Softly and Tenderly (12 page)

“And found Max.”

Jade slumped to the couch. “My brilliant lawyer husband invited his ex to stay with him.” Jade balled her hands into fists and covered her face.

“Were they drunk? Like Ross and Rachel drunk?”

“Not even close.” Jade lifted her head. Could she rewind her life a couple of years and start again? “They got pizza, watched a movie, fell asleep in the same bed.”

Daphne might have raised her eyebrows, but Jade couldn’t tell. “Did he initiate or Rice?”

“I don’t know, Daph. Too much information. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. Already the idea of him being with her a week before our wedding haunts my mental eye.”

The numbness around Jade began to wear off, giving way to nervous jitters and tired anxiety.

She snatched a tissue from the box on the end table. “He said he tried to convince himself it didn’t happen. Rice felt horrible. Blah, blah.”

“Didn’t she do a reading at your wedding?”

“Yep.” Jade blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and wadded up the tissue, looking for the trash. “What happened to your coffee and cocoa concoction?”

“Oh, right.” Daphne held out her hand for Jade’s tissue ball. “So, what now? How’d you leave it?”

Jade perched on a kitchen counter stool. “I ran out.” She started to cry. “What a fool I am.”

“Don’t go there, Jade.” Daphne came around the counter and gripped Jade’s arms. “This is all Max. Don’t wear his mistake.”

“He wants to raise the boy, I’m sure of it.” Jade flicked a piece of peeling mask from her friend’s chin. “But why do I have to live with his problem? If I learned anything from my mama, from Rice, from June . . . I haven’t even told you about June and Rebel.”

“What is in the water up in the Hollow?”

“Poison. You know, Daphe, I think I have to live the life I’ve been handed my own way.” The confession released a bit of pressure.

Daphne went around and set out mugs, then opened a bag of Famous Amos cookies. Jade dug her hand inside the bag. She wasn’t hungry, but she wanted to believe Max hadn’t robbed her of the basic necessities.

“Which means what, Jade? You’re going to leave Max?”

“I don’t know, Daphne. But I know I can’t stay.”

Ten

At the smack of the front door, June dropped her cards to the bedspread and glanced at Beryl. Was it Max bringing in his son, or Jade returning from who knows where? According to Max, Jade had left last night and never came home.

June spent the first part of the card game bringing Beryl up to speed on Max, Rice, and the son who wasn’t meant to be. But what joy comes from sorrow. Asa was a pure sweetheart and Beryl would love him, simply love him.

And she’d be a grandma too. Before she, well, went back to Prairie City.

Beryl set her cards aside. The pallor of her skin had faded to an ashen tint during the last hour or so. In the middle of a hand, she drifted to sleep. When she was awake, she struggled to concentrate.

By the light in her eyes, June understood her motherly thoughts.
What are
we going to do with what we’ve got here?
Wasn’t going to be easy for Max to fix this. The moms would have to lend all their support and wisdom.

“Jade or Max?” June asked.

Beryl lowered her chin as she listened, then pressed her hand to her chest. “Jade.” She gazed at June. “It’s my Jade-o.”

Footsteps thudded on the front stairs followed by a
thump
. Then footsteps down the hall accompanied by a
thump-bump
rhythm.

“Mama?” A few moments later Jade appeared in the room. “Hey, June, I didn’t know you were here. Your car’s not out front.”

“She’s in the shop for her annual physical. Ol’ Alfred puts her up on the lifts, and—” June smiled at her gynecological reference, but Jade responded with a steely glare. “Alfred drove me over, so I’ll need one of y’all to take me home.”

“Well, it won’t be me. Sorry, June. Mama, you’re getting your wish.”

“My wish? To kiss Robert Redford before I die?”

“Ooh, didn’t you just love him in
The Way We Were
?” June slapped Beryl a tender high five.

“Get packed. We’re going to Prairie City.”

June glanced at Beryl, then followed her daughter-in-law down the hall. Beryl shuffled slowly along behind her.

“Just like that, you’re leaving?” June asked. “Why aren’t you at the Blue Umbrella?”

“Lillabeth will open the shop this afternoon. We’ve been slow this spring, so I don’t care if we’re only open in the afternoons for a few weeks.” Jade tossed a soft leather Italian travel bag onto the bed. One of the wedding gifts June and Rebel had given the kids. “Mama wants to go home, so I’m taking her.”

“I thought you were concerned about her living alone.” June walked to the center of the room so Jade would have to address her as she moved from dresser to suitcase. At the moment, she was stuffing things randomly into the bag. Underwear, then jeans, then socks, back to underwear again.

“She won’t be alone. I’ll be with her.” Jade stepped around June for the closet. “Mama,” she hollered over her shoulder, “your suitcase is in here.”

“You don’t have to shout, Jade.” Beryl eased down to the armchair by the door. “We don’t have to go right now. We can wait for you to sort this thing out.”

“The train is leaving in an hour. All aboard if you want to go to Prairie City.” Jade tossed a couple of pairs of shoes toward the bed. “Max can deal with his own mess. No offense, June.”

“Jade, please, you know how much he loves you. He’s been looking all over for you this morning. Where were you?”

“Stayed at Daphne’s. And if he loved me, he’d have been honest with me. A one-night stand a week before our wedding is bad enough, but having a child—a living, breathing human being—is a whole other universe. He purposefully deceived me.” Coats, sweaters, a hat. Jade carried the outerwear to the bed and reached down for the second suitcase. “Mama, are you going to wear your pajamas to Iowa? Because I’m leaving . . . How cold is the end of March, first of April in Iowa? I forget.”

“Snows sometimes. Talked to Sharon the other day and she said it’d been downright freezing lately. No sign of spring in the air.”

Jade disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a toiletries bag. She peered at June, then Beryl. “Can you help Mama pack? Her suitcase is right there.” Jade pointed to the closet door.

“You’re not going to even give it a try? Jade, he—”

“Loves me, yeah, June, I know. So you’ve said, and so did Daphne.” Jade tossed the toiletries bag to the bed. “But would someone please explain to me how my husband hides from me his love child with another woman?” Jade smacked her forehead with her fingers. “There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say. So, here I am, fat, dumb, and happy, going through life like an ignorant cow. Crying at every miscarriage, sad a few days each month when I realize another month has gone by without the hope of a child. Bearing his burden to have children.”

June embraced each word. Jade was right. How did Max not love her enough to tell her? How did
she
not love her enough? Max wanted to protect her, so June had gone along. But deep down, she knew he wanted to protect himself. She recognized that part of herself in him.

So June had done what she’d always done, protected the men in her life. Covering. Denying.

“I’m coming with you.” The words came without thought or consideration, but boy, they felt good. Space from Rebel would do her a world of good.

“What?”

“I’m going too.” June declared her intention in a tone that let Jade know she’d not be denied.

“What a lovely idea.” Beryl shoved up from her chair. “Been wanting a road trip with the girls. Carlisle and I used to have some wild times.”

“There’s not enough room in the truck for three, June. Mama won’t be able to ride sitting up for thirteen hours.”

“Jade, I can’t make the trip in a day. It’d wear me out. I go to the bathroom every two hours.”

“Then we’ll stop overnight. But there’s still not enough room in the truck.”

“I’ve never even been on a road trip with the girls,” June said. “Not even in my sorority days. I was always with my parents or my boyfriend’s parents.”

“Ladies, still,
not
enough room in the truck.”

“You can’t take Beryl to Iowa in your truck, Jade.”

Jade snatched a cedar box from the top of her dresser. Lifting the lid, she pulled out a leather cord with a trinket dangling from the end and tied it around her neck. June recognized the praying hands medallion. When June first met Jade, she never saw the girl without it.

“Why not?” Jade fingered the medallion, eyes darting about the room. “I can do whatever I want. Seems everyone else can come and go as they please, but not good ol’ Jade?”

“The truck is loud and smelly, not to mention uncomfortable. There’s no radio. Last time I was in the passenger seat, the heat blew cold air and foam fell from the ceiling.”

Jade’s eyes peered into June’s, and for a split second, she felt all the pain and hurt her son had inflicted on such an undeserving woman.

Oh Max, he was
her
son.

“We can take my car,” June said, slow and soft.

“I’m not waiting for Alfred.” Jade jerked open another dresser drawer, but instead of removing clothes to pack, she merely shoved them around. “I just need . . .” Her voice shattered. “To go . . . get . . . away . . . breathe . . . think . . .” Sobs swept over her as she slammed the drawer shut. Shaking as the first sob rolled off her shoulders and down her back and legs, Jade sank to the floor. “He has a son.”

“Oh, Jade . . .” But before June reached her, Beryl came around the foot of the bed. June faded back, watching with watery eyes. Jade probably didn’t want her comfort right now anyway. She was blood kin to the enemy.

A second wave of sobs collapsed Jade into a heap with her forehead against the carpet. “Not my son, his son.” She pounded her fist. “
His
son.”

“My baby.” Beryl eased down next to Jade and smoothed her hand over her daughter’s back, then gathered her sleek, dark hair into her hands.

June burned with the fire of guilt and shame, fueled by sympathy and compassion. Oh, Max, he’d wounded her so deeply. Lovely, lovely Jade.

Beryl cradled Jade’s head against her leg, humming softly, finally singing low and slow, “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word . . .”

She hit a sour note. June jerked, covering her mouth. Beryl kept on, hitting sour note after sour note. When she rounded the chorus a second time, Jade sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears, and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“I think you’ve cured me, Mama.”

“My third husband Gus used to say, ‘Let Beryl sing; she’ll drive everyone’s blues away with laughter.’”

But June caught the watery sheen in Beryl’s eyes. The off-key melody was for her heart as much as Jade’s.

“Shall we go on a road trip, ladies? I have the perfect road trip car.” Mercy, June had not driven the thing in years, but Alfred kept the car tuned and ready to go.

“All I know is I’m going.” Jade shoved her suitcases around, assessing her inventory. “I’m going. I’ve got to get out of here. Ride through the plains with the truck windows down.”

“Can you be ready to go by noon?” June checked her watch. It was eleven o’clock now. She’d have to call Alfred . . . Call Constance to get her going on the packing. Stop by the bank for cash.

Jade glanced at Mama. “What do you say?”

“What do
you
say?”

For a slow moment, Jade hesitated and June feared she’d change her mind. Either way, she’d take Beryl home. The idea of a road trip was like cold water to her hot, dry soul. “See you in two hours?” June backed toward the door.

“I have some stuff to do for the shop. Make it three hours. Meet at one p.m. In the alley behind the Blue Umbrella.”

Max was standing on the porch when Jade carried out the first load of luggage to her truck. “Where are you going?”

“Where’s your son?” She stepped around him, heading for the garage. She’d picked up a thread of boldness while packing.

“With Lorelai. I wanted to make sure you were okay with me bringing him home, but apparently you aren’t going to be here.” His slip-skip gait echoed behind her. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“I’ve been busy.” Jade hoisted her bags into the bed of the truck.

“Where are you going, Jade?”

“You don’t tell me things, so I don’t have to tell you things. We can add this trip to our don’t-ask-about-the-past-and-don’t-tell policy.” Her soul was on the edge, and she didn’t care if she hurt him a little. Jade glanced at him as he stood in the angled light of the mid-morning sun. But only a little bit.

His weary, dark eyes seemed lost in their sockets, perched just above his unshaven cheeks. But it was his countenance that struck her the most—as if he’d met the blunt end of a Louisville Slugger.

“You’re proving me right, Jade. If I’d told you about Asa, we’d be right here, right where we are now.”

“We’re here because you didn’t tell me. Not because you did.”

“And you’re mad.” Max stepped toward her. The breeze shook the budding tree limbs against the side of the garage.

“You chose Rice over me.” Jade rubbed the tip of her nose and gazed up at the garage’s wide beams. In its heyday, the structure had been a carriage house. “When I met you, Max, I said, ‘Now there’s one of the good ones, a man you can trust, Jade. He won’t let you down. Just do your best to live up to him.’”