The Hideaway

Curious, I dressed quickly. Following the aroma of coffee outside, I found him waiting in his truck, the passenger door open for me.

“Where are we going? It’s still dark.”

“I know. You’ll see.”

He drove fast down Highway 55. When he turned onto a side street, I grew lost in a maze of dirt roads and creek beds. Finally, we went around a bend and the path opened into a cove overlooking Mobile Bay, isolated except for a blue heron standing on thin legs in the shallow water. It was still dark beneath the cover of trees, but directly in front of us, the sky had exploded in streaks of orange and pink, with violet clouds scattered like pebbles. Just above the waterline, the horizon remained a deep indigo blue. Seagulls gliding in the air provided the only movement other than the quiet waves creeping forward and back along the shore.

We watched the sky change colors without speaking. At some point during the show, we walked to the edge of the water and sat down, a blanket over our shoulders and our toes just touching the water. I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” he asked once the sky was a solid fluorescent orange.

“It’s breathtaking. How did you find this place?”

“It’s mine. I bought this plot of land from a buddy who moved to San Francisco. It had been in his family for generations, but he didn’t plan to come back and said he didn’t need ties here. I’ve done nothing but move around, and I guess ties are what I’m looking for—something to anchor me to a place I can call my own.”

We sat close and still, watching the gulls overhead and the water’s gentle movement. In the distance, the double masts of a shrimp boat interrupted the perfect line of the horizon. He took my hand in his and traced the skin on my palm and wrist, up to the crook of my elbow. The light touch sent chills up my arms and down my back. He laced his fingers between mine and I pressed myself into his side. It had been a little more than a month since we met, but already, I felt connected to him in a way I’d never felt with Robert.

“This thing that’s happening between us—it’s fast.” I was scared to say the words out loud, so I whispered them.

“Too fast?” He turned to face me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how this sort of thing works. I’ve never been with anyone other than Robert, and we’d known each other for years. Is it possible—rational—for us to feel so much so quickly?”

“Sure it’s possible. Rational? I don’t know and I don’t care. I care about us and where we’re going.”

“How do I know this isn’t a rebound, like you said?” I touched the tip of his nose. “And how do I know you’re not just taking advantage of the only woman at The Hideaway not dressed in black and ranting about Kerouac or Ginsberg?”

He didn’t laugh or even smile. “I’m not taking advantage of you. You know me well enough by now to know that.”

“That’s the thing—sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

“You do know me.” He pulled away a bit. “What else do you need to know? My life before you wasn’t that interesting, then you showed up and my world cracked open. Isn’t that enough?”

“It is—or I want it to be. But you have to understand how it feels to open the door to a world that’s entirely unknown to me. And . . .” I stopped. I didn’t want to remind him. Or me. As if either of us could forget.

“And what?”

“I’m still married. I have a husband.”

“You’re right,” he said softly, his gaze on the water. “Do you have plans to return to him?”

I shook my head.

“Then this new world—I know it makes you nervous, but isn’t it also a little exciting?” He cupped my cheek with his hand. “We can make our future anything we want it to be.” The corner of his mouth pulled up—the same half smile he offered as a life preserver the first evening I arrived at The Hideaway.

It almost made me mad—that smile that seemed to belittle my fears of linking my future to someone—and somewhere—else. But at the same time, I wanted to cling to that smile, to wrap myself around the unknown and not ask questions.

“And as for this just being a rebound for you,” he continued, “a way to get back at Robert for his lady friend, you’ll have to judge that for yourself. I don’t think it is though. I think this is . . . something else.”

I nodded and he took my hand.

“Let’s not mention Robert again. I don’t want him to be a part of this,” I said.

“Suits me just fine.”

I nestled back down beside him under the blanket. He pulled me closer and kissed me.

“I told you, you were going to fall in love with me,” he said with a grin.

I pushed him away and laughed. “What makes you think I’m in love with you?”

“You are, aren’t you?”

I was a new woman—risky and adventurous. It felt foreign and perfect at the same time.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

9

SARA

APRIL

I pulled down the long gravel driveway in front of The Hideaway and began the slow trek through the trees. When I reached the house, I parked my car under the big oak. Nerves stalled my hand on the car door handle.

My parents’ deaths and the lonely years after had left a wound deep in my heart. Although the wound had healed, it was still tender. I didn’t let myself think of their deaths often—it was too painful, like pressing on a bruise. Thankfully, my scrambling to open Bits and Pieces and make a name for myself in New Orleans occupied almost all my mental energy. Their absence was always present, but most of the time, I was able to keep it tucked under the surface of my life. I was comfortable with that. I could live with that. But here I was, back at the place where it all happened.

When I finally exited my car, I stood in the driveway holding my suitcase and picking rocks out of my open-toed sandals. I heard the crunch of gravel and turned around to see Major’s car slowing to a stop behind me. I waited by the door while the four of them climbed out.

“Go on in,” Major said. “You don’t need to wait for an invitation.”

“I still can’t believe y’all leave the doors unlocked.”

“It’s not New Orleans, honey,” Dot said, before kissing me on the cheek and walking past me into the house.

I took a deep breath before following them in.

Major pulled out my chair at the table before I sat down. Dot and Glory must have done a number on him on the ride over from Mobile. He seemed calm, but I could only imagine the rant he probably unleashed in the car. I glanced around, trying to gauge the tension level, as Bert filled our glasses with iced tea.

“We’re real glad you’re here,” Glory said to me, spooning out a serving of green beans.

I laughed a little, but her calm, delicately lined face told me she was serious. “I thought y’all might fight over who got to kick me out the door first.”

“You’re like a daughter to us,” Glory said. “Kicking you out would never cross our minds. All we can do is look to the future of the house, whatever that may be.”

Four pairs of eyes shifted in my direction. I took a long sip of tea.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Dot said as I set my glass down. “The house belongs to you now, as it should. Mags asked you to take care of this place, and no one could ever argue with her once she got an idea in her head. Regardless of what you decide to do with the house in the end—”