Softly and Tenderly (21 page)

Then she wandered the hospital halls until she found the chapel. Jade stretched prostrate before the altar, sipping on an odd cocktail of loneliness and anxiety. Her skin twitched. Her head buzzed. Her heart hurt. She’d spent so many years angry at her mama only to discover her uniqueness at the untimely end of her life.

First grade . . . Jade remembered the long plank-walk down the gravel driveway to the bus stop. She’d stopped at the edge of the gravel and glanced back at Mama, who stood on the porch with her coffee, watching.

If Aiden hadn’t been holding on to her hand, Jade would’ve run back to the house, crying, and buried her face against Mama’s jeans.

Jade pounded her fist on the chapel floor. “God, I’m not ready to lose her.” Too tired to weep, Jade’s heart was soggy with emotion.

From the chairs, her phone beeped. It had been beeping for the past hour, so Jade pushed herself up to her knees and crawled toward her purse. It was probably June messaging to find out what was going on.

Lillabeth had also texted a dozen updates on the eight hundred dollars she spent on the Johnson City estate. She was quite proud of her purchases.

Jade replied:
Ya done good
.

There were messages from Daphne and Margot, checking in. One from Tom at Benson Law with an update on the Blue Two insurance debacle. Looked like arbitration was in the future. Another from Kip informing Jade he could not start working until he had money.

And three voice messages from Max.

“Jade, come on, call me back, this is stupid
—” Delete.

“I need to give you the latest on Asa—
” Delete.

“Jade, this is important—
” Delete.

She’d asked for space. What did his lawyer-mind not grasp about that concept? Life didn’t always revolve around him, surprise, surprise. Couldn’t Max just grow up and see that?

From the back of the chapel, the door hinges moaned and a bright light shot into the room. Jade looked up. Who was joining her in the early morning? The phone slipped from her fingers.

Dustin Colter.

“What are you doing here?” She crawled to her feet, tucking her phone back into her purse.

“Is this a bad time?” He hesitated before coming all the way inside. His chestnut hair had lost its tight curl but grew in long waves around his ears and neck. His open jacket revealed a neat plaid shirt hanging over his crisp jeans.

“Please, come in.” He looked good with his Elvis-hook smile and ocean-blue eyes.

Dustin enveloped her in his thick arms before she could exhale. She pressed her cheek against his chest like he was a warm blanket on a cold night. Seeing him made coming home complete. As if Jade had suddenly realized something was missing from her life.

“What are you doing here?”

Dustin’s embrace didn’t ease up. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“How did you know?” Jade stepped out of his arms. Leaning against him, inhaling his fresh meadow scent, brought her weaknesses and vulnerability to the surface. He’d not been dangerous when he came to Whisper Hollow days before her wedding. But the terrain of her life and heart had changed since then.

“Linc called, asked me to work on the Cadillac. I stopped by the house to give it a look. Your mother-in-law told me about your mom.”

“You work on cars now?” Jade folded into one of the chairs, tucking her arms close against her body. If she stood next to him any longer, she’d meld into him, weeping, letting out weeks’ worth of pain and disappointment, using him as her wall. “What happened to St. Louis and Purina, brand manager and all?”

He smiled, shaking his head, and sat next to her. “Marketing, branding, business strategies, spinning the truth . . . not me. I looked in the mirror one day and said, ‘Dude, what are you doing here?’ I quit, moved back into the farmhouse. Mom was about to go crazy living with Sydney and her brood, so she moved in with me. Yes, I’m a thirty-two-year-old man living with his mother; save the jokes for later. Remember Hartline?”

“Okay . . . no jokes pending. Hartline? Yeah, how could I forget?” Ben Hartline had been one of Dustin’s best friends in high school. The night Jade realized her relationship, her secret marriage to Dustin, was unraveling, Dustin had been at Hartline’s house flirting with his sister, Kendall.

“Yeah, right.” Dustin cleared his throat. “Anyway, we were having a few beers one night out at the new place on 163, The Hoss, mellowing to the jukebox, dreaming about what we’d do if we could do anything we wanted . . .” He stopped and analyzed her for a moment. “Hey, I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came to find out about you. How are you? How’s your mom?”

“I’m tired, but fine. Mama has bacterial pneumonia.” Jade leaned forward, resting her arms on her thighs. “They have her hooked up to a heavy antibiotic, which seems to be working. She’s stable and sleeping.” She held on to his gaze. So much blue hope and strength there. “She’s dying, Dustin.”

The first sob hit Jade without warning. She’d not been braced, so her arms slipped from her legs as she collapsed forward, shaking.
Mama, Max, June .
. . Her emotions stormed her heart’s gates.

Dustin slipped his arms around her and cradled her against his chest, stroking her hair, whispering everything would be all right.

But it wouldn’t be all right.
Everything
was changing. Everything
had
changed.

Jade cried against him until his arm slipped slowly down her back and around her waist. The familiar and comfortable move sent warmth through her and suddenly reminded her of what it was like to be in love with Dustin, pressed against him with his thundering heart in her ear.

Jade jumped up, breaking free, finding the tissue box up by the altar. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all over you.” She blew her nose and wadded the tissue against her palm.

“Don’t be.” His voice was husky with emotion.

It felt as if the connection between them had never severed.

“So you and Hartline dreamed up a business?” She returned to her chair, sitting on the edge and leaning away from him. Looking down as she squeezed the tissue tighter in her hand, she was suddenly aware of her bare left finger. In her haste and panic over Mama, she’d forgotten her rings.

“We did. Turned Dad’s equipment garage into a chop shop. We do specialized cars and trucks. It’s been an interesting adventure.” His smile confirmed he’d found his life’s calling. “The show
Overhaul
took a look at us . . . We have a shot at being a part of a mid-America show they’re creating.”

“Well, look at you and Hart.” Jade dotted her wet eyes with the dry edge of her tissue, then hid the wad in her purse. “You must be thrilled.”

“Nothing is signed yet, but the producers love Hart’s work. His designs got us the attention.”

“So you can fix the Cadillac? All we need is a new top, not a new chop.” She sat back with a smile.

“New top, not a new chop . . . Ha, I like it.” He angled his body toward hers and brushed the flyaway hair from her eyes. The move was almost like a reflex, intimate and tender. “I already took the car to the shop. We need to look up parts, but we can have the old girl good as new in a week to ten days. The motor for the top is tricky, but doable. How did the top get so mangled?”

“I jumped on it.” Jade let free her ponytail and combed her hair with her fingers.

“Interesting . . .” He laughed low. “Because?”

“Because it wouldn’t go up. It wouldn’t go down. And I was mad.”

“Now, what did that poor top ever do to you?” He peered down at her. “It’s really good to see you.”

The tenor of his voice made her drink deep of his spirit. “I must be a sight,” she said. He was trying to read her, figure out what drove her to trample a convertible top. Dustin knew darn well it wasn’t because the top was stuck.

“A beautiful sight, if you ask me.” He motioned to the hem of her jeans. “I like the pajama-trim look.”

“I wasn’t exactly awake when I dressed to come here.” Jade lifted her foot to see her cotton bottoms poking through the end of her pant leg. “Couldn’t find socks.”

“I’m sorry about your mama.” Dustin rubbed his hand across her back, over her shoulders. Every sleeping molecule awakened.

Jade couldn’t discern if being tired, frustrated, or feeling alone made her want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but with each minute, with each touch, her pulse tugged her toward him. Dustin was her heart’s first home. And the combination of past memories colliding with present emotions tempted her to leap without looking.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Jade?”

Leave, don’t come back. Close that door to your heart that remains ajar
. “Well, I’m hungry, I guess.”

“Breakfast, coming up.” Dustin jumped up and started for door. “Let’s see . . . eggs and bacon with wheat toast and a side of pancakes?”

“Some things never change.”

“Some things never do.” His eyes lingered on her as if he wanted her to hear what lived beneath the surface. “If you’re not here?”

“I’ll be in Mama’s room. Three-oh-three.”

As he exited, a nurse entered. “Ah, there you are, Mrs. Benson.”

“Is Mama okay?” Jade stood and reached for her purse.

“She’s awake, asking for you.”

Eighteen

June wrapped her hair in a do-rag and carted all the cleaning supplies from the utility room and from under the kitchen sink onto the red Formica table.

Snapping on a pair of laytex gloves, she faced her image reflected in the shade falling across the kitchen window. “Germs, your days are numbered. Junie the Disinfector is in the house.”

She rolled her eyes at the words. In her younger days, she was always doing something funny, urging her sorority sisters to put on plays for their house mother or their favorite fraternity men. She was the nucleus around which they all bonded.

“Junie, the Kappa Alphas from Mercer called. They’re coming . . . they’re coming!
What should we do?” Squeal, scream, giggle, pound their feet into the floor
as they turned in a circle
.

But now she was sixty-something, coloring the gray out of her hair and considering Botox injections. Her only child was grown, successful at law but flailing in his relationships. And she, June Benson, spent the bulk of her marriage seeking penance and forgiving her husband’s sins.

The lively June Carpenter of Wesleyan College was nothing like the stoic June Benson of Whisper Hollow.

After a second, the shadow on the window faded, taking June’s reflection with it. Peering beyond the rain and dirt-splattered pane, June studied the gray clouds congregating from the northwest. Looked like fall instead of spring.

She began her work upstairs, yanking off Beryl’s bedding and tossing it down the laundry chute to the basement. What a handy device, a laundry chute.

She planned to give Beryl’s sheets and blankets a good hot washing, Lysol the mattress, and open a few windows to let in the fresh prairie air.

For the better part of the day, she worked with zeal, going from room to room, cleaning and disinfecting, thankful to be busy.

Jade had called to let her know Beryl was out of the woods, for now. “See, I told you.” And Rebel sent one text message:
The governor is deciding tomorrow
. Linc came around in the afternoon, and while June wrote a shopping list— she felt like baking—she had him chop some firewood. Snow was in the air.

The doorbell rang as June sent Linc off to the store. She opened to find three women standing on the porch.

“Can I help you?”

“You must be June. I’m Carla Colter. My son, Dustin, is the one who looked at your car this morning.”

“Right, right, do come in, please.” The one who married Jade before Max.

The ladies entered as Carla finished the introductions. “This is Sharon Watson and Elizabeth Stone. We’re friends of Beryl’s.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” June pressed her hand to her head, thinking twice about removing the do-rag. “Pardon my appearance, but I’ve been trying to keep busy, cleaning. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you. Can we do anything?” Carla asked, following June to the kitchen. “Cook? Shop? Help clean?”

“Pray. Beryl could use a bit of divine intervention.” June filled the kettle with water and set it on the burner.

The teatime conversation was about Beryl and her health, then drifted toward friends and family who suffered illness and the mercy of God. June liked the women. She found their company refreshing, unencumbered with expectation.

They’d eaten all the Chips Ahoy! cookies (a Linc shopping choice) and sipped through a second cup of Earl Gray tea when Linc burst through the back door, his arm threaded through plastic bags of groceries. “Excuse me, ladies.” He glanced at June. “Where do you want me to put these?”

“The counter is fine, Linc.” She moved to help him.

Carla helped unload the few groceries while Sharon offered to write up her favorite cake recipe. Once the kitchen was squared away, Carla carried her cup to the sink. “June, we’ll get out of your way, but call us if you need anything.”

“I will, I will.” She walked with them to the door. “Thank you so much for the company.”

Linc was waiting for her in the kitchen. “Want me to bring in the firewood, Mrs. Benson?”

“Please.” June was halfway through putting up the groceries when her cell went off. She answered, hoping to hear good news from Jade.

“Mrs. Benson, this is Carissa McCown.”

“Slow news day?” June exhaled. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you give me a statement about Claire Falcon?”

June froze. The phone slipped in her fingers.

“She’s accusing you of assaulting her in a parking lot.”

“You’re joking.” Will the circus
ever
leave town?

“She’s not filed official charges, but while speaking with a reporter—”

“A reporter? You mean you, Miss McCown?” June’s fingernails made deep imprints into her palm.

“Do you have a comment, Mrs. Benson?”

Linc stumbled through the door, his arms loaded with firewood.

“No, I don’t.” June caught the door for Linc, holding it open.