“Tell me something.”

“Hmm?” I rolled over, draping my leg across his and cuddling against him. I’d never been a fan of post-sex cuddling and yet, here I was, wrapped around him like ivy. “What?”

“I guess I should have been more specific.” He stroked a hand down my back, twirling a tangled lock of hair around one finger. “You went to University of Georgia on scholarship, right? Got a degree in journalism?”

“And creative writing.” Even knowing I should get up and get dressed and have him drive me home so I could start the final push toward moving day, I was too comfortable to give the idea any serious thought. “Why?”

“You studied literature, right? Like poems and stuff?”

“Took a few classes.” I tilted my head back until I could see his face. “Again, why?”

“Tell me some poetry. Or a quote. Something you remember from some classes.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Tell me something about Jeannie Jackson.”

I could have said I didn’t remember anything. I’d been out of school long enough it would have been a believable lie. Instead, I said, “‘If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.’” I kissed his chin. “Oscar Wilde. Not poetry but literature.”

“I don’t know. Sounded more than a little poetic to me.”

Silence settled around us and I rested my head on his shoulder, strangely comforted by the steady beat of his heart. I was minutes away, seconds maybe, from falling asleep when he said, “I have to have dinner with my parents on Sunday.”

“I’m sorry.” And knowing what I did now about his childhood, I was. “Do you want to come over to the house when you’re finished? Between moving and school starting I’m sure we’re all going to be running around like chickens with our heads cut off but if you want a distraction—.”

“I want you to come with me. You and the kids.”

“What?” If he’d told me he murdered people as a hobby and had the bodies buried in one of his fields, I would have been less shocked. I sat up, raking my hair back in to a ponytail and securing it with the ever-present hair tie I kept around my wrist. “Abraham, you can’t be serious.”

“And yet I am.” He sat up, scooting backward until he was able to brace his back against the headboard. Drawing his knees up, he propped his chin on them, somehow managing to not look ridiculous in the child-like position. “I don’t want to go, Jeannie. I haven’t wanted anything to do with my parents for years. But you know this town. You know how people are. Hell, you heard what the pastor’s wife said last week.”

“Yeah, she called you a ‘prodigal’, which kind of begs the question as to why she’d refer to you that way.”

“I’m not big on religion.”

“So why were you at church?”

“Because I felt like talking to God.”

“I thought you said you weren’t big on religion.”

“You can believe in God without believing in religion. They’re not the same thing.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “It’s stupid but I felt I should go and tell Him or Her or Whoever ‘thank you’. Because you were back in town and you’d walked in to my bar and you’d gone to bed with me.”

I stared at him, too stunned for words. Finally, I managed to croak out, “Abraham, I—.”

“I know—too much.” He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and heaved the sort of sigh which sounded as if it came from his very soul. “You left Cotton Creek and left everything and everyone behind, which I can understand because this town is judgmental as fuck.” He dropped his hands to the bed, tilting his head back against the wall and staring at the ceiling. “And I stayed and never got over the girl who taught me geometry.”

“Abraham.” I paused, torn between saying too much and not enough and honestly not even knowing which one would be worse. In the end, I simply said, “I’m trying.”

“I know.” He reached over and palmed the nape of my neck, pulling me forward until we were nose to nose. He took my mouth in a short, harsh kiss before drawing back and saying, “Try harder, Jeannie Jackson.”

We sat like that for a moment, a breath away from each other, before he straightened, his hand slipping down my torso to rest on my thigh. Giving me a quick squeeze, he said, “Come on. It’s already after three. I need to take you home and run back and grab a shower before opening up downstairs.”

––––––––

WE WERE QUIET on the drive back to town, the radio filling what would otherwise have been an awkward silence. I couldn’t put a finger on why I felt uncomfortable but it was there, like an itchiness under the skin I couldn’t quite scratch. When he pulled in behind my car, he cleared his throat and said, “Listen, if you don’t—.”

“Tammy is going to insist on going to church before we do anything else on Sunday. Unlike you, she’s a huge fan of religion and apparently feels as if everybody in her circle should be, too.” I unfastened my seatbelt, keeping my gaze on the floorboard as I collected my purse, slipping my shoes back on. “So you can either come with us or you can pick us up from the house afterward or—.”

“Service starts at nine but if you’re not there by eight forty-five, you’re late.” He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trailing a fingertip down my jawline. “So I’ll pick you guys up at eight-thirty.”

“Okay.” I leaned over, pressing my lips against his for the briefest of moments. Drawing back, I said, “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Do you want my help moving anything on Saturday?”

“No, the movers should take care of everything.” I pushed the door open, exiting the car on legs which were shaky for some reason. Turning around, I leaned in and said, “We never did get to those strawberries.”

“Some other time.” His smile was lazy and easy but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Not really. “Call me tomorrow, Jeannie Jackson.”

“I’ll think about it.” I straightened and closed the door, heading for the trailer only to stop and lean against my car, watching him pull away. No sooner had the echo of the purr of his engine faded away than another car pulled up, this one so bright and shiny and white I was almost blinded even though the sun was stuck behind a bank of clouds. When the driver side door opened and Beth Barnes Bailey popped out, looking as cool and fresh as a glass of lemonade, I bit back a sigh and forced a smile. “Hello, Beth.”

“I know, it looks as if I’m stalking you or something but I swear I was already on my way out here and then when I saw Abraham’s car... well, I wanted to give you a little bit of privacy.” If she seemed put off by my appearance which, despite my best efforts, screamed ‘I spent the afternoon doing sexually deviant things’, it didn’t show on her face. Instead, she looked positively ecstatic to see me. Picking her way through the loose gravel which served as a parking space, she stopped a foot or so away from me, clapping her hands together and beaming. “First, I want to say the house looks amazing. It hasn’t looked so good in years.”

“I’d like to take credit for that but all I really did was pick out the paint colors.” And if I was being honest, even that hadn’t required too much thought. Turned out the house, while not on the National Register of Historical Buildings, was still something of a county landmark and so I’d had some limitations on what I could as far as the exterior. The interior had already been through so many renovations that there was no way in hell it would ever qualify for the Register so I’d had a free hand there but the people who ran the trust had put their foot down on the exterior paint. “And we still haven’t done anything noteworthy with the landscaping yet.”

Although I was seriously considering a pool. And a hot tub. And a deck.

But later—after I’d gotten used to the sticker shock of a mortgage and I’d built up a little equity.

“Still, it looks wonderful.” The abundance of praise coming from her was more than a little off-putting. Between that and the toothpaste commercial smile, I didn’t think I was wrong for being suspicious about what the true reason behind her impromptu visit might be. Somehow, she managed to turn up the wattage on her smile, showcasing two rows of teeth which were ruler straight thanks to the orthodontics her parents had shelled out serious money for when we were in middle school. “But I’m sure you know that’s not the reason why I’m here.”

“Something told me you didn’t drive all the way over here to compliment me on my eye for color.” I set my purse on the trunk of the car and leaned against the bumper, crossing my arms. “So what can I do for you, Beth?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to do anything.” She reached over and gripped my elbows and somehow I resisted the urge to flinch and pull away. “I wanted to say ‘thank you’, from me and my daughter.”

I stared at her unblinking for a long minute before saying, “Beth, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the one who handled the thing with the cheerleading captain, aren’t you?” Before I could answer, she waved one hand absently, shooing away any response I might have made. “Well, not you directly. Everybody knows Mrs. Hansom was the one who put the call through to the principal but everybody also knows the only reason she would have done it was because Abraham asked her to and the only reason he would have done it was because you asked him to do something.”

“I don’t know what’s more impressive, the fact everybody apparently knows everything about something which doesn’t concern them or the fact you got that entire summation out in one sentence without breathing.” Feeling light-headed myself from my own little bout of word vomit, I gently eased out of her grip, rubbing my temple with one hand. “And I honestly don’t know what happened. All I know is this Tina Anne is on some sort of power trip and doesn’t care if she starts a whole group of her peers down the road to an eating disorder. I asked Abraham what we could do and he said his mother would take care of things. End of story.”

“Well, Mrs. Hansom more than took care of things.” The gleam in Beth’s eyes was too similar to what I’d seen when we were in high school and she was watching Lynn berate me for being poor or having the nerve to have breasts and even though we were both long out of high school and Beth actually seemed like a human these days, it was still enough to put my nerves on edge. “Tina Anne has been suspended from the cheerleading squad for the entire fall semester. Her mother is fit to be tied and her daddy is raising all sorts of hell about the money he’s given to the team but the principal is standing his ground for the first time in... Jesus, I don’t even know how long.”

“Well, that’s... nice.” It was a lame response and I knew it but I honestly couldn’t think of a better response. All I’d been hoping for when I asked Abraham to speak to his mother was for someone to have a come to Jesus talk with this Tina Anne. I wasn’t petty enough to try and ruin someone’s life.

That was a lie. I was petty enough to want to ruin someone’s life but not a teenager’s. That was just wrong.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Parent-Teacher Association voted to give you some kind of award.” Beth chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Tina Anne makes me, Lynn, and Dana look like angels.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” The retort was out before I even realized it was in my brain and I slapped a hand over my mouth, more than a little horrified at myself. It took a moment to process the fact she wasn’t yelling or even glaring but instead was laughing as if I’d told her the funniest joke in the history of the world. Lowering my hand, I said, “Beth, I am so sorry.”

“For what? Telling the truth?” She patted the tears from her cheeks, continuing to laugh. “Honey, I know we were horrible. We were absolute little shits and cruel to boot. I can’t speak for Lynn and Dana but I’d like to think I’ve done some growing up since high school and I’m not such a little shit these days.” She trailed off with a sigh and a wink. “Not that I’m a saint but I don’t think I’ve made anyone but my husband cry in years and that was because I finally told him he could buy the boat he’d been wanting since we got married.”

“Right.” Not the most brilliant response but I’d be damned if I could think of anything. I hadn’t wasted a single thought on any of the people in Cotton Creek—other than my family—in the last fifteen years but for some reason I’d never really considered the idea that some of them might have changed as much as I had. Clearing my throat, I said, “I guess you’re familiar with all this PTA stuff and extracurricular and teacher conferences and all.”

“I could probably plan and execute a bake sale or a car wash in my sleep.” She laughed again, shaking her head. “Let me tell you, after I had to host the first team sleepover for the cheerleading squad, I sent my mother the biggest bouquet of flowers and booked her an appointment at a spa in Atlanta. I barely survived one and she dealt with it for four years.”

“Team sleepovers?” Pushing that particular horror aside for some later time, I shook my head and said, “Never mind. Um, I don’t have any experience with that stuff. So I wonder if it would be okay if I called you with any questions or—.”

“Oh, of course, of course.” She gave another absent wave before rolling her eyes and laughing. “Anybody doing what you’re doing is bound to need a little help now and then. First your sister’s kids and then Kitty Haverty... you got more on your plate than half the parents in the school.”

“Great. Thanks.” And although it felt weird—again, she’d been part of the trio which had made a good portion of my life a living hell—I found myself giving in to impulse and asking, “Do you maybe want to get a drink sometime?”

“Depends.” She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Are you talking like someplace fancy with wine you have to wait five years to drink because it has to ‘air’ and ‘breathe’ and all sorts of other crap?”

“No.” I swallowed down the laugh threatening to bubble out and shook my head. “No, I’m really more of a tequila girl.”

“Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus.” She clasped her hands together in mock prayer and looked toward the metaphorical heavens before lowering her gaze back to me and beaming. “I love tequila. Give me a shot with a lime and I’m happy as a clam.”

“Then we’ll have to see about doing a few shots next Friday night after we survive the first week of school.” I inclined my head toward the trailer. “I better get inside and make sure Dolly and Conway haven’t drove Tammy up the wall while I’ve been gone.”

“Kids will do that.” I was almost to the screen door when she called my name and I glanced over my shoulder to find her still smiling, although it was somewhat wistful now. “It’ll be nice to have a friend again.”

“Yeah.” Although I couldn’t recall the last time I’d actually had a friend. “Yeah, it will.”