ADDY STRETCHED, arching her back. “How is that possible?”
Culley raised up on one elbow and traced a finger down the length of her arm. “What?”
“That it could be better each time.”
“The response a man lives for.”
“Like you haven’t heard it before.”
He dropped back onto a pillow, stared up at the ceiling. “You have this lady-killer image of me that’s not entirely accurate. Pretty far from it, actually.”
“And you mind?”
“I’m just afraid I might have to live up to it one day.”
She put a hand on his chest. “I guess it always intimidated me.”
“What?”
“How crazy girls were about you.”
He looked at her for a few seconds. “It’s no big deal when it’s not the right girl.”
She leaned over, kissed him. His arms slipped around her waist to pull her across him.
“It’s after midnight,” she said.
“Very late,” he agreed.
“I should get home.”
“Stay a little longer?” This with a kiss on her neck, a hand at the small of her back.
She smiled. “I find it really hard to say no to you.”
He smoothed her hair back from her face, rubbed a thumb across her cheekbone. “That’s because you’re the right girl.”
She stayed a little longer.
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY 2:00 a.m. when they drove up the orchard road and stopped in front of the house.
They’d been quiet most of the drive over, but it was a comfortable, satisfied kind of quiet. There were a lot of questions between them, but Addy felt no sense of urgency for answers. And maybe that was what felt so right about what was happening. The fact that it was revealing itself at a pace of its own.
“Claire’s not going to ground you, is she?”
Addy smiled. “She might if she sees what time it is.”
He smiled back, and then with a more serious expression said, “I had a great time tonight.”
“So did I.”
“Can I just make sure we’re clear on something?”
She nodded.
“That wasn’t a casual thing for me.”
“For me, either.”
“I don’t want to rush you, put pressure on you—”
“You’re not,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “It was a perfect night. Really.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you.”
She opened her door, got out. “Good night.”
“’Night.”
She closed the door, walked halfway to the front porch, then turned and watched until the taillights of the Explorer disappeared into the dark.
* * *
CLAIRE HAD BREAKFAST ready the next morning when Addy came downstairs.
“That smells great,” she said.
“I made a batch of blueberry muffins. They’ll be out of the oven in a few minutes. Coffee’s ready.”
“Thanks.” Addy poured herself a cup, then looked up to find Claire studying her.
“You look happy,” she said.
Addy took a sip of her coffee, aimed her expression at neutral. “I am. It’s kind of terrifying.”
Claire opened the oven door to check a muffin with a toothpick. “Not quite done,” she said. “That’s the hard part about finding something good. Much easier to go along telling ourselves we don’t need it.”
“Are we talking about me or you?”
Claire smiled and lifted a shoulder. “Clayton is an interesting man.”
“So you had a good time last night?”
“We did. Nice having a man on the other side of the dinner table. Nice, but not necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that for a long time, I felt like there must be something wrong with me. That your father’s leaving the way he did proved that.”
Addy dropped her gaze under a wave of guilt. “And I didn’t help any.”
Claire reached over and covered Addy’s hand with hers. “You were trying to make sense of it the best you could.”
“I put all the blame in the wrong place, though.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Addy looked up at her mother. “Thank you. After everything I’ve been through with Mark, I’m not sure I could be as forgiving as you if I had a daughter who refused to see the truth.”
Claire shook her head. “Sometimes the truth is just too painful, honey. And we need to filter it through our own interpretation so it’s somehow manageable to us.”
“The part I’m sorry about is how much it must have hurt you. Growing up, I was so sure I wanted to be something different from you. Now, I realize how lucky I would be to be half the woman you are.”
Claire’s eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, honey. Thank you. I’m just happy you’re here. And that whatever happens, we’ve had this time together.”
Addy nodded, reached out and hugged her mother, her throat tight. They sat that way for a good while, and she felt the forging of a new bond between them. One for which she was indescribably grateful.
Claire stood, rubbed a hand across Addy’s hair, then went upstairs to get dressed. Addy sat at the table, drinking a second cup of coffee. She felt the terrible waste of all the years she had not allowed herself to see the similarities between her mother and herself. And the irony that they should end up in a nearly parallel place of decision. To stay on the path that was familiar and safe. Or find the courage to reach for the good.
She knew which one she thought her mother should do. And maybe in that, she’d found the answer to what she felt for Culley as well.
* * *
HE CALLED AROUND NOON. Addy had taken her cell phone out to the warehouse, asking Claire to give him the number if he called the house. She’d been working on the old office there all morning, cleaning it up, organizing files of invoices and customer information with the intent of setting it all up on computer for the future.
With the ringing of the phone, her heart kicked up a dozen beats. The sound of his voice sent it yet higher.
“Are you grounded?” he teased.
Addy smiled. “Mama had a pretty nice evening of her own. Took some of the focus off my indecent arrival home.”
“Good. Would I be moving too fast if I asked you to dinner tonight?”
“No,” she said, surprising herself with the certainty of her answer.
“Okay,” he said, sounding pleased. “Pick you up at seven?”
“Seven would be great.”
* * *
THE TAXI PULLED UP in front of the house just before six o’clock that evening. Liz pulled a ten out of her purse, paid the driver, then got out and waited while he retrieved her single suitcase from the trunk.
The driver got back in the taxi and drove off in a puff of black exhaust. She stood there at the edge of the paved driveway, transfixed by her own uncertainty.
She’d taken a Greyhound bus from Mecklinburg, her stomach uneasy the entire way. Maybe it wasn’t right to just show up like this. Maybe she should have called first.
Her hand trembled on the suitcase handle, and she shuddered beneath the need for a drink.
After all this time, her mind still made that immediate leap to alcohol. The hold had not lessened. The only difference was that she could see it for what it was, a dependence that lured with knee-weakening appeal. So easy to give in to the call of that one drink. To remember how it would dull the reality of what she was about to do, take the edge off her agony.
It would be so much easier to give in than stand here in front of Culley’s house with all her faults and mistakes, trying to gather up the courage to face her daughter.
She reached down for the suitcase, made her way up the front steps, knocked on the door, then clenched her fist together to keep her fingers from shaking.
Footsteps sounded from inside, the door opened and there stood Madeline. Her daughter. Her throat immediately closed up, and she could not speak.
“Mama?”
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Culley appeared behind her, a protective hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “Liz. My God. What are you doing here?”
She swallowed hard, looking at Madeline. “I wanted to see you, honey. I know I should have called first.”
Culley dropped a glance at Madeline who had gone pale with surprise. His face hardened. “Yes, you should have.”
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“You’re not in jail anymore?” Madeline asked.
Liz met her daughter’s wary gaze and shook her head. “No.”
“Are you going to stay here?”
Liz looked up at Culley, saw the anger in his eyes, could not blame him for it. “I just came to see you, honey.”
Culley squeezed Madeline’s shoulder, then stepped back, as if forcing himself to think about her instead of his own feelings. That was the thing that had always set him apart from her as a parent. He had put their daughter first, and she had not.
“Come in, Liz,” he said, taking her suitcase.
She released a sigh of relief and went inside.
* * *
ADDY WAS DRESSED and ready well before seven. Too early because now she had nothing to do but watch the clock in the living room tick forward, while she fought back an increasing wave of nerves. It was like being sixteen all over again, this nearly consuming need to see him.
At seven o’clock, she went outside and sat down on the porch step.
At seven-fifteen, she went back inside, opened her new laptop and tried to focus on an article she’d downloaded from the Internet.
By seven-thirty, she had no idea what she’d just read. She began to worry. It wasn’t like Culley to be late. Or not to call.
Had he had second thoughts?
Stop! She was being ridiculous. The reasonable thing to do was call. Just call. Make sure everything was okay.
She went in the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the number. Madeline answered.
“Hi, it’s Addy. I was wondering if your daddy had left yet.”
“He’s talking to Mama. She came home today.”
Surprise hit Addy in the center of the chest. Liz was home? It took her a moment to let the information settle.
“Does this mean we can’t go shopping anymore, Addy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, hearing what sounded like sadness in the child’s voice. “I hope not.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you okay?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Madeline said, “Grown-ups are hard to understand sometimes.”
“Everything will be all right,” Addy said. “It’s just not always easy to see that.”
“I guess so.”
“Okay. I should let you go. Talk to you soon?”
“Bye, Addy.”
She stood there holding the phone long after the line had been disconnected. Then finally placed it back on the wall mount, went upstairs and changed clothes.
* * *
THE PHONE RANG at just after ten.
Addy was in bed with a book propped in front of her, a futile exercise in distraction. Claire wasn’t home yet, so she reached for the extension beside her bed, certain it was Culley before she heard his voice.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Culley—”
“Madeline said you called. So you know Liz is here?”
“Yeah.”
“Addy, I had no idea—”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” she said in a soft voice. “It has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you,” he said, the words losing ground to frustration. He paused, and then said, “I want so damn badly to be past all this.”
“It doesn’t work like that though, does it?”
“I thought I’d reached a point where I could go on, make another life.”
“But she needs you.”
Another pause. “She needs someone.”
“And I know you. If you walk away from this before it’s finished in a way you can live with, you’ll regret it.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Do what you need to do. Be who you are.”
“I’m not sure I know who that is.”
“I do. You’re a man who stays where he’s needed.”
Several beats of silence. “And what about us?”
She chose her words. They did not come easily. “If what we have has a place, it can wait.”
“Addy—”
“It’s late. I should go.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” she said and hung up. She sat for a moment, then went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She pulled her nightgown over her head and stepped under the warm spray, standing there until she couldn’t be sure whether the moisture running down her face was water or tears.
* * *
CULLEY STOOD FOR a moment with his hand on the telephone, fighting the urge to call her back.
“I messed up your plans for the night, didn’t I?”
He whirled around. Liz stood in the kitchen doorway, looking regretful. He sighed and said, “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I know it. You have another life now which is perfectly understandable. I don’t intend to mess that up. I just want to spend some time with Madeline.”
He nodded.
She looked as though she wanted to say something else, then said, “I think I’ll go up. I’m kind of beat.”
“Good night, Liz,” he said.
“Good night.”
* * *
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, Addy made every effort to keep busy. She hired a full-time man to help with the orchard. Then threw herself into writing a business plan, determined to iron the details out on paper as proof that what she was proposing could work.
Claire was skeptical at first, but with each piece of the plan Addy put in front of her, skepticism began to turn to enthusiasm.
On Sunday, they were sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of them. “I’ve put together a list of equipment we can repair and things we won’t be able to avoid buying. I’ve also made a list of interesting varieties I think we should consider planting, specialty apples that should go for a higher price to some of these gourmet places who look for ways to be different—”
“Addy.”
She looked up and found Claire studying her with a worried expression. “What is it?”
“You,” she said. “You’ve been going from one thing to another all week as if there’s a fire to put out. Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I know Liz is back,” Claire said.
Addy looked up, met her mother’s compassionate gaze. The wall she’d built around herself this past week suddenly crumpled, and she put an elbow on the table, dropping her head onto one hand. “He’s doing the right thing. It couldn’t be any other way.”
“For either of you,” Claire agreed. “Sometimes, honey, it takes time for things to become what they’re going to be. If you and Culley are meant to be, then this will all work out.”
Addy knew she was right. Hard as the words were to hear.