Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (36 page)

“You don’t know what to say.” Dottie bridged the space between them and rested her hand on Georgia’s knee for just a moment. Even the hand looked familiar, long-fingered, like Georgia’s own, nails square and large. Like Georgia she didn’t bother with polish and kept them closely trimmed, like a gardener, perhaps, or at least someone with other things to do than submit to a manicure.

“Are you sure
you
aren’t my mother?” Georgia asked at last.

Relief stole over Dottie’s features, and her green eyes, which were so much like Edna’s, filled. She cleared her throat. “My husband and I weren’t blessed with children. But I would very much like to pretend.”

Georgia felt tears slip down her cheeks. She stretched out her hand, and Dottie, who was crying softly, too, took it.

Lucas’s arm came around Georgia’s shoulders. “Didn’t you tell me you used to wish for a big family?”

“I may need to be more careful in the future.”

Then they all, through tears, began to laugh.

Chapter Forty-Two

BY THE TIME
Cristy left the Mountain Mist on Monday afternoon, there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Even the resourceful spiders who spun webs between boards on the back deck had been served their final eviction notices. She had worked harder and faster just to keep from thinking, and now she was so tired she hoped she could take a dreamless nap before it was time to pick up Dawson at BCAS to bring him back up the mountain.

He couldn’t stay at the Goddess House forever, and she had to talk to Georgia or Samantha about the situation and get their permission for him to stay a little longer. But he was her friend, and she couldn’t refuse to help him. He had suffered enough rejection at the hands of his parents, and under no circumstances was she going to add to that.

The moment she turned into the Goddess House driveway she saw there would be no nap after all. The car was unfamiliar, which set off internal alarms, a shiny new Honda Accord sporting dealer plates, which set the alarms ringing more frantically. Then she squinted up at the porch, and with relief recognized the woman sitting on the edge, swinging her shapely legs.

“Analiese.” She watched as Analiese tossed a ball for the delighted Beau, and with some reluctance she got out and walked up to join them.

“Mondays are my day off,” Analiese said, dusting off khaki shorts as she got to her feet, “and I couldn’t resist a little time in the country. Besides I was hoping to see how the garden’s coming.”

Cristy joined her on the glider, although she stayed at the far end since she’d wallowed in disinfectant, insecticide and sweat all morning.

“It’s coming great. I picked the first zucchini this weekend and ate it right then and there. It was the size of my little finger. And there are a ton of radishes. Do you like radishes?”

“Isn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara digs out of the ground when she swears she’ll never go hungry again? Or was that a carrot?”

“I’d have to be really, really hungry to eat nothing but radishes. If somebody plants a garden next year, they should start earlier to get a spring harvest.”

“It sounds like you don’t think you’ll be here.”

Cristy shrugged, not willing to answer. “Is that a new car?”

“I finally broke down. Charlotte would be so happy.”

“Why? Didn’t she like the other one?”

Analiese gave a low laugh. “For a long time appearances mattered to Charlotte. Really mattered, and having her minister drive an old jalopy like mine embarrassed her. She told me so in a number of ways. One of them was to give me the business card of a salesman at her favorite dealership.”

Cristy found herself relaxing. Analiese was staring into the distance, not into her eyes or soul. This was a conversation, not an interrogation. “It sounds like she changed?”

“By the end of her life appearances meant very little. That’s the most important thing anybody needs to remember about Charlotte. She looked at her life, decided she needed to change things, and she did. Of course, that was the kind of person she always was. She never hesitated if she saw something that needed to be done. But the kinds of things she noticed changed for the better.”

Cristy thought that was all well and good. For Charlotte. “Well, that’s nice, but change isn’t always possible.”

“If they can’t change their circumstances, do you think people can change the way they see them?”

Cristy wondered. “You mean if we can’t change what’s happening, we can try to find the good in it?”

“Maybe, or just discover what we learned that will help us improve our lives.”

Cristy thought about prison. “When I was in Raleigh I learned not to trust anybody. What good was that?”

Now Analiese glanced at her, but with interest, not as if she didn’t like what Cristy had said. “First, I wonder if that’s true. If it were, would you be
here?
You had to trust Samantha, at least a little, to accept her offer of a place to stay. You trust Georgia to help you read. And don’t you have to trust me just a little to have this conversation? Maybe you learned that you have to look beneath the surface before you let down your guard.”

“The biggest thing I learned? Life isn’t fair.” Cristy waited for the minister to dispute that, too, but Analiese didn’t, so she continued. “I should never have gone to prison, but nobody believed me when I told them I was innocent. So telling the truth doesn’t keep bad things from happening. Sometimes it just speeds them up.”

“I’m going to sound like a minister, but that’s more or less what happened to Jesus, isn’t it? People in power didn’t like the things he said or did, so they imprisoned and executed him.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it sure doesn’t.”

“No, it’s just supposed to remind you that what happened to you has happened to others throughout history. Sometimes the only thing we can control is what happens inside us. And I think you’re struggling with that.”

“Not just that,” Cristy said, before she had thought her answer through. Then she was sorry, because she knew if she explained what she meant, actually leveled and told the whole truth, Analiese would just counsel her to do the right thing, no matter the consequences to herself or Michael.

When she didn’t speak, Analiese rested her fingertips on Cristy’s knee. “Cristy, I can listen or not. It’s totally up to you. If you don’t ever want to talk about what’s bothering you, that’s okay.”

“Samantha sent you, didn’t she?”

“It wasn’t quite that direct, but more or less.”

“I shouldn’t have talked to her.”

“Really?”

Cristy knew that was a real question. “Samantha probably wishes I had never come here.”

“She didn’t tell me what you said to her, Cristy, but I did get the feeling you said just enough to worry her.”

Cristy put her head in her hands. They smelled like Lysol, despite having washed them thoroughly before heading home. Her hands had smelled this way in prison, after scrubbing the prison kitchen again and again. No amount of soap and water could remove the smell before she went to bed each night.

Perhaps now they would smell this way for the rest of her life.

She didn’t want to go back to NCCIW. She couldn’t imagine going back. But neither could she imagine not stepping forward to save a friend, even if she was ensnared in a web of lies that would hold her fast for the rest of her life.

“I have to figure this out myself,” she said softly. “I have to decide what to do myself, but I could use some help. Will you help me?”

“I hope you’ll let me.”

“Are you bound not to repeat what I’m going to tell you?”

“It’s not as simple as that. But I already know you too well to believe you mean anybody harm, which I
would
have to reveal.”

“The only person I could harm is me.” Cristy lifted her head. “And I think I’m going to have to take that chance.”

* * *

Lucas knew Georgia had a meeting this afternoon, but he planned to surprise her and wait on a bench at the front of the school until she was free. He would be well occupied because he had to go over copy edits that had just been returned to him. Going through a manuscript looking for changes and responding to them was a laborious process and one best done in short spurts in the sunshine. He had two weeks to turn the edits around, and he planned to take exactly that long to do them.

Exams were in progress, and students drifted in and out in clumps. Many were already gone for the day, although it was still an hour until the final bell, but as he approached the front of the school he spotted Dawson sitting alone on the steps. He wondered if the family pickup had broken down, and the boy needed a ride home. Or if he was waiting for another student to spend the afternoon with. He hoped the latter was the case. Dawson needed a social life.

He raised his hand in greeting, but Dawson’s answering wave was halfhearted. He wondered whether it was safe to walk over and say hello, but decided that even if Dawson was waiting for a friend, a quick greeting wouldn’t destroy his standing with his peers.

Dawson looked up as he drew closer, and Lucas saw right away that something was wrong. The boy looked distracted and weary, as if his life had taken a turn for the worse. Lucas lowered himself to the step beside him, cushioning his back with his forearms.

“So what gives?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for Cristy. But it’ll be a while.”

“I hope you’re going somewhere fun.”

Dawson didn’t respond. Lucas just waited.

“My parents kicked me out,” the boy said at last.

Lucas was genuinely shocked. “What?”

“Look, I told them something about me that they didn’t want to hear, and they told me to hit the road.”

Lucas considered, then made an educated guess, something he had begun to suspect and hadn’t even discussed with Georgia. “You told them you were gay.”

Dawson was silent.

“Am I wrong?” Lucas asked.

“How did you figure it out?”

“It’s not like you have a sign around your neck. I just began to wonder if that’s what might be behind some of the problems you have with your folks. You’ve made it clear there was something you could never talk to them about, and I figured it was something bigger than what you planned to major in or where you wanted to go to college. When you said your parents kicked you out for something you said...” He shrugged.

“So now you know.”

“For the record I don’t care.”

Dawson managed a wan smile. “They do.”

“I thought they might.”

“I hitchhiked up to see Cristy afterward, and she let me spend the night there. I guess she felt safe, a gay guy not being much of a threat to her honor.”

“She likes you. So do I. You’re a likable guy when you stop working so hard not to be.”

“I’m a likable guy with no place to live and no summer job to support myself.”

Lucas didn’t have to think. “I have an extra room. It’s yours as long as you need it. I could use an assistant, and I’m not making that up so don’t make a stink. I’m swamped. I haven’t even listened to my phone messages from this past weekend or opened my mail. I need somebody to do social media and correspondence, maybe some proofreading. How are you with spreadsheets?”

“Good enough. Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Lucas thought about what this would do to his privacy and realized he was going to become more intimately acquainted with Georgia’s town house than he had expected.

“You would do all that for me?”

Lucas was silently infuriated at the Nedleys’ behavior, but he tried not to let his feelings seep into his voice. “You’re getting a bum deal. I’m sorry your parents reacted the way they did, but they’re making their problem your problem. And being gay isn’t a problem. It’s just who you are. Maybe someday they’ll figure that out.”

Dawson started to speak. Then something in the distance caught his eye, and he stiffened. Lucas followed his gaze and saw Willie Nedley approaching. He was glad he was sitting beside the young man to offer support. He hoped he could stay silent.

Out of habit and good Southern manners he stood when Willie drew closer.

“Dawson, we need to talk,” Willie said, once she stopped in front of her son. She looked tired, too. Her dress was wrinkled, and she wasn’t wearing makeup or jewelry. Her hair was pushed back from her face as if she had just run her fingers through it in lieu of a comb or brush.

Dawson got to his feet, as if his own good manners had propelled him there, but he crossed his arms over his chest to ward off whatever she planned to say.

“We talked yesterday, and you said everything you needed to.”

“I didn’t say anything. Your father and you—”

“You
did.
You told me to apologize and take back everything I’d told him! Well, I’m not lying to please you. I
am
gay, and I can’t change it. You can’t make this right by pretending everything’s fine anymore. You’ve been doing that since Ricky died. But it’s not all right. It’s never going to be the same. And I’m never going to be the gung ho marine he was. I am who I am.”

She began to cry. Lucas searched for a handkerchief, unsure what else to do.

“I know...I know...” She tried to wipe her eyes on her sleeve, but Lucas found the handkerchief and gave it to her before she got very far.

“I don’t want you...to be Ricky. I love you, Dawson. I just wanted to preserve...” She couldn’t go on.

“What? Our happy home?” Dawson’s voice was choked. “We haven’t been happy in a long time. Don’t you get that?”

“Your father’s heart...was ripped out when your brother died. And he just can’t be...someone he’s not.”

“Neither can I.”

“I know...I know...” She wiped her eyes. “So I’ve had to make a choice.”

Dawson shoved his hands in his pockets. “Then why are you here?”

She looked puzzled, and then she seemed to understand. “Dawson, did you think...” She swallowed. “You are my son. I found us a house...in town. Just a little one, but nice enough. Did you think I would live with your father after he told you to leave?”

Dawson was silent, as if he was putting that together in his head. “You and me?” he asked at last.

“You have to finish school and you still have a year to go. You’re...you’re too smart not to. Your poetry, it’s special. You’re special and...wonderful. My favorite quilt shop needs another person on staff for the summer. We’ll figure out how to make it all work.”

“But how about Dad?”

“He’ll have to learn to be alone, I guess.” She wiped her nose. “I’m sorry you had even one night believing...” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Thinking I didn’t love you enough to stand up for you when it really counted. I just wish...” She shook her head again. “I just wish I had done it before.”

“He’s not going to come around.”

“I know. I hope we’re wrong, but...I know.”

Lucas knew he could leave them alone now, that Dawson no longer needed him. From this point on Willie would be his support.

He clapped Dawson on the back. “The job’s still yours, but it sounds like you won’t need the room. We’ll talk later about when you should start.”

Not expecting an answer he walked away. As he was getting in his car to head to a coffee shop with his edits, he glanced back at the steps and saw Willie fiercely hugging her son.