Vice(31)

CHAPTER TWENTY





"Tell me something."

"Hmm?" I rolled over, draping my leg across his and cuddling against  him. I'd never been a fan of post-sex cuddling and yet, here I was,  wrapped around him like ivy. "What?"

"I guess I should have been more specific." He stroked a hand down my  back, twirling a tangled lock of hair around one finger. "You went to  University of Georgia on scholarship, right? Got a degree in  journalism?"

"And creative writing." Even knowing I should get up and get dressed and  have him drive me home so I could start the final push toward moving  day, I was too comfortable to give the idea any serious thought. "Why?"

"You studied literature, right? Like poems and stuff?"

"Took a few classes." I tilted my head back until I could see his face. "Again, why?"

"Tell me some poetry. Or a quote. Something you remember from some  classes." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Tell me  something about Jeannie Jackson."

I could have said I didn't remember anything. I'd been out of school  long enough it would have been a believable lie. Instead, I said, "‘If  you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.'" I kissed  his chin. "Oscar Wilde. Not poetry but literature."

"I don't know. Sounded more than a little poetic to me."

Silence settled around us and I rested my head on his shoulder,  strangely comforted by the steady beat of his heart. I was minutes away,  seconds maybe, from falling asleep when he said, "I have to have dinner  with my parents on Sunday."

"I'm sorry." And knowing what I did now about his childhood, I was. "Do  you want to come over to the house when you're finished? Between moving  and school starting I'm sure we're all going to be running around like  chickens with our heads cut off but if you want a distraction-."

"I want you to come with me. You and the kids."
         

     



 
"What?" If he'd told me he murdered people as a hobby and had the bodies  buried in one of his fields, I would have been less shocked. I sat up,  raking my hair back in to a ponytail and securing it with the  ever-present hair tie I kept around my wrist. "Abraham, you can't be  serious."

"And yet I am." He sat up, scooting backward until he was able to brace  his back against the headboard. Drawing his knees up, he propped his  chin on them, somehow managing to not look ridiculous in the child-like  position. "I don't want to go, Jeannie. I haven't wanted anything to do  with my parents for years. But you know this town. You know how people  are. Hell, you heard what the pastor's wife said last week."

"Yeah, she called you a ‘prodigal', which kind of begs the question as to why she'd refer to you that way."

"I'm not big on religion."

"So why were you at church?"

"Because I felt like talking to God."

"I thought you said you weren't big on religion."

"You can believe in God without believing in religion. They're not the  same thing." He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "It's  stupid but I felt I should go and tell Him or Her or Whoever ‘thank  you'. Because you were back in town and you'd walked in to my bar and  you'd gone to bed with me."

I stared at him, too stunned for words. Finally, I managed to croak out, "Abraham, I-."

"I know-too much." He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and  heaved the sort of sigh which sounded as if it came from his very soul.  "You left Cotton Creek and left everything and everyone behind, which I  can understand because this town is judgmental as fuck." He dropped his  hands to the bed, tilting his head back against the wall and staring at  the ceiling. "And I stayed and never got over the girl who taught me  geometry."

"Abraham." I paused, torn between saying too much and not enough and  honestly not even knowing which one would be worse. In the end, I simply  said, "I'm trying."

"I know." He reached over and palmed the nape of my neck, pulling me  forward until we were nose to nose. He took my mouth in a short, harsh  kiss before drawing back and saying, "Try harder, Jeannie Jackson."

We sat like that for a moment, a breath away from each other, before he  straightened, his hand slipping down my torso to rest on my thigh.  Giving me a quick squeeze, he said, "Come on. It's already after three. I  need to take you home and run back and grab a shower before opening up  downstairs."





WE WERE QUIET on the drive back to town, the radio filling what would  otherwise have been an awkward silence. I couldn't put a finger on why I  felt uncomfortable but it was there, like an itchiness under the skin I  couldn't quite scratch. When he pulled in behind my car, he cleared his  throat and said, "Listen, if you don't-."

"Tammy is going to insist on going to church before we do anything else  on Sunday. Unlike you, she's a huge fan of religion and apparently feels  as if everybody in her circle should be, too." I unfastened my  seatbelt, keeping my gaze on the floorboard as I collected my purse,  slipping my shoes back on. "So you can either come with us or you can  pick us up from the house afterward or-."

"Service starts at nine but if you're not there by eight forty-five,  you're late." He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind  my ear, trailing a fingertip down my jawline. "So I'll pick you guys up  at eight-thirty."

"Okay." I leaned over, pressing my lips against his for the briefest of moments. Drawing back, I said, "I'll see you Sunday."

"Do you want my help moving anything on Saturday?"

"No, the movers should take care of everything." I pushed the door open,  exiting the car on legs which were shaky for some reason. Turning  around, I leaned in and said, "We never did get to those strawberries."

"Some other time." His smile was lazy and easy but it didn't seem to  reach his eyes. Not really. "Call me tomorrow, Jeannie Jackson."

"I'll think about it." I straightened and closed the door, heading for  the trailer only to stop and lean against my car, watching him pull  away. No sooner had the echo of the purr of his engine faded away than  another car pulled up, this one so bright and shiny and white I was  almost blinded even though the sun was stuck behind a bank of clouds.  When the driver side door opened and Beth Barnes Bailey popped out,  looking as cool and fresh as a glass of lemonade, I bit back a sigh and  forced a smile. "Hello, Beth."         

     



 

"I know, it looks as if I'm stalking you or something but I swear I was  already on my way out here and then when I saw Abraham's car... well, I  wanted to give you a little bit of privacy." If she seemed put off by my  appearance which, despite my best efforts, screamed ‘I spent the  afternoon doing sexually deviant things', it didn't show on her face.  Instead, she looked positively ecstatic to see me. Picking her way  through the loose gravel which served as a parking space, she stopped a  foot or so away from me, clapping her hands together and beaming.  "First, I want to say the house looks amazing. It hasn't looked so good  in years."

"I'd like to take credit for that but all I really did was pick out the  paint colors." And if I was being honest, even that hadn't required too  much thought. Turned out the house, while not on the National Register  of Historical Buildings, was still something of a county landmark and so  I'd had some limitations on what I could as far as the exterior. The  interior had already been through so many renovations that there was no  way in hell it would ever qualify for the Register so I'd had a free  hand there but the people who ran the trust had put their foot down on  the exterior paint. "And we still haven't done anything noteworthy with  the landscaping yet."

Although I was seriously considering a pool. And a hot tub. And a deck.

But later-after I'd gotten used to the sticker shock of a mortgage and I'd built up a little equity.

"Still, it looks wonderful." The abundance of praise coming from her was  more than a little off-putting. Between that and the toothpaste  commercial smile, I didn't think I was wrong for being suspicious about  what the true reason behind her impromptu visit might be. Somehow, she  managed to turn up the wattage on her smile, showcasing two rows of  teeth which were ruler straight thanks to the orthodontics her parents  had shelled out serious money for when we were in middle school. "But  I'm sure you know that's not the reason why I'm here."

"Something told me you didn't drive all the way over here to compliment  me on my eye for color." I set my purse on the trunk of the car and  leaned against the bumper, crossing my arms. "So what can I do for you,  Beth?"