You and Only You (11 page)

His gut knotted. If she
had
gone to that place in her head, the cemetery would be a logical place for her to do it. Right beside Randy Joe’s grave.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. She wouldn’t! Please, God, not LilyAnn!

The sirens stopped.

He walked off the porch, past his dad and neighbor, and stopped on the sidewalk. The streetlights came on as the sun finally set. He could hear the traffic from Main Street, which was only four blocks due north. Several cars went speeding past the street where he was standing, most likely thrill-seekers going to gawk at the cemetery so they could claim firsthand experience tomorrow at the coffee shops.

And still no sign of LilyAnn.

His heart was pounding and he wanted to cry. He’d never been this scared—ever.

Please,
God, please.

And then he looked up the street, and the relief was so great that his eyes filled with tears.

His dad walked up behind him. “Hey, isn’t that LilyAnn?”

Mike nodded.

“Her steps are dragging. I’m gonna walk up to meet her.”

“Dad, no,” Mike said.

Don stopped, then frowned. “Look. Whatever’s going on between you two has nothing to do with the fact that I helped raise her. If you don’t like it, go in the house.”

Mike blinked. He hadn’t heard that tone of voice from his dad since he turned twenty-one. His shoulders slumped, but he stayed put, watching. He saw his dad stop—saw LilyAnn say something and then cover her face with her hands. When his dad put his arms around LilyAnn, Mike swallowed a sob, turned on his heel, and went into the house.

“Hi, honey, where’s your dad?” his mother asked, as he strode through the living room.

“Still outside. I’m going to lie down.”

Carol frowned. Something was going on. She walked out onto the porch just as her husband followed LilyAnn inside her house. She waited. A few moments later, the lights began coming on in the house, and as they did, her husband exited, then started across the yard. When he saw her, he lengthened his stride, and when he got to the porch, he took her in his arms.

“Don! What’s wrong?” Carol asked.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Right now I want to hold you.”

Carol was a woman wise in the ways of men. Don Dalton wasn’t a man for drama, so she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugged him back, and led him inside.

“Talk to me,” she said.

Don sat down on the sofa, then grasped her hands.

“Remember Mr. Gerty?”

“Oh, yes…the retired postmaster. What about him?”

“LilyAnn found him on a bench at the cemetery. She thought he’d gone to sleep, but he was dead. She’s pretty broken up about it.”

“Oh dear Lord!” Carol gasped. “That poor girl, and poor Mr. Gerty, too.”

“Where’s Mike?”

“Lying down in his room.”

“Well, he can get his ass up and go talk to LilyAnn,” Don muttered. “I’ve had just about enough of this cold war between them.”

Carol frowned. “I don’t think we should meddle in—”

“I’m not meddling. I’m telling him a fact of life,” Don said. “And set another place at the table. She’ll be having supper with us tonight, and I don’t give a damn how uncomfortable they both are. We’re family and I want this crap over with.”

He stomped out of the room.

Carol rolled her eyes, then got up and headed to the kitchen.

Don opened Mike’s door without knocking. Mike was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Get up,” Don said sharply.

“Why?”

“I said, get up. Get your ass across the yard to LilyAnn’s and tell her to come eat supper with us.”

“I don’t want—”

“This isn’t about what you want,” Don said. “She doesn’t need to be alone tonight. She found Mr. Gerty on a bench at the cemetery. He was dead. She’s pretty broken up about it.”

Mike swung his legs off the bed. “Oh shit,” he muttered, and began looking for his shoes.

Don kicked them toward him with the toe of his boot.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you’re pouting and she’s sad, and whatever the hell it is, fix it. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner together next week, and I don’t intend to eat across the table from you two with those hangdog looks on your faces. Understand?”

Mike stood up and fired back at his dad in the same angry tone.

“What’s wrong between us is that I’ve been in love with her since the tenth grade and she has never known it. After all these years, she still doesn’t see it, no matter how much time we spend together. Now she’s on a big kick to restart her life because there’s a new man in it, and once again, it’s not me.”

Don sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s got to be the worst feeling in the world. But I have one question for you. I know you spend time with her, but have you ever once told her how you feel?”

Mike’s face flushed. “No. I don’t want to see the disgust and rejection.”

“Then you have nothing to be pissed about. She’s in the dark, son, and you’re the only one with answers. Either put up or shut up, and quit making everyone else miserable with you. Now hurry up and get over there. Your mom’s making a place for her at the table as we speak.”

He walked out as abruptly as he’d entered.

Mike shoved a hand through his hair in frustration and headed for LilyAnn’s.

* * *

LilyAnn had made it all the way to the kitchen before she broke down in sobs. She kept remembering all the years she’d seen Mr. Gerty kneeling at his wife’s grave, talking to her as if she was still alive. She’d done the same thing at Randy Joe’s until she’d run out of things to say, mainly because their relationship was barely a year old before he passed, while Mr. and Mrs. Gerty had been married forty years before she passed.

They’d had a lifetime of history together.

She and Randy Joe barely had a year’s worth of memories before he died.

While Mr. Gerty had been given twenty more years to live, he’d chosen to spend it with the dead. If fate hadn’t turned her life around, she might have come to a similar end. Life was hard, but nobody promised it would be easy, and it damn sure wasn’t meant to be wasted. The only good thing about the whole awful event was that Mr. Gerty’s loneliness had come to an end.

She was getting up to get some tissues when she heard footsteps on the porch and then a series of rapid knocks, but she ignored them. Whoever it was, she didn’t want company.

The knocks ended, but seconds later she heard a key rattling in the lock. She ran into the living room just as the door flew inward.

“Mike! What the fuck? I thought someone was breaking into the house.”

“By using a key? And while we’re talking, I can’t believe you just said ‘fuck.’”

She glared. “If I wanted company, I would have answered the door, and I felt like saying fuck because this has been a fucked-up day.”

He sighed.

“Dad told me what happened.”

She snatched the key out of his hand. “So now you know. What do you want?”

“I am to bring you over for supper. Your place has already been set. Dad has chewed my ass for making you sad, and I’m sorry on all accounts.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed angrily. “That is the most pitiful excuse for an apology I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s all I got,” he said, and folded his arms across his chest.

She glared.

He glared back.

“Either you come with me, or Dad will come back and get you. Don’t you get it? When our parents are around, we are no longer in charge of our lives.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I have to wash my face.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I’m changing the hiding place for the extra key,” she muttered.

Mike wanted to put her over his knee. “Fine. Hurry up, okay? I need to sit down.”

“Then for the love of God, sit down!”

She took the extra house key and dropped it in her pocket as she went to the bathroom.

Mike sat because it was that or pass out. He hadn’t exerted this much mental energy on frustration since high school.

His phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and sighed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Is she coming?”

“She’s washing her face.”

“Good.”

The line went dead. He disconnected and dropped the phone back in his pocket just as Lily came back.

He got up and opened the door.

She sailed out, locking it behind her, then dropped the key back in her pocket.

They walked across the yard in silence.

“We’re here!” Mike yelled, as they entered his house.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Carol called.

Lily dropped her coat on the sofa and followed Mike to the kitchen.

Carol smiled and waved when she saw them.

“Sit, sit. Soup’s hot and there’s plenty for seconds.”

“Smells wonderful,” Lily said, as she scooted into a chair and unfolded the napkin in her lap.

The first bite was warm and comforting, and the conversation soon turned to innocent gossip about locals Carol and Don knew.

Mike snuck glances at LilyAnn every chance he got, but he was careful. His parents were too damn nosy about his business, and the last thing he wanted was them feeling sorry for him that he’d wasted his life loving a woman who didn’t love him back.

Still, after nearly dying last week, there were far worse things than settling for second best. He was alive, and while there was life, there was hope.

* * *

Rachel and Bud Goodhope were playing cards with Willa Dean and Harold Miller when they heard the sirens taking off all over town.

“Oooh, I always hate that sound,” Willa Dean said, and stuck another chip in the guacamole dip and popped it in her mouth. “Yum, Rachel. You make the best guacamole.”

Rachel smiled. “Thank you so much. Cooking is one of my passions.”

Willa Dean wiggled her eyebrows at Rachel, and then they both broke into giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Bud asked.

Harold rolled his eyes as he discarded a card and drew another.

“Don’t ask them stuff like that. You know it has to do with sex. Once a woman passes forty, everything revolves around sex.”

Willa Dean glared. “Harold, the best thing for you right now is to keep your mouth shut.”

Harold’s eyes widened and then he nodded. Ever since Willa Dean had caught him strutting around their bedroom in her underwear, she’d been hell to live with. He’d thought for sure she would divorce him and tell the world what he liked to do, but to his surprise, she did not. She’d taken matters into her own hands and bought herself a vibrator. Now when she disappeared into the extra bedroom, he took himself out of the house.

The sirens faded in the distance, then stopped.

“I wonder what’s happening? Sure hope it’s not another wreck.”

“You were really lucky, girl,” Willa Dean said.

Bud patted his wife’s arm. “For that we are both very grateful.”

“Yes, we’re very grateful,” Rachel said.

A few minutes later, their phone rang.

“Excuse me a minute,” Rachel said, and got up to answer.

They could hear her talking in the other room, and when they heard her gasp and then cry out, they knew something bad had happened. A couple of minutes later she came hurrying back.

“You will not believe what happened. LilyAnn Bronte found Mr. Gerty sitting on a bench in the cemetery. He was dead and stiff as a board. Can you imagine sitting down beside that?”

“Oh dear Lord,” Willa Dean said. “Poor Mr. Gerty. At least he’s finally with his sweet Ina again. As for LilyAnn, I cannot imagine what she must be thinking.”

Rachel was still smarting from the slap-down LilyAnn had given her and popped off before she thought.

“If I was a man friend of hers, I think I’d be huntin’ me a new friend.”

“What do you mean?” Harold asked.

Rachel discarded. “I’ll take two,” she said, and when Harold dealt her two more cards from the deck, she swept them up into her hands. “That’s better,” she said.

Harold liked LilyAnn. She’d sold him makeup at Phillips’ Pharmacy for years without blinking an eye, even when she knew it wasn’t Willa Dean’s brand, and he knew she’d never said a word about it, so he wasn’t letting the comment go.

“What did you mean about LilyAnn’s men friends?”

Rachel shrugged. “Well, think about it. Randy Joe liked her and he died. Her daddy adored her and he died. She and old man Gerty have been hanging out at that cemetery visiting their loved ones for years, and now he’s dead, too.”

Harold laid down his cards and gave Willa Dean a look.

“I think it’s time we get on home.”

Rachel blinked. “What? We haven’t had any of my bourbon cheesecake yet.”

“It’s like this, Rachel. I think the world of LilyAnn Bronte. She’s one of the sweetest people in Blessings. She’s had some hard luck, but not a damn bit of it is her fault. Randy Joe died in a war, not because he loved her. Her daddy died because he smoked and had a heart attack. And Mr. Gerty was in his nineties, for God’s sake. I venture to say she didn’t have a thing to do with his heart givin’ out. I reckon he died from old age and grief.”

Rachel blinked again. “Well, my goodness. I didn’t mean anything by what I said.”

Harold stood up. “Willa Dean, are you coming?”

She looked at Rachel and shrugged. “It is getting late and all. Thanks so much for everything. Next time it’s at our house, okay?”

Rachel was stunned. She’d never had a man call her down like that. Ever.

“Yeah, sure… No hard feelings, okay, Harold?”

Harold gave her a long look and then shrugged. “No hard feelings, and I hope I don’t hear any more of that crap about LilyAnn bantered about town.”

“If you do, it didn’t come from me,” Rachel said sharply.

Bud was embarrassed, but that was nothing new. Rachel could be a bitch. He’d been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue a few times himself and was secretly tickled that old Harold had called her on it. He helped her clean up and then they went to bed without commenting about the situation, and the moment was soon forgotten.

Later on, they had two couples arrive at the bed-and-breakfast to spend the night. Bud registered them and got them settled into their rooms, while Rachel began planning the meal.