Traces (30 page)

The swing creaked, followed by Max’s footsteps approaching. His hands gripped her arms, and he turned her to face him. His eyes glowed in the soft lighting. She smelled his spicy aftershave overlaid by the scent of his honest labor on her behalf. Crickets sang as background to the last strains of the birds crooning themselves to sleep.

“When I look at you, I see the most beautiful woman in the world.” Max slipped his hands down her arms to grasp hers. “But more even, your courage and your deep love for your family shines from your soul.”

“Max, I—”

“Shhh. Let me finish.” He kissed her, a soft pressure that thrummed through her. “You attract me like bears to honey, or steel to a magnet. I must touch you, feel you beneath my hands. You’ve become my obsession.”

“Is that a good thing?” She laughed, sounding nervous to her own ears.

“I believe so.” He pulled her closer and kissed her. “I know you’ve been through a very rough time, losing both your husband and your child. I can’t imagine the enormity of the challenge you faced, working through the grief.”

She closed her eyes, a flash of the old pain searing her gut. She opened her eyes and worked her lower lip between her teeth, drawing his attention to her mouth. “It’s been the most difficult time of my life.”

He speared her with his gaze. “Grief is a tunnel, Meredith, not a destination. We pass through it, no matter how long or dark it may be. We find a way through it, a way to light the path so we come out the other end ready to face the rest of our lives without the ones we’ve lost. Whether the way is through religion or family or yelling and screaming. But we always find a way to traverse the grief tunnel. Always.”

She’d never thought of grieving the way he described. She searched his eyes, where caring and concern shone. And something else. She leaned closer, delving deep into his expression. His lips pressed together and then relaxed at her nearness. Captivated, she reached to kiss him, pressing her mouth to his as a thank-you for his understanding, and as a giving of herself to this man who attracted her like—now, what did he say?—bears to honey and steel to magnets. She, too, couldn’t help being drawn to him despite all her protests.

His arms slipped around her, crushing her against his hard chest. His mouth opened to her tongue, seeking entrance. He tasted delicious, the whiskey he drank heightening his natural essence and combining with the wine she’d consumed. The notes of sweet and smoky harmonized, building to a crescendo of sensation flowing through her. She rode the wave, amazed she could once more experience the pleasure of kissing. Max ignited a passion in her unlike any other she’d known. He deepened the kiss, one hand clasping her breast, and all analytical thoughts disintegrated into the sheer bliss of being with a virile man. Of being with Max.

When they mutually ended the kiss, they contemplated each other for a minute, a soft smile on their lips.

“I do believe you’ve helped me find the light at the end of the tunnel.” Meredith rested her hands on Max’s chest, his heart thudding against her palms. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head and winked. “The pleasure is definitely all mine, my lady.”

“What do we do now?” She traced a finger across his polo shirt, circling one button with her pinky. He’d broken through her defenses, awakened her to feelings and sensations she’d attempted to bury after all she’d been through. Now her body sang with need, want, desire. She could fly she felt so free and happy.

“Whatever feels right.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then pressed a long kiss to her mouth.

She returned his kiss, savoring the physical connection almost as much as the sense he meant what he said. Knowing she needed him as much as he needed her. She ended the lip lock, took his hand with a wink, and led him, unprotesting, upstairs.

Meredith raised the window two inches, allowing the early morning breeze to flow through the sewing room. She returned to the rocking chair, sipped from her coffee mug, and stared at the stack of Grandpa Joe’s journals and letters. Beside them, Grandma O’Connell’s research binder was open, white pages filled with notes from her efforts.

Since Meredith intended to restore Twin Oaks, the contents of those pages and pages of information became source material for matching the present to the past appearance of the house. Grandpa Joe’s journals reflected his view of the layout and contents. The many letters included references to who visited, what they did while there, and also the ambiance the visitors sensed about the house. Plus, the genealogical research showed the number and categories of residents as well as their occupations. A virtual treasure trove for the renovation expert to delve into for specific nuances to the completed restoration.

She set her mug back on the table and lifted a leather-bound journal. Laying it on her lap, she ran a hand over the embossed cover. Would she ever tire of pausing for a moment to ruminate upon holding the same book as her ancestor? Ever since Paulette pointed out she was about to dispose of her Grandma’s books—ones Grandma held near and dear—Meredith had developed a sense of connection through the paper and leather and ink. If only there were a way to establish that same sense of connection for all her descendants so no one else would ever propose to do what she’d briefly considered.

“Hey,” Paulette said, sauntering into the parlor. She carried a sketch pad, several pages flipped open, a pencil in hand. “What are you doing in here?”

“Thinking.” Meredith laid the journal back on the stack. She raised an eyebrow at the sketch pad. “What’s up?”

“I thought I’d try my hand at designing again. Have I lost my touch?” She turned the pad to face Meredith.

The dress featured a flouncy skirt and fitted bodice with tulle overlay and cap sleeves. The heart-shaped outline to the bodice featured a plunging neckline, which would highlight a woman’s décolletage, though the overlay softened the effect to a more feminine allure.

“That’s beautiful.” Meredith rose to move closer for a better view. “If the skirt were floor-length, you could also use it for a prom gown.”

Paulette examined the drawing and then smiled. “Yes, a few tweaks here and there and I could also make this a formal, or even convert it into a hoop-skirt design. Brilliant.”

Meredith stilled, her thoughts racing.

“What?” Paulette asked. “You look like you’re far away all of a sudden.”

She blinked and then smiled. “I have an idea.”

Paulette raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“We could make Twin Oaks into a partial B&B with a small museum dedicated to Twin Oaks history. Maybe even host reenactments of the Civil War encampment and balls.” She waited for Paulette to follow her reasoning. “You know, with the ladies dressed in their finest and the gentlemen in uniforms and suits?”

“You want me to design the dresses?” Paulette’s smile illuminated her entire face.

Meredith bobbed her head. “We could make this place our home as well as our business. What do you think?”

She squinted at Meredith. “Are you asking me to stay? Permanently?”

“Yes, if you want to.” Meredith grinned. “And your baby, of course. I can help you raise him or her. We’d have Meg and Sean to help, as well.”

“And Max? What about him?”

“I don’t know, but will you stay? Please?”

“But why, Mer? You told me you’d strangle me if we ever lived under the same roof again. And we nearly did. So why now?”

Meredith hugged her and then stepped back. “Because even though we may not always see eye to eye, we are sisters. We’re family, and family sticks together. I hope we can be friends once more.”

A long moment of silence followed, with the two women eyeing each other. Meredith hoped Paulette would agree, because her plan solved all their problems for a change, rather than creating more of them. She waited, wanting her to weigh the pros and cons and make a choice like she had when deciding to raise her child. Meredith appreciated the difficulties her decision would bring, but with all of them working together, the hardships would be minimized.

Paulette nodded with a smile. “Yes, and thank you, Mer.”

Meredith hugged her, holding on longer than she’d hugged anyone in years. After several minutes, she ended the embrace and stepped back. “Come on, we have work to do.”

* * * *

The next day the house was almost returned to normal. New glass panes had been installed and only the scarred floorboards recalled to mind the terror of the tornado. Meredith closed the journal she’d been reading, rocking back in her grandmother’s favorite chair. The sun streamed through the sewing-room windows, beckoning to her. She pushed to her feet and down the hall to the kitchen.

Walking outside, she drank in the sense of solitude and serenity gracing the property. She’d heard on the news the night before that the tornado that rampaged through her part of the county classified as an EF1. Not such a big event in the grand scheme of things, but certainly big enough to shake them up. The stone foundation that once supported the graceful gazebo appeared stark in the afternoon light as she walked by. Locating the artisan to recreate the elaborate ironwork to decorate the roof would take time. But she had all the time in the world.

Sean had cleaned up the yard and cemetery faster than she’d ever thought possible. He’d even managed to straighten the fence, though some of the iron showed stress marks from the twisting and untwisting. More reminders of how Twin Oaks had suffered and grown stronger as a result. She pushed open the back gate and emerged into the expanse of the meadow. The waving grasses had dried out since the severe weather passed through. If not for the barren gazebo foundation in the middle of the yard, no one would ever know anything bad had occurred. She spotted her objective, standing sentinel in the center of the field, and strode toward it.

The fairy tree’s gnarled trunk and branching limbs welcomed her. She laid a hand against the bark, the rough textures familiar beneath her roaming fingertips. As she gazed up through the mass of green leaves, two puffy white clouds floated across the bright sky. This small tree represented both the passing of time and the sense of time standing still. As it grew a little each year, it marked the passage of the days and weeks. Likewise, the longer it graced the meadow, it represented the constant presence of the O’Connell family. Must be the fairy’s magic that enabled one living thing to encompass both concepts.

“Dear fairies, wherever you may be,” Meredith said, grasping a branch with both hands, “I’ve come out here today to thank you. You’ve watched over us, me and my ancestors, for many generations. You’ve protected Twin Oaks and all it stands for, and I’m deeply grateful.”

The late spring sun held more heat than previously, making her forehead bead with sweat. No, that wasn’t right. Her Grandma had always said Southern women do not sweat, they
glisten
. She smiled. Okay, so she was glistening. A lot.

A cool breeze lifted the hair from her warm neck, sending a delightful shiver through her. The meadow stretched in all directions from this point where she stood. Much like her view of her future. Her options had increased tenfold since making the decision to move to Twin Oaks permanently. Her boss hadn’t been too happy she’d elected to focus on architecture instead of demolition, especially since she’d promised to handle the Salisbury chicken plant. She mentally shrugged. He’d get over it. After all, designing multimillion-dollar homes yielded higher profits for the firm. More to the point, though, relying on her creativity brought her much more satisfaction than she’d thought possible. And, of course, her commitment to Paulette’s and the baby’s future played a significant part in her decision.

She wondered again whether the child would be a girl or a boy. She’d welcome her or him no matter. In addition to reconnecting with her parents, she’d rediscovered her sister, and in six and a half months she’d become an aunt. She’d also discovered all the people who, though not related by blood, figured into her larger family. Meg, Sean, Sue, Jeremy.

A blues riff drifted on the afternoon breeze. She scanned the meadow, letting her gaze pick out details she’d skimmed over in the past. Daffodils and jonquils littered one corner of the meadow, their cheery yellow and white blossoms vivid against the green grasses. The many other wildflowers dotted the expanse, their tiny spots of color dancing in the gentle wind. The breeze turned cool. Her gaze darted across the field, finally landing on what she equated to the cooler temperature.

In the shade of the old magnolias, Grace paused regally, a smile on her lips. Her sequined gown glittered in the shadows of the tree. She nodded at Meredith and then turned as though she’d heard someone call her name. Following her glance, Meredith gasped. Standing deeper in the shade of the magnolia, Great-great-great-grandpa Joe waited. He was striking in his Confederate uniform, saber at his side and a wide red sash around his waist. He saluted Meredith, a crisp movement of his right hand. Then he lowered his hand and extended it toward Grace, palm up. Grace smiled at Meredith once more, hiked her skirt and walked to Joe. Taking his hand, she let him tuck her hand around his elbow. He gave Meredith one last nod and a smile before they turned and strolled into the cemetery. Slowly their image dissolved.

Meredith’s smile remained intact long after they had disappeared. She marveled at how she’d helped them to find lasting peace at Twin Oaks, something she’d dreamed of happening for her as well. And she could finally admit she found happiness despite her best efforts to destroy the very thing instilling peace within her.

The crunch of tires on gravel drew her attention to the pickup truck coming up the drive. Max’s green vehicle bounced slowly closer. Not wanting to return to the house quite yet, Meredith figured Paulette would let him know where she’d gone. The day proved too lovely, the tree too inviting for her to stay inside.

She grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung from it, feeling joy return to reside in her soul. The action reminded her of her tomboy days, days she and Paulette spent together climbing trees, riding bikes, and playing baseball. She pendulum swung a few more times and then dropped to the ground. Lying on her back, she explored the bright blue sky with its scattering of cotton-ball clouds. A pair of turkey buzzards spiraled above her, slowly lowering their flight to determine how tasty she’d be. As children, the two girls used to lure the buzzards in and then jump up to scare them away. Such a morbid game they’d played, but it brought a wry smile to her lips.