8

REVEREND ANDERSON PRAYED before they ate dinner on the ground the first Sunday Sonny came to church with Perla. Aunt Imogene had one of her sick headaches, and Uncle Chuck refused to let his neighbors see him hobbling around on a crutch, so Perla determined to go to the Methodist church on her own. She felt a little nervous. Although she’d been to church with Imogene several times, she’d hardly been anywhere all by herself—ever. As she set out, tugging her gloves into place and carrying a basket of food, Sonny loped across the yard to join her.

“Out for a Sunday stroll?”

Perla sniffed. “I’m off to church, thank you very much.”

“Oh-ho. Gonna get you some Holy Spirit.” His hazel eyes danced. “What’s in the basket?”

“We’re having dinner afterwards. I made chicken and some biscuits.”

Sonny’s eyes lit up. “Reckon I might come along then. I’ll carry that for you.”

Perla didn’t want to give him the basket, but it was in his hands before she could think.

“You oughtn’t to speak of holy things so disrespectfully,” she said, adjusting her hat now that both hands were free.

Sonny watched her, something soft and warm in his eyes. “I expect you’re right. Ma raised me better than that. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?” Perla walked briskly now, hoping to have time to wipe the dust from her shoes after they arrived.

“Well, folks don’t always live up to what you think Christians are supposed to act like. Sometimes they flat let you down.”

He looked so sad Perla had an urge to reach out and touch his shoulder, but she resisted. “No one’s perfect except Jesus.”

Sonny snorted. “Now that’s the sort of pious talk I’d expect from Cousin Imogene. There’s imperfect and then there’s hypocritical. Guess I’ve run into my fair share of that second sort of late.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothing. I’m just talking.” He skipped off the dirt road and plucked a branch of fire azalea growing wild in the underbrush. “My lady.” He bowed low and presented her with the flowers.

Perla pinked and took the deep orange blossoms. “Do you always act the fool?”

“Every chance I get,” he said with a laugh. Then he winked. “Some girls like it.”

Perla felt her cheeks grow even warmer. She matched her pace to his and tucked the flowers into the basket in his hand. Surely it wouldn’t do to arrive at church carrying them. Sonny grinned at her like he knew what she was thinking.

He behaved himself the rest of the morning. He sat with some of the other single men at church and participated like a regular member, proving that maybe his mother had raised him right.

After church, when the pastor asked them all to bow their heads, Perla snuck a look at Sonny. And what she saw chilled her. While everyone else bowed their heads in reverent prayer, he glared at the pastor like he wanted to do him harm. Perla quickly shut her eyes and tried to erase the image.

But here she was, sixty years later, the picture of Sonny’s anger just as clear. Maybe clearer now that she knew exactly how he—and even she—had suffered at the hands of pious people.

Ella was relieved to have a chance to close her eyes and be still. First Richard delighted her with the offer of a walk, then he confused her with talk of being a Christian, and now Seth was here being so very helpful. He’d lifted her cake from the cooler and balanced it on one large palm. He’d commented that he couldn’t wait to sample it, and his simple statement had pleased her way more than it should have. Mark and his domineering personality felt a million miles away.

Midway through the prayer, Ella snuck a peek at Seth and then squeezed her eyes shut when she saw him sneaking a peek at her. She’d make a proper fool of herself yet.

When she opened her eyes again, Ella found Seth watching her still. “Want to jump in line with me?” she asked to hide her confusion. “If we don’t get it started, folks’ll hang back being polite all night. I gave up wanting to be polite when I saw Mavis’s homemade macaroni and cheese.”

They walked together to the head of the long table where they picked up plates and plastic utensils. They made it to the end of the line, plates overflowing, and Seth followed Ella to some big rocks near the creek. They settled, and she realized they hadn’t gotten anything to drink.

Seth stood. “Can I get you tea or something?”

“Lemonade, please,” Ella said, sampling the decadent mac and cheese.

Ella watched Seth walk toward the drinks table and fill two plastic cups with lemonade. He straightened and looked toward the pasture where the cars were parked. A Land Rover pulled in at the end of a row, standing out like a thoroughbred in a field of cattle. A burly man stepped out and waved at Seth, who tipped his chin since his hands were full. Seth waited as the man made his way over. They spoke a moment, and then the man filled a cup with tea and followed Seth back to where Ella sat.

“Keith Randolph, this is Ella Phillips,” Seth said, and Ella tried to keep the shock from showing on her face. Will and Laura joined them, giving her the distraction she needed to gather her wits as Seth continued his introductions, adding, “Keith here is hoping to make some improvements and preserve underutilized land up on Laurel Mountain.”

Ella felt her face tighten, even though she was determined to remain polite. Seth handed her the lemonade. She didn’t thank him, but instead took the cup and found a level spot on the ground at her feet.

“You’re that developer buying up property.” Ella set her plate down beside her cup and stood, hands on hips. “What exactly are you planning to do with all that ‘underutilized’ land?”

Keith took a swig of tea. “Hunting preserve. Folks’ll trip over themselves for the chance to hunt a pristine area like this. There are some farms up around there, but a lot of the forest is untouched, and I’ve rarely seen so much wildlife. Deer, bear, turkey, grouse—might even be a mountain lion.” He looked so eager, Ella almost liked him in spite of his plans.

“And what about our local history?” She wasn’t backing down no matter how much he looked like a little boy at Christmas.

Keith cocked his head. “Well, I’ve run into places where land is significant to certain people groups before. We were able to make concessions that satisfied all the parties involved.”

Ella snorted. “That sounds like something a lawyer would say.”

Keith laughed. “Guess I’ve spent my fair share of time around them, too. What I’m trying to say is, I always aim to honor the heritage of a place when I build. I have a lodge in Georgia with a fine collection of American Indian artifacts. Down in South Carolina we have a Lowcountry theme with sweet-grass baskets and information about the Gullah people.” He leaned toward Ella. “What do you suggest we honor here?”

Ella blinked twice in rapid succession. “I . . . well, I suppose local arts and crafts, maybe the Scotch-Irish history, mountain music—that sort of thing. But without all of the hillbilly nonsense.”

Keith nodded, and Ella half expected him to pull out a pad of paper and start taking notes. This guy was smooth. She shook her head to clear it. “The main thing is that we preserve the church and the cemetery. It’s been there for more than a hundred years, and the families that started it still attend.”

Keith held a hand up, palm out. “I wouldn’t be interested in buying the church property unless the members were interested in selling it. Shouldn’t be a problem there.”

Ella still didn’t trust him, but she relaxed enough to notice Gran watching them while making shooing motions toward the food table.

“My grandmother is indicating that you should help yourself to some food,” she said with a laugh. “Goodness knows there’s enough to feed Wise for a week.”

“Come on, Keith. Laura and I will introduce you around,” Will said. “And if you want the ladies to warm up to you, you’ll eat at least a bite of every dish over there.”

Keith eyed the groaning table. “I’ve had worse assignments,” he said and followed the couple to the food.

Ella resettled onto the rock and picked up her plate. Seth sat beside her and reclaimed his food, as well. They ate a moment in silence, Ella thinking and Seth letting her.

“Can he be trusted?”

Seth shrugged. “As best I can tell. He seems straightforward enough, and I haven’t heard anything to make me cautious.”

Ella made a soft humming noise. “I might have to do a little research on your Keith Randolph.”

Seth might like this Keith fellow, but Ella wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw a bull by the tail. Although she had to admit his question about what he should honor had set her mind to whirling. What if there were a visitors’ center in a historic cabin on this hunting preserve? She knew of one that needed saving. They could showcase farm implements, household tools, maybe even clothing. There could be a garden outside with herbs that her ancestors would have used for medicine as well as cooking. An heirloom quilt on the bed—or even better, set up on a quilt stand as though someone would return at any moment to stitch away.

Ella felt Seth watching her. She needed to stop daydreaming. Keith hadn’t said he wouldn’t buy the church property, only that he wouldn’t buy it unless it was offered. Ella couldn’t imagine anyone offering, but it still seemed like the developer was hedging his bets.

“You about ready to go toast some marshmallows?” Seth asked.

Ella realized she’d been a poor dinner companion. “I’m sorry, I’ve been sitting here brooding over that development. You must think I’m awful.”

A slow smile spread across Seth’s face. “Nope. Just attached to your family and your history. Seems like those are good things to me.” He looked at her parents sitting nearby. “Your family’s really great. If I had that kind of legacy, I’d want to preserve it, too.”

“Where’s your family live?”

“I mostly grew up in Madison, South Carolina. My mom’s from South Carolina and Dad’s from Bethel, West Virginia, but I’m adopted. I’ve always wished I knew who my real ancestors were.” He stood and offered a hand to pull Ella to her feet. “You’re lucky you know your history.”

Ella took Seth’s strong, warm hand and for a moment wished he’d tug her on up and into his arms. But that was silly. Maybe she was drawn to him because of the way he admired her family and understood how important her history was to her. She released his hand and straightened her shoulders.

They headed for the fire that had largely died down now, making it perfect for toasting marshmallows. Dusk settled around them like a piece of worn flannel, soft and not too heavy. Lightning bugs sparked here and there, and the children, already too full of sugar, abandoned the fire to chase them. Ella joined Seth, and he handed her a sharpened stick already loaded with two marshmallows.

“I assumed one wouldn’t be enough,” he said.

Ella grinned. “Right now I’d say two won’t be enough, but I may change my mind after I eat them.”

Seth held his stick over the coals and carefully turned it to brown the marshmallow on all sides. Ella stuck hers over a section that was still flaming—she liked them charred. She watched the concentration on Seth’s face, noting how the fire reflected in his hazel eyes, making them glow. Just then the end of her stick burst into flames. She screeched, whirled the stick around, and blew on it with all her might. In short order she had one mostly black marshmallow and a second still white.

Seth took her stick and handed her his with a perfectly toasted marshmallow on the end. He ate her ruined dessert before she could protest. She smiled sideways and ate what he offered.

“Too bad we don’t have some chocolate and graham crackers,” someone said from the far side of the fire.

Ella squinted and saw that Richard had joined them. “I don’t think we’ve ever made s’mores at the Labor Day picnic.”

“Could be time to start a new tradition,” Richard said, walking around the fire. “I’ll be sure to remember next year.”

“Might not want to tamper with tradition,” Seth said. He didn’t sound pleased, but Ella couldn’t think why he’d care.

She forced a laugh. “I’m all for tradition, but I can’t see turning down a chance to eat more chocolate.”

Richard took her elbow. “I was talking to your grandmother. I think she might be about ready to call it a night.”

Ella handed her stick back to Seth. “I suppose it is getting late. Thanks for dessert, Seth. I’ll see you later.”

She could see his smile in the flicker from the fire, but his eyes now looked utterly black and somehow it made him seem sad. She squeezed his arm and let Richard lead her over to where Gran sat, sweater snugged around her shoulders, visiting with the other ladies around a camping lantern. She looked back once to wave at Seth, but he was staring into the fire, apparently lost in thought.