Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel (26 page)

“Don’t suppose you’ve heard from Uncle Del today?” The clang of metal sounded in the background.

She pushed up from Nash’s chest. “No, why?”

“He hasn’t been answering his phone. I’d run out there, but Cade and I are in the middle of a two-man job out at the shop. You mind checking on him?”

“Not a bit. I’ll run out there now.”

“Text me if you need me.” A beep signaled his disconnect.

“What’s wrong?” Nash had joined her on the edge of the couch.

“Uncle Del’s gone incommunicado. He’s probably fine, but now that he’s older, one of us tries to keep tabs on him. His place is secluded. I’m going to drive by and check on him. Do you want to meet up later or call it a night?”

“I’ll ride out with you unless you’d rather be alone.”

Was this a test? She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Monroe’s words came back to her. Nash wasn’t judging her or laying a trap. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

“In that case, we’d best take the Defender. The track to his place can get washed out in the summer.”

They were largely silent until he pulled onto the parish highway. “Does he go incommunicado often? And, by incommunicado, I’m assuming you mean drunk.”

A half smile snuck past her worry. “Once a year if that these days. A little more often when we were kids. It’s why he could never hold down a job for more than a few months.”

“How in the world did he take care of you?”

“He didn’t. Cade took care of us. All of us. Covered as much as he could for Uncle Del, so the state wouldn’t interfere.”

“How so?”

“Uncle Delmar was officially our guardian. He tried, he really did. He hunted for us. Taught Cade how to hunt. Cade was afraid if the state caught wind, they’d split us up into foster homes.” Tally fiddled with a string on the hem of her shorts.

He was quiet as they pulled up in front of Uncle Del’s house. She could imagine what he saw. The ramshackle house spoke of poverty. Dark green paint flecked off buckled clapboards, a couple of car engines sat out front, exposed to the elements. Various other metal objects sprouted out of the ground like shrubbery.

The engine sputtered off, leaving a heavy silence. Tally opened her door, but paused when it was clear Nash wasn’t following her. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The sounds of the river snaked into the cab on a breeze. Everything smelled different. Swampier and more verdant.

“You all lived here?” He gestured out the window, and Tally couldn’t decide what emotion thickened his voice.

“Actually, we lived in a trailer past those trees.” She pointed toward the copse of pines. “Cade tried to go to school and work, but he barely brought in enough to keep us fed and clothed. The mortgage on top of the funeral expenses was impossible. Selling out was the only option.”

Moving from the comfortable middle-class brick ranch into the decrepit trailer had seemed like the beginning of a dark fairytale. Cade had tried his best, hanging the frilly, pink curtains from her old room over the dingy, taped-up window of the back bedroom she shared with Sawyer.

They only reminded her of everything she’d lost. Not long afterward, she’d stripped the tiny room of her old life and burned it all in a clearing in the woods. The smoke had brought Cade running, but he’d found her dry-eyed and resolute in her mission. He didn’t panic or yell, just put his arm around her shoulders as her memories burned.

“You can stay in the truck if you want, Nash. It’s okay.” And it was okay. Because they were sleeping together didn’t mean he had to deal with her drunk uncle and crazy ex.

She climbed the decrepit front porch stairs and pounded on the door, rattling the windows. If her uncle were on a binge, it would take more than a ladylike rap to rouse him. She tried again, this time yelling, “Uncle Delmar, you in there?”

No answer. The porch sagged another inch as Nash came up behind her. She risked a glance over her shoulder. His expression was serious, his brows drawn together. She jiggled the door handle, not surprised to find it unlocked, and popped her head inside. “Uncle Delmar?”

“In here.” Her uncle’s voice was soft but not slurred.

Nash stepped inside behind her, his bulk filling the small foyer. The interior was dim and she blinked, her Fournette eyes becoming accustomed to the dark quickly. Her uncle was sitting in the middle of his couch in the den. A stale, mothball odor emanated from the walls. She gave Nash another out, whispering, “You can wait outside.”

He closed the door, casting them in deep shadows. “You don’t have to manage him alone. That’s why I’m here. For you.”

His words shocked her into immobility. He brushed by her, laying his hands on her shoulders for a quick squeeze, before taking the lead. He stepped into Delmar’s small den and knelt in front of him.

“It’s Nash Hawthorne, sir. I’m here with Tally to check on you.”

She leaned against the doorjamb. The pines filtered the light from the setting sun through a side window, providing the only light.

“Ah, Nash. Your mama was good people, God rest her soul.” Uncle Del patted Nash on the shoulder.

“Yes, sir, she was.”

“Your aunt too. Leora, sweet Leora.”

Tally straightened in the doorway, exchanging a glance with Nash. She sat close to her uncle, taking his hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m as sober as the preacher on Sunday, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You’re not sick, are you? Sawyer said you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Nothing a doctor can help with. Feeling my age, I guess. Didn’t much want to talk to anyone to be honest. I’ve been sitting here thinking, wondering how things might have been different.”

She could feel Nash’s gaze on her, but stayed focused on her uncle. The moment took on an importance she couldn’t quantify. “Was Ms. Leora your sweetheart?”

His head fell back on the couch and he was silent, his eyes open, but unseeing. “We were going to get married as soon as my tour was done. ’Cept, my tour never ended. I kept fighting the Viet Cong even after I was home.” He squeezed her hand and raised his free hand to the scars on his face.

“My aunt broke off the engagement?” Nash asked.

“I never blamed her. I wasn’t the same man she’d fallen in love with. I turned into someone unlovable.”

The despondency in his voice had her gripping his hand tighter. “You’re not unlovable, Uncle Del. I love you.”

His brown eyes glimmered and his lips relaxed, not quite smiling but the sadness in his face eased. “I don’t know what I would have done without you kids over the years. Gave me something to aspire to.” He patted her hand and her grip loosened. “Wish I’d set things right a long time ago.”

“It’s not too late.” She’d told Ms. Leora the same. Did she really believe it? Had Nash turned her into a sappy romantic?

“What do you mean?”

“I have it on good authority that Ms. Leora still thinks about you too.”

He sat up straighter, his hands curving over his knees, and looked down at Nash. “Does she?”

“I’m not sure exactly
what
she thinks about you, but she kept your letters,” Nash said softly.

“My letters…” Her uncle shifted to the side and flipped on a lamp. The light banished the lingering despondency. His knee bounced with a restless tension. “What should I do?”

Her love life wasn’t ripe with good examples. All she had was Nash. She caught his eye and said, “You could take her a bouquet of her favorite flowers.”

“She was always partial to wildflowers. Is she still, Nash?”

Nash gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m not sure. I can’t recall her having fresh flowers around much.”

Her uncle pushed himself up. “I need to get gussied up.”

“You’re going over there right now?”

“I’m getting older by the minute. No time to waste.” He shuffled toward the back bedroom.

Tally stared for a moment before shaking herself out of her shock. “I can’t believe it. How will your aunt react? Will she throw him out? God, what if she crushes his feelings, Nash?”

“Either way, the two of them need closure. They’ve spent the last fifty years drifting on different rivers, neither one of them finding what they were looking for. But for the record, I don’t think she’ll throw him out. You didn’t see her the day she was looking through that old box.”

Energy born from anxiety had her falling back into old habits when she’d kept her uncle’s place tidy. She tossed a couple of empty beers bottles and an empty bag of chips into the trash. Nash stood in the middle of the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

She moved to the kitchen and washed the few dishes piled in his sink. The water coming from the faucet was tinged with sulfur from the well. Bile crept up her throat. She’d come to hate that smell. Hated the way it clung to your hair and your clothes. Like the devil had moved in.

She opened drawers, looking for a dishtowel. She’d half-closed the bottom drawer when the contents registered, and she reopened it slowly. A white rubber band bound a roll of money. She thumbed through it. All twenties. An estimate put it at close to seven hundred dollars. Her stomach bottomed out.

“What’s that?”

She dropped the money back in the drawer. Nash was over her shoulder and she hadn’t realized it. “It’s a wad of cash.”

Nash didn’t seem to think anything unusual of the money, drying and stacking the dishes. A different sort of worry inserted itself. Her uncle did odd jobs all over the parish, even into the Mississippi side of Cottonbloom, but she couldn’t recall him ever having that much cash sitting around. He lived hand to mouth.

The squeak of a door startled her. Her uncle emerged from his bedroom, and Tally couldn’t do anything but stare. His hair was parted and slicked to one side in a style reminiscent of a bygone era. He wore the khaki pants usually reserved for Sunday mornings and funerals and a plaid button-down, a red bowtie at the collar.

“Do I pass muster?” He held his hands up and spun around.

“You look”—she searched for a word—“dapper.” And he did.

He adjusted the bowtie. “It’s a clip-on. You think she’ll notice?”

Nash spoke up. “I think she’ll be so surprised to see you, she won’t care about your bowtie.”

Tally and Nash followed him outside. Her uncle hesitated between house and truck. While he hadn’t been the most responsible caretaker, he’d always been around to give hugs and tend to her bumps and scrapes. He’d believed in her and encouraged her when things at school had been their worst. She loved him. Even though she worried Ms. Leora would hurt him, Nash was right. Her uncle and his aunt both needed the closure.

She hugged him; the scent of his cologne couldn’t mask the essence of the river that emanated from him. His rounded spine and knobby shoulders made her wonder how he’d gotten so old without her noticing. “Everything will be fine. Go get Ms. Leora some flowers and knock on her door.”

Her uncle’s arms tightened around her before letting go. The nervous smile on his face was hopeful, and he winked. “You two are welcome to hang out, but don’t wait up for me.”

She waved him down the track until he was out of sight. A deep breath of loamy, humid air was both comforting and disturbing. The tops of the pine trees swayed in the wind as if beckoning her. She weaved through the trunks, the white of their trailer flashing. Dimly she was aware Nash followed her.

The old trailer had seen better days when Uncle Delmar had hauled it into the clearing for them. Now it was straight-up dilapidated. Vines were crawling up the sides, pulling it to the earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

She turned around. Nash’s gaze was on her and not the trailer. Without letting doubts and insecurities take hold, she walked into his body and wrapped him tight. His arms came around her, his hands making circles on her back.

She buried her face in his neck and breathed in his uniquely male scent of woodsy cologne and books. “Thank you for coming out here with me.”

“So this is it, huh? Home sweet home?” His dry humor eased her melancholy.

She kept her head on his shoulder, titling her face to look. “In all its glory. Obviously, it wasn’t in such bad shape then. Cade kept talking about moving us to an apartment in town, but when Sawyer left for college, things got even tighter. Cade was determined Sawyer wasn’t going to come out of school saddled with huge loans. I knew he would work himself to death to send me too.”

“Your family is amazing, Tally.” The awe in his voice had her pulling back.

“What do you mean?”

“To lose your parents, your house—everything really—and to claw your way back up. Cade holds more patents than you can count, Sawyer is the parish commissioner, and you—”

“Own a gym. Big whoop-de-do.”

“Sometimes I want to shake some sense into you. You started the gym from scratch. It’s successful. You shortchange yourself all the time. Almost as if you want to get the hit in before someone else can knock you down.”

She stared in his eyes. Monroe had told her the same thing, but hearing it from Nash made it impossible to ignore. “You’re right.”

“About what?”

She almost smiled at his shock at her easy agreement. “You’re right about me not owning my success.” She blew out a breath and wondered if this was how alcoholics felt at their first meeting. “I’m Tallulah Fournette and I’m proud of what I’ve built.”

Nash’s face lit with his smile. “That’s my girl.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, only wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips against his neck. He wrapped her tight against his chest. She flicked her tongue against his pulse point. His skin tasted like sunshine—warm and a little bit salty.

“Have you ever had sex in your truck?”

His arms jerked. “Can’t say that I have.” His voice was hoarse but had the excited lilt of a boy offered a lifetime supply of candy.

“Is it not on your list?” She smiled against his skin, the stubble on his jaw tickling her. What would that little bit of stubble feel like against her breasts or her inner thighs? Need carved out a hollow place in her lower belly.

“It is now in the number-one position.”

She laughed and turned her back on the trailer. They walked toward his truck, arms around one another. Before she stepped into the pine trees, she cast one last look over her shoulder. Her past seemed to cling to her like the vines slowly destroying the old trailer. But finally she felt them loosening.