Glory Road Page 26

  He pulled up a stool next to me and put his hand on my knee. The simple fact that he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t demand to know what was going on or why I was crying, made it easier for me to let go.

  “I’m scared I’m going to lose my mom.” I leaned toward him and sobbed, pouring all my grief onto Ben’s firm shoulder. I cried until there was nothing more to pour out, until my throat felt raw and my eyes were like sandpaper. He pulled a Kleenex seemingly from thin air and handed it to me. I pressed it to my eyes, then squeezed it into a ball.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  I did. I relayed all that had been happening with Mama over the last few months. He already knew some of it. Then I told him the doctor’s diagnosis.

  He didn’t ask too much. Didn’t try to solve anything or tell me not to worry or that everything would be fine. He just sat with me and listened, and as he did, the weight on my shoulders lifted just a little. The force of my tears had left my forehead sore and my nose stuffy, but my mind felt clear, like a mirror when you wipe away the steam after a shower.

  “Do you know the first time I met your mother?”

  I shook my head, surprised at his change of direction. “Probably sometime after we’d been out for a walk on the road. I don’t know specifically. Do you?”

  “It was just before you and I first talked—well, outside of school at least. I’d been out with the Jeep and it died on me—just like it did that day you saw me and helped. Only this day no one but your mom was around.”

  “And she’s not one to hop in a dirty car and drop the clutch.”

  “Right. So I was pushing the truck past your house and she was standing by the mailbox. I waved and she . . . I don’t know, I guess she smiled, but it was more like a smirk.”

  I laughed and wiped under my eye. “Did she say anything?”

  “Oh yes. She said she’d run into my mom at the drugstore that week, and Mom told her about my new car. So I said, ‘Here it is. What do you think?’ Keep in mind, I was sweating buckets and my legs were covered from the knees down in red dirt.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She asked me if I’d ever been to Rock City.”

  “What?”

  “Exactly. I had no idea where she was going with it, but I told her I’d gone there sometime on a field trip. She goes, ‘I went there once. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Kind of disappointing, actually.’ Then she turned and walked back up the driveway.”

  I covered my eyes with my hands and shook my head. “That sounds just like her.”

  Outside, clouds covered the sky, darkening what had been a blindingly sunny day. I was grateful for a little less brightness.

  “I know you need to get in for dinner, but do you feel like taking a drive?” he asked. “We could just . . . get some fresh air or something.”

  No doubt Mama had something simmering on the stove, a peace offering after our painful morning, but I wasn’t quite ready to talk.

  “Sure. That sounds great.”

  Glory Road was quiet, as usual, as was the highway at the end of it. Highway 170 wasn’t a main thoroughfare—it didn’t connect Perry with any big place so there was no flood of late-day after-work traffic. Just an occasional eighteen-wheeler and a few farm trucks.

  I didn’t ask where we were going—I didn’t care, really. He turned down a few more mostly deserted roads, then the fields behind wooden fences began to feel vaguely familiar. He slowed down next to an open gate.

  “Is this . . . ?”

  “I think it is,” he said. “Think we’ll get in trouble?”

  “Probably not as big a deal for two adults to trespass than for a hundred teenagers.”

  He turned in and drove down the dirt path that weaved around thick trees and towering shrubs. With clouds still moving in, the shade here seemed more like deep dusk than just after seven. The path ended at the wide, grassy expanse I remembered from all those parties in high school. Back then it had been tidy, the grass mowed, the shrubs tame. Now the grass was knee high and kudzu crept up and over whole trees, threatening to swallow everything in bright-green leaves.

  Ben stopped at the edge of the field, took his seat belt off, and leaned his seat back a little. I did the same, then propped my feet on the dashboard.

  “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Ahead of us, a flock of blackbirds that had been poking around in the tall grass took off, a big black mass rising higher and higher. Just as they disappeared into the trees on the far side of the field, the sun dropped below the dark clouds. All of a sudden everything was liquid and shimmery—the tips of every blade of grass, scattered bright-yellow wildflowers, the hood of the Jeep.

  I glanced at Ben just as he turned to me. The sun highlighted the angle of his cheekbone and the lighter, caramel color in his hair.

  “I’m so sorry about your mom,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  My hand rested on the seat next to me, and he reached over and covered mine with his. The warmth felt like medicine. I closed my eyes as he traced the gentle dips and rises of the back of my hand with his thumb. First my knuckles, then my fingers. Then he cupped my hand and turned it over, tracing the lines in the palm of my hand with his fingertips.

  I opened my eyes. “Ben . . .”

  “Hang on. Let me say something.” He took a deep breath and turned his gaze back toward the empty field. “I’m about to end things with Marissa. It’s time.”

  “What?” My heart picked up its rhythm, thumping as if I were half a mile into an evening run. His hand tightened around mine.

  “Don’t you . . . ? Have you thought at all . . . ?” He dragged his free hand through his hair and sat forward in his seat, then turned to me. His eyes locked onto mine. “Us. You and me. Have you wondered at all if this is . . . if we’ve been given another chance here?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. You’re with Marissa and I . . .”

  Sumner. He was there, at the back of my mind. The image of him on the boat in the middle of the river, his face tan and smiling, his hair windblown. Holding my hand. Making me wonder if Glory Road wasn’t all there was for me.

  But this was Ben. Against all odds, we’d found ourselves back in the place where we first started, only this time we were adults, hardened to some extent, more fully settled as the people we were meant to be. And I still liked who he was. The same Ben with the strong shoulders and soft heart.

  “You are with Marissa.” I tried to make my voice firm, but it still wobbled. “She’s Nick’s mother. I can’t get in the way of that. I won’t.”

  “I’ve already made the decision,” he said. “It’s not totally because of you, although you’re a big part of it. I think you’ve always been a part of it. A part of me. I left Atlanta so I could figure some things out. It wasn’t necessarily going to be a permanent move, but now that I’m here . . . and you’re here . . . I don’t know. It just makes me wonder if I got in the car and landed back on Glory Road for a bigger reason than just giving Nick and me a chance to breathe for a while.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “I don’t love her. I’m not sure I could, even if I wanted to.”

  I tilted my head. “Why not?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, then met my gaze. “She’s not you, Jess.”

  The sun had dropped farther into the trees, casting long, thin shadows over the edge of the field. Waning sunlight trickled into the Jeep and dust motes danced above the dash. I inhaled and leaned forward. His hand brushed my lower back, then he pulled it away.

  “Do what you need to do then,” I said, my voice finally firm. “When you’re done, come find me.”

  I scrubbed my skin red that night in the bathtub, as if I could wipe away the stain of the day. Now, at the late hour, even the surprise ending only added to my exhaustion. I ran the washcloth down my chest and around the backs of my knees, and as I did, the memory of Ben’s hand on my fingers, my wrist, my lower back came back to me, nudg
ing with persistence.

  I felt like I needed to catch my breath, though I hadn’t been running and wasn’t even breathing hard. It was like a rope was running through my fingers too fast for me to catch it. But who was pulling the rope? And why was I scared of it getting away from me?

  Once the water grew cold, I sat on my bed and pulled on a pair of cotton drawstring pants and a soft T-shirt. As I brushed my hair, a knock sounded at my door, and Mama stuck her head in. “Truce?” She thrust a plate of peanut butter cookies out in front of her.

  I smiled. “I guess we have to talk sometime.”

  She sat on the opposite side of the bed and leaned back against the pillows. She took a bite of a cookie and turned to me. “You’re so full of words, they’re practically pouring out of your eyeballs. Let me have it.”

  I sighed and leaned back next to her. “I don’t want to fight about this. We have to deal with it, but it’s your health, your body, your mind. We can get more details about the medicines and trials the doctor mentioned, then see what you’re willing to try.”

  “You heard all he said about the side effects. Would you want to put yourself through the nausea, the headaches, the . . . constipation?” She spat out the word. “All that just to prolong something that’s going to come anyway?”

  “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Will you be mad at me if I decide not to try any of them?”

  “I might. But it’s your choice. And I’ll get over it. I just might not get over losing you.” My voice broke, and she took my hand and squeezed it.

  “Yes, you will. When you have to, you will. But listen to me, Jessie.” She reached over and pulled my chin so I faced her squarely. “I’m not going anywhere soon. I know what it feels like in this brain of mine, and I know I’ll still be okay for a little while. When the time does come that I need some extra attention . . . well, we’ll just cross that bridge when we get to it. But I will not be your responsibility.”

  “You’d let someone else take care of you, but you won’t let me?”

  “Oh, honey, it’s not that I won’t let you. It’s that I don’t want you to have to be the one. Don’t you see? I don’t want to be your burden. I want you to be free to live your life as you choose. Not to feel tied to any one place because of me.”

  “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I’ve chosen it, not because it’s a . . . a consolation prize. You know that. We both love it here. It’s our home.” I blew my bangs out of my eyes, frustrated that she’d insinuate that I was only here because of some sense of duty.

  “And you’re wrong about being a burden,” I said, my gaze on the ceiling. “You’d never be a burden to me. I’m your daughter and I love you. Taking care of you would be a privilege. An honor.”

  “Now, don’t you go making me cry.”

  “Have you cried about it yet? Because I’ve cried buckets today.”

  “When you get to be my age, you’ll see that the years behind you stretch on for miles, and the ones ahead seem shorter every time you think about them. Something’s bound to happen—not many people get the luxury of dying peacefully in their sleep. And I know where I’m going after this life, so if I get there a little quicker than I thought I would, so much the better.”

  I let my head fall back against the soft pillows again. “You always see things so clearly.”

  We both were quiet as the irony of my statement sank in. How long would she be able to think in such clear, exact ways? The tide of tears rose again, threatening to overtake me, but with her usual humor and impeccable timing, she pulled me back from the edge.

  “So what’s the deal with these two boys who’ve been hanging around you this summer? I thought you were against dating. You’ve sure been against any man I’ve tried to set you up with.”

  “I am against dating. I’m too old for that.”

  “And what do you call what you’re doing now? Dinner with Sumner? Long drives with Ben?”

  I turned to her. “How’d you—?”

  “I saw you hop in his car earlier. It was like you were seventeen again, skipping off with Ben to go to the Icebox.”

  I shrugged. “Ben is . . . Ben’s like falling into a hammock. It’s soft and familiar and . . . you know it’s going to hold tight underneath you.” I blinked and turned to the window. Even through the glass, I could see lightning bugs winking in the dark. “Sumner’s just the opposite. He has a boat in the Caribbean, he’s jetting off to Scotland this week, and his house is featured in just about every magazine in the Southeast.” I wiped away dampness at the corner of my eye. “He’s like climbing onto a roller coaster. You strap on the seat belt, close your eyes, and take off.”

  “Well, there’s your answer right there.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Honey, roller coasters have never been your thing. They make you throw up.”

  I laughed and she joined me, squeezing her eyes closed, her face bright and lively. I laughed so hard, tears ran down my nose. At some point they may have crossed over into real tears, but sometimes grief and humor mix together so tightly it’s impossible to tell them apart.

  CHAPTER 29

  Climbing vines can mask unsightly fences and poles, or create a lovely vertical garden in a tight space. However, be aware that many vines will climb absolutely anything, including gutters, roofs, and other plants. They are always moving, always straining toward the light. Employ appropriate pruning techniques to avoid a rampant vine.

  —CHARLOTTE FAYE, MONDAY MORNING GARDEN CLUB

  JESSIE

  Ben and I agreed to give each other time. He needed to talk to Marissa and I needed to figure out if I really wanted to throw myself—and my heart—into a relationship with him. Into seeing if the regrets and yearnings that had lain dormant between us for so long could be transformed into something real, something lasting.

  With both him and Sumner out of town—Ben and Nick to Texas to visit a client and, while they were out there, the Alamo, and Sumner to tour St. Andrews golf course in Scotland—I had a week to let my thoughts sift and settle. Instead of the mental chaos I expected with everything going on in my life, my heart felt strangely peaceful.

  I’d made an appointment with another doctor to discuss the possibility of a new drug for Mama—it was only in the testing phase, but Dr. Dudley had said it looked promising. I also secured the bells of Ireland, anemones, and ranunculus Olivia had requested for her bouquets, along with finalizing details of the grapevine chandelier and Harvis’s arbor.

  Then I took Evan shopping for a couple of new outfits for school. I’d been feeling a little out of touch with her, but to my relief, we talked and laughed our way through shopping, then lunch at Kim’s Café. By the end of the week, the hard edges of my life felt softer. Deep down, I had the sense that things would be okay.

  The day before Ben was due back from Texas, Evan knocked on the open door of the potting shed as I mixed a spray bottle of vinegar, Dawn soap, and a few tablespoons of salt.

  “What’s that for?” she asked.

  “It’s weed killer.” I added one more dash of salt, then recapped the bottle and shook it. “The kind that doesn’t leave nasty chemicals everywhere.”

  “If you can use that, why do you pull weeds by hand?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes I like the work. It feels good to see them disappear.”

  “But you could just spray and be done with it.”

  “Yes, you could.” I smiled and handed her the bottle. “Why don’t you tackle the bed under the oak out front. Just make sure you don’t get it on any of the hostas. This stuff will kill anything it touches.”

  She held the bottle out in front of her like it was poison. “You need to send some of this stuff down to Mr. Bradley. Nick said weeds are taking over their garden.”

  “Really? I told him he had to stay on top of them.”

  “I don’t think they share your love of pulling weeds by hand.” She grabbed a pair of gard
ening gloves off the tabletop, then paused. “You know Mr. Bradley has a girlfriend, right?” It was so unexpected, I had to struggle to keep my face from giving away my shock.

  “Right?” she pressed.

  “I . . . Yes, I do know that.”

  “He doesn’t love her though.”

  “What—how do you know that?”

  She shrugged. “Nick told me.” She turned and headed up the path that led around the front of the shop, making sure to put one foot on each mossy stone, just like she did when she was little.

  I knew I should wait for Ben to come to me. After all, that’s what I’d told him: “Do what you need to do, then come find me.” But I couldn’t keep myself from sending a quick text.

  A little bird told me you’re having a weed problem. I have a bottle of weed killer that’ll take care of it.

  He responded within seconds. Great. I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up. Our flight gets in at noon. Looking forward to seeing you.

  Saturday dawned with typical mid-August humidity and a washed-out sky. Noon came and went, and I expected to see Ben pull down the driveway any minute. I stayed busy—unloading a new shipment of annuals and helping the ladies from Perry Baptist choose flowers for a trio of baskets to take to patients at the hospital—but as the hours crept by with no sign of him, I grew impatient. I closed the shop a few minutes early, and with Mama rocking on the front porch with the new issue of Southern Lady and Evan finally cleaning her bedroom, I grabbed Ben’s bottle of weed killer and headed to his house.

  A small silver car was parked on the street in front of his house, so I parked in the driveway. Before I knocked on the door, I took a deep breath and ran my hands over the loose bun at the back of my head. As I did, the silver car snagged my attention again. Just as I noticed the Enterprise Rent-a-Car tag, the front door opened. Instead of Ben or Nick, it was a woman wearing black leggings and a gauzy sleeveless top. She was beautiful—long lashes, red lips, and wavy, strawberry-blonde hair.

  “Oh, hi.” She stopped short when she saw me standing on the porch. “I was just grabbing something from my car. Can I help you?”