Secrets over Sweet Tea (27 page)

Grace curled up beneath the covers. Miss Daisy was already snoring at the foot of her bed. That dog’s snores could rival a roomful of men after Sunday dinner. Usually Grace could sleep through the noise, but tonight she kept tossing and turning, thinking about everything that had happened that day and looking up multiple times to make sure she had activated the house security alarm. Each time, the red light blinked back the assurance she needed—until she had to look again.

When Rachel and Grace had walked over to the Newberrys’ earlier, Scarlett Jo had already gone to bed, but Jackson had said they could come see her tomorrow. Grace had insisted that he let them know if they could do anything, and he’d assured
them he would. Rachel had been as worried as Grace was. The poor girl was crazy about Scarlett Jo, no matter how she talked about her.

But Scarlett Jo’s mysterious trauma wasn’t the only thing keeping Grace awake tonight. She pulled the sheet up around her neck and felt the ache in her soul. It was a deep-down kind of ache that hurt in places your fingers couldn’t touch and medicine couldn’t heal. Her heart was so torn, so confused.

She still loved Tyler—she knew that. Some days she missed him so much that it was all she could do not to find him, wrap her arms around him, and beg him to come home. At the same time she knew her life was better now. She treasured the peace, relished the deep undercurrent of excitement and anticipation that ran through this new era of her life. But she couldn’t help but be haunted by questions and worries.

Would she ever be loved again? Would she ever want to be loved . . . or touched? Could she ever be comfortable with another man? As broken as she and Tyler were, being with him still felt familiar. And it was all she had ever known because she had saved herself for him. Her wedding night had been the first time she had ever been intimate with a man. No man except Tyler had ever seen her naked—at least not since she was a child. Only he knew about the cellulite that all those glasses of sweet tea had contributed to. Would another man be able to handle that? And what about the stretch marks that she now bore, courtesy of her divorce? She had lost so much weight when it happened. And then, when the weight came back on, it had brought these new little white lines on her thighs. Who would love that?

Could Zach love that?

The thought came unbidden. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about him, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

Zach had sat on the floor across from her and listened to her. He had shared his frustrations with her and encouraged her dreams. And he had been so worried about her today. His concern had really touched her.

Tyler used to leave the house with her in bed and the door unlocked. He’d go on the road for days and never think to ask if she was okay at home. She’d drive to work when it was still pitch-black night, and he’d never tell her to be careful. But today Zach had been petrified that something might happen to her. That kind of caring was utterly foreign to her—and so what her heart craved.

Tears flowed onto the pillow. At times the possibility of loving again seemed a world away. At other times she could practically feel it waiting to emerge, terrifying and exhilarating. She had so much healing left to do. And here was this man who was healing in all the same parts and places, who was becoming everything she longed to have. Yet he was in no way available.

Her sobs shook the bed. And she let them, hoping they would bring her that much closer to the other side of her pain.

Scarlett Jo climbed out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, her pink robe pulled tightly around her. Jackson already had the boys up, and they were scattered across the kitchen eating breakfast.

“Morning, honey.” Jackson kissed her on the cheek. “Jack is going to get the boys to church, so you can stay home today if you want. It’s up to you. I can take them out for something to eat afterward.”

She felt panic rising inside her. She didn’t want to be alone.

Jackson took her elbow and pulled her out of the kitchen into the hallway. “If you want me to get Stan to fill in this morning, I’ll do it. I won’t leave you alone if you’re scared.”

She shook her head at the fear and bit her lip to try to stop the tears. “No, I’ll be okay.”

“So do you want to stay here or come to church?”

Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Well, if I’m going to preach, I need to go on. So can you decide and just go with the kids if you want to go?”

She nodded. He pulled her into his arms, and she laid her head on his shoulder. She loved this man who had walked with her through everything. They didn’t come any finer, any better, any kinder or wiser than Jackson Newberry.

He released her and gave her another kiss. “I’ll see you later, babe. Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

He headed out the garage door. She pulled her shoulders back and swiped at the tears on her face before returning to the kitchen. The conversation, as usual, was wild and loud.

“She’s crazy!” Cooper hollered.

“No, you’re a hoodlum,” Forrest offered.

“I’m not a hoodlum,” Cooper protested. “I’m a guy. And guys like guns, don’t they, Mom?”

She picked up a dishcloth and used it to wipe up the crumbs from the cinnamon rolls Jackson must have gone out and bought. She had no idea how she had slept that long. “Mm-hm.”

“See?” Cooper raised his hand. “She’s going to make Garrett a sissy boy if he can’t play with guns.”

Jack, who was sitting at the end of the table, let out a laugh.

Scarlett Jo turned quickly to her oldest. His eyes were bright this morning. She looked into that face every day. It was nothing like Jackson’s. Jack had his name but not his face. Still, there was so much of Jackson in that boy, so much that blood couldn’t put in him.

“You shot her screen door with your airsoft gun, Cooper,” Forrest reminded him. “That’s why she won’t let you come over.”

Cooper got up from the barstool where he had been perched. “I did
not
shoot her screen door or her mailbox or her son like she said. That lady’s crazy as a coot. And now she told me I can’t even come into her yard with my airsoft gun. And I need to go through her yard to get to Jeremy’s.”

Jack came over to the sink and leaned toward his mom’s ear. “Mom, you’ve got to talk to him.”

She jumped slightly. “Oh. Yeah. Cooper, stay out of Mrs. Patterson’s yard with your gun.”

Cooper stuck his lips out in the smart-aleck way he had. “Mama, I told you—I
need
to go through her yard to get to Jeremy’s.”

Jack reached out and swatted him softly on his head. “Put your dishes up and brush your teeth. You can smell your breath in the other room.”

Cooper blew hard on Jack. “It’s just cinnamon rolls. Who wouldn’t want to smell that?”

Jack herded them all off to the bathroom for their final hygiene exercises. When he came back into the kitchen, he walked over to Scarlett Jo.

“Mom, what’s wrong? You are acting like a space cadet.”

She touched his cheek. “Do you know how much I love you?”

He patted her hand, then gently moved it from his face. “Yes, I know.”

“I think I’m going to let you take the kids this morning if that’s okay.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t missed church in . . . I don’t know. Have you ever missed church?”

She kissed his cheek and walked from the kitchen toward
her bedroom. “Thanks for taking care of the boys this morning.” She waited until she heard him leave with the younger kids, then went into the family room and curled up on the sofa.

She had lived with the pain of her past and overcome it. Or so she’d thought. It had almost kept her and Jackson from getting married. But he had loved her so well. And she had fought so hard for her heart. And she had won. She had found her heart and discovered what it meant to be truly free. That was what allowed her to be irreverent. And sassy. And alive. Her real self.

Until now. Until yesterday, when she came face-to-face with the man who had stolen so much of her heart from her.

She had forgiven him a long time ago. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was the fear he evoked. Apparently that wasn’t behind her—not by a long shot. And she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight that battle again.

“Well, what is Jackson saying?” Rachel asked again.

Grace stood on top of the ladder, adjusting the toile curtain that separated the eating area of Sweet Tea from the kitchen and the office in back. She looked down at her friend, who was driving her crazy.

“Rachel, I’ve told you the same thing a thousand times. I’ve been over there every day for the last four days, and every day Jackson tells me the same thing. Scarlett Jo just doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“And you really have no idea what this is about?”

Grace stepped down from the ladder and studied her work. Then she shook her head slowly as a thought swept through
her. “No, I don’t know. I’ve never asked Scarlett Jo her story.” She went to the hostess counter and leaned against it. “I have been so consumed with my life and my problems and my own pitiful story that I have never once asked Scarlett Jo Newberry to tell me hers.” She looked at Rachel. “So, no. I’m ashamed to say it, but I have no idea what this is about.”

Rachel walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Give yourself some grace here. You have spent years only talking about other people and their stories. Even in your own home, it was always about Tyler. It’s okay for this to be a season that is all about you.”

“But I should know, Rachel. I need to know.” Grace pushed the curtain aside and headed to the back of the store, past the kitchen and into the office. She picked up her purse and returned to the dining area.

“I won’t ask where you’re going,” Rachel said. “But just remember, we have a to-do list bigger than the bows in Scarlett Jo’s hair. And that new chef, cook—whatever it is you call her—is coming in tonight to talk through food prep before the opening.”

Grace winced. “I’m sorry, Rach. I’ll try to be back by then.”

“Go.” Rachel shooed her with a hand. “Tell her to get her rear end back here.” Her next words were mumbled, but Grace heard. “I’ve kinda missed it.”

Grace smiled at Rachel and left the store, then strode briskly toward Scarlett Jo’s. As she walked around the town square, she spotted Caroline Craig standing in front of the Details window, apparently studying a new display. A teenage girl came out and talked with her for a minute, then kissed her on the cheek and headed across the square.

The exchange made her heart hurt. She was at an age where she could have a teenage daughter too—a daughter who kissed her on the cheek, called her Mom, talked to her about boys and all the stuff that mothers and daughters share.

Grace let out a deep sigh to avoid the tears that seemed to fight desperately for release. She didn’t want to talk to Caroline. She didn’t want to like her—to anything her.

All the more reason she needed to say hello.

She walked over. “Excuse me. I’m Grace Shepherd.”

Caroline turned at the sound of her voice.

“I’m going to be your new neighbor. I’m opening the tearoom a couple streets over.”

Caroline smiled and extended her hand. “So nice to meet you—and welcome to the neighborhood. I saw that you’re opening on Monday.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it. We still have so much to do.”

Caroline laughed. “The work never ends. But it’s worth it—working at what you love.”

Grace smiled and nodded. “That’s a whole new way of doing life for me.” She turned toward Caroline’s window. The youthful-looking, faceless mannequins would have been staring at her if they had eyes. “Those are cute outfits.”

Caroline looked back at them. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Makes me wish I had a daughter to buy them for.”

“I just started carrying this teen line. I have two girls of my own. It felt like a good fit.”

“Well, they should do well. They’re adorable.”

Caroline kept her eyes on the window. “Thank you. I think so too.” She turned to Grace. “If you need anything, let me
know. The first year can be difficult, but I’m sure you’ll make it. The place looks great.”

“Thank you for that. Well, I need to go check on a friend. Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Grace. Nice to have you in the neighborhood.”

Grace walked on toward Scarlett Jo’s, feeling a little disgruntled. Caroline was nice. Grace didn’t want her to be nice. She wanted her to have horns, breathe fire, spin her head around. But she didn’t. Probably under other circumstances they would be friends.

Under other circumstances. There should be no other circumstances.

She got to Scarlett Jo’s door and discarded her thoughts. She knocked. No answer. She banged. Still no answer. But she knew Scarlett Jo was there. Jackson had told her she was.

“I’m not leaving!” she announced loudly to the closed door and then banged on it again. “You were the one who wanted me to get fire back in my belly. Well, I’ve got it, and you’re going to deal with it!” She banged again.

She saw a streak of bright pink race past the paned window in the door.

“Scarlett Jo Newberry, you answer this door right now. You are not avoiding me one more day!”

She saw the top of Scarlett Jo’s hair peek out from behind a wall in the foyer.

“Keep it moving.”

Then her eyes.

“I want more.”

Her chin came into view.

“I want all of you right here opening this door. Now.”

Grace wasn’t playing. And apparently Scarlett Jo realized it. She shuffled her feet toward the door.

“You’re a bully,” she said as she opened the door. Her pajama bottoms hung out from beneath the hem of her hot-pink robe. Some animal was printed on them, but Grace couldn’t tell whether it was pigs or dogs.

Grace came right on inside. “You’re too old to avoid people, Scarlett Jo. Now you can tell me what is going on, or I’m going to force it out of you by making you scones.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. Come here.” She took Scarlett Jo’s hand and walked her over to the sunporch on the side of the house. A large swing hung by the windows. She sat Scarlett Jo down on one end of the swing.

“There’s no way you’re going to balance this thing out.” Scarlett Jo spoke in a monotone. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Well, at least you still have your sense of humor.” Grace sat down. “Look at me,” she ordered.

Scarlett Jo’s big blue eyes looked into her own. They looked tired and sad. Grace had never seen them like that before.

She stuck her hand out. “Hello. I’m Grace Shepherd.”

Scarlett Jo crinkled her brow. “I know who you are, dummy. I haven’t been out of touch that long.”

Grace waved her hand in front of Scarlett Jo’s face. “Go with it. Hello. I’m Grace Shepherd.”

Scarlett Jo raised her hand and barely shook Grace’s. “I’m Scarlett Jo Newberry.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. How long have you lived here?”

Scarlett Jo crinkled her brow again. Grace raised an eyebrow, and Scarlett Jo answered. “Two years.”

“Two years? So what brought you to our city?”

“My husband felt like we were called to start a church plant here.”

Grace pulled her sneakered feet onto the swing and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Oh, really? Do you have children?”

Scarlett Jo let out an exasperated puff of air. “Grace, you know I have children. This is as stupid as all get-out.”

Grace stopped. “I know you have five boys, but I still have trouble putting all their names with their faces. And that’s not the only thing I don’t know. There are countless others. But I want to know. I want to know your whole story. And I want to know what role Fred Parton plays in it.”