Softly and Tenderly (18 page)

Dropping back down into the car, Jade’s heart churned. She stared at the red light.
Green, green, green
.

Peering toward the ramp again, a moving van, U-Move, eased to a stop in the westbound lane and blocked Jade’s line of sight.

“Hey . . .” Jade rose up and tried to wave them by. “Why don’t
you
move.” She stretched her neck to see beyond the obstruction, but the truck completely blocked her view.

Two seconds later the light clicked green and Jade fired forward, sweeping wide around the back of the truck.
I’m coming
. Onto the ramp, Jade eased onto the berm to pick up the girl. Gravel popped and smacked under the tires. Jade mashed the brake and threw the gear into Park.

“Hello?” Jade stood, scanning length of the ramp. “Hey—”

But she was gone. Vanished. Turning a slow 360, Jade searched the far corners of the horizon. She cupped her hands around her mouth, drew a deep breath, and hollered, “Hey, where are you? Hitchhiker?”

How could she have disappeared? The north part of the exit was empty. No cars had merged on. On the south end, traffic flowed like a spring river. If the girl had crossed the road, Jade would’ve seen her.

An eerie chill crawled over Jade. The first flash of burnt amber rocketed her down to the front seat. Purple swirls enveloped her, and in an instant, Jade was caught in another space, another time. She couldn’t feel her body, remember her name or why she’d turned the big car around.

She’d split in two, one half observing, the other half feeling as if she’d just arrived on this strange planet. Her emotions floated in the space, detached.

Think, think .
. . Blood rushed to her face and burned under her skin. Every molecule in her body was alive with awareness. She was alone.

Jade cupped her head with her hands.
Remember . . . remember
. What was hanging around her neck? Something . . . a medallion. She gripped it, holding on for dear life. The metal was familiar, a reality from her past.

Paps
.

Spinning, swirling, her thoughts raced forward, colliding with her emotions. The burnt amber faded. The purple swirls lifted.

Jade. She was Jade Fitzgerald Benson. With an exhale, she collapsed against the seat. She’d returned for the hitchhiker. Snow thickened in the air as Jade positioned herself behind the Caddy’s wheel and turned all the heat vents toward her.

The hitchhiker was still gone.

With a shaky hand, Jade shifted into Drive and aimed the Caddy for the highway, unable to come out from under the lingering sense that fear and hesitation had cost her something dear.

Fifteen

“June, sit.” Beryl patted the bed beside her.

“And what will I do if I sit down?” June collected the thin china plate she’d used for Beryl’s toast. The teacup remained half full of ginger tea. “Fall apart? Spin off into space?”

Busyness kept her grounded, distracted. She liked it. Why change now in the midst of her worst crisis?

“Sit because I asked.”

“How about if I just tidy up?” June set down the dishes and shuffled around the bed, tucking in the corners and smoothing blankets.

Beryl’s bedroom had been her parents’ before they died. The space was old-feeling with the whispers of long-ago stories. Heavy, straight curtains hung at the window, and the thirsty hardwood was covered with a patterned carpet remnant.

“Rest, think, exhale.” Beryl kept a steady gaze on June.

“This relaxes me.” June fluffed the pillows. “Your handyman did a nice job preparing the house. I checked the pantry and he bought some lovely groceries. What’s his name again? Linc?”

“You don’t have to wait on me, June.” Beryl’s eyes followed her around the bed. “Yesterday your arm was in pain.”

“Good as new, like I told you.” Almost. Her arm had ached most of the drive from Paducah to Prairie City. “Are you tucked in and warm, Beryl?”

“First you dress me like a bloated tick.” Beryl’s weak smile lit her tired eyes. “Now you tuck me in like a bug in a rug.”

“As long as you’re comfortable.” June picked up the dishes, tapping her fingernails against the bottom of the plate. Now what? Nothing to clean. No calls to make. No dinner to fix. “Want me to bring up a movie? I saw a collection downstairs.”

“Don’t know what happened to me,” Beryl said. “I was feeling so strong, and then,
whoosh
, I became a dandelion petal in the breeze. Leukemia . . . a fierce foe.” A cough caught Beryl off guard and she lurched forward.

June set the plate down and crawled on the bed to aid her friend. “I don’t like the rattle in your chest, Beryl. Are you in pain?”

As she coughed, she shook her head, patting the air with her hand. “Stop fussing.” Beryl collapsed against her pillows.

“Here, drink some of your tea.” June held the cup to Beryl’s lips. During the nine-hour drive, she’d grown weaker and paler. June regretted the short ride with the top down, even though she’d bundled Beryl in her warmest gear. Beryl’s immune system wasn’t strong enough to handle so much as the sniffles.

“You remind me of Mother. Always willing to lay down her needs for others, serving, helping,” Beryl said weakly. June set the cup down on the saucer.

“Did your mother do it out of love or duty?” June settled against the headboard, stretching out her legs, wiggling her toes still wrapped in panty hose.

“Oh, a bit of both, I suppose. Love mostly.” Beryl coughed once. She patted her chest with her palm. “What about you?”

June stared ahead at the old flowered wallpaper. “If I say duty, am I evil?”

“Do you feel evil?”

Tears flowed from her settling emotions to her eyes. “There are days, yes.”

“Love is a verb, June. If you serve out of duty, isn’t that a form of love?”

“Does a slave’s duty reflect love? People can serve and be filled with hate, Beryl.”

“There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“Very thin.” June brushed her fingers through her hair. “So, you grew up here? And your kids?”

“I did. Harlan and I bought a property down the road right after Jade was born. Forty acres with a house much like this one. He left when Jade was eight and I tried to hang on to the place, but it was too much for me. I sold it, put my tail between my legs, and moved back in with Mother and Paps. A real blow to my pride. Paps died two years later, and between the divorce, being a single mom, living with my own mother”—Beryl shuddered—“I had to escape or lose my mind. I hit the road. In the long run, I knew Mother would be better for the kids than me.”

“And you met Mike, when?”

“A year or so later. Got pregnant with Willow after four months. Married him to give her a name. Some of Mother’s morals were getting to me, and I wanted to set a good example for Aiden and Jade, give them a grid for relationships. Kids need grids.”

“What was he like?”

“Mike Ayers?” The tip of Beryl’s lip twitched. “Sexy.”

June balked at her confession, then laughed. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason to marry.”

“I thought so, but we only lasted two years.”

“Rebel was sexy, but he had this commanding way about him.” June stopped, her mind filling with images of her husband. “I knew he would make life good for whomever he married.”

“Marriage wasn’t on my agenda. Then I met Harlan.” Beryl laughed softly. “I didn’t know I could love someone so much. Once I accepted his proposal”— she shook her head at the memory—“I never wanted to look back. Sounds square coming from a summer-of-love flower child.”

“Sounds tender and sincere.”

“I’ve done many things I’m not proud of, June, but my kids . . . I’m proud of them.”

“Max always has been my pride and joy,” June said. “Mercy, I had to fight the urge to smother the boy to death with my affection. It’s hard with only one child. There’s no way to divide up all the love and attention.”

“Did you want more children?” Beryl spoke softly, eyes closed.

“We did, but—”

“You can relate to Jade’s struggle.”

“In some ways.” June brushed her hand over the quilt’s Jacob’s Ladder pattern. “In some ways.”

Beryl drew in a slow, fought-for breath and closed her eyes. “Bacon, coffee, toast . . . is it weird I can still smell Mother’s breakfast cooking?”

“My mother’s kitchen smelled like garlic.” June breathed in, but the fragrance on the edge of her nose was old, warm wood and dusty curtains.

Beryl stretched for June’s hand, her chest rattling, her lungs wheezing. “I admire you, staying with Rebel for Max. Never catch me with a cheater. My third husband stepped out on me with a groupie, and—”

“The musician? Please, don’t tell me you expected him to be faithful.”

“He said he was, so I believed him.” Beryl’s short laugh faded to a rattling cough.

“I knew Reb flirted. Caught him at the club a few times, talking a mite too cozy to a woman in the parking lot. But the first time I
knew
he cheated, Max was about five or so. I overheard a couple of women on my Fall Festival committee talking, in detail, about another committee member who’d recently resigned. Rebel’s name was never mentioned, but every word they whispered to each other rang so familiar to me. When and where this woman had gone with her secret lover, things he’d said and done. And I knew.”

“Our souls know what our minds refuse to believe.”

“’Tis true, Beryl. Listening to those women, I knew I’d ignored all the signs, and the truth hit me like a belly flop into the club’s icy pool. My husband had an affair.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“Confront Rebel Benson, a lawyer with a reputation for tough cross-examination, with club committee gossip? He’d slice and dice my argument in two seconds. No, with Reb I had to learn how to present my case. Truth be told, I needed room to doubt.”

She couldn’t doubt now, could she? “Well, I’d better get to these dishes.” June moved off the bed, reaching for Beryl’s cup and plate.

“Jade-o here yet?” Beryl muttered, her words heavy with sleep, the congestion in her chest making her work for air.

“She’ll be along,” June said, then tiptoed down the back stairs to the kitchen to wait for Jade to arrive. Beryl needed to get to the doctor as soon as possible.

In the comfort of the rental car, June had found her inner Steve McQueen and made good time to Prairie City. She’d wanted Beryl home and in her bed. The handyman, Linc, had been waiting for them on the front porch and carried in their luggage, practically carried in Beryl, then returned the rental. Nice boy, that Linc.

June set the dishes in the sink and peered out the window. The afternoon was giving way to the power of twilight. Jade had called a few hours ago to say progress was slow with the broken top catching big gulps of highway breeze.

June snickered, shaking her head. What a sight. Jade trying to explain how the Caddy became mangled under her wrath.

Filling the sink with hot water, June searched the cupboard for dish soap. She’d told Beryl more of her story than she’d told her closest Whisper Hollow friends. Lisa Thibodeaux had been a long time ago. But it was the beginning of an avalanche.

But only one knew the whole truth. Rebel. And he subtly reminded her every chance he got.

“The Thibodeauxs?” June tossed the decorative pillows from the bed to the floor. “Why?”

“Woody and I play golf, June. He suggested we get the wives together for some cards. Hearts or pinochle.” At the closet, Rebel slipped his tie from under his collar.

“Absolutely not.” She’d never out-and-out defied Rebel before.

He glimpsed over his shoulder. “Why not? You’re on a half-dozen committees with Lisa.”

“Are you doing this to me on purpose?” June walked around the end of the bed, the hem of her satin pajamas bottoms sweeping across the carpet. “I won’t have her in my house, Reb. How dare you ask.”

“June . . .” Rebel crooned as he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the tail free from his slacks. “What are you talking about?”

“You know darn well what I’m talking about.” June jumped on the bed to match his stature. “You and Lisa Thibodeaux? The gossip is hotter than a Fourth of July firecracker.”

“Keep your voice down.” Snapping off his watch, he stepped near the bed and placed it on his nightstand, along with his Duke class ring. “Max will hear you.”

“I won’t keep my voice down, Rebel Beauregard Benson. I’m not stupid.” June grabbed his shoulders, then pinched his chin between her fingers. “Your sweet nothings like ‘cute as a speckled pup’ and ‘soft as a spring rose’ were as corny when you whispered them to me as they are now when you’re wooing your paramours. But at least they were sweet and original when you were twenty-two.”

Rebel walked over to the bedroom door and gazed down the hall before easing the door closed. “You want Max to hear you? The kid has ears like a bat.”

“Are you ashamed, Rebel? Don’t want your five-year-old son to know about your exploits?”

“We were discreet, June. No one knows.”

“Discreet? Rebel, everyone knows.”

“They know Lisa had an affair, not with whom.” Rebel eased out of his slacks, folding them in quarters before dropping them in the dry-cleaning hamper.

“And how do you know?”