Fireflies and Magnolias (41 page)

She sat on it regally, tucking her hands in her lap while he remained standing.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Hollins?”

For a time, she sat back against the cushions and assessed him. Yes, that was the word for it. Pinned under her piercing gaze, he had the sudden urge to tug on the collar of his shirt.

“I’m trying to see why my daughter fell in love with you,” the woman boldly declared.

His head jerked back. “Ma’am?”

“Let’s not beat around the bush. You and I have never liked each other. I worried about your influence over my son, and for a time, I thought my worries were justified. I’ve been learning there was a lot I was wrong about, and I’m big enough to admit I might have been wrong about you.”

Her patronizing attitude raised his hackles. “That
is
big of you, ma’am.”

“My daughter doesn’t give her heart away easily. I may not know much, but I know that. But she has given it to you, so that makes me inclined to reconsider my opinion of you. Unfortunately we still have a problem.”

His head was reeling from her direct talk about Amelia Ann. “What is that?”

“Your unwillingness to forgive my daughter for a wrong she didn’t even commit against you is only making me feel like I was right about you all along. If you truly love my daughter, then why aren’t you with her tonight? Hasn’t she shown the world how important helping women escape domestic violence is to her? While I wouldn’t in a million years have called a tabloid to stop Tammy from going back to Sterling with the kids, even I can understand why she did what she did, and forgive her for it.”

He was being called on the carpet by this woman? His lip curled. “After how you’ve treated your family, you’re in no position to judge me. I don’t answer to you.”

Margaret Hollins rose, and now he could see the steel strength of her spine. “It does when you’ve hurt my daughter. You’re running hot and cold, boy. First you break her heart. Then you arrange for Jasinda and her children to attend the concert tonight. And let’s not forget the small matter of you donating a million dollars to the beloved clinic where she volunteers. That sounds like guilt and a whole heck of a lot more.”

Guilt? She thought he’d given the clinic the money out of guilt? “How dare you.”

“You watch her like you burn for her still,” she said. “Make up your mind. Do you love my daughter or not? I can tell you this. It won’t take long for another man to see the goodness and beauty in her.”

Hearing her talk about Amelia Ann with another man was like falling off a cliff and landing splat on the ground. “I’m through with listening to you.”

“Let me give you some hard-won advice. I squandered the love of my children most of our lives by trying to force them to be who I wanted them to be rather than who they were. That’s a default in my character, one I am working on. I am alone because of it.”

She walked past him to the door in that regal way of hers. “I see you going in the same direction, boy. Do you really want to be alone when you could be with an incredibly beautiful and warm-hearted woman who loves you, but just didn’t do things the way you thought best? I suggest you think on that some.”

With a veiled glance, she let herself out of the study. He gripped the nearby chair to stay upright since his legs were trembling.

How dare she say they were alike? He was nothing like Margaret Hollins.

He sank into the chair and put his face in his hands.

In his mind’s eye, all he could see was Amelia Ann’s face as she pleaded with him to understand and forgive her. What had he done? He’d stood in judgment over her and denied her the absolution for which he’d begged. He’d shut her out…but it hadn’t worked.

And now she was thinking about leaving…

The sorrow he’d been fighting so hard fell upon him like cold rain. His eyes grew wet with tears as the loss of everything he’d experienced with Amelia Ann poured out of him. When he was spent, he hung his head in shame.

He’d dared to paint her with the same brush as Amanda, who had never truly loved him.

But Amelia Ann wasn’t Amanda. She loved him. And the depth of her feelings for him and his for her made him realize what he’d felt for Amanda was nothing but a pale imitation of love, like a fake painting hung beside a real masterpiece.

Margaret Hollins was right. He was going down the same path as she was, shutting out the woman he loved by withholding his love and forgiveness, by trying to make her into something she wasn’t.

He could stop that right now.

Rising from his chair, he caught sight of a glow outside the French doors to the garden. It looked like the sparks of a fire, except the lights were winking on and off like Christmas lights.

He couldn’t make them out, but he felt a prickle on his neck—a feeling that told him he had to find out what they were. He stepped into the cold and fought the urge to shiver. The path to the moonlit garden where he’d once held a crying Amelia Ann cushioned his steps.

When he drew close enough to make out the source of the lights, he froze.

Sitting on the cast-iron bench in the garden was Amelia Ann, and she was surrounded by what seemed to be hundreds of fireflies. His steps grew more certain as he strode toward her.

She looked up and held out her gloved hands. “I don’t understand how all these fireflies can be alive. It’s freezing outside.”

His throat grew thick, and he grasped her slim hands in his own as the fireflies gathered around him, bringing him into the circle of their light.

“I do,” he said in a rough voice, meeting her gaze.

His daddy had a hand in this, and he could deny the truth no longer.

“They were guiding me back to you.”

“Oh, Clayton.”

Even in the moonlight, he could see the shine of tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for hurting you. Please forgive me.”

A single tear fell, followed by another. “Do you forgive me?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Yes. I love you. I want to be with you again. Want to wake up with you again.”

She came into his arms like the miracle she was.

The fireflies swirled around them, shining their magical light, as he opened up his heart to her once more.

Amelia Ann had never much believed in magic growing up, but she’d come to believe miracles could happen and chocolate fairies could live in gardens and heal a family.

Nestled in Clayton’s arms, so achingly familiar, she inhaled the smell of him—leather, musk, and wood smoke—and watched the fireflies whirl around them like golden twinkle lights.

“Oh, I can’t believe this is real,” she said against his chest. “Please tell me you aren’t going to change your mind.”

He tipped her chin up and gazed down at her, his eyes wrinkling at the corners from deep emotion. “Never. Until I take my last breath, I’ll love you—just as I do now.”

Her hands clutched his back, wanting to sink into his skin and become a part of him again. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see the light.”

Nuzzling his chin, she pressed her lips to his throat, alive with wonder. “I’ll never betray you again.”

His hands settled on her shoulders, and he put some distance between them. “You didn’t really betray me. Your mama was right about that.”

“My mama?” When in the world had her mama talked to Clayton? And why?

“She made me see a side of myself I don’t exactly like. I shut you out when I got hurt and threw aside the love you had for me. I told myself you were just like Amanda because…well, hell, I didn’t want to be hurt again. Except I was, and I couldn’t deal with it. I refused to see why you’d done it even though I
knew
who you truly are inside, and I’m sorrier than I can say.”

She pressed their foreheads together, feeling the weight of her hurt and shame drop away as though through a trap door. “We’re both sorry. How about we move onto happier things?”

“I’m on board for that.”

“Then kiss me,” she whispered, asking for what she wanted, what she needed. “Please.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, his touch as light as the fireflies that had landed on her coat as she sat crying in the garden. At first, she’d thought she was hallucinating, there were so many of them. But one had landed on her glove, and she’d watched it wink on and then off for a time. She’d realized it was real, and something miraculous was happening.

Then he’d appeared, their golden light shining on his achingly beautiful face, and hope had burst open in her chest.

Their kiss held the promise of a future together, and she surrendered to the feel of his tongue tracing her lips and then coming inside her mouth to dance with her own. Her hands reacquainted themselves with the hard muscles of his back, and as he crushed his chest to her breasts, she knew desire again, the bold, beautiful flash of it cresting inside her.

They kissed, and kissed, and when they separated to gaze into each other’s eyes, she noticed the fireflies had disappeared.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, taking in the darkness of the garden.

He traced her cheek gently. “They did their job. They brought me back to you.”

The moonlight made the black curls of his hair shine like diamonds, and she realized she’d probably knocked off his cowboy hat at some point.

“What do you mean, their job?” she asked.

His hands gripped her own. “I asked my daddy for a sign when I visited his gravesite. Mama said…well, hell…she said he gave her signs. He used to call her a firefly, and he told me that when I met a woman like that, I needed to hang onto her.”

His words blew over her sweetly, like a warm spell in winter. “Oh, Clayton.”

“I’ve seen them around you before, at the farm, but I told myself it wasn’t a sign. That I’d seen them there before.”

“But it’s thirty degrees out here,” she finished for him, feeling a wondrous sense of awe.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I want to take you to…my daddy’s grave. I know he’s not there, but…”

The grief in his voice shot straight to her heart, and she took his face in her hands. “He’s still watching over you, honey. The fireflies were a miracle.”

“You’re my miracle,” he said and kissed her again. “My firefly and magnolia all wrapped up into one.”

As they kissed in the moonlight garden, a final firefly twinkled in the air above them before trailing off into the heavens.

Sunday dinners with a large extended family were new to Clayton, but then again, being this happy with Amelia Ann was still pretty new to him too.

How had he ever deserved to be this happy?

She grabbed his hand as they walked to J.P.’s front porch. Christmas decorations winked on in the house, and when they opened the door, the smell of hot apple cider and cinnamon touched his nose.

Nerves gripped his gut at the sight of the crowd inside, even though he knew all the people. But he didn’t really know them as the man who loved Amelia Ann Hollins. That was a new facet he would have to show them. He would need to prove himself worthy of her.

J.P. and Tammy crossed the room to them immediately, and Tammy landed a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Welcome, Clayton. We’re so happy to have you join the family.”

For so long, the only family he’d had was his mama. Their Sunday dinners were spent working and sharing plans about Rye’s career over take-out. This was about as different as could be.

“I’m so happy to be here with Amelia Ann,” he told them.

J.P. man-hugged him. “Good to see you, bubba. Come on in. We’ll find y’all something to drink.”

Amelia Ann took his hand again after she hugged them both hello. Rye pushed off the doorway he’d been leaning against, and he met his friend’s gaze squarely.

“Rye,” he said with a nod.

“Oh, come here, you crazy hick,” his friend said, giving him a bump with his shoulder.

Afterwards, they were both smiling, so they bumped each other again like they used to do in the old days.

“Let me give you a tip since you’re new to Sunday dinners,” his friend told him in a low voice. “Always grab dessert the first time you go around the buffet table.”

He was already settling down, but his friend’s attitude made all the difference. “Good idea.”

“You seem happy, sugar,” Rye told Amelia Ann, giving her a kiss on her cheek. “It looks good on you.”

“It feels good,” his princess, his miracle responded, and he squeezed her hand because he’d learned he liked the small touches as well as the big ones.

They wandered around and talked to everyone, Amelia Ann holding his hand the whole time. The last person they greeted was Amelia Ann’s mama, whom the siblings had agreed to invite to all the Sunday dinners moving forward. Her presence at Thanksgiving had been healing for everyone, and in the ensuing weeks she’d sold Hollinswood, the final relic of their difficult past as a family. Soon she would be moving into a townhouse in Dare River, not too far from her ex-husband.

Amelia Ann thought a reconciliation was in the air for her parents, and from the way Hampton looked at his former wife, Clayton suspected she might be right.

Still, he hadn’t seen Amelia Ann’s mama since Rye’s concert, and he felt a little wrong-footed around her.

“Clayton,” she said, “it’s good to see you.”

The warmth in her tone loosened the final knots in his stomach. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Hollins.”

She gave a soft smile, one that reminded him of Amelia Ann, and said, “Please call me Margaret.”

She extended her hand to him. He took it, and a new understanding was cemented in that one clasp.

When everyone was called into the dining room for dinner, he was deeply moved to hear Reverend Louisa give thanks for him joining them. Dinner was filled with laughter and more food than he could eat.

He’d thought he’d have to fight the urge to check work emails, but he didn’t once have the inclination. Conversation flowed, and Amelia Ann left him to have some girl chat with the McGuiness sisters.

Seated alone on the couch, he took a moment to study the room. There were clusters of people everywhere, and all of them were either laughing or touching each other out of the sheer joy of being together.