CHAPTER 24

As a bridesmaid, Alice-Ann had to be at the church early, but as a guest, she could stay late.

After Claudette and Johnny had dashed into his automobile and driven away from the church and toward the city limits sign and then on to Savannah for a few days’ honeymoon, Carlton lightly touched her elbow and said, “Want to go inside for another slice of cake?”

She nodded. “That sounds good.”

“I was thinking,” Carlton said as they walked into the social hall, “that maybe afterward I could drive you home.”

Alice-Ann looked up and smiled. “Sounds fine by me.” An idea struck her. “How about we wrap a couple of pieces in one of the napkins and take them with us? I’ll make us some coffee when we get to the farm.”

“I have an even better idea.” Carlton turned her toward him and he bent close to her ear. So close, in fact, that his words sent shivers down her arms. So close that she blushed at the thought of so many people standing around the room, watching them. “Why don’t we put the coffee in a thermos and have a picnic out under one of the pecan trees in your yard?”

She stepped back, trying to put enough space between her and the intimacy of him. “That might be fun.”

An hour later, after they’d managed to slip away from the still-mingling crowd and had driven out to the farm, and after Alice-Ann had made a pot of coffee and poured it into her father’s thermos, the two stepped out on the porch, down the wooden steps, and made their way to the small grove of pecan trees that stood directly before the farmland started.

Carlton had secured a blanket from an upstairs closet while Alice-Ann arranged their picnic in one of Aunt Bess’s baskets. He carried one while she toted the other —him still in his suit and her still in the tea-length gown Aunt Bess had worked so diligently on. Reaching a place he deemed perfect, he spread the blanket on the ground for the two of them.

“Wonder how much longer before your family gets home,” he mused, looking toward the house as she poured the coffee into two everyday cups she’d also placed in the basket.

“Should be fairly soon.” She handed the first cup to him and waited as he dug into the basket for the cake. “The last thing Papa likes to do is socialize too long.” Having poured her own coffee, she twisted the top onto the thermos.

Carlton’s chuckle came from low in his chest. “Yours and mine both.”

“But probably Aunt Bess is making him stay. She’ll say something like ‘I hardly ever get off the farm, Emmitt. The least you can do is stick around while I socialize.’”

This time Carlton laughed heartily as he crossed his legs as if to get comfortable.

“Does that bother you?” she asked.

“What? Your father not being here?”

“No.” She pointed. “Your legs crossed like that.”

“Only a little. Not enough to complain.”

Alice-Ann found two plates in the basket and set the slices of cake on top of them. She frowned. “I forgot forks.”

Carlton waggled his brows as he picked up his piece of cake between his fingers and took a bite. “Who need forks?” he asked around it.

She laughed. “Who indeed?” She repeated his actions, then moaned. “Oh, I love cake.”

“I love you.”

For a moment she thought the moist treat had been sucked down her throat without giving her a chance to swallow. Then she realized it remained on her tongue and she gulped. “Carlton.”

He scooted closer. “I do. I can’t help it. I do.”

Alice-Ann willed herself to breathe as she placed the plate next to her. “What —what do you mean you can’t help it?”

He licked his lips for the remaining icing, then tossed the plate and what was left of his cake off to the side. “I know I shouldn’t. I know —I know —you’ve not fully gotten over how you felt about Mack —”

“No.” She breathed out the lie. “That’s not true.”

His fingertips lightly grazed her knee. “Come on, doodlebug. If we can’t be honest with each other, how are we going to build a future?”

A future . . . Carlton Hillis wanted to build a future with her. With her.

Alice-Ann looked toward the house, praying Aunt Bess or Papa wouldn’t make a sudden appearance.

Or —great grannies! —Nelson. That would surely be all she needed at this moment.

“Say something,” Carlton implored and she turned to face him again.

“I —I love you too.” At least she thought she did. Surely she did. What wasn’t to love, for crying out loud? He was handsome. Smart. Kind. He loved God.

And he was alive . . .

Carlton scooted closer, so close that her legs, which she’d tucked under herself, ended up nestled between his knees. “Do you?” His hands reached for her face and slid along her jawline until her cheeks rested against his palms. “Because that’s what I’ve wanted to say to you since that day outside the bank.” His eyes met hers —oh, blessed mercy, they were so tender —and he smiled. “But I didn’t want to rush you.”

Alice-Ann tried to shake her head but she couldn’t. His grip was too secure —too gentle —too everything Hollywood, California, and Bynum, Georgia, all at once. “How could you say that?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The last thing you’ve done is rush me, Carlton. You’ve never even —I mean —you’ve never even —”

“Kissed you?” His voice teased, and if she’d had the wherewithal, she would have punched him. Punched him and ruined the moment. Punched him hard and clung to him and pressed her face against his chest if only to draw the air from his lungs.

Instead, she nodded.

“Oh, doodlebug,” he mumbled, bringing her lips closer to his, “I’m about to remedy that right now.”

The kiss was everything she’d ever imagined it would be —could be —in spite of not being with the one she’d dreamed of sharing it with for so long. She closed her eyes and breathed in, felt the magic of his lips on hers. The soft moistness. The light pressure that became more arduous as the moments went on. And when she thought she’d pass completely out from dizziness, he released her, found her eyes with his, and said, “Say it again. Please say it again.”

“I love you,” she breathed.

His forehead pressed against hers. “Put my name on the end of it. Please.”

If her heart grew any warmer, it could have baked a pound cake.

“I love you, Carlton Hillis.”

Carlton stayed for dinner that night, which couldn’t have made Papa any happier or more excited if he’d been dining with President Roosevelt himself.

Papa asked him questions about registering for service, about basic training, about Europe, and about his decision to carry a camera as well as a gun.

Carlton, who sat next to Alice-Ann and across from Nelson, grinned as he plopped mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Well, sir, you don’t exactly volunteer for some things. You know, Uncle Sam tells you where he wants you and you go.”

Papa jabbed his fork in the air —tines down —twice. “But I bet you were good at what you did.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said as he passed the bowl to Alice-Ann.

“Papa,” Alice-Ann added, “Carlton has been working toward doing something further with his life using his skills with photography.”

“Like what?” Aunt Bess asked, her tone bossier than usual. “What kind of living can a man make with a camera?”

“You’d be surprised, Miss Branch. A man can do well with a camera if he knows what he’s doing with it.”

Aunt Bess waved a hand at him. “Call me Aunt Bess,” she said as though he and Alice-Ann were engaged all of a sudden.

He smiled and Alice-Ann felt heat rush to her cheeks. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said; then Carlton turned to look at Papa. “As you probably already know, sir, I’ve been working a few hours a week for Mr. Dibble at the paper. It’s not much right now, but I think if I continue like I have, the job will become full-time. See, I know enough about a camera to get me by, but I need help with the journalism part.” He glanced around the table. “Miss LuAnn is quite talented when it comes to the pen, so . . .”

“So . . . ,” Irene said slowly, “is she —what —training you how to write?”

Carlton blushed. “As best she can.” He dug his fork under the hill of potatoes on his plate and brought it halfway to his mouth. “You either have a talent for writing or you don’t.” The fork disappeared between his lips and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Some of it, Miss LuAnn says, can be learned. But if you don’t have the ability, there’s no point in wasting your time.”

Aunt Bess bustled in her seat. “I can hear LuAnn saying that as easily as I hear my own voice.” Aunt Bess had always found LuAnn Dibble a little too full of herself, not that she would ever say so publicly and especially with her losing one of her children in the war. “But I’m sure if she’s kept you around for any length of time, she must see some modicum of talent in your quill.”

“‘A modicum of talent in your quill,’” Nelson repeated, and they all laughed at the archaic reference.

Carlton cleared his throat and his face relaxed. “Thank you for that, Aunt Bess. And thank you again for allowing me to call you ‘Aunt Bess.’ Makes me feel like I’m a part of the family.”

“You practically are,” Irene purred and Alice-Ann shot her a look. One she hoped Irene recognized as a stop-it-right-now look.

“Didn’t Claudette look absolutely beautiful this afternoon?” Alice-Ann asked, hoping for a change in subject.

“Wouldn’t know,” Carlton said before anyone else had a chance to answer. “I was too busy looking at a certain bridesmaid.”

“Well, now,” Aunt Bess said, her words clipped as though she, like the rest of them, had been taken completely off guard. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

Nelson shook his head. “Oh, Alice-Ann,” he said through his chuckle. “Who would have thought my little sister would have the hometown hero falling so hard?”

Carlton angled his fork to cut into a slice of tomato. “Nelson, you’ve got that right. The hometown hero has fallen indeed and fallen hard.” He cut a sideward glance to Alice-Ann’s father. “I hope that’s all right with you, sir.”

Papa raised his glass of iced tea. “Not only is it all right,” he said with a nod, “but I welcome the words at this table.”

Alice-Ann walked Carlton to his car, their fingers woven together and their palms pressed against each other. “Supper was good,” he said. “I’m grateful for the invite.”

Alice-Ann chuckled. “I think Papa would rather have you at his table than me.”

He stopped, turned her toward him, and peered down at her. His eyes were so intense she almost didn’t recognize them. “Don’t underestimate your father’s love for you. He may not be an overly affectionate man —I don’t know many who are —but his wanting the best for you shows how much he cares. How much he loves you.”

She smiled and, warmed by his words, felt her knees go weak. “Thank you for that.”

When they reached the car, Carlton leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankles, and scooted her to stand directly in front of him. A flash of remembrance darted through her thoughts —she and Mack leaning against his truck on that cold December night in 1941. She’d been so young then. So childish. Now, she knew, she stood before a man she could love for the rest of her life, nearly without reservation, as a grown woman. No longer a teenage girl hoping to be kissed. Now she had been kissed.

The first . . . the last . . . the only.

“What are you thinking about?” Carlton asked, reaching for her other hand, which she gladly gave.

Alice-Ann positioned her feet on the sides of his, hoped she looked ladylike enough, and said, “You ask me that a lot. What I’m thinking about . . .”

“What you’re thinking about matters to me. You’re not only one of the smartest girls I’ve ever known, you keep me thinking. And when a —” he dipped his head toward her —“war hero comes home wounded, he has to keep his brain thinking. Otherwise, with what he’s seen, he’ll go absolutely stark-raving mad.” He straightened. “Ever hear of shell shock?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Let’s talk about that later. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Heat tingled in her toes. “Honestly?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I’m thinking that you’re the first boy to ever kiss me and I hope you’ll be the last.”

Carlton cocked his head. “You’re not going to up and die on me tonight, are you?”

She pulled one hand free to swat at his shoulder, which made him laugh. He stood straight, drew her to him, and wrapped her in his arms.

Alice-Ann sighed. “Well, if I did die tonight, this would be a good place.”

He chuckled, kissed the top of her head, and said, “Alice-Ann, I’m going to be honest with you.”

She took a step back, sought his eyes —which she now completely recognized —and blinked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said, repeating his words.

But he didn’t grin at her as she expected. Instead, he swallowed so hard she could hear the gulp. “I’ve got a plan.”

“I’m listening.”

“And I hope —no, I pray —every single night, I pray —you’ll go along with it.”

Her stomach fluttered and she wished she hadn’t eaten so much cake in the day. “All right.”

“I plan to keep on working for Mr. Dibble. I plan to keep learning under Miss LuAnn and I plan to take my work hours from ten a week to whatever they’ll allow me to do.” His words came so quickly that Alice-Ann had a difficult time keeping up with them. “With what I’m getting from Uncle Sam when this war is over, I plan to buy that cottage next to Nancy and Harry —”

A tiny gasp escaped from between her lips.

“Hold on,” he said. “Just hear me out.”

Alice-Ann nodded.

“I plan to buy it, fix it up just like you want it. It won’t be the Hearst mansion, but it’ll be everything you wanted and then some. And when I’m done, I plan to carry you over the threshold of it. Whenever you’re ready, though. I’m not rushing you and I don’t want to frighten you.” He paused as she pressed her hand against her chest. “Because you look so scared I’m surprised you’ve not run all the way back to the front porch.”

“I —I —Carlton, you’ve waited until today to kiss me and not a few hours later you tell me you want to —wait, are you saying you want to marry me?”

His fingertips brushed along her cheekbones and found their way into her tangle of hair. The pads of his hands pressed against her ears, blocking out all sound but the blood rushing through her veins and he squeezed as he brought her lips to his. Briefly. Sweetly. Then he relaxed, and as life eased back into her hearing, he said, “I cannot imagine anyone on the face of this planet I’d rather spend my life with than you, Alice-Ann Branch. No one —and I do mean no one —has ever made me feel like you do.”

“Not even Betty Jo?”

“Betty Jo couldn’t come close to you.”

“But she’s so —so pretty.”

“What is it my mama always says? Pretty is as pretty does.”

Alice-Ann nodded, her face still held gently between his palms. “Aunt Bess says that too.”

“Besides that, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Inside and out.”

“You only say that because you love me.”

He kissed her again, and this time the kiss was deep and full. Much more than she’d experienced earlier and way more than she imagined. Even Rhett Butler hadn’t kissed Scarlett O’Hara quite so passionately.

Had he?

“I say that because it’s true,” he added when they came up for air. “Now, Miss Branch. Don’t leave me wondering if I’ve frightened you away for all eternity or if I’ve convinced you to spend it with me. What do you say? Will you marry me?”