Last Light over Carolina (18 page)

Lee’s brows gathered as he searched her face. “Where’s your lesser half?”

“In Florida somewhere.”

“Still?”

Carolina heard the surprise in his voice and felt vindicated for her earlier anger.

“When is he due back?”

Swirling her drink, she thought of Bud’s response on the phone. “He gets back when he gets back. And I quote.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “I heard the shrimp were running. He should be bringing in a good haul.”

“So I understand.” She turned her head to look at him. His expression was eager. “Do you mind if we don’t talk shop tonight?”

He lifted his shoulders, indicating that he didn’t care. “What should we talk about?”

Her emotions were on a roller coaster and she felt herself plummeting downward, so she pushed for levity. “Well, it’s Friday night and you smell good, and I’m guessing you’re supposed to be meeting someone tonight. You’re a free man again, after all.”

“True enough.”

From the sound of his voice, she gathered being free wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Despite his financial success, Lee had never found happiness in his personal life.

“You don’t want to waste your time sitting here with me.” Her gaze traveled down the bar from person to person, resting on an attractive thirtysomething blonde with a nice, open face. “There’s a pretty girl hanging out with her friends. Oh, look. I think she’s noticed you. Maybe you ought to go say hello.”

Lee glanced down the bar and immediately found the blonde, who was, indeed, looking at him. He raised his glass in acknowledgment, then returned his attention to Carolina.

“I could,” he said smoothly. “Or maybe I could just sit here for a while. I’m enjoying the company.”

Her heart skipped. That simple remark struck home. It was nice to know
someone
enjoyed her company.

Lee and Carolina talked for more than an hour—a little politics, a little about films and music. They talked about everything except Bud. She looked at him as he spoke, bent forward with his hands gesturing, and realized he was really interested in what she thought. Lee always was a good conversationalist. At work they’d often chat across the office about
the headline news, good movies or books, or some obscure medical advance that brought ethical concerns. Talking with Lee was one of the things she enjoyed most about her job.

Tonight, however, sitting side by side at the bar felt different from sharing an office. While she spoke, Lee looked at her earnestly and his eyes roamed her face in a way that made her feel pretty. He listened like he actually cared about her opinions and found her fascinating. Didn’t men know this kind of attention was an aphrodisiac? From time to time his hand would seemingly absentmindedly rest on hers, or on her arm. Once he reached up to tuck a lock of hair that had slipped from the clasp back behind her ear. With each touch, her blood raced in a way she hadn’t felt in such a long time.

After her third margarita, Carolina’s head was swimming and she thought in horror, Oh no, I’m getting drunk. “I better go.” She rose slowly and felt the room teeter.

“Let me drive you home.”

“I’m okay,” she said, digging into her purse for her keys.

Lee put his hand out to restrain her. “No. You’re not. It’s not safe. I’ll drive you home. We can pick up your car tomorrow.”

Carolina knew he was right. The roller coaster in her head was careening and looping wildly.

He paid the bill, then lightly took her arm and led her out the door. When the cool, fresh air hit her, Carolina wobbled slightly. Lee’s grip tightened as he guided her toward his car.

“Easy does it,” he said. “Watch out for that puddle.”

A red vintage Cadillac shone eerily under the cobra light fixture. She’d not seen this one before but wasn’t surprised it
belonged to Lee. Everyone knew Lee loved old cars. When he was young, he’d always been in the backyard tinkering under some vintage car up on cinder blocks.

“This is a beauty,” she said, feeling the alcohol thicken her tongue.

“A sixty-five Coupe deVille,” he replied, and she heard the pride of ownership in his voice. “It’s just a hunk of tin,” he added, gently slamming the door after making sure her legs were safely inside.

She sank into the vast interior of the old Cadillac, amazed at how roomy and plush it was.

Lee closed his door and watched her hands slide across the white leather. “As soft as a baby’s bottom,” he said with a smile. Then, pointing to a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror, he added, “They were a joke from my ex, and I kept them.”

“You never talk about her much.”

“Melissa? There isn’t much to tell.”

“You were married five years.”

“The longest years of my life.”

He was being flippant, trying to deflect this line of questioning. Usually Carolina would have backed off, but tonight she felt reckless and pushed on. “Why did you marry her?” When he shrugged, she said, “You know what some people say, don’t you?”

“That I married her for her money.” His tone was flat.

“Did you?”

He turned his gaze from the road to search her face. “No.
And yes. I was very attracted to her, to her lifestyle. But more than that, we both enjoyed the same things. And we both loved real estate. It was a turn-on for us. Especially during those boom days when every property we flipped made us a small fortune.”

“And it didn’t bother you that you were married to Odelle at the time?”

“Of course it did,” he replied sharply, and she thought she’d gone too far. Then he added, “But I didn’t think it would lead to anything at the beginning, and I didn’t want to hurt Odelle. She was the mother of my child…but there were troubles there long before I met Melissa.”

“Every marriage has troubles, but you work through them,” she replied, then turned her head to stare out at the dark night, feeling morose. Her answer sounded so pat in her ears tonight. So false.

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s the difference between me and Bud. He was always the steady one in our group. The one we all relied on.” His voice grew introspective, and she turned to look at him, a silhouette dimly lit by the green light of the dashboard.

“Bobby was the kidder,” he went on. “A goofball. He and I liked to fool around a lot, but Bud…ol’ Bud always seemed above it. Amused. We used to call him the old man, even back then.”

“Bud can be fun,” she said, feeling defensive.

“Oh, sure. I don’t mean that. He was just a loner. Kinda moody, too, like James Dean. Only he wasn’t so much cool
as old-fashioned.” He laughed and looked at her. “I mean that in a good way. But he played fair. One thing about Bud—we always knew we could count on him.”

Hearing him talk about Bud made her feel sad. What Lee was saying about Bud was true, but it felt like he was talking about someone she had known once, long ago. Someone she’d cared deeply about but who was gone.

Lee seemed to be having similar thoughts because his voice changed again, losing its reflective tone. “So,” he said as though in answer to a question, “it makes sense that he’d be the kind of guy to stick with his marriage and work things out, while I…” He shrugged. “I’m not. Or maybe I wasn’t as lucky as Bud and never met the right girl.”

Carolina considered that comment in silence as they pulled into her driveway. He cut the engine. The big car rumbled then went still.

“It’s been years since I’ve pulled into this driveway,” Lee said. They both knew his and Bud’s friendship had waned. He leaned forward to peer through the windshield at the house. “Remember the touch football games we had on Sundays? You and Bud always won. Damn, he could throw a football.”

They both stared at the trees. The moon was bright and the air was cool. The front porch light was on, illuminating the interior of the car with a hazy yellow cast. Neither made a move to leave. Maybe it was because she’d worked side by side with Lee at the seafood company. Or perhaps it was because he was a friend. More than likely, it was the margaritas. But when he asked her again what the problem was, she told him
about Bud’s phone call and how it had made her feel rejected and dismissed.

“Well, he
is
in hock up to his eyeballs,” Lee offered as explanation for Bud’s decision to stay in Florida.

“I know what we owe. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying you can understand why he’d want to stay on, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand. I think he likes it out there with the guys in Florida, bacheloring it up. I’ve been there, don’t forget. They’re drinking and having a good time on the docks and God knows what else.” Carolina saw in her mind’s eye the wooden tables along the murky water, the jukeboxes and games of darts, the waitresses in tight T-shirts giving the good-looking men the come-hither. “He doesn’t miss me. I don’t think he loves me anymore.”

“What? He’s crazy about you.”

“Sure, he loves me,” she said dully. “I’m his wife. Maybe it’s like you said. He’s old-fashioned. He’s hanging on because he doesn’t want to hurt me. But what’s so awful is that, in the end, it hurts all the more.” She cast Lee a slanted glance. “You hurt Odelle badly, you know that, don’t you?” She looked down at her hands and shook her head. “I don’t think he’s in love with me anymore. If you want to know the truth, I don’t think I’m in love with him, either.”

He didn’t reply, but he was staring at her with fiery eyes. They both fell silent.

The spring night was damp with chill and the air in the car was getting colder by the minute, yet neither of them seemed
eager to leave. The darkness made talking easier and cloaked the brutal honesty of the words. Carolina tucked her bare hands under her arms for warmth.

Lee reached into his glove compartment and retrieved a silver flask. He opened the top and took a drink, then offered it to Carolina. She took the flask and, tilting her head back, tasted the smoky burn of a good single-malt scotch. Coughing, she handed it back to him and watched him take another swig.

“Are you happy? With him?” he asked.

“I used to be. Very,” she replied.

“But now?”

“But now…we’re not even particularly good friends. After all these years, isn’t that sad?”

“Yeah. I’ve been there. Twice.”

Anger flared in her—at him. At herself for being in this position. “It’s nothing to be proud of. All it proves is you men are alike. You don’t know anything about commitment.”

“Now you sound like my ex-wife.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

They laughed aloud. It was a relief. She’d always heard that laughter released tension and pain. Tonight, Carolina felt she could cry for hours.

“Are you happier now? Divorced, I mean?” she asked. “Does it make your life better?”

He considered this. “It’s easier because we’re not fighting anymore.” He snorted ruefully. “I’ve had a bellyful of fighting.”

Carolina felt that comment to her bones. She reached for
the flask. The scotch tasted smoother this time. Less burn and more smoke. She wiped off the top with her palm and handed it back to him. Their fingers grazed, and she felt the sensation travel down to her stomach.

“But it does get lonely at times,” Lee added. He shifted his weight to lean back against the door and face Carolina. She heard the leather creak in the darkness. He took another drink from his flask, then lowering it, asked pointedly, “Are we talking divorce here?”

She turned to look at him, startled to hear the word spoken aloud.
Divorce
. It sounded so final. She’d never entertained the thought before. The idea of leaving Bud, leaving the fighting and the money problems and the walking on eggshells, had always fluttered about in the dark corners of her mind, more as a fantasy of escape than anything real. She’d never pulled the word forward in the light to consider it.

Carolina’s silence was enough of an answer.

Lee whistled softly. “He’ll never let you go.”

“He can’t stop me,” she blurted.

“Carolina, are you serious?”

She took a deep breath. Was she serious? Or was it the margaritas? Slowly, she nodded.

Lee seemed blindsided. “Shit. I thought you and Bud…we all thought you were the one couple that had it made.”

“I’m not saying it’s
definitely
going to happen,” she replied elliptically. “I only know I can’t go on like this. I’m so…unhappy.” Her voice broke, and she hated the short, choppy cries that she couldn’t contain.

Lee set the flask aside and slid across the length of white leather to wrap his arm around her in a consoling hug. She fell against him, feeling the softness of the cashmere, cocooned in his musky fragrance. In the dark, his arms felt comforting. She knew this could lead to something, but she was beyond caring.

“What happened to you guys?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, bringing her fingers up to wipe her tears from her face. But she didn’t leave his shoulder and instead relaxed into it. Then, in a moment of clarity, she knew. She missed
this
. The laying of her head on a man’s shoulder while he stroked her back and listened, really listened to her. Feeling appreciated. Cherished.

“How long has this been going on?”

Carolina knew why he’d asked. In the past several years, as Bud became less of a presence in her life, Lee’s presence had loomed large. She’d become aware of an undercurrent of attraction between them since that night at the play. For years, the tension had come and gone—nothing overt or dramatic. It was more a series of simple accidents—a touch of hands, a bump of shoulders, a meeting of gazes over the rim of a coffee cup—that sent jolts of electricity through her. Carolina had always dismissed it as the harmless attraction one sometimes felt for a friend. Just innocent flirting. But now she knew that Lee was asking how long she’d been considering divorce because those feelings had not been one-sided.

“I can’t pinpoint any day when I began thinking of leaving him,” she answered honestly. “But I remember resenting it when Bud left me behind on the dock that first time he took
out the
Miss Carolina
. He cut me out of a major part of his life.” Carolina felt the wound as though it had happened yesterday. “Then Bobby died. He changed after that.”