Cocoon (3 page)

Today, five months later, Seana gazed mistily at the blue mountain range from her deck, took a deep breath, blew it out and grinned, resisting the urge to fan her face.

My oh my
. She rolled her eyes. Who would have thought it? After all these years, she was in love again.

Never would've believed she could love again after Ansel. How she'd loved that man. And to lose him had been excruciating. He would forever occupy a part of her heart. In retrospect, she admitted the dark odyssey had taught her lots of good things. It taught her to treasure each day as her last. And she learned that when one door closed, another one, divinely opened, would offer up equally wonderful opportunities.

At the time of Ansel's slide into eternity, however, she'd felt that no good could ever trail such loss.

But time and the help of the good Lord had brought her through.

She shook her head to clear out the sad memories, arose, and gathered her dishes from the patio table. In the kitchen she rinsed and loaded them into the nearly empty dishwasher. With her being the lone diner there, dishes didn't collect quickly. At one time, that little observation had decimated her.

Not any more. It would not be so for much longer.

She tucked that knowledge inside her cozy, little heart niche reserved for Barth.

Brutus's clicking stride took him to his water bowl where he lapped for a full two minutes, quenching his thirst from the long run. He came to her and nuzzled her until she gave him an affectionate rub between his shoulders before trotting away to settle onto his den pillow.

Her cell phone, lying on the nearby granite counter, vibrated into a lively patriotic rendition of “God Bless the USA.”

She looked at the ID. Barth.

“Good morning,” she trilled like a school girl as joy, like helium, filled and lifted her.

“Good mornin' yourself,” drawled a Canadian Clark Gable voice, raising goose flesh on Seana's arms and neck. The scrumptious kind.

“Hi,” she murmured, suddenly breathless. The huskiness in his voice curled her insides. She rolled her eyes on that thought. Lordy. She had it
bad.
“So you're fully recuperated from last night's festive excitement, are you?”

“Absolutely, except that ice cream vendor who decided to have his own version of Hooters waitresses to serve folks. Some citizens didn't particularly take to that, did they?”

Seana burst into laughter. “That was too, too much for Sadie Tate. I can still hear her telling that man in no uncertain terms that his helper had better put on more clothes or she'd see that his booth would be shut down. Said she'd never saw an outfit like that. Feisty little thing. Her little, crooked fingers were flying, texting the news over her newfangled cell phone.”

“But he did have long lines until that happened, didn't he?” Laughter tinged Barth's unique, un-Southern, citified drawl.

“That he did,” gurgled Seana. Heavens, but it felt so good to laugh … most of all to have someone to laugh with.

“See you tonight?” His query was husky, hinting of anticipation.

“Yes. Here? I can cook if you –”

“I'm gonna take you out. Seven?”

She grinned. “Can't wait.”

After they hung up, Seana had to descend back to Earth. This thing with Barth was a powerful ride of emotions. Whew!
Lordy! Feet, behave yourself. Settle back down
. She turned to go to the den and nearly bumped into her daughter.

“Zoe.” She was about to embrace her when Zoe swept past her.

Seana planted hands on hips and turned to watch her. “Well, hello to you, too. I didn't hear you come in.”

“I know,” Zoe snapped. “You were too caught up with lover boy.” Her back, ramrod straight made her five-ten look even taller as she stalked into the den and crossed the room to gaze out the window at distant blue mountain ranges as though she wanted to dynamite them, bringing Brutus's head up as he gauged her temper.

Her garb consisted of funky apparel from the Sassy Rags shop, today gaucho-style blouse and felt vest over calf-length matching floaty skirt. From beneath the earth-tone ensemble sizzled sexy brown boots with skinny heels, now tapping impatiently against Seana's shiny hardwood floor.

“Zoe, why do you feel this hostility toward Barth? You don't know a single thing about him that should –”

“That's just it.” Zoe spun from the window and glared at her mother. “I don't know a single thing about him. Zilch. Just who is this man who comes out of nowhere?”

Seana's nose did a slight flare as she fought her rising temper. “He's a wonderful man who makes your mother happy, Zoe. That's who he is.”

Zoe moved to within inches of her mother, her gaze oozing cynicism. Her long, ebony hair, so like her father's, framed a pale oval face whose deep blue eyes, so like Seana's, revealed that she'd seen too much of the world too soon – a view that came at too great a cost.

How Seana loved her, this dynamo female child of hers who had carried her own load, plus her ex-husband's baggage over terrains too rough, at times, to forge. Zoe had almost single-handedly raised her child to adolescence and done a fantastic job of it.

Who stood squared off before her mother, challenging her, hating the man Seana loved.

Seana reached out to touch her arm, only to have it snatched away. “Are you going to find out who this man is? I've asked him and get this runaround –”

“It's none of your business. Maybe that's what he feels. You know he senses this resentment, Zoe. He's not blind.” Seana hated the shrill note that crept into her voice, but she couldn't help it. This was her life, dadjimmit.

“None of my business?” Zoe's eyes filled with indignant tears. “You're my mother, for crying out loud! I love you very much.”

Seana's heart began to melt and she started toward her, but Zoe's back-off stance stopped her dead in her tracks. Zoe's gaze narrowed. “But what I want to know is this. Are you going to marry him?”

Seana stared at this beautiful, wild creature standing before her. Like a lioness protecting her cubs. Only this time, it did a flip. The cub was protecting the lioness.

Seana shook her head free of the crazy image. She took a deep breath.

“Zoe, Barth proposed last night,” she said, steeling herself to settle this for once and for all. “I said yes.”

Zoe looked as though she'd been struck. “Mama, you can't mean that! Why don't you wait –?”

“I'm going to marry him. Soon,” Seana repeated gently but firmly. “And there's no use in trying to talk me out of it.” How her heart hurt that she should have to be so – so radical.

And she felt a twinge of resentment that Zoe forced her into this militant stance.

“What is he bringing into this marriage, huh?” Zoe's voice trembled with indignation. “Nothing. That's what. You're giving him a meal ticket, you know. He doesn't have a job or anything.”

“He'll soon be helping Pastor Keith out at the church. He's a wonderful speaker and musician, Zoe. You should hear him play –”

“Gotta go.” Zoe swept past, eyes straight ahead. “You're making a huge mistake, Mother. A really huge mistake.”

The door slammed behind her. Seana stood there, frozen in shock as she heard Zoe's car roar from the drive.

How her heart bled. Just when she thought she'd found happiness again, along comes this – this jealousy thing with Zoe. It had to be that, didn't it?

Zoe had been Ansel's little girl. Those two had been tight. And since his death, Seana had been both mother and father to her children.

But didn't she have a right to love again?

After all, Barth was everything a woman could want in a man.

Wasn't he?

Despite the dark past he'd shared with her. A past she could not reveal to her children. Not now. Maybe never. She remembered something F. Scott Fitzgerald once said: “Family quarrels are bitter things. They do not go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material.”

Would that be the case with Zoe and Tim? Would they – if they discovered the whole truth of Barth's past – have enough mercy and grace, the material of forgiveness?

Seana wasn't willing to risk it.

She deserved happiness and Barth represented everything she desired in life.

Then in a heartbeat, confidence filled her. From deep, deep inside her, the feminine intuition well sprang up and filled her with certainty.

Barth was the man she loved. He was the man she would marry.

• • •

Seana couldn't repress a grin as she climbed from her silver 4Runner and spotted the beauty shop's sign,
Homecombing Queen Beauty Salon, Joanie Knight, proprietor.
Her pal Joanie's joke was that she hadn't been the high school homecoming queen like Seana, but darn it, she
would
be queen in her own hairstyling kingdom.

“Hey, Seana,” Joanie called out from behind the shampoo sink. “Grab a seat. I'll catch up in a jiffy. Got a little late start, what with the long night at the Spring Festival and all. Nearly clogged my legs off, but oooh how much fun it was. I won't be long catching up.”

“No problem.” Seana settled into one of the crimson-padded white wicker chairs lining the soft pink waiting area of the Homecombing Queen Salon. A quaint jungle of assorted, vibrant greenery, strategically arranged, brought together the warm feminine hues in a way delightful to the eye.

Seana picked up a Ladies Home Journal from a white wicker table and began flipping through it. But she couldn't arrest her thoughts to the pages. Couldn't get past the shock of Zoe's earlier, vehement objection to her engagement to Barth.

“Hey,” Joanie's assertive voice scattered Seana's thoughts. “Barth's a real hottie, when he takes off those specs, Seana. Smooth as silk on the dance floor, too. Things getting pretty serious, huh?” Her astute gaze required a response.

Seana didn't mind this from her lifelong girlfriend. She smiled and nodded.

“That's good to hear. I was afraid you'd let 'im slip away.” Joanie, blonde and Kewpie-Pie cute in her white uniform and platform sandals, winked one of her eyes, enhanced from day to day by colored contact lenses. Lashes long enough to fan away flies framed her orbs, which today sparkled like green emeralds. Her blonde curls, heaped high atop her head, loosed long, slim tendrils to frame her porcelain, perfectly blushed cheeks.

“Like she's done so many times before,” joined in Sadie Tate, seamstress extraordinaire and town gossip. But Seana loved her anyway. She was harmless. Most of the time. Just loved to talk. An hour early, as usual, Sadie'd slipped in and took the chair next to Seana, already playing with her ever present Smart cell phone. This time at Joanie's was one of Sadie's most fruitful social connections.

“I never met anybody before who appealed to me,” Seana said, laying the magazine aside. And she had not, despite all the matchmaking attempts of Paradise Springs's locals.

“So this time's different, huh?” Sadie gouged, pocketing her phone for more crucial fodder. Her raisin-black, piercing eyes glittered with anticipation. She crossed her spindly legs, poking from beneath a bright Hawaiian floral shift, and angled more toward Seana, sending whiffs of
Tabu
to Seana's nostrils. A pleasant, spicy floral fragrance, one that sent Seana's yesteryear melancholy spiraling. Back to when she'd worked at the downtown five-and-dime store.

“Um-hmm.” Seana turned and smiled at her, seeing only childlike curiosity. In turn, Sadie's eyes warmed and her vivid red slash of a mouth curved into a smile. “That it is,” Seana said.

Sadie's swollen, rheumatic fingers reached over to pat Seana's hand. “I'm glad for you. I truly am. You had a long, hard time of it with Ansel and all. It's time for you to get on with living.”

Seana stared at her for a moment, seeing only genuine care. Sometimes, Sadie went beyond caring and into meddling. Not today. “Thanks, Sadie.”

At her station, Joanie's small hands flew hummingbird swift in plastering Louann Melton's red hair onto smooth rollers and in a blink depositing her under the hair dryer. Pastor Keith's wife waved at Seana from beneath the hood, then blew her a kiss.

Seana responded in kind. Such giving people, the Meltons. They had, through the good and bad times, been there for Seana. And now, that bond included Barth, a bond that went back to Barth's and Keith's boyhood days in Canada.

“Seana, you're next.”

At the shampoo sink, Seana and Joanie decided to add a few more blond highlights to Seana's thick light ash brown hair the next time. “The silver threads are about to overtake, honey. The blond highlights will camouflage that,” Joanie whispered in her ear. Then, “How's Zoe taking things?”

Seana's heart skipped a beat. She blinked up at her from proneness as warm water sluiced over her scalp and through her hair. “What do you mean?”

Was Joanie psychic? The thought flitted through her mind like a startled cat.

Since she'd been seeing Barth, Seana and Joanie's intimate chat times had dwindled from cozy house visits to once-a-week salon time, such as this. Not intentionally. But Barth had consumed her prime time.

Joanie's fingers, strong as a brick mason's, massaged and lathered. “I can tell she's not happy about you and Barth. Last night at the festival, she watched you two like a chicken hawk ready to swoop.”

Seana sighed and closed her eyes. She trusted Joanie, had been a client and friend for years and years. Knew Joanie's makeup and had never known her to be unkind or unwise. Had, many times, confided in her. Never had those confidences been betrayed.

And she knew, too, that Zoe had probably indicated to Joanie while getting her own hair done that she didn't like Barth. Zoe was not subtle by any stretch of imagination. Probably hoped Joanie would tell her mama what an idiot she was.