of life’s moments that others took for granted but she never would. She cherished every moment because it couldn’t last forever.

Just like cooking dinner for Luke and Emma couldn’t last forever. Tonight they’d had lasagna and afterward played Candy Land with Emma until bath time. Now, Lanie was leaning against the headboard of the toddler bed with Emma snuggled against her while Luke read.

But he’d stopped. And Emma was gone. Lanie eased her arm from around her and stepped aside. This was one of her favorite moments of the day. Luke still rocked her some nights, but more and more, Emma’s day ended with all of them in a cuddle. Luke pulled the covers around Emma, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Love you, baby.”

Lanie turned on the honeybee-shaped nightlight and turned off the bedside lamp.

“She didn’t make it to prayers,” Luke said once they were in the hall. “I guess we need to start praying before stories.” He smiled and his eyes sparkled. “Else we’re going to turn her into an infidel.”
We
. It was a wonderful word. Temporary, but wonderful.

“She was tired. She had a big day.”

“So did you.” He ran his finger along Lanie’s jawbone. It was warm tonight and he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt that was so old and soft you could barely make out “Vandy” across the front. “Dinner was great. I love lasagna and that was the best I ever had.”

“Thank you.” His praise warmed her almost as much as his fingers resting on her neck. “Lucy taught me. Her grandmother was Italian. I made the noodles.”

“You’re good to us, Lanie Heaven.” He embraced her and starlight shot through her veins. “I’ve never known anyone before who made noodles.”

“It was fun.” He smelled like soap and the chocolate pudding she’d served him and Emma for dessert. “And don’t be too impressed. I have a pasta attachment for my mixer.”

He leaned back and looked at her. “Still harder than buying them.”

“A little,” she admitted. But if she made noodles, if she bought the right beer, if she set up perfect toddler outings, she might be allowed to play house with this pretend family a while longer.

He took her hand and led her down the hall to the sofa. “Sit here,” he said. “Rest a little. I’m going to finish cleaning the kitchen.” Aside from putting the food away, they never cleaned the kitchen until Emma was asleep.

“I can help you,” she said. Because, really, she wanted to be where he was.

“No. You sit. I won’t be long. It’s not like there’s a big cooking mess.” That was true. She cleaned as she went. That was part of being a good girl. There were only dishes to put in the dishwasher and the table and counter to wipe down. “Do you want me to bring you a glass of wine before I load the dishwasher?”

“If you do, I might fall asleep before you’re done.”

He made a point of leering at her. “We don’t want that.” And he disappeared through the swinging door.

No, we don’t want that.
Because he would be back soon to engage in what he had coined their “submarine race antics” — meaning they necked and petted like two teenagers in the back of a car on a lonely road. He could be so funny, something she would have never guessed. She loved that about him.

And, might as well admit it, she loved the submarine race antics. She never thought she’d be held again. And this was so safe. There would be no shedding of clothes with Emma sleeping so close. They both agreed on that. He would try to urge her down the hall where there was a door to close and blankets for cover, but he knew she wasn’t ready and he didn’t try to insist. It was almost like he felt he
should
attempt more.

What he didn’t know was she would never be ready. She didn’t want to think about that part yet. Who would? For now, she pleased him. How she wished she could go down that hall and continue to please him, but her body didn’t know how.

The kitchen door swung open. Her heart rate picked up.

“That didn’t take long.”

“It would take even less time if you’d buy us some paper plates.”

“Sure, why not? We’ll turn Emma into an infidel
and
teach her to be uncivilized. Not to mention the landfill.”

He sat beside her. “You sound like my mother. She hates paper plates. But she’s in Japan. She wouldn’t know.”

“
I’m
not in Japan.”

“I’m glad.” Ah, there it was. That soft tone that came into his voice that took them from banter to romantic. She never knew when it was coming but it always came and melted her every time.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and looked into her eyes, like he always did. He wouldn’t kiss her right away, but would look at her as if he liked what he saw and he thought it was important to connect with her emotionally.

She longed to call the casserole brigade and tell them what she had stolen from right under their noses and potato chip encrusted concoctions. She laughed.

He smiled. “What?” he asked.

She traced the dimple in his cheek. “I didn’t know you had dimples for the longest time. You never smiled. Now I see them all the time.”

“Maybe I feel more like smiling these days. You’re easy to smile for.”

Oh. If she had melted a little before, she was now butterscotch syrup dripping into the floor. They had no future but this was not the time to think about it. It was off to the races.

He half lay back and pulled her into his arms. He circled her lips with the tip of his tongue before taking her mouth fully in, taking a good long time with her tongue, her bottom lip, her top. Best of all, he kept his hands on her cheeks, instead of letting them wander to more interesting places, because the
kiss
was important. Not that his hands wouldn’t wander; not that she wasn’t looking forward to it. When they broke apart, he surveyed her face and smiled.