Edward Unconditionally Common Powers 3 (12 page)

“My, that was fast. Then he dumped you?”

“I wish.” He stared out the window, took a deep breath, and told her the rest. “No. Like a fool, I trusted him and gave him the password to my bank debit card.” Edward fought the burning behind his eyes, blinking away the tears. “At the ball, the one I told you about, I confronted him about the money. Told him to pack his things and get out.” He stared down at his feet. “I was such a little fool to believe all his promises.”

She sighed. “Seems to me you didn't do anything wrong but fall in love, and in my book, there's nothing wrong with opening your heart to someone.”

“But I so stupid, so naive. I believed him. All the lies he told me. All the promises he made.” He closed his eyes, and he was right back to the night of the ball, standing at the ATM in the lobby of the hotel, when he'd discovered there was no money in his account. He'd never forget the horrible, sick feeling that he'd been played by the one person he'd trusted.

“Oh, Edward.”

“That wasn't all. I had to borrow money from Mother just to pay my mortgage and take an advance on my quarterly payment from the trust. She wouldn't give me the money until I told her what had happened. I was so mortified.”

“I'm so sorry.” Olivia shook her head. “Couldn't you get the money back?”

“Not really. The lawyers said I gave him access, and since he was living with me, it could be construed that we were partners. Mother didn't want to drag the Beauregard name and"— he made quote marks in air—"'my lifestyle’ through the news in a messy court case, so we dropped it.”

“You didn't deserve to be treated like that. No one does.”

“Maybe I do.” Edward stood, took the tray, and went to the door. “How about I let you rest now? If you're feeling better by dinner, I'll prepare something more substantial.”

“That would be lovely.” Olivia smiled at him.

Edward turned to leave when she called to him. “Edward?”

“Yes, Meemaw?”

“I love you.” She met his gaze.

“I know. I love you too.” He left the room and took the tray back to the kitchen.

After cleaning the backseat of the cruiser of all remnants of dog, Jack spent the rest of the afternoon working on training Winston, adding to the repertoire of commands the dog obeyed. Now the dog had Stay and Heel down pat. Winston had made great progress. The dog was eager to please and had real heart.

After the session, Jack found a stick, and they killed some time playing fetch. Each time Jack would throw the stick, the little dog would race after it, snatch it up, and in that rolling gait of his, waddle back to Jack. Then Winston would refuse to give it back. Jack, no longer fearful of him, pried it from those massive jaws, wiped the drool off on his jeans, and then tossed it again.

Jack sat on the grass as Winston came up to him, stick in mouth.

“I'm beat, buddy.” He lay back, hands behind his head, and looked up into the sky. Clouds floated past. He couldn't remember the last time he'd just stretched out in the grass and relaxed. Or been on a picnic. Or spent time with someone he cared about.

Winston dropped the stick on Jack's chest and gave him a big, wet kiss.

“Cut that out!” Jack wiped his cheek with his T-shirt. “Edward might like that, but not me.” He chuckled as the dog lay down next to him and fell asleep.

Looked like a good idea.

Jack closed his eyes. He could feel a slight breeze and the warmth of the sun beating down on him. The soft breathing of the dog, the buzz of some insect hovering nearby, all lulled him into sleep.

Woof.

Jack woke and looked around. Winston was at the front door waiting to go in.

The sky, once blue, was streaked with orange and crimson. He'd been asleep for at least a couple of hours. Christ, he'd needed that nap. Sitting up, he stretched his arms over his head.

It was great being pain free.

As he stood, he realized he'd never told Edward thank you.

Of course, he'd been damn distracted at the time, but on Monday, when Edward came to get Winston, he'd make a point of telling Edward thanks. It was the decent thing to do.

Once back inside, Jack sat on the couch and flipped the remote, scanning the channels. It was Saturday night; Texas Tech was playing. He settled in and twisted the top off his beer.

Winston curled up next to him. It seemed the little dog craved the human touch. He snuggled his butt up to Jack's thigh, pushing against Jack's leg with his back legs, as if trying to burrow underneath Jack. Then he fell asleep, head on his paws, tongue caught between his front teeth.

Jack's hand strayed to the dog as he watched the game. He scratched behind Winston's ears and gave the bulldog long pets, stroking his short fur. Winston grunted, rolled over, belly up, as if begging to be scratched there now, and Jack laughed.

The bulldog was as demanding as his owner.

Jack took a swig of his beer. Nope. Not going there.

Instead, he threw himself back into the game. His stomach rumbled. At least, he thought it was him, but it could have been the dog.

Jack phoned in an order for a pepperoni pizza and went to pick it up, because he lived too far out of town for the delivery service. And since the Italian restaurant was fairly close to Olivia's house, he drove past again, the pizza sitting on the passenger seat.

The lights were on, and Edward's car was still there. What had Jack expected? Edward didn't know anyone but Olivia in town, and it wasn't as if he'd go trolling the local bars to pick someone up.

And if he had been gone, what then? Drive around with his food getting cold until he found the red Miata? Then what?

Jack drove past, turned at the next corner, and went home. He needed to get back in case the dog had an accident. So far, Winston had been great. Edward had house-trained him, at least.

At home, Winston met him at the door, barking and dancing around him in excitement. His little nub tail shook his entire rump, and his long pink tongue hung out the side of his mouth, dripping dog drool.

“Hey, buddy! Did you miss me?” Jack held the pizza up so the dog couldn't knock it out of his hands. “Ready for some pizza?”

Woof.

Jack went to the kitchen, got down two plates, and put a large slice on each one.

“Dog food or pepperoni pizza?”

Woof.

“I thought so.” He put the plate on the floor, and Winston dug in.

Jack took his plate to the living room, got into the recliner, and scanned the channels. “Hundreds of channels and nothing to watch,” he told Winston.

Winston finished his pizza and now demanded another slice. The plate clattered on the tile floor as Winston knocked it with his paw until he got Jack's attention.

“More?” Jack got up and put another piece on the dog's plate. “After this one, that's it. Edward will kill me if I let you get fat.” Jack chuckled, then sobered.

If Jack wasn't careful, Edward might be the end of Jack's life and everything he'd built here in Spring Lake.

“Dinner was lovely, Edward.” Olivia dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “You're an excellent cook.”

“That's chef, Meemaw.” Edward grinned, then took their plates to the sink. “I'll just get these soaking and wash them later.”

“I can get them.”

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head, then offered her his arm. “You're not to raise a finger until you're feeling better.”

She took his arm, and they went to the living room and sat on the couch.

“I do believe you're enjoying this.” She winked at him. “It's been a long time since anyone's made such a fuss over me.”

He shrugged. “It's my nature. I'm a nurturer. It's a curse, really. Sometimes, I don't know when to quit, so tell me when I get annoying. I guess I just need someone to care for, you know.”

“I understand. Everyone wants that.”

Jack probably longed for a woman to care for. And he'd be wonderful, Edward knew it. Jack was strong, brave, trustworthy, the perfect mate for some lucky woman. Really, Edward needed to stop beating himself up about Jack. Forget him and move on.

He sat back and pulled one leg under the other. “Now. There is something I'm dying to know. If you were such a sucker for a bad boy, what about Grandpa Frank? Was he a bad boy that you tamed?”

“Your Grandpa Frank? A bad boy?” She laughed. “Oh, dear me, no. He was as straight, as honest, and as kind as the day was long.”

“Then how in the world did you wind up with him?”

“I almost didn't.” She sighed. “I'd been punished, I guess you'd call it ‘grounded’ these days. That didn't stop me. I snuck out of the house and hightailed it down to the local hangout. I ordered a hamburger, fries, and a cola, with the intention of not paying for it. I was going to sneak out, make a run for it.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Meemaw! I'm shocked! I had no idea you were such a little hoodlum,” he teased.

“I was bored. And I suppose all those bad boys had rubbed off on me. I wanted to be rebellious, be wild and wicked.” She laughed.

“And Grandpa?”

“Well, your grandfather was there with some friends. I'd eaten and made my way to the jukebox next to the door, pretending to look for a record to play. My plan was just to stroll right out the door when the next person walked in. Next thing I know, Frank was standing next to me. ‘Try fifteen B,’ he said.”

“Fifteen B?” Edward whispered, his eyes locked on her face.

“Yeah. Ella Fitzgerald's ‘Hard Hearted Hannah.’ I looked up at him and could see in his eyes he knew my plan.”

“What happened next?” Edward sat forward. It was delicious hearing these tales from her. Did his mother have any stories like this? If so, he'd never heard them. Maybe, when he got back to Atlanta, he'd ask her.

“He took my hand and slipped me three dollars. A fortune back then, and more than enough to pay for the food. For a second, I thought about taking it and running anyway.”

“Did you?” He'd no idea she had been so wild, so reckless. So Audrey Hepburn in
Roman Holiday.

She smiled at her memory before she answered. “He whispered to me, ‘Don't do it.'” She shook her head. “He knew me. I didn't even know his name, and he knew me. I don't know how he did it, but he saw right through me.” Her eyes welled.

“But did you leave?” Edward pressed. He had to know what happened. Yes, he knew they'd married, had his mother, but it was what had happened in between that he wanted to know.

“He offered me his arm, just like you did tonight, and escorted me back to my table, then went back to his friends. I paid the bill with his money.” She touched Edward's cheek with her fingers. “You know, you reminded me of Frank when you offered me your arm just now. You're a gentleman, just like he was.” She patted his leg. “He wasn't my type. He was like no one else I'd ever fallen for, and I fell for him in that one moment, right there at the jukebox, harder than I'd ever fallen for any of those other men. We dated for a year, he asked me to marry him, and the rest is Rawlings history.”

Edward sighed. “That's so romantic.”

Olivia smiled. “You'll find the right man. If I did, you will too.”

He forced a smile. He'd found the right man, but how could the right man be so wrong? “I hope so, Meemaw.”

“Now, I have a favor to ask you.”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, and I'd like to go to church.”

“Do you need me to drive you?” Edward asked.

“Well, yes. But I'd like for you to come with me.” She looked into his eyes.

Edward blinked. “To church? Oh, Meemaw, I haven't been to church since... ”

“The funeral?” She reached out and took his hand.

Edward nodded and swallowed. “I can't go to church. I wouldn't be welcome.”

“Why on earth not?”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm gay, remember? The sin of Sodom? And I'm an unrepentant sinner at that. I can't change who I am, and I won't hide it either.” He spread his arms in a flourish. “I'm gay and I'm proud.”

Olivia's mouth twisted, and her brows knitted. “Edward, wherever did you get the crazy idea that you couldn't go to church?”

He shrugged. “You know how most religious people feel about queers, Meemaw.”

“God loves sinners. No matter what the sin. Jesus taught acceptance, forgiveness, and love, not hatred and condemnation. Anyone who is truly a Christian knows this. All sinners are the same in God's eyes and He welcomes all of them to partake of His grace.”

Edward could see that she believed it. And it gave him such a warm feeling inside to believe it too. But just because she believed in God's love and acceptance of him didn't mean the other people in town believed it.

“It would mean so much to me, Edward,” she said quietly.

If his mother had asked him to go to church, he'd have flat-out refused. But this was his grandmother asking. How could he deny her? One hour sitting on a wooden pew listening to some boring sermon wouldn't kill him, would it?

“What should I wear? I didn't bring a suit.”

“Just a nice shirt and a pair of pants would be fine. Most of the young people don't wear suits either.”

“Okay, Meemaw. I'll do it for you.”

She stood, leaned down, and bussed him on the cheek. “Do it for yourself, child.” Then she left.

Good Lord, what had he gotten himself into?

Church in Hooterville?

Edward cleaned the kitchen, mopped the floors, and then went to his room. He'd unpacked, hung up his clothes, and put away his shoes in the closet that afternoon while Olivia had napped. Now he searched for something appropriate to wear on Sunday.

He pulled out a pair of navy slacks and a light blue button-down shirt. That should do nicely. Nothing too over-the-top. Definitely nothing with fringe.

Satisfied that he wouldn't embarrass Olivia, he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, then returned to his room, wearing a pair of dark blue paisley cotton pajamas and carrying his travel kit and a towel. He placed it on the bedside table, within reach, and draped the towel over a chair.

He turned on the fan, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed. For a while, he ran his hand over the light cotton fabric, letting the motion soothe him. His hand moved lower on his body, and he closed his eyes and thought of Jack.