The Year of Luminous Love (36 page)

Jon hadn’t said a thing about working at Bellmeade when he’d come to Italy. He should have. One more thing to hold against him. “Why didn’t you hire one of the men Olivia used?”

“Those men are all gone, and the state’s clamped down on illegals. Not enough legit laborers to go around these days.”

“Why didn’t you lease the land to other farmers?” Leases would have turned the insufficient labor issue into another farmer’s problem.

“At the time Olivia wouldn’t hear of it. Beauchamp pride. These past eight years, Mother almost killed herself trying to keep things going. If you hadn’t planted the few fields you did last spring, the horses would have starved this winter.”

The words sent new shock waves over Ciana. “Why didn’t someone tell me? I … I could have helped more—”

“You were a teenager, in school. We both wanted to protect you.”

“Why didn’t you stop me from going to Italy? That money—”

“I wanted you to go to Italy. You needed to get out from under this place. See that the world is bigger than Bellmeade. I’d have given anything for such an opportunity when I was your age. But for now, back to Jon Mercer. He’s staying as long as he wants, and don’t you dare drive him away. A week ago, he went to see his father and found the man on the floor of his trailer, unconscious and dehydrated. He might have died.”

Her mother’s revelations were almost too much for Ciana to process. “How … how is his daddy now?”

“He’s in a county care home in Murfreesboro. He’s a sick, crippled fifty-six-year-old man with no one to care for him except Jon. I am not firing that young man just because you’re back and don’t like him working here. He can stay as long as he wants if it takes every last penny we have.”

Alice Faye rose from the bed. In the open doorway, she squared her chin and leveled blazing eyes at her daughter. “And one more quick item. Although it may have escaped your attention, for the first time in many years, I am sober. This has not been easy. I struggle every day, but I am determined not to fail. I have an AA meeting tonight, same as last night, and I’m not missing it.”

The next morning, Ciana left the safety of her bedroom and the old house when she heard Jon come into the kitchen for breakfast. She hadn’t slept much. Her mother’s admission to being an alcoholic had rattled her. She thought of all the years Alice Faye had drifted in a gin haze, all the years Ciana had
been ashamed of her mother when her friends visited. Only Arie and Eden had understood Ciana’s protective shell, and that was because Arie had a sensitive soul and Eden also had a dysfunctional mother. Olivia had berated her daughter or ignored her. Ciana had clung to her grandmother, the woman she loved and trusted most in the world. She should be happy for Alice Faye, Ciana told herself. But she felt stonewalled. What to do with this new mother who had emerged from nowhere, issuing edicts and demanding changes to both their lives? The woman who wanted to keep Jon on staff? The woman who wanted to sell Bellmeade and abandon their ancestral past?

“I want you to be my maid of honor.” Abbie beamed Arie a sunny smile as she made her statement.

The three of them were having lunch at the family dining table. Eric had brought in Chinese food and Arie was making an effort to eat it, but nausea was making it difficult. “That’s very nice of you to offer,” Arie said. Spring seemed far away, further than she wanted to think about at the moment. “I’m sure you have a best friend who deserves such an honor.”

“Oh, I have a slew of friends for bridesmaids, but you’re the person I want to be my special maid of honor.”

“Abbie, honestly—”

“Come on, Sis. We both want you.”

Arie jabbed something brown on her plate with a chop-stick, taking her time, attempting to think of a way to decline politely. She didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but shuffling up to the front of a church maybe looking like death warmed over was more than she wanted to think about, even for Eric
and Abbie. How was she to know what kind of shape she’d be in come March? “Look, by March—”

“March!” Abbie cried. “We’ve moved the wedding to New Year’s Eve.”

Arie blinked. “When did you do that?”

Abbie shrugged. “While you were gone.” She and Eric squeezed hands. “We didn’t want to wait until March.”

Arie glanced between Eric and Abbie. “It’s almost Christmas. What about invitations? Your dress? Your caterer, florist, your venue?”

“Now, don’t get all wadded up,” Eric said. “We’ve taken care of everything. Reserved a nice church in Nashville with a big old basement for the reception. Got a hotel to give us good rates where people can stay the night after the reception.” He grinned at Abbie. “Course, we’ll be on our way to New Orleans for a real nice honeymoon.”

Abbie flashed him a flirty look, then turned back to persuading Arie. “My aunt Kay is doing the flowers; your aunt Ruth is handling the food. We have a band, a huge cake, and champagne at midnight. Oh, and the bridesmaids already have their dresses. I want you to be my maid of honor. You can’t say no.” Big tears filled Abbie’s eyes.

“Oh, man,” Eric said. “Don’t let her start the waterworks, Sis. You’ll drown.”

Arie sighed. “I don’t have a dress. Mine won’t match the others. Unless you ordered mine in advance too,” she added pointedly.

Abbie wiped her eyes on napkin. “Every dress is different in the wedding party. I mean, who wants to get stuck with an ole dress bought for one wedding? All I’ve asked is that dresses be knee length and midnight blue. Same goes for yours. We’ll go shopping for it.”

Arie’s chemo protocol would be over at the end of the week. She would be out of treatment for the holidays, then begin again after the first of the year. The monthlong hiatus offered her the best chance of feeling good physically during the upcoming holidays. Abbie and Eric knew this and she realized they’d quietly changed their wedding plans for her sake. They were so clever, so transparent.

Eric turned from his fiancée to Arie. “See? Logic. Can’t fight it. Go with the flow.”

Arie was deeply moved, and for all Abbie’s soft Southern charm, the girl had a will of steel. “Guess I can’t say no, then. I will take on the mantle of maid of honor.” She raised her right hand in a pledge.

Abbie’s smile lit up her pretty face. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She picked up one of the food cartons, held it out. “Kung pao chicken, anyone?”

“What are you going to do now that you’re back?” Gwen stood in the doorway of Eden’s room, asking a question Eden couldn’t answer completely.

“In the short term, work. I need money. My old boss at the boutique hired me for the holidays.” Eden was finally sorting through the things she’d brought back from Italy. The things she’d set aside for the walkabout would get jettisoned. She could hardly stand to look at the bag she’d packed for the trip; it made her sad.

“And in the long term?”

“Don’t know yet. What about you?”

“Piggly Wiggly, for now.”

But Eden could tell her mother was restless. The signs were there that she wasn’t fully engaged with day-to-day life, that
she was becoming an onlooker rather than a participant, classic signs that her bipolar condition was taking center stage. Eden recognized the signs more easily now that she was older and more attuned to Gwen’s moods.

“Isn’t Arie getting married?” Gwen jumped to a totally unrelated topic from the current stream of conversation.

Another sign
. “Not Arie, Mom. Her brother Eric is marrying Abbie on New Year’s Eve.” Her mother’s confusion pained Eden. Just a week before, Gwen had been “normal,” talkative and in control, but a few days off her meds was all it took. Eden had hoped she’d have made it through Christmas. “Ciana’s invited us for Christmas dinner,” Eden said, changing the subject. “She wants you to join us.”

Gwen’s eyes took on that deer-in-the-headlights look she got when she felt cornered. “I … I don’t know.”

Eden sighed. Happily-ever-after was not going to happen between her and her mother. She expected Gwen to bolt from the room, but instead she stood staring. “You need anything?”

“I’m trying to remember something I meant to tell you.”

Eden continued to unpack.

Suddenly, Gwen snapped her fingers. “I know! I’m selling the house. Right after the first of the year, the real estate lady is putting up a sign in our front yard. I think it’s a good time to sell since the place is all fixed up. Don’t you?”

Eden spun to stare at Gwen. “What? You’re selling out? But … but where will we live?”

“I’m moving to Tampa. My friends are there. You should come with me. It’s always warm in Tampa. You’ll like it.”

Eden stood speechless, feeling as if the ground had shifted under her. “You should have told me sooner,” she managed to say.

“I’m telling you now.” Gwen’s guileless, childlike demeanor was infuriating but without malice. Eden didn’t know how to respond. She was losing her mother once more, watching her slip away in mind and, soon, in body too. And she was losing her home, the house she’d always lived in, and the only home she’d ever known.

In spite of the cold, Arie’s palms were sweaty. She stood in front of Ciana’s barn, her heart thumping in anticipation of seeing Jon. With Ciana’s truck gone, Arie knew they’d be alone for a bit. Her time with him in Italy seemed like a dream, a fabrication her mind had knit together from desire and longing. Still, she held tightly to the images and the feelings. Both were hers alone.

She had taken time and patience with her appearance using the tricks of makeup and clothing she’d learned over the years to maximize her best features and minimize the effects of chemo treatments. She wiped her palms on her jeans, screwed up her courage, and went into the barn.

Jon emerged from behind a stack of bundled straw, a rake in his hands. “Arie! How are you?”

He offered the heart-grabbing smile that always melted her. “I’m doing better. Thought I’d visit Caramel while I’m waiting on Ciana.”
And see you
, she added silently.

“Third stall.” Jon walked with her to the open half-door. The horse hung her head over and eyed Arie but turned her attention to Jon.

Disappointed, Arie said, “I don’t think she remembers me.” All the hard work she’d done with the horse over the summer seemed to have been for nothing.