Last Chance Book Club(39)
Author: Hope Ramsay

He was in love. In a sober way. Which was kind of weird because being with Savannah was an incredible high. Why hadn’t he ever figured this out before?

He opened the front door and heard Savannah’s voice even before he reached the kitchen. Something was wrong. He quickened his pace. He’d learned how to recognize her moods.

“Claire, I can’t believe you would stoop so low.” She was angry. Boy howdy, he didn’t think he’d ever heard her voice sound so harsh.

“Well, if you didn’t do this horrible thing, then who did? I would really appreciate it if you would back off and tell Greg that he needs to call me so we can discuss this like adults.”

Dash entered the kitchen to find Savannah standing at the sink, looking out the window with her back to him. Her body was tense—practically rigid through the shoulders. The wicked witch of Baltimore was obviously on the other end of the line.

Savannah pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. “Bitch,” she growled.

“Did she hang up on you?” Dash asked.

She turned. Holy moly, her face was a mess.

“Darlin’ what is it?”

“Nothing,” she said, her lips tight. She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and blew her nose.

“You’ve been crying. It has to be something.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She dabbed her eyes. “I’ve got to get supper started. It’s book club night.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Darlin’, what’s the wicked witch up to now?”

“It’s nothing. She’s being difficult is all, and she makes me so angry. I don’t like feeling angry. So please, just leave me alone. I need to cook.”

She started moving around the kitchen like a whirlwind. It occurred to him that Savannah’s love for cooking was emotionally rooted. She and Aunt Sally had been thick as thieves. She might remember her grandfather better, but in some ways she was a whole lot like Aunt Sally. Aunt Sally almost never got angry, but when she did, she would cry. And the tears coming out of Savannah’s eyes were a dead giveaway.

He ought to leave her alone. But he couldn’t. All he could think about was the way Uncle Earnest used to handle Aunt Sally. So he sauntered up behind her, put his hands on her tense shoulders, and turned her around.

He didn’t try to kiss her, or talk to her, or anything. He just gave her the biggest hug he could muster. She kind of melted into his chest, and that warmed him up from the inside out. It wasn’t even a sexual warmth, it was just… good. To hold her like this was just the best thing in the world. Especially when she leaned on him. No one had done that before. Ever.

He held her for a solid two minutes before she pushed away. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. She was still upset about something, but she wasn’t going to talk about it.

He wanted her to share her burden with him. But he couldn’t force that kind of trust. He needed to give her time. And the strange thing was that he knew he had all the time in the world.

She wasn’t going anywhere. She was here to stay.

“I gotta cook dinner,” she said.

“Okay. I’ll get out of your hair. Where’s Todd?”

“He’s at Oliver’s house. He’s having dinner over there.”

“We were going to go to Golfing for God for putt-putt tonight.”

She shrugged. “I guess he forgot. I’m glad he has friends his own age.”

Something wasn’t right. But he didn’t want to push it. “Okay.” He headed down the hall and out to the porch. Aunt Miriam was sitting in her rocker. She looked like she was sleeping.

The skin along her jawline looked waxy. She had gotten so frail these last few months. His heart squeezed in his chest. Aunt Mim would be eighty-five in September. He had to accept that her days on this earth were numbered. In fact, lately, since Uncle Harry died, she seemed to be less interested in things. Like she wanted to go be with Harry instead of being here. With him.

He didn’t like thinking about that. And he didn’t like thinking about the way Savannah wouldn’t meet his eyes, just now.

What in the world would he do if Miriam died and Savannah left? The question rocked him to his soul.

Savannah sniffled back her tears and finished layering the noodles and cheese for her lasagna.

She needed to stop crying. How the hell was she supposed to tell Dash what Claire had gotten up to? It would destroy him to know that people thought he was a danger to kids. If she fought this thing, they would drag Dash’s reputation through the mud and back. She didn’t want to think about the gossip. She didn’t want to think about the hurt or the damage fighting this would cause.

She popped the lasagna into the oven and started pulling together a salad. Dash wasn’t the only one who would be hurt.

Savannah had spoken with Doc Cooper several times over the last few weeks. They were both concerned that Miriam was losing weight, even though Savannah was pushing food at her. Doc was beginning to think that Miriam might be experiencing transient ischemic attacks—or mini strokes. But the only way to test that was to take her up to Orangeburg for an MRI. She didn’t want to go.

Miriam was in frail health. She was old. This investigation might kill her.

More tears flooded her eyes.

If she went back to Baltimore, she could stop this attack on Dash and Miriam. But it would leave Todd brokenhearted. He’d have to leave Champ behind. He’d have to leave Dash behind. He’d have to leave the friends he’d been making. How could she do that to him?

How could she do this to herself? Because she had fallen in love with Dash. She didn’t want to leave him. But she couldn’t stay.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. This was an impossible situation. No matter what she did, someone was going to get hurt.

Chapter 19

I’m trying to decide whether this book is about history or something else,” Molly said. “I mean, the hero was kind of an eyewitness to his own life, wasn’t he?”

“Well, that’s because it’s told through his journal,” Jenny said. “Of course he’s an eyewitness.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t seem to be really taking charge of his life. It’s more like he’s been swept along by historical events so the author can tell us all about Trotsky and the Red Scare.”

“Yes, but he takes charge of his life at the end when he dives into that hole and never reappears,” Jenny said.

“That’s if you think he cheated death. Otherwise the guy just ended his life, which I think is pretty cowardly,” Kenzie said. “All in all I liked Pride and Prejudice better. Maybe next time we could read Mansfield Park or something. I just hate these books where the protagonist dies at the end.”

“How about one of—” Cathy started to say before Nita interrupted her.

“No, Cathy, we are not going to read one of June Moring’s books, is that clear?”

Cathy let go of a deep sigh, and Jenny took up the discussion of Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna again. “Harrison Shepherd didn’t die. He escaped from his life.”

Savannah kept her eyes trained on the purple possum fur disaster in her hands. She wanted to escape from her life, but she wasn’t about to do it the way the protagonist in The Lacuna had done it. Besides, she didn’t exactly have an escape hole that she could swim through at low tide.

She probably should have stayed home tonight. But if she had, everyone would be calling her up to find out if she was okay. That was the way things worked in Last Chance. You couldn’t weasel out of a commitment without having a really good, and verifiable, excuse. This was definitely one of the downsides of living in a small town.

The argument droned on between Molly and Jenny, while Savannah concentrated on purling across her row. She wasn’t very good at purling either.

Rocky, who was sitting next to her, leaned in and whispered. “Honey, what have you been crying about?”

Savannah looked up into the concerned green eyes of one of her oldest friends. “I can’t talk about it.”

“Of course you can.” Rocky patted her knee, then turned to the rest of the book club. “All right, y’all, that’s enough of talking about this book. This book was depressing but educational, I suppose. I think we need to figure out a way to cheer up Savannah.”

Savannah looked up. Everyone was staring at her.

“Honey, you’re looking like the last pea at pea-time. What’s the matter? Is it Miriam?” asked Lola May.

“Uh, well, I’m worried about her.”

“Of course you are,” Hettie said. “She didn’t look good at church last Sunday. And I heard from Annie Jasper that Doc thinks she may have had a stroke.”

Tears flooded Savannah’s eyes.

“Aw, honey.” Rocky turned and gave Savannah the biggest hug she’d had since Dash had hugged her in the kitchen earlier.

Rocky’s hug was pretty nice, but it didn’t hold a candle to that moment in Dash’s arms. And somehow thinking about that and what her in-laws were trying to do to Dash made the tears come faster.

“Someone get her a slice of chocolate cake, quick,” Hettie said.

Savannah pulled away from Rocky and sniffled back her tears. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. We all love Miriam.”

“It’s not just Miriam,” she said, and then immediately regretted her candor.

“What else?”

She shrugged. “Just trouble with my ex.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He and his mother are putting some serious pressure on me to go back to Baltimore.”

“Oh, goodness, you can’t do that, not after all the money Dash poured into the Kismet,” Hettie said, and then a nanosecond later she followed with, “Uh-oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Savannah turned toward Hettie. “What do you mean? What money? I haven’t taken any money from Dash. He’s offered money but I’ve told him no. Until, well, recently. Since the fire.”

Hettie let go of a big sigh. “Honey, don’t be mad at Dash, his motives were entirely pure. He gave Angel Development a boatload of money on the condition that we give you the grant for the theater. I guess he knew that you’d never take his money after the way y’all squabbled as kids, and he wanted you to have it. He wanted the theater to be revived as much as everyone else.”

Rocky rolled her eyes. “Okay, Hettie’s putting a nice spin on it. He’s helping you because Hettie wants him to.”

“What?”

Hettie glared at Rocky, and Rocky glared back. “Now, ladies, this is a book club, not a—” Nita started to say but Hettie interrupted.

“Rocky, that’s not exactly right. I asked him—”

“No, it’s exactly right, Hettie. Everyone in town knows that Dash is carrying a torch for you. He’s been carrying it for decades. And over the last couple of years, he’s done every damn thing you wanted him to, and you don’t ever thank him for it. You just… I don’t know, Hettie, but you’re a fool. Dash loves you, and he’s a wonderful man, and you treat him like crap.”