Sweet Tea and Secrets (9 page)

Blinking away tears, each bat of her eyes was like a black out. Just the other day, she’d fought with Garrett over mowing the lawn. Now, she felt a sense of surrender in his arms as he rescued her—again—like he had so many times before. She reached back to brace herself, thankful for the safety Garrett offered. There was no room for anger today. That emotion was temporarily out of order.

As was tradition at this church for decades, the casket lowered. Jill’s knees did too. She fought the urge to jump in the hole that was swallowing her grandmother’s last moments on this earth. A sick moan came from someone. She dared to look up. The moan she’d heard was her own.

Garrett turned her toward his chest, away from the sight. She cried into her hands, her head resting on his chest. Through the final words, he gently rubbed the back of her neck with his fingertips, tangling in the light brown curls that fell across her shoulders. After several minutes, Jill recovered and pulled away from Garrett, giving him a look of gratitude. Friends approached her and murmured words of comfort as they walked by on their way back to the church. Jill nodded, accepting the kind words and the occasional hug.

“Are you ready to go inside?” asked Carolanne.

Jill looked to heaven. “You go on. I’ll be along in a minute.” She wrapped her hands around Garrett’s arm.

Carolanne excused herself to help the other ladies in the reception hall kitchen. Folks began to gather for a feast of home-cooked foods and snacks. They’d fellowship around a smorgasbord of everyone’s specialty as they shared memories about the one that just left them for a better place in God’s good grace.

Garrett and Jill walked among the flowers that surrounded Pearl’s resting spot. Wide ribbons in white, pink and magenta glittered with words: In loving memory, Loving Friend, Always Remembered.

Garrett plucked a bright pink Gerber daisy from a wreath and handed it to Jill. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I had every intention of us having an amicable reunion. I’m not sure how we got off on the wrong foot.”

She twirled the flower between her fingers. “I carried my share of that.”

Garrett patted his hip and snickered. “Yeah, I have a bruise to prove it.”

She winced, but smiled. “I was a maniac. You caught me off guard.”

“At the risk of landing on my ass in a field of flowers again, I have to mention that while your guard was down, for just those couple seconds, it felt like old times.”

She eyed him cautiously. “It did, didn’t it?” She shook her bangs from her face. “Well, it was probably Pearl. She always was a matchmaker.”

“And we’re the only match she didn’t make. Not that she’d given up.”

“She was still hounding you too? I couldn’t have a conversation with her without her mentioning something about you. She always thought I’d come home and marry you.”
Pearl’s eyes always danced with mischief when she spoke of Garrett.

“Hey, don’t make it sound like a death sentence.”

The words ignited more memories. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She shrugged in mock resignation. “It’s just that we already tried. It didn’t work.” She plucked a fringy petal from the flower.
He loves me.
Another petal found its destiny in the wind.
He loves me not.
“Thank you for being here for me after I was so ugly to you. I don’t know that I’d have been so kind if I were you.”

“Yes, you would. We’ve got history. That doesn’t just go away.” Garrett pulled one of the petals free. “He loved you.”

She chewed on her bottom lip.
He always did know what she was thinking.

Garrett stiffened, clearing his throat. “You have a visitor.” He motioned toward the parking lot. “Bradley’s here.”

Bradley sauntered their way, flipping his keys in his hand.
How could he act so nonchalant on a day so full of sadness?
She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, wishing she didn’t feel like she had to explain Bradley’s behavior.

“He’s not your type,” Garrett muttered.

“Now you’re an expert on my type?” she muttered under her breath.

He leaned in and whispered, “I used to think so.”

Garrett took a step back just as Bradley came up behind Jill, laying a territorial hand on her shoulder.

“How’s my girl?” Bradley asked Jill, but never took his eyes off of Garrett.

“Bradley.” Garrett extended his hand.

Bradley didn’t extend his, giving him a chin nod instead.

Jill turned to face him, and Garrett stuffed his unaccepted hand into his coat pocket.

Bradley drew Jill into his arms. “Sorry I’m late.” He stroked her shoulders. “I’ve got her. You can go.” Bradley dismissed Garrett.

Garrett looked to Jill.

She felt her face flush with humiliation, but she managed to give Garrett a sign that she’d be okay.

He backed off and reluctantly headed to join the others inside.

Bradley watched until Garrett cleared the doors of the reception hall. “He sure didn’t waste any time moving in, did he?”

“What?” Her voice cracked.

“You two looked chummy. That’s all.”

Jill wasn’t going to let Bradley make everything about him today. She could almost feel Pearl’s strength rising in her body. “If you’d been here on time this morning, or to be precise, two days ago like you should’ve, there wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“What are you saying? You playing all cozy with your ex is my fault?”

“I needed you. You weren’t here.”

“Looks like you did just fine without me.”

She glared at him. The fury almost choked her. “Good. You know what? I don’t want you to stay. I don’t even know why you came. You obviously couldn’t care less. Garrett’s a part of this community, and we’re all feeling the loss. There was nothing seedy about him comforting me, so back off.” She pushed Bradley aside, and headed for the reception hall under power she hadn’t known she had.

Bradley didn’t follow her. “Jill. Come back.”

She waved an arm dismissively and continued down the slope.

“Are you staying all week?” he hollered after her.

“Doggone right I am,” she shouted over her shoulder as she marched toward the back door to the church’s kitchen.

“Don’t forget about Friday,” he yelled.

“Tell me he didn’t just say that,” she mumbled. She knew that next Friday was the big Independence Day Ball, but what made him so sure she’d forgive him by then?

Unfortunately, she did have to go back to work, and that meant he’d get his way.

***

The smell of home cooking wafted out of the screen door of the church kitchen. Jill caught the door mid-swing to keep it from slamming and slipped into the corner of the room. She hadn’t expected this many people to still be milling around in the kitchen.

Even though she’d known most of these women her whole life, panic welled in her throat. She tried to slow her racing heart as she stood in the back of the room. They moved around noisily, shifting pots and unwrapping dishes. There was more Tupperware on the sideboard than most dealers stocked for a good year of sales. The women chattered about who’d made what, took turns heating their special recipes, then couriered them to the tables in the reception hall.

In a sing-songy tone, one woman announced, “Jana’s chicken looks way overdone,” as she squatted in front of the oven. She held colorful nylon loop potholders and retrieved her special chicken casserole with corn flake topping. She hitched the oven door closed with her hip. “Oven’s available. Three-fifty,” she called to the group.

Mrs. Owens leaned over Mrs. Brown’s cobbler. “Ooooh. That’s a little soupy, isn’t it?”

Jill covered her mouth to keep from snickering aloud. Mrs. Owens was shameless. The woman swore that, for years, Mrs. Brown had been passing off store-bought peaches as her own home-canned. She couldn’t prove the rumor, but she did have everybody wondering.

“My cobbler is perfectly fine,” Mrs. Brown said in defense of her dish. “That oven isn’t true to temp.” She marched out of the room, miffed. She had to know the other women had been talking about her. Those things had a way of getting back to people.

That’s the thing about small towns—if you don’t remember how you’re doing, don’t worry. Everyone else is already discussing it.

A younger brunette, with her back to Jill, said to Mrs. Owens, “Oh my goodness, can you believe that? Why would anyone make peach now when blackberries are at their prime?”

Mrs. Owens patted the brunette on the hand. “You can learn a lesson from that. Rick will appreciate it. You know blackberry cobbler is his favorite.”

Jill’s jaw dropped. The brunette must be the girl from Atlanta that Ricky Owens brought home from spring break when he quit college. Pearl had filled her in on the rumor that he’d brought home a Hooters calendar girl. She certainly looked like the type.

A dark haired woman that Jill didn’t recognize right off came into the kitchen. “Two people made Pearl’s chocolate pecan pie,” she reported, shaking her head. “Don’t know why they bothered. Nobody could make that pie as good as Pearl. What were they thinkin’?”

“Oh honey, I tried a piece, and it was perfect. I’m telling you, I think Pearl may have sent them herself,” claimed Mrs. Grizzard, the mail carrier’s wife. “Be just like Pearl to do that, you know.”

The two women exchanged a knowing look.

Jill’s lips relaxed into an unexpected smile. She’d made one of those pies. But who else had Pearl’s famous chocolate pecan pie recipe?

Jill used to be a part of this group, and it wasn’t that long ago when she and Garrett attended every church function back then. Bradley never had time for church, so she hadn’t been to a service since she’d moved to Savannah.

Now that the kitchen was mostly empty, Jill braved herself to join the others in the main hall. She pushed through the swinging doors, and paused. It looked like an even bigger crowd in here than the church could’ve held. Maybe she should have stayed where she was.

Flower arrangements adorned every table. The arrangements were an explosion of bright colors that Pearl would have adored.

At the far end of the room, a large portrait on an easel looked out across the visitors. Drawn to the picture, Jill moved through the crowd, not hearing one word that folks uttered as she passed by. She immediately recognized the signature in the bottom right of the portrait. Mary Claire had even captured the twinkle in her grandmother’s eyes. Though done in shades of black and gray pen and ink, the steel blue of her grandmother’s eyes was obvious. The way the right corner of Pearl’s mouth turned up, almost a smirk, was perfect. She’d probably just said something sassy. She was like that. Pearl could dish out a hard time in good fun.

A warm feeling came over Jill, like Pearl was standing there with her. She turned to look, but it was Carolanne who was at her side.

“Garrett said Bradley’s here.” Carolanne scanned the room. “Where is he?”

“He left,” Jill said.

“Already?”

“Yep.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am.” Jill nodded. She reached for Carolanne’s hands. “I really am.”

“I was planning to leave tonight, but I can stay,” Carolanne offered.

“No. I’m fine,” Jill said.

“If you need me, just call. I’ll hop right back on a plane.”

Jill reached for Carolanne’s hand. This is exactly why they were best friends. “You’ve done enough just being here. I don’t know how I could have gotten through today without you.”

“I loved Pearl, too.” Carolanne looked worried. She gave Jill’s hand a squeeze. “As awful as today was, this is the easy part. It’s what follows that’ll suck the life out of you. Call me. We need to get together soon, under better circumstances. I’ve really missed you.”

“I know. Life can rush by, can’t it?” Jill took Carolanne by the shoulders and turned her toward the door. “Now, go.”

“I’ll call you in a couple days, but you call me before that if you want to talk.”

“I will. Go, go, go, and drive careful. I’m going to be okay.” The two girls hugged one last time.

Jill stood in the room, surrounded by the people who loved Pearl. She’d known most of them her whole life. Becky Markham, Macy’s sister, worked her way through the crowd to Jill’s side. Becky had always been a solid second to Jill through all of their school years, and it had left their friendship more than a little strained. It was no secret Becky had been making plays for Garrett’s attention since Jill left town. Not that she hadn’t tried to steal him a hundred times while they were together, but that was Becky. Like a goat, she always wanted what she couldn’t quite get to.