A Week Till the Wedding (22 page)

He made a suggestion about paint color as they stood in the doorway of her bedroom. Daisy couldn’t see a new color on the walls. Instead she saw Jacob in her bed. She saw the two of them dancing in the dark, her skin against his, the music washing over them. She saw herself, thinking—
knowing
—that she still loved Jacob and couldn’t live without him. It would take weeks, maybe months, to make all the changes the agent suggested. She didn’t want to drag this painful process out any longer than was absolutely necessary.

She’d kept the house almost exactly as it had been when her parents had died. Someone else would have to remake it into something new and different.

“Put the house on the market as is,” she said as she and the real estate agent sat at the kitchen table with a stack of papers between them.

“But you could get...”

“I don’t care,” she interrupted sharply, not caring—too much—that she sounded almost rude. She just wanted out, as soon as possible. She didn’t want to spend weekend after weekend here painting and remodeling. No, she wanted to escape every memory—the good and the bad. Now. “Get what you can for it, that’s all I ask.”

He shook his head and pushed some papers toward her. She signed, blinking twice to clear the annoying tears from her eyes.

* * *

Jacob was accustomed to sleeping in hotel rooms, but the one he woke in late Saturday morning was not exactly up to his usual standards. The bed was hard, there was the unmistakable hum of the interstate too close by and the walls were so thin he could hear the television—and some of the conversation—in the room next door. The hotel he had chosen was close, right off the interstate in between Bell Grove and Atlanta. He was tempted to get in his car and head a little farther south so he could get on a plane and return to San Francisco today.

Instead of hopping out of bed and doing just that he lay there for a while. Running away was too easy; it was the coward’s way out. It would be so easy to fly away from this mess and tell himself that he and Daisy just weren’t meant to be. Soon enough he’d be back in the swing of things, and he’d relegate her to the back of his mind, as best he could. He’d bury himself in work, and tell himself it was all for the best. But Daisy was worth fighting for. He knew that, now. He wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to be won—not by him, at least—but if he didn’t try he’d always wonder.

He wasn’t going to San Francisco without her, not without a fight. The life he’d lived for the past seven years, the job, the money, the travel, the excitement...it didn’t look very attractive to him anymore. In fact, from a distance it looked downright sad.

It would be very easy to hop on a plane and resume his life as it had been before. Daisy would be fine. She had her sisters, and a million friends who would be there for her if she needed them. No matter what had happened in the past couple of weeks—the good and the bad—they could both return to the lives they’d made in the past seven years. And they’d grow apart all over again. It would hurt more, this time, but life would go on.

Jacob showered, he dressed, he walked to the restaurant next to the hotel for a big breakfast. Back in the hotel room he sat at the faux-wood desk with a crappy cup of in-room coffee and answered a few of the emails that had piled up during his vacation. There were enough messages in his in-box to keep him busy for a week.

When Ted called that afternoon, Jacob wasn’t at all surprised to hear that it had been his grandmother who’d set the sale of a strip of downtown Bell Grove into motion. And all this time he’d been feeling sorry for her...

“Thanks,” Jacob said. He wheeled the creaky desk chair around and ran anxious fingers through his hair, trying to decide what to do. Usually he knew exactly what should come next. That was his job, after all. In business, though, not in life. His life held no surprises, no tough personal choices.

Before he hung up the phone he said, “There’s something else...”

* * *

Eunice sat in her favorite spot, staring out the window. It was a beautiful summer day, bright and green. She half hoped to see Jacob’s rental car heading down the long, winding driveway, but no such luck.

He hated her. She couldn’t blame him. Well, she could blame him a little. Why couldn’t he—and everyone else—see that her intentions had been good? She wondered if he’d ever give her the opportunity to explain herself. If he’d ever forgive her.

It was after lunch when she saw a bit of dust kicked up in the distance. With her eyes squinted so she could see farther, she waited to see who was coming this way. She hoped for Jacob. She even said a quick prayer that her grandson was coming home to make things right. Instead her tired old eyes eventually identified an ancient pickup truck she had never seen before. It was one Jacob wouldn’t be caught dead in, she knew that much. The vehicle she watched left the driveway often, jerking off the asphalt and then back on again, sending dirt and dust flying each time the wheels left the path.

A drunkard, Eunice thought. A lost drunkard who could not keep control of his vehicle. It was a rusted pickup, she noted as it jerked to a stop at the front of the house. Perhaps it had once been red; it was difficult to tell.

The very loud engine was silenced with a sputter. The driver’s door opened with a rusty squeal, and—surprise—Vivian stepped out of the truck.

Eunice was at once envious of her old friend for being so limber—and able to drive at all—and at the same time she was furious that someone who drove so badly would get on the road. She could’ve been killed!

A small brown dog followed Vivian out of the vehicle. Eunice was horrified. She would not allow that filthy creature into the house!

She heard the doorbell, moved her chair away from the window and pretended to be surprised when Lurlene knocked on her door and introduced the guest.

The dog followed Vivian into the room, ran toward Eunice and—horrors—jumped into her lap.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Eunice attempted to move her face away from the mutt’s slobbering attempts to lick her on the mouth. She failed miserably.

“Settle down,” Vivian said with a smile. “Buster is an affectionate animal. And besides, you should be glad that
someone
still likes you.”

“Take him! Take him! Get this creature off me!”

Vivian chuckled as she reached out and grabbed the dog, who gratefully turned his attentions to her. She smiled as Buster licked her face and then settled into her arms, a dirty bundle of long brown hair. The animal apparently didn’t have a care in the world.

“What kind of dog is that?” Eunice asked with disdain.

“Buster is a mutt.”

“I see.”

“Don’t turn up your nose that way. There’s nothing wrong with being a mutt. You need to get that stick out of your ass, Eunice.” Vivian sat on the edge of the bed and placed the dog beside her.

Eunice bit back a command to get the
mutt
off her bedspread. But the damage was already done, and since the animal settled down in one place and didn’t seem inclined to romp further, she let the infraction go.

“Did you apologize to Jacob?” Vivian asked.

Eunice felt her lips tighten and thin. “No. He left last night without seeing me, and he’s not answering his cell phone.” Not to her, at least. He had caller ID—everyone did these days—and he might be purposely avoiding her. Might be? Of course he was purposely avoiding her.

“Did you call Daisy?”

It took everything Eunice had not to drop her head in shame. “No. I...what can I say to her? How can I explain over the phone what I did and why? I really did have her best interests at heart, but she won’t believe that.” Besides, Daisy was almost certain to screen her calls just as Jacob did. If she tried calling from another phone, well, Daisy would surely just hang up when she answered and heard Eunice’s voice on the line.

“You can start with
I’m sorry
.”

Those words did not come easily to Eunice. They never had.

“You need to stick with the truth,” Vivian instructed dryly. “Think of telling the truth as a new experience. Prove to your family that you’re an old dog who can learn new tricks.”

Eunice was tempted to kick Vivian and her mangy dog out of the house. No one spoke to her this way! But she couldn’t deny that she perversely liked having the plain-spoken Vivian back in her life. Last night they’d talked for hours, catching up on the time that had passed. It made Eunice regret deeply the lost years, the years they could’ve been friends if she’d only made the first move and said she was sorry.

“That’s not going to be easy.”

Vivian snorted. Such unladylike behavior! “Try actually having dementia, if you want to imagine something that’s not easy. Remember Jean from our class? She died five years ago, but not until she’d forgotten everyone in her family, not until she’d completely lost touch with the world she lived in. You
pretended
because it suited your purpose. She lived with it. For years. Her family truly suffered, the way you made your family suffer because you wanted to get your way.”

A sharp retort was on Eunice’s tongue, but she bit it back. Jean? She hadn’t seen or heard about Jean for years, but she still remembered her as a pretty young woman with a husband who loved her and a handful of rowdy kids. The family had moved to Chattanooga years ago, but maybe she’d moved back. Maybe Vivian had kept in touch all these years. Eunice fought back tears. Had she lost touch so completely with the world around her?

“I didn’t mean to make light of...I just didn’t think...was it bad for her, really?” Pretending not to remember had been convenient and—yes, she’d admit it—occasionally fun. But even to imagine truly being in that state was painful.

“It was bad.” Vivian stroked her mutt’s fur and looked away for a few moments. The silence that followed was maddening.

“You’ll stay for dinner,” Eunice said as she regained complete control of her emotions.

Vivian’s head snapped around and her eyebrows shot up sharply. “I will?”

Eunice took a deep breath. Good heavens, this was difficult. “Vivian, would you
please
stay for dinner?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like to drive after dark.”

“From what I saw, you shouldn’t drive by the light of day, either,” Eunice snapped.

Vivian glanced toward the window that looked out over the front of the house. “You saw me coming and then pretended to be surprised. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Eunice admitted. Had lying become the norm for her? Was it her natural mode of operation? “I suppose I don’t want everyone to know that I sit here at the window and watch life pass me by.”

Vivian nodded as if she understood. “I don’t drive often, and I will admit, that old thing doesn’t steer the way it used to.”

“I’ll ask Caleb to look at it,” Eunice said. “He’s always been quite good with cars. He and Jacob both, though of course Jacob isn’t here.” She cleared her throat. “Caleb can drive you home later tonight.” She added, in a lowered voice, “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Fine by me.” Vivian looked pointedly at the wheelchair. “Since I’ll be here for a while, I have some exercises I want you to try.”

“Exercises?” Eunice repeated sharply. “I’ll have you know, I do
not
exercise.”

Vivian harrumphed, and there went those eyebrows again. “Maybe that’s why you’re in a wheelchair.”

Dogs, exercise, apologizing. Eunice very much wanted her old friend back in her life, but she had a feeling that if she gave in nothing would ever be the same. Exercise! Horrors.

“The Braves are playing a day game today,” Vivian said, heading for the small television Eunice rarely bothered to turn on. “You do have cable, don’t you?”

Baseball? Oh, the sacrifices...

“Of course,” Eunice said.

“We’ll exercise between innings, and after the game we’ll try making those phone calls.”

As much as Eunice hated the thought of talking to Jacob or Daisy, of facing what she’d done, she knew her old friend, who was perhaps going to become a new friend, was right.

Chapter Sixteen

D
aisy wanted to be happy about leaving Bell Grove; she wanted to be excited about all the changes that were coming to her life. Goodness knows she needed a few changes!

But after Lily left—she didn’t have any more time off from her new job—Daisy found herself sinking deeper and deeper into a funk. She waffled back and forth between trying to psych herself up, and being in the dumps about leaving home. Mari and Lily didn’t complain about getting homesick. They didn’t pine for Bell Grove. They hadn’t put their lives on hold to keep what was left of their parents alive. She had. What was wrong with her?

Then again, they both knew this house and their big sister would be here, waiting for them, if they ever did get the urge to come home.

No more. As she packed knickknacks and doodads that hadn’t been moved in many years, Daisy found herself getting maudlin. Every piece she touched had a memory attached to it. They’d gone in together and given their mother this figurine for Mother’s Day one year. It was cheap and, yes, a little tacky, but Mom had loved it. At the very least, she’d pretended well to love it. It had been sitting on the same shelf for seventeen years.

This vase was chipped, thanks to a rambunctious four-year-old Lily. It was always placed with the chipped side to the wall, so no one would see the defect. This cat figurine had belonged to their grandmother—their father’s mother. Mari had always loved it. Every dish, every plate, every cloth napkin had a memory attached to it.

Packing things away was torture. Daisy wasn’t ready to sell or toss the worthless treasures, but where was she going to store it all?

She tried to make piles. Definitely keep, maybe throw away, Mari or Lily might want. But she kept moving things out of the
maybe throw away
pile and into one of the others. At one point she conceded that she was a hopeless pack rat and her sisters were going to have to help her make decisions about all this
stuff
.

She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, a trio of small framed pictures lined up before her. Mari, Lily and Daisy, each of them at one year old. These she’d take with her, she decided. No matter where she lived, she could look at these photos every day. They were a part of home she could take with her.