Country Heaven (22 page)

Oh Christ.

“Will you talk to him for me?” she asked again. “I know it will be a shock, and I thought perhaps he’d take more kindly to it if he knew you’d look after me while I’m at Vanderbilt. But I’m not sure I want to work at his law firm. You know how they view women lawyers around here. There isn’t a single one. I’d have to practice in a bigger city to…fit in. Like Nashville. Plus it would mean I’d be close to you.”

Responsibility twined around his feet like a creeping vine, tying him down. This was getting complicated, but how could he refuse to help her? This was her dream. “I’ll do what I can.”

She came around the table and squeezed him tight.

“Today?” she pressed.

He took a deep breath, inhaling her signature magnolia perfume. She might be a bright and showy bloom like her favorite plant, but she’d have to have its leather–hard leaves to withstand the Hollins’ wrath.

“Yes, I’ll talk to him.” He kissed her hair. “But I strongly suggest you prepare your argument in advance and compose it as persuasively as you can.”

Her arms tightened around him again. “I’ve been doing that for at least six months, Rye.”

She pulled back and looked at him. “I love you, Rye,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Amelia Ann,” he murmured back, the words rusty on his tongue.

But he felt their power as a new–found warmth swept into the cold, isolated place he’d inhabited since he’d broken with his family to follow his own dream.

When it comes to comfort food on the sweet side, there’s nothing better than combining a chocolate chip cookie flavor in a flaky pie crust. I like to add a little cocoa for extra bite. This sucker is pure decadence and perfect for Sunday dessert with fresh whipped cream or heated to warm on a school night. You can barely keep your eyes open after the first bite, least of all form a complete sentence. It makes even the most sensible senseless. My friend served it when her difficult mother–in–law came for a weekend visit. She gave her guest a piece every day she was there and said it was the only time the woman didn’t find something to complain about. So, if you’re in need of comfort food, chocolate with your pie, or you want to shut someone up—this pie is for you.

Tory’s Chocolate Chip Pie
¾ cup butter
½ cup sugar
½ cup brown sugar
3 eggs ½ cup flour
2 tbsp. cocoa
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup pecans

Cream the butter and sugar. Add the eggs. Mix. Add the flour and cocoa. Stir until combined. Add the chocolate chips. Pour into an already baked pie crust. Cook at 325 degrees for 50 minutes.

Tory Simmons’ Simmering Family Cookbook

Chapter 12

T
he house was struggling to keep itself cool, the air conditioner kicking on as regularly as the quarter chimes of the antique Seth Thomas clock above the gray stone fireplace. Tory was reading an article on her laptop about the hunting traditions of the Maasai and the impact of safari groups.

She didn’t know where Rye and Amelia Ann had disappeared to after finishing breakfast, but she appreciated that they’d cleaned their dishes. And she couldn’t wait to hear more about their conversation. Amelia Ann was going to law school? Rye’s head had to be spinning. The revelation had been a surprise to her too, and she barely knew the woman.

Pushing back a lock of hair that was still damp from her shower, she tried to concentrate on an anthropologist’s description of the importance of hunting lions to the Maasai tribe in Kenya. How the men were judged by their prowess in tracking and killing the ferocious beasts. She sighed. She couldn’t help but think how much she’d prefer to look at food websites. Now,
that
was fun.

She was plodding through her third article when she heard a car drive up. She walked to a window to see who it was, and heaved another sigh. Tammy was climbing out of her sparkling white BMW SUV all perfect and pressed in a matching powder–blue linen suit. She could have doubled for Grace Kelly in that movie with Jimmy Stewart where they watched people from their apartment. Was it
Rear Window?
Oh, who cared?

Was she ready for another visit from Rye’s family? No way. Then, she remembered the cookies and ran to get them. Hopefully Tammy would leave after she dropped them into her arms.

It wasn’t like she had to invite her in for tea.

***

Tammy smoothed the fronds of a fern hanging on the porch. Her feet had turned leaden and shaky. Rye’s visit was raising so many questions inside her about her life, her family. Was he right? Were her children really unhappy, especially Rory? She knew she had to find out, and Tory was enough of an outsider that she might just be honest about it.

“Hello, Tory,” she said when the woman opened the door, the name sounding odd on her tongue. “I was hoping I might catch you.”

Surprise raced across Tory’s face. Tammy tried to smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Rye’s still at the house with Daddy. Mama and I just got back from a luncheon. The kids are with the babysitter, so I thought I’d stop on my way home.”

Tory crossed her arms “Did you come for the cookies?”

She gripped her white clutch purse against her stomach. “Yes. Amelia Ann mentioned she’d brought them here.” When had the tension in their family become so intense that they were forced to hide cookies from Mama like they were drugs?

“I thought so,” she said, reaching behind her to pick up the lone container on the bureau in the entryway.

When she thrust them out, Tammy almost frowned. Didn’t this woman know that visitors, even uninvited ones, should always be welcomed inside? “I was hoping we might chat.”

The woman didn’t blink for a moment. “Come in then.”

Tammy followed her into the kitchen. Were those tabloid journalists right? Was Rye really involved with this woman? Amelia Ann didn’t seem to believe Tory’s denials, and Tammy had to agree with her. What else would have compelled their brother to make sugar cookies?

“The kids were terribly upset when we left without the cookies,” she said. That was an understatement. She opened the box and drew out a baby–pink iced princess cookie, so pretty and delicate. “Amelia Ann said she couldn’t save Rory’s soldier cookies, but she mentioned that Rye had done a good job helping him.”

“Yes, he did.” The woman crossed her arms over her chest.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tory nodded reluctantly.

The muscles in her face trembled, but she had to know. “Do you think my children are unhappy? Rory especially? Like Rye said.”

Without answering, Tory stood and reached for Tammy’s arm, leading her to the kitchen table. “Why don’t we sit and have a cup of coffee?”

Coffee? She couldn’t squeeze it past her tight throat. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to coddle me. Amelia Ann likes you. She says you speak plainly. I figured you might tell me what you see as an outsider.”

“I don’t want to get into your business.”

She almost laughed. The woman was knee deep in it, like it or not. “Rye involved you when he brought you here, so, please, I would appreciate you answering my question.”

Was she ready to hear the truth? Tammy still wasn’t sure. But she hadn’t been able to banish the memory of Annabelle’s tears all morning.

Tory took a breath like someone who was preparing to dive off a cliff. “I’m not exactly an expert. Annabelle seems to laugh some.”

Tammy didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t mentioned Rory. “I watched them last night, and when I took them to play group this morning. They’re cautious and polite. Annabelle is less so, but I can still tell it’s happening… She’s slowly sliding into what’s expected of her. They’re remarkably
clean
for their age, don’t you think? Mama always says you can tell a lot about children by how clean they are.” And how quiet. Hysterical laughter bubbled up suddenly, and her head buzzed with it. “I need…I think I’ll take a walk.”

Dear God, Rye was right, Tammy thought. They were becoming as unhappy as she was.

“Can I leave the cookies near the door? That way I can just reach in and grab them without bothering you.” She didn’t want to see Tory again when she was like this.

“Of course.”

Tammy’s legs trembled when she stood. “You’ll have to give me your recipe…so I can make Rory his soldier cookies.” She couldn’t stop babbling. Her cotillion teacher would have taken her to task. “He would never complain, you see, but I don’t want Annabelle to be the only one with cookies.”

No, he never complained, but he so rarely smiled either. And he didn’t like to be touched. Oh God.

Fortunately, Tory stayed silent and let her leave in peace.

When the humidity enveloped her outside, she wanted to run, but her training was too deeply ingrained.

Besides, where could she run to? There was nowhere.

***

Tory watched Tammy stumble down the hall, her perfect posture no more than a memory. She gazed at the cookies and pressed her fingers to her temple. She’d never witnessed so much bottled up emotion in one person. It was like shaking a champagne bottle without opening it. The poor woman was suffering as much as her children. Should she mention their conversation to Rye? Yeah, that was a good plan. He was struggling as much as everyone else around here. His family was like the walking wounded.

She needed to quiet her mind. There was no way she could focus on her research now. She’d do what she always did when she felt so mixed up… She’d make a pie. Maybe her famous Chocolate Chip Pie would help Rye’s mood. Hell, how about hers? She could use a little comfort food. And she’d put a roast in the oven too. Peel some potatoes to boil and mash later.

She was pulling the pie out of the oven when she heard the front door slam against the wall, propelled by a gust of wind. When she went to inspect the sound, she found Rye in the hallway.

“Is Tammy here?” he whispered.

“No, she’s out…walking.” It had been over ninety minutes since she’d left, which worried Tory.

Rye pressed the bridge of his nose, heading into the kitchen. “Walking? My sister? In this heat and wind? There’s a storm brewing. Why did she come here, anyway?”

Tory leaned against the doorway. “She came to pick up the princess cookies that Amelia Ann brought over.” Part of her was brimming with curiosity about what had transpired with his youngest sister and his father, but she’d let him tell her in his own time.

Rye grabbed a glass, filled it with ice and water, and chugged it. Refilled. Then he sniffed. “God, why does it always smell so good when you’re around?” His eyes tracked to the pie. “What kind did you make?”

“Chocolate chip. One of my comfort foods.”

“My God, woman. You nearly bring me to my knees with your cooking. My stomach was queasy before, but it’s already feeling better just from the smell. Sorry, your pie got me off track. Why did Amelia Ann bring the cookies here?”

“Your mother was throwing them away. Amelia Ann managed to save the princess ones.”

Rye slumped against the counter. “Christ, she threw away the cookies?” he asked, his jaw ticking.

Her nod was perfunctory.

“That storm is moving in fast,” he said, turning and staring through the kitchen window. “Wind’s kicking up something fierce.”

There was no music in his voice, only the flatness of despair. “Don’t talk about the weather with me, Rye Crenshaw. I’m not some Southern belle.”

His back muscles bunched visibly under his shirt. He slowly turned, eyes glaring like an angry wolf’s. “No, you’re not, but you know what? Talking about the superficial is a hell of a lot easier than talking turkey, let me tell you.”

Didn’t she know it? She crossed her arms.

His angry strides brought him across the kitchen until they were nose to nose. “What? Do you want to hear about how I just told Daddy that Amelia Ann actually wants to be a lawyer? Like all the Hollins men have been for four generations until me. That she’s decided to go to Vandy rather than marry the starched shirt Mama picked out for her.”

Amelia Ann’s mother had picked out a husband for her? Part of her was shocked, but having seen Mama Terminator in action... Tory’s compassion knew no bounds for Rye’s sisters. “What did he say?”

He chuckled—a mean and ugly sound. “After I realized he wasn’t going to have another heart attack? Well, I won’t go into all the details, but he said he would support her. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake with another of his children.” He slammed his hand against the wall. “Not like the one he made with me. Goddammit! Doesn’t he know what that kind of talk does to me?”

Unhinges him, she thought, and dredges up all the pain he’d turned into anger years ago. Tory’s eyes burned at the anguish on his face, and she suppressed the urge to comfort, fearing he would only slap it away. “I’m glad for her.”

His chest was rising and falling in quick, raspy breaths. “I need some air.”

When he walked away, Tory followed. She closed the door he’d left open and walked right off the porch. The first big drops of rain hit her. The sky was dark and packed with gray thunderclouds, just like he’d warned her. She had almost reached Rye when she saw Tammy running toward the house.

“It’s going to rain,” she called.

Her suit was slick with sweat, her white sandals coated in mud. Her pantyhose had a run in one leg, and her hair had escaped her coif, clinging in tendrils to her neck and face. Mascara ran down her cheeks.

Rye darted toward her. “Tammy?”

She jerked to a halt, her ankle turning in the gravel.

The rain started to pelt the earth as he took her shoulders. “Honey, you look a fright! What’s the matter with you?”

The laugh that burst from her was high–pitched and slightly crazed. “Do you think you’re the only one around here who can get dirty?” Three more barks of laughter escaped before she pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. “I need to get the cookies. I need to go home.” Then she looked down at herself. “Oh God, I’ll scare the children looking like this. I’ve
never
looked like this.”

Tory believed that, all right. She pushed Rye aside and grabbed Tammy’s arm, leading her into the house. “You can take a shower and wear some of my clothes.”