The Sweetness of Honey (A Hope Springs Novel) (16 page)

Location.

Invitations.

Flowers.

Cake.

Those were the basics, and she would need to talk with Dolly and Kaylie about a guest list—not to mention a budget—before she got too deep into the particulars. Obviously, Apple’s Flowers & Gifts would be her first stop for flowers, and Butters Bakery would be on tap for the cake, but as far as the rest of the food and drinks . . .

Sitting on the hood of her Camaro, her stylus and smartphone in hand, Indiana looked up from jotting her first rash of notes, her stomach clutching at the sight of Oliver’s BMW pulling to a stop on Chances Avenue.

The street was nearly impassible, cars lined up on both shoulders, but he handily parallel parked in a space she wouldn’t have thought he’d fit. That car. Would she ever be able to look at it again without thinking of what they’d done in the front seat? As far as looking at him . . .

It was so unfair, the confidence in his walk, his movements so fluid and effortless as he traversed the uneven surface of the crushed-shell drive. He was wearing his own clothes today, new clothes, it looked like, giving her cause to wonder if shopping had been the lesser evil than that of going home.

Eventually he was going to have to go home. Eventually didn’t everyone?

Before she let that bit of cryptic pondering go any further, she asked, “Did you want lunch?” and canted her head toward the full parking lot and the cars overflowing onto Second Street. “It may be a while.”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of the khaki cargo pants that hung low on his hips. “I figured you’d be busy inside.”

“I was, and I’ll go back in a few to wash more dishes.” She gestured with the stylus and phone, wishing that looking at him didn’t make her feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. “I volunteered to plan the wedding.”

He nodded before asking, “Kaylie and Ten’s?”

Was there another one? “She’s got the café, and she’s dealing with morning sickness. Just seemed the least I could do.”

His gaze, when he searched her face, was curious or concerned or even censuring, as if he was invested in how she spent her time. “Even though you’ve got the cottage to renovate and the annex going in and your search for Dakota ongoing?”

Not to mention whatever this is with you?
She shrugged, then tried to laugh. “Who needs sleep?”

“I obviously did,” he said, scratching at his nape. “I crashed after you left, though some of that was thanks to the wine. I only woke up a couple of hours ago.”

“You’re feeling better, then.”

His hair fell around his face as he looked down, as he scuffed at the driveway gravel, as he hunched his shoulders in the wrinkled oxford button-down he wore, and did everything he could to avoid meeting her eyes. “If better means like I need to spend some time getting my act together, then yeah.”

As opposed to spending some time with her.

“So you didn’t want lunch.” Or really to see her, like he’d said he would yesterday when she’d left him at the loft. She swallowed, her throat tight as she cleared it.

He gestured with his chin toward the road where he’d parked, as if the warehouse district, and not acres of woods, was on the other side of the street. “I’ve still got soup. And crackers. Though I think I should probably stay out of the wine.”

That, at least, was good to hear. “Does that mean you’ll be living at the loft?”

He held her gaze, his sharply focused on her and intense, as if making certain she was with him, listening. “I want to paint. I need . . . to paint.”

She nodded, finally looking down at her phone’s screen but seeing nothing. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Indiana—”

“It’s okay. Really.” Though of course it wasn’t, or else she’d be able to speak without her voice breaking, without her tongue swelling to fill her mouth. Without her chest hurting like he’d punched her with his fist instead of words as complicated as they were simple.

“It’s just . . . Oscar. And everything.” He breathed deeply, exhaled slowly. “I mean, I’ll be at the arts center from time to time. I’m not going to totally disappear.”

She thought it might be easier if he did. “Listen,” she said, sliding off the car and pocketing her phone, “I need to get back inside and check on the dishes.”

“When I said I wanted to see you today, I meant it.”

Her smile, when it came, was resigned. “I think that was the wine talking. But really. I’ve got a ton of things going on, and so do you. Maybe if the timing were better—”

“The timing—” He cut himself off before saying more, and she was glad that he did.

She didn’t want promises or platitudes. All she wanted was honesty. “Do you want me to send your wedding invitation to the loft, or to your house?”

“The loft is fine,” he said, adding, “I’ll see you there, I guess, at the wedding, if not before.”

The wedding was in three weeks. Three weeks. She should be able to get over him by then, yes? “Good luck with figuring things out,” she said, turning for the house and refusing to look back to see if he was still there. She didn’t want to know if he was waiting, if he was watching her, if he’d already gone.

Then again, she wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway. Not with buckets of tears filling her eyes. Tears she swore would be the last she’d ever cry over any man.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A
very busy three weeks later, twenty-one days—but who was counting?—of not seeing Oliver, twenty-one days during which the work on her Three Wishes Road property got serious, Indiana found herself standing in the vestibule of the Second Baptist Church thinking back, of all things, to Oscar Gatlin’s funeral. It had been held in this same building, and though she’d been here a half dozen times since, getting ready for today, that was the one that stuck with her.

She didn’t think she’d ever been inside a church for a sadder occasion.

And today might very well be the happiest event to bring her into one.

Such a juxtaposition. The end of a life. The beginning of a life, the one Tenne
ssee and Kaylie would share as well as the one they’d created. Being here today of all days, Christmas day, a day of so much celebration and spiritual reverence and even secular communion . . . It was almost m
ore than she could stand, and her hands shook from the excitement, as much as the worry that she’d forgotten something vital and the wedding would fall apart.

Sensing movement to her right, she looked over at Kaylie as she exited the anteroom where she’d dressed. Her dress was a simple, long-sleeve sheath in a beautiful white satin, with glass buttons from her wrists to her elbows, and from her nape to the small of her back. Luna came with her, adjusting the decorative bow at her hip, as did Dolly, who saw to her intricately knotted chignon. Mitch, who’d been pacing across the room from Indiana, stopped and looked up and simply stared at his daughter. His eyes reddened as tears welled, and his reaction had Indiana on the verge of crying, too.

“Oh, Daddy,” Kaylie said, a crack in her voice as she swished over the floor toward him. “Don’t make me start crying again. I finally stopped long enough to get my makeup done.”

Mitch pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face, then touched the back of one hand to Kaylie’s cheek. “My precious girl. Look at the beautiful woman you’ve become. What did I ever do to deserve you letting me back into your life?”

“You’re my father,” Kaylie said, pressing her forehead to Mitch’s when he bowed close. “You don’t have to do anything but be you.”

The silence in the room was so all consuming, Indiana swore the pounding of her heart could be heard. She, Dolly, and Luna all knew the story of Kaylie’s reunion with Mitch, her belief that he’d abandoned her, the truth that he’d nearly been broken by his decades-long effort to find her. There wasn’t a dry eye among the five of them, or enough air in the room to breathe without struggling, but the show had to go on.

“It’s time,” Indiana stepped forward to say, getting a nod from Kaylie as she lifted her head from her father’s then stood on tiptoe to brush her lips against his cheek. That done, Dolly fussed over Kaylie’s veil and the red and green ribbons in both her snow-white roses and her hair.

Luna moved to stand in front of the vestibule doors, waiting for Indiana and Dolly to open them. Indiana counted down the beats of the music playing—the bride and groom had chosen to use Eddie Vedder’s “Longing to Belong” as the wedding processional—then gave Dolly the signal. Though out of sight of the guests, Indiana could hear the rustle of movement as heads turned, and Luna, as maid of honor, began her walk down the aisle.

Indiana timed the progress of the song, then glanced around the door to see Luna move into place in front of the sanctuary. Tennessee was waiting there, too, and Indiana’s throat grew tight as she smiled and gave Mitch the go-ahead. He nodded, but he didn’t move until Dolly, hidden by the door, reached over to nudge him from behind.

Kaylie held tight to Mitch’s arm, and Indiana was certain it was to keep him from losing his footing and falling to the floor. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a father of the bride more nervous than his daughter. Neither had she seen a groom look like he was about to throw up every meal he’d eaten the last three days. Poor Tennessee.

But a wife! And a baby! What an absolutely thrilling day! She wanted to burst with the joy tickling down her spine like a zipper, and gripped her stylus and the smartphone that held her event notes as tightly as she could to keep from running down the aisle to give her brother a hug. To tell him she was there and loved him. To beg his forgiveness for Dakota’s absence.

Mitch moved to stand beside Tennessee, acting as best man after giving his daughter away. Luna stood in the mirror position beside Kaylie. Dolly came close to Indiana’s side and each wrapped an arm around the other’s waist as the music waned and the minister began to speak.

It was a blur of words: faithfulness, companionship, sickness and health, better and worse, and love. Words Indiana knew neither bride nor groom needed to speak or to hear. They lived them. Daily. With so much conviction she couldn’t think of another couple who so honestly epitomized the same.

She wasn’t even sure she would be able to. What did she know about
better
? She was an expert on
worse
, yes, but her experiences with love were all failures. And not even romantic love, but familial love, which should’ve been easier, yes? Being born into a family, growing up with siblings who shared the same parents and the same blood?

Yeah. She’d done a great job of loving Dakota and Tennessee, letting one go to prison, letting the other also vanish from her life. She was a gold-plated prize, a catch only good for releasing. Why in the world she was letting herself get so close to Oliver, thinking about Oliver, dreaming about a future that included Oliver . . .

They had no future, unlike Kaylie and Tennessee. She would never be able to make him happy, or give him what his art obviously did: that completion, that sort of fulfilling satisfaction. She hadn’t even figured out how to do any of that for herself. Thirteen years since her life had imploded, and what did she have to show for it?

A business, yes. A successful one of which she was extremely proud. But that was it. Shouldn’t she own a home that wasn’t one step up from a tar-paper shack? A vehicle more suited to a twenty-eight-year-old woman than a sixteen-year-old boy? The home-and-car-owning thing was material and shallow, but the rest? The friends? The husband and kids?

She was alone. She would stay alone. And with good reason.

She didn’t deserve anything else because she’d ruined what she should’ve taken care of.

How could anyone ever argue with that?

The service was over all too soon, Indiana hurrying out of the way of the newly married couple as Dolly swept them into the anteroom to give them a few minutes with family. Mitch and Indiana joined them, all five sharing hugs and kisses and relieved chatter and tears. Then Luna was there. Then Angelo. Then Harry and Julietta Meadows. But no Oliver, no Will.

And no Dakota.

“The car’s out front to take you to the reception,” Indiana finally found her voice to say. “Just keep your heads down as you run and you won’t have to worry about getting bird seed in your eyes and going blind.”

“Thank you for everything, Indy,” Kaylie said, laughing and crying at the same time. “I can’t even imagine how I would’ve managed any of this. I am so happy we’re sisters.”

“What the wife said.” Tennessee’s words earned him a great big grin from his new bride. “I have no idea what all you did, but taking over for Kaylie . . .” His voice going raspy, he pulled Indiana into a hug, crushing her stylus and her smartphone and the prettiest dress she’d ever owned. “I love you, girl.”

“Oh, Tennessee. I love you, too,” she said, and nearly strangled on the rush of choking emotion his words caused.

Once the newlyweds were gone, and the building emptied of guests, she walked outside and sat down on the church’s front steps, heedless of the mess she was making of her dress. Heedless of the damage the concrete might do to the heels of the shoes she doubted she’d ever wear again. Heedless of the duties she had left to perform. Luna had volunteered her loft for the reception, requiring Oliver to clear out for the day. The caterers didn’t need their hands held, and Luna would be there to answer any questions they had.

Surely she wouldn’t be missed . . .

“Are you okay?”

Blotting a fingertip beneath both of her eyes, she looked up at Oliver’s welcome question.

It was the first time she’d seen him all day; she hadn’t even known he’d come to the wedding, and a flood of tension seemed to pour from her bones as he sat down on the steps beside her. She wanted to lean against him, to fall asleep in his arms. To keep him close until the end of her life.

But the last twenty-one days remained between them, so instead she said, “I’m wonderful.”

He leaned forward to look into her face. “You’re crying.”

“They’re called tears of joy,” she said, her voice breaking with a need to fall apart she was having a hard time keeping contained.

“That doesn’t sound like joy.”

What was she supposed to say? That she was both happy and sad for her brother? That if she hadn’t made such a colossal mistake as a teen, Dakota would be here to celebrate, too? How was it possible to be so ecstatic and so completely miserable at the same time? She couldn’t possibly explain.

And even with all that his family had suffered, she didn’t think he could truly understand the loss she was mourning. This was her grief, and oh, but it was so unbelievably unbearable today. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Her face ached from smiling, and any minute now she was going to break.

Again she thought about leaving. “I want cake.”

“Cake,” he repeated, as if making sure he’d heard her right.

He had, but that didn’t keep her from elaborating, because she was desperate to get out of here. “White cake. Chocolate cake. Gobs of icing.”

He draped his wrists over his knees and watched the cars leave the church parking lot. “I assume you’re talking about the reception.”

“No.” She glanced over, blinking hard against the tears threatening to wash her away. “Let’s play hooky. For a little while at least.”

His gaze held hers; then he took in her face and the state of her hair, and he smiled. “Would you rather go to Butters Bakery?”

From what she’d heard, Peggy and Pat Butters kept the bakery open part of Christmas Day for others who, as they, had no family, and might need a cup of coffee or a friendly face.

She nodded, giving him her hand to pull her to her feet, and priding herself for not falling into him and using his coat as a Kleenex while she cried. “Do you think I’m insane?”

His smile was the absolute last straw. “I think you’re a little bit manic with emotion. And maybe hungry for cake. But nothing there says insane.”

“You’re a good friend, Oliver Gatlin,” she said as they traversed the rest of the steps, Kaylie and Luna’s words coming back to haunt her. “And I hope you have a really big wallet, because you have no idea how much cake I’m going to want.”

“Tight as that dress is, I’m not sure where you’ll put it.”

He’d noticed her dress.
He’d noticed her dress
. The dress she’d modeled in front of the dressing room mirror while wondering if he’d like it. She’d even wondered once if his mother would approve, but already had enough crazy in her life with the wedding plans.

“Lucky for me, it comes with a jacket designed to hide a multitude of sins. Including broken zippers.”

Too bad it couldn’t do anything for broken hearts.

Oliver had been late to arrive at Second Baptist for the Flynn and Keller wedding, and his timing pretty much reflected his interest in the event. He was happy for Kaylie and Tennessee, of course. Happy for Mitch and Dolly, too. But if not for Indiana, he wouldn’t have come.

And he wasn’t happy about that at all.

She’d gotten under his skin a whole lot deeper than he liked. His painting her bees . . . Yeah. That had come out of nowhere, and had never been meant for her to see. Maybe when he hadn’t been such a wreck he could’ve dealt with what he’d painted, and why. But he still wouldn’t have wanted her to have seen it.

It was hard enough to look at it himself.

The first pieces he’d painted in ten years, ones he’d been driven to after his brother’s death, and his chosen subject matter wasn’t the least bit cathartic. It was about sex, and Indiana, and the sweet buzz she’d left on his skin that he couldn’t shake.

But it was also about all of the things in his life that were changing, and how Indiana, even more than the loss of Oscar, was responsible. Or at least had influenced it all . . . her inclusive nature, her empathetic nature, her kindness and enthusiasm and ability to laugh at herself, and at him without malice.

For years, for his entire life, he’d lived under the same roof with a woman who couldn’t be more Indiana’s opposite. But until spending more time with Indy and the group at the Caffey-Gatlin Academy, and less in his office at home, he hadn’t realized the severity of his mother’s domineering personality. Or how much worse she’d become in the ten years since Oscar’s accident, a change not completely unexpected.

And as he pulled to a stop in the Butters Bakery parking lot, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that knowledge. Or with the seed of resentment wanting to take root in his heart. It wasn’t like he’d had a gun held to his head, keeping him at home.