Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (26 page)

~ Ginger ~

“Hey, Gin,” said Woodman, kissing her cheek as he joined her behind the serving table at the BBQ. “I have to talk to you about somethin’.”

The oversize aluminum container of Leigh Ann Chumsky’s potato salad that she’d just picked up was just about ripping her arms from their sockets. She offered him the tray and sighed with relief when he took it.

“I swear she uses rocks instead of potatoes. I have to put that in the fridge,” she said. “How’d it go with the tuxes?”

“Good, but Gin—”

She led the way back into the firehouse with Woodman at her heels. “Y’all liked the simple white shirts? I liked them better without the pleatin’. You too?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“You’re goin’ to have to choose a best man from one of these guys sooner or later,” she said.

Of course, her choice of attendants had been commandeered by her mother, who’d nixed the idea of Ginger’s nursing friends standing up with her and had recruited five cousins from Charleston instead. It hadn’t mattered a bit to Magnolia that Ginger barely knew them. They were all Tri Deltas and would look “gorgeous” in the pictures.

“Yeah, about that . . . ”

She opened the lobby door for him and held it. “Oh, shoot! I forgot to get the tray of coleslaw. That’s got to be refrigerated too. How about you take that to the basement fridge, and I’ll—”

“Cain Wolfram!”

Ginger’s neck snapped around so fast, it’s a wonder it didn’t break. Her hand dropped from the door handle, and her entire body froze except for her eyes, which scanned the crowd with a mixture of greed and panic.

“Cain Wolfram, as I live and breathe!”

Her mouth went dry and her hands started to shake as she heard a woman’s voice say hello. He was here? Oh God, was Cain somehow here? It couldn’t be. It
couldn’t
be. Why would he come back
now
? Out of the blue?

“You come over here and give me a hug!”

Ginger blinked, watching as a tall, dark-haired man threw one leg over the motorcycle he’d just parked in the lot, took off his helmet, and placed it on the saddle. She gasped, deafened by the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears, transfixed by the sight of him.

“Cain,” she murmured, the sound a hiss of breath.

“I tried to tell you,” said Woodman.

She didn’t acknowledge Woodman’s words, didn’t look at him, couldn’t look away from the sight of Mary-Louise Hayes sprinting over from setting up the dessert buffet to welcome Cain Wolfram back to Apple Valley. Ginger stiffened as she watched Cain’s ex-girlfriend wrap him in a tight embrace, fleetingly thinking that it was pretty damn inappropriate, considering the fact that Scott Hayes was looking on.

Firehouse BBQs were busy. There were several picnic tables set up, a huge serving table with the big smoking grills in the back, country music playing, and about a hundred people milling around, eating and visiting. It was busy enough that Cain hadn’t noticed her yet, though she was only a few yards away.

Ginger watched his lips intently as he greeted Mary-Louise.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, grinning as he hugged her back. “What’re
you
doin’ here? You a firefighter now?”

She leaned back in his arms, smiling flirtatiously. “Ha! As if! It’s the monthly dinner. All the wives and girlfriends come.”

Cain raised his eyebrows, still grinning but releasing her and taking a step back. “And which are you, Mary-Louise Walker?”

With a huge smile, she raised her left hand, waggling her fingers to flash her wedding ring in his face. “That’s Mary-Louise
Hayes
to you, Cain Wolfram. Couldn’t wait for you forever.”

Ginger rolled her eyes at Mary-Louise’s easy flirting, even though her stomach flipped over.
Neither could I.

“You married ole Scotty Hayes?”

“Sure did. Two years ago. My momma’s watchin’ our l’il ’un tonight.”

Scott Hayes had finally stood up from his spot at a long picnic table, and now he offered his hand to Cain as his other arm slipped around his wife’s waist, pulling her against his side. “Thanks for stayin’ away so long.”

“No problem.” Cain chuckled good-naturedly. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Scott, kissing his wife’s temple. “Get you a beer, sailor?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Cain, following Scott to the keg over by the dessert table.

Ginger’s lungs started to burn, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Letting the air out in a dramatic wheeze, she took another breath quickly, trying not to out-and-out panic.

Cain’s back. Cain’s back. Cain’s
here
.

“Baby, let’s get this salad inside and talk a spell,” said Woodman.

“No,” she whispered, a sound so small and broken that even Ginger winced. “I have to . . . I have to get the coleslaw.”

“It’ll keep.”

“No, Woodman,” she said, turning to face him, her anger toward him mounting.

He’d obviously known that Cain was coming, but he’d taken no steps to tell her? To warn her? It didn’t matter that her fiancé didn’t know the full extent of her history with Cain; he knew there was bad blood between them.

“You should have told me.”

He looked down at the foil-covered tray in his arms, then back up at her face. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

She blinked, her eyes burning with sudden tears that she absolutely refused to allow to fall. “Well, you failed.”

Woodman raised his eyebrows, taken aback. “He’s my
cousin
. He grew up here. His father lives at your parents’ farm, Ginger. It never crossed your mind he’d come home someday?”

“You should have told me,” she repeated, grit in her tone.

“Why?” he asked softly. “Why does it matter so much if Cain comes home for a visit? You knew he’d come back for our wedding, Gin, right?”

She was clenching her teeth together so hard, she felt her nostrils flare. He’d never asked what had happened between her and Cain in the days leading up to his sudden departure. Never asked. Is that what he was doing now?

Well, it was too late.

She’d been a broken, confused, profoundly heartsick girl that evening on the porch when she’d offered her body to Woodman. He hadn’t asked any questions then. He didn’t deserve any answers now.

Grabbing the tray of potato salad from his arms, she lifted her chin and walked past him into the firehouse without looking back.

***

The following hour was an exercise in appearing normal and cheerful while her insides were in chaos and turmoil.

Woodman was giving her space, and Cain still hadn’t noticed her, though she watched him like a hawk as he moved around the picnic tables, shaking hands with former classmates and accepting pats on the back in thanks for his years of service. If he’d been handsome at twenty-one, he was devastating at twenty-four, a fact that made Ginger’s heart leap and her lips frown.

After leaving Woodman, she’d stood alone in the basement, tears pouring from her eyes in waves and sobs of shock and anger. Shock at suddenly seeing Cain and anger at Woodman for not warning her topped her maelstrom of emotions, but there were too many others to count: embarrassment over the last time she’d seen Cain—the way she’d poured out her heart to him and been soundly and viciously rejected, regret that she’d ever believed he could want her, guilt that she’d kept the facts of that day from Woodman, shame that she’d slept with Woodman when she’d been in love with his cousin at the time.

Something inside her had died that day at the old barn. Her childhood. Her wishfulness. Her sass. All gone. She became a woman that fateful day not just because she gave her virginity away but because she gave up on the dearest dreams of her heart. And now? With Cain swaggering around the BBQ without a care in the world like a returning war hero? All that old pain had surfaced.

Ginger globbed a spoonful of mashed potatoes on another plate, backhanding her brow. She’d chosen not to make herself a plate and sit down. Instead, she was working in the food area, making up plates with potatoes and corn on the cob that other auxiliary members took over to the BBQ grills and pit before serving the members and guests. She preferred to work. And to stay hidden.

“Hey, Ginger,” said Jenny Whitley, the girlfriend of a young fireman, “I’m grabbin’ drinks for all y’all workin’ back here. You want anything’?”

Ginger looked up at Jenny and saw Cain’s profile just beyond her. He was talking to Woodman and two other firefighters, and whatever he said was making them laugh like crazy.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll take a beer.” Woodman slapped his cousin on the back, and Ginger’s eyes narrowed. “In fact, make it two.”

***

Thirty minutes later those two beers had shot through Ginger’s system like white lightning and she needed to go to the bathroom. Because she wasn’t a regular drinker, she noticed that she was, ahem,
tipsy
as soon as she started moving. Aware of every step she took, she walked carefully toward the firehouse to use the ladies’ room, turning back to the festivities just in time to see Cain throw his head back with laughter at something Mary-Louise Hayes had shared with a group of men that included Scott and Woodman.

Nobody seemed to recall that Cain had been a hellion and troublemaker. Nobody seemed to care. He was the highlight of the BBQ, and part of Ginger was really pissed about that. He’d made her suffer. Part of her wanted him to be as unwelcome to everyone else as he was to her.

“Ugh!” she muttered. “I
hate
him!”

Swinging open the door, she stepped into the lobby and beelined for the ladies’ room. After relieving herself, she took a moment to wash her hands and blot her sweaty face.

“Lord, I’m hungry,” she said to her reflection as her stomach growled loudly.

In the mirror her eyes were dark and deep, fizzing with an energy that she could feel in her fingertips, buzzing in her lips, rolling in her gut, and making her heart race.
Beer
, she thought, suddenly remembering the time she’d stopped off at Gran’s after drinking the bridal shower punch. Was she drunk? Shoot.

“Get a plate of food and a bottle of water. And when you’re finished eating, go home. That’s the plan.”

It would have been a good plan, too, if Cain hadn’t been standing just outside the ladies’ room door waiting for her.

As it was, she didn’t expect anyone to be standing just outside the restroom, so she plowed into his chest when she exited. Suddenly engulfed in his familiar smell, an ache started in her heart that hurt so much, her breath caught.

“Cain,” she sighed, her voice almost a purr.

“Ginger,” he said in a much less besotted tone, steadying her by putting his hands on her upper arms.

She finally exhaled and took another breath, bracing herself before lifting her eyes. His ice-blue eyes, which she’d known since her earliest days, which she still saw every night in her dreams, seized hers, searching them, unblinking. She heard the small gasp he made, felt the pressure of his fingers around her arms increase. But then he jerked his hands away from her like they were on fire and narrowed those cold eyes to slits.

“What do you want?” she asked, stepping away from him, back against the bathroom door.

“I thought we should get this over with.”

“Get
what
over with?”

“Let’s just say hello and agree to be civil,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “For Woodman’s sake.”

There were a million insults and put-downs winging through her fuzzy head, but the reality was that his words were well chosen, and they resonated. As far back as she could recall, Cain had never set out to purposely hurt Woodman. And Ginger knew, from the look in Cain’s eyes, that whatever affection he bore his cousin was as strong and solid as ever.

Civility for Woodman’s sake.

“Fine,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Fine,” he answered with an edge in his voice, still standing before her with his arms crossed.

It was the very definition of a standoff, she thought—neither of them looking away, neither making a move to leave.

She reached for her arm and rubbed it meaningfully. “Don’t
ever
touch me again.”

“No problem,” he sneered, his mouth a thin slash of disgust.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d called her a “cock-teasin’ bitch,” and apparently his opinion of her hadn’t changed since. Still, his words felt like a slap and hurt just as much, but she lifted her chin and remained impassive, refusing to let him know he affected her at all.

“Great,” she said. “Hello, Cain. Goodbye, Cain. Civil enough for you?”

She edged around him and walked away, ignoring the trembling of her fingers and raging thunder of her heart.

“Ginger,” he said in a voice so low and lethal, it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She stopped. But she didn’t turn around. “He deserves better than you.”