The House on Persimmon Road (27 page)

“What have you said about me?”

“I’m even godfather to…” Losing courage, his voice trailed off. The rings felt as if they were burning a hole in his pocket. Now just wasn’t the time, he decided. Not in a noonday kitchen with a sink full of dishes for a backdrop.

He wanted atmosphere, romance. He was only going to do this once in his entire lifetime. Hell! If he didn’t do it right, she might say no.

“You’re beating around the bush, Tucker.”

“I was only going to say they might razz you a little, being the boss’s girl and all.”

“You told your crew I was your girl?”

“Don’t worry, I can keep them in line.”

“You’re not telling me everything.”

“Sure I am. Would I lie to you?

“I don’t know, would you?”

“Tell you what. Let’s talk about this over dinner tonight. We’ll go someplace fancy.” He came around the table and kissed her hard on the mouth.

The screen door slammed. “Yuk! Do y’all have to do that all the time?”

Not the least bit self-conscious, Tucker raised his head and grinned. “Listen sport, you want to drive over to the county line with me to buy fireworks?”

“I’ll say!”

“Then wash up and be quick about it.” To Justine, he said, “Ride with us, we’ll stop for a Coke somewhere.”

“I think I’ll work some more. Anyway, one of us needs to stay by the phone. With Mother, Agnes, and your dad loose in the world, anything could happen. They have my daughter, you know.”

“Look at me,” he said, with his hand on her chin, tilting her head. “Worry about Judy Ann if you must, but let the grown-ups do it for themselves.”

“You’re not at all worried about your dad?”

“Not as long as he doesn’t smoke in bed, or spend an evening alone with a bottle, which he is prone to do if nobody’s looking. Otherwise he’s as capable as any man his age. He just got himself caught up in the system, is all.”

“You’re not concerned that he’s off with Agnes?”

He laughed. “His taste in female companions seems to have deteriorated over the years, but he’s having a great time with Agnes. Sits up at night racking his brains for purple jokes. Now, lighten up. Better yet, think about me.”

She smiled at him through her thick fringe of lashes. “I do enough of that already.”

After he and Pip left, Justine continued to sit at the table. The dark hole that was the pantry caught her eye. A shadow seemed to dissolve out of the wall. She blinked and looked again. Nothing. A case of nerves, she thought. What woman wouldn’t have them on a day like this?

Lottie wandered the house unable to sit still. There was a kind of jagged wedge of anxiety inside her chest. She had everything ready. Her clothes, her bones, her Bible, the piece of copper wire she had pinched from Tucker. All she needed now was the opportunity to extend herself.

When Pauline and Agnes had driven away with Judy Ann and Wheeler, and Pip had taken off for the barn, she had thought the opportunity was upon her. She had only to wait for Justine to begin work. It seemed the computers mesmerized her for hours.

But today Justine seemed to be in a perpetual state of flux, unable to concentrate. She kept leaving her office to poke about the house so that Lottie could find no room or dark comer in which she’d be safe enough to unravel her destiny.

Then a curious thing had happened. Justine behaved as if she sensed her existence. Once she had even stared right at her. Lottie had watched her face, saw Justine’s eyes widen, then saw the expression that said Justine had dismissed the possibility. Lottie didn’t know if that would stand her in good stead or not. Agitated, the moment she could, she got back behind the secret door and perched on the step above her bones and the neatly folded garments.

She fingered the gray silk longingly, which only served to increase her impatience.

Law! She had been awaiting this event for more decades than she could rightly recall. She supposed she could manage a few more hours.

“We can’t just go and leave Pip home alone,” Justine protested to Tucker. “The others should be along any minute now.”

“Aw, Mom, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course, you can, sport,” agreed Tucker. “I made reservations, Justine. If we’re not there…”

“You don’t understand—”

“Sure I do. Stop coddling the boy. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, let him use it.”

“I won’t get into any trouble, Mom. Really. What could I do? I don’t mind staying by myself. I want to. I’m just gonna read my camera books and watch TV.”

Faced with the combined force of their argument, and the fact they were right, Justine allowed herself to be persuaded. But all the way into Mobile, she kept watching oncoming cars in the hope of spotting her own station wagon on its way home.

—  •  —

The restaurant had all of the romantic ambiance that Tucker wished for. They were seated at a table overlooking Mobile bay. The moon shone unimpeded in a cloudless night sky, and the path it made on the water seemed to come right up and join the candle-lit tables.

Champagne was not Tucker’s drink of choice. But tonight he ordered it and sipped it because he wanted everything to be special for Justine. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She wore a very simple beige shift and had pinned her golden hair loosely atop her head so that the elegant length of her neck seemed extraordinary. He felt drunk with a profound sense of loving and possession. But her lovely brow was furrowed, and he knew he’d have to deal with that before he could broach the subject hard on his mind.

“Stop worrying,” he said. “You’ve done a good job with Pip. It shows. He won’t disappoint you. Now, relax. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

Warmth filled Justine’s gaze. “You do, don’t you? You genuinely want me to have a good time.”

“It may sound trite, but if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

She put her hand on his. “You’re a rare man, Tucker. You make me feel as if I can do anything, be anything. I was a basket case when I arrived here. We all were. Pip was hostility incarnate. Judy Ann seldom let me out of her sight.

“You’ve helped to change all that. You exude confidence, and it flows into those around you, even Mother and Agnes. You’re right. I should trust Pip. I should also trust myself more. I’m sure everything is fine.”

“You make me sound like a wonder man or something,” he returned, pleased and yet slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t you want me to speak from the heart?”

He leaned toward her. “I want you always to speak from the heart.” His own heart beat wildly. He could ask her now.

The waitress brought their food, breaking the illusion of privacy.

After dinner, then, Tucker told himself.

“We’ve done nothing but talk about me all evening,” Justine said, laying her silverware aside. “Tell me more about your cookbook. You promised.”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Right now, I’d just as soon trash the thing.”

“Oh, no! You can’t! I won’t let you.”

“I don’t have a publisher, Justine. I think the book is just a diversion to keep me from feeling guilty about Dad. I did a side job a couple of weeks ago for a man who owns a small press in Mobile. He said there are fifty-five hundred cookbooks in Books in Print. That’s a hell of a lot of competition. I’d need a gimmick if I hope to publish. I don’t have a gimmick.”

“But if you did?”

“He said he’d look at it.”

“Then we’ll have to find you a gimmick.”

“We’ll see. In the meantime let’s just keep this to ourselves.”

“Meantime? As in tomorrow, when all of your friends are over?”

He grinned. “Something like that.” The champagne had made a fine start for the evening and the food had been superb.

Now, he thought, when coffee and after-dinner drinks had been set before them. He patted his coat pocket. The box wasn’t there. He searched all of his pockets. Hell!

“Don’t tell me,” Justine laughed. “You forgot your wallet.”

“Something else,” he said morosely and signaled the waitress for the check. “Let’s go home. I’m kind of worried about Pip and the old folks myself.”

“What?”

“You talked me into it.”

There were certain glaring flaws in that statement, and Justine saw each of them. “Tucker, what’s wrong?”

“Not a damned thing.”

“In that case…” she searched for the right words, puzzled, but unwilling to push and spoil a lovely evening. After a pause she continued, saying, “Dinner was wonderful. Let’s go.” And those were the last words spoken between them until he pulled up in front of her house.

“Whose car is that?” she wondered aloud, looking at the late model Ford parked behind her own station wagon. He helped her step down from the cab of the truck. “Well, they seem to have made it home. Are you coming in?”

“Just for a few minutes. Big day tomorrow, you know.”

“You are going to tell me what your crazy behavior is all about, aren’t you?”

He took her elbow, almost propelling her up the steps. “Eventually.”

The entire house was alight. The soft rise and fall of conversation wafted from the great room.

“Is that you, dear?” Pauline moved into Justine’s line of sight.

“Mother? Is everything all right? Everybody?”

“Do come meet Evelyn. She’s staying the night. She brought me home.”

Justine’s heart lurched. “What happened? Where’s Judy Ann…and Agnes? Why—”

“And, my dad?” said Tucker.

“In Agnes’s room—which is just as well. See?” Pauline exclaimed, turning to her friend. “Didn’t I tell you they make a handsome couple?”

“Nice to meet you,” Justine said, smiling at Evelyn Ellison. “But something’s afoot here. I can smell it.”

“I do want to have a word with you, Justine. In private.”

Tucker sank down on the sofa to wait for an answer. The door opened across the hall and Agnes peeped out. Wheeler urged her out and across the hall. Judy Ann and Pip, wearing pajamas, trailed behind.

“Hello, Son.”

Tucker nodded. “Dad.”

Agnes and Wheeler stood frozen in place, looking like guilty statues.

Justine noted their stance. “You wrecked the car.”

“No, we didn’t.” Agnes poked Wheeler. “You tell them.”

“No, you do it.”

Tucker came to full alert. “Tell us what?”

“Could I get a word in, please,” said Pauline. “Justine—”

“In a minute, Mother.”

“I’ll tell,” said Judy Ann, grinning.

“I better just go along home, now,” said Wheeler. Agnes hooked his arm with her cane. “You’ll stay right where you are. We agreed.”

Worried, Tucker sprang to his feet. “What’s going on here?”

Agnes cleared her throat. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Justine glanced at Tucker. His expression was black. “Perhaps we’d all better sit down and talk,” she suggested.

To Agnes and Wheeler, sitting seemed a good idea. They skirted Tucker, who’d ignored the suggestion, and seated themselves on the sofa farthest from him.

In an effort to regain center stage, Pauline issued an elegant sniff. She was ignored.

Wheeler clapped his hands. “Well, son. I’m outta the clutches of old Iron Bottom for good.”

“You’re what?”

Justine put her hand on Tucker’s arm.

“Don’t yell.”

“How?” Tucker growled.

“We…we saw the judge…a hearing…”

“You didn’t.” Justine flashed Agnes a reproachful glance. “Did you?”

“Agnes got custody of me,” said Wheeler.

“I did not. I just signed an affidavit swearing that I’d be looking after him. That’s all that was necessary.”

The cords on Tucker’s neck stood out. “You went behind my back.”

“An’ I told the judge that my grampa already died and I wanted Wheeler for a grampa, now,” announced Judy Ann.

Tucker registered betrayal. “You, too?”

Gently, Justine rose and guided Tucker to a corner of the sofa. He sat down heavily. She sat on the sofa arm near him.

“There’s more,” Agnes said timidly. “We’ve registered for college.”

Justine stared at the elderly couple. “You’re kidding!”

“You think we’re brainless nobodies, but we’re not. Senior citizens go for free, so we signed up for fall classes. Me and Wheeler. He’s going to audit, but I’m going for credit.”

“You had no right—” Tucker began.

“Yes, they do,” Justine said. “They have the right to make their own decisions, the same as you or me. They’re adults.”

Tucker was shaking his head.

“It’s all about control, and trust,” Justine added in dulcet tones, giving him back his own words.

Tucker didn’t move for a full minute. Finally, he nodded. “You’re right.” He reached across the coffee table and shook his father’s hand. “Okay. You outsmarted me.”

“Didn’t. It’s just that the purple parrot…” he gestured toward Agnes, “…and I see eye to eye on things.”

“I’m glad that’s settled,” inserted Pauline. “Now, Justine, if I could just have a word with you.”

“Later, Mother, why don’t you see Evelyn settled in your room? Off to bed, kids. It’s way past your bedtime.”

“Aw, Mom… I wanna wait to see if Grandma is gonna marry Wheeler.”

“No,” said Agnes, face flaring pink.

“Might,” said Wheeler.

“We’ve had enough excitement for one night,” Justine declared in a voice that brooked no protests. “Everybody to your own room, now.” The children went, albeit reluctantly.

Pauline exchanged a look with Evelyn, and shrugged. “I do believe we’re all tired. Come along, Evelyn. Justine, I’ll share your room tonight?”

“That’s fine.”

Wheeler looked at Tucker. “I reckon I’ll see you at home.” Agnes walked Wheeler to the back door before disappearing into her own room.

When they were alone, Justine turned out lights until just a lamp near the sofa cast a soft glow over Tucker.

She kicked off her heels, sat beside him, and pulled his arm around her. “I suppose after all that, you have indigestion. Did you suspect what they were up to? Is that why we left the restaurant in such a hurry?”

He laughed and the deep sound of his laughter carried with it yet a measure of stunned acceptance. “I had no idea. The old goat…”

“Agnes helped.”

“Or hindered, depending how you look at it.”