The Hideaway

Robert sat beside me and said, “What a great day. Jenny’s happy, you seem to be happy—at least you have a smile on your face. I’m happy as a lark. See, we can make this work.”

I looked over at Jenny. With her blonde hair and small round nose, she looked so much like William. I closed my eyes and pretended he was there.

25

MAGS

JANUARY 1963

I reread William’s letter trying to find something I’d missed. He said he’d come back for me, but I didn’t know how to reach him to tell him I was ready. Lord, I’d been ready since the day Robert arrived, since I discovered just how wrong it felt to share a house with a man I didn’t love, regardless of any sense of duty or obligation. But life didn’t slow down for my wounded heart, and our big, strange family at The Hideaway—cobbled together by circumstances, accidents, and varying degrees of luck—charged ahead.

Robert needed care, as Daddy had said, but not all the time. I didn’t know exactly what was wrong with him, but he’d have these nightmares. I never knew when they would strike. He’d wake up screaming, sweating, and rolling in his bed, but I was never able to calm him down. It’d take a while before he was fully awake enough to hear me telling him it was just a dream. When the nightmares came, he usually spent the next day in bed. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t shower, and definitely wouldn’t talk about it.

The following day, he’d hop out of bed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If I asked about it, he’d respond with “What do you mean?” or “I just didn’t feel well. No big deal.” Bert, who’d fought in France, said it was common to most soldiers who’d seen time in battle.

The episodes were scary but infrequent, and I soon realized Daddy had exaggerated Robert’s sickness. Sure, it helped to have someone around to look after him when the nightmares came, but he was far from death’s door. When I mentioned to Robert what Daddy had said about the severity of his illness, he laughed.

“He did what was necessary to make sure you stuck around. I can’t say I blame him. If Jenny ever ran off with some kid who wouldn’t amount to anything, I’d do whatever it took to set her on the right path too.”

It was the first time Robert had referred to William. A kid who wouldn’t amount to anything? I stood up so fast the chair behind me fell back with a clatter, and I left the room.

Around the others Robert and I were mostly amicable, but I was simmering on the inside. I resented the way Daddy had manipulated me into taking Robert back, and I resented Robert’s presence in my life when I thought I was done with him for good. All this had pulled me from William, so I fought back in whatever ways I could.

The house had never been perfect—not even when Mrs. DeBerry was in charge—but now I saw the imperfections as badges of honor instead of problems to fix. I was done with trying to make everything look flawless just for the sake of appearances. The house was warm and comfortable, if not magazine-ready, but no one living there really cared about that anyway. I loved that the place was a little off-kilter, and the quirkiness only solidified its charm.

I hoped the same was true for me when I spied a bird’s-nest hat in the front window of Irene’s Dress Barn on Main Street while shopping with Dot. I bought it and it became my favorite accessory.

My new eccentricities bothered Robert, especially since I’d been neat and organized before, but he knew better than to speak of me or the house like he owned either of us. He wisely took it as a trade for me allowing him to live in the house. This allowed him to keep up appearances to his friends, who thought it terribly romantic that he and his wife ran a bed-and-breakfast in Sweet Bay. He never bothered to give them the correct facts, and for some reason, I let him keep that bit of his pride intact. Anyway, I didn’t care what his friends thought of him, or us.

26

SARA

JUNE

I was taking framed photos and prints off the walls and stacking them in a back bedroom for safekeeping when Allyn called. I’d been meaning to call him for days, but something—or someone—interrupted me every time I sat down to do it.

“I see how it is,” he said when I picked up the phone. “You get back to your roots and forget all about me.”

“That’s not it, and you know it.”

I was out of breath from carrying too large a load with the phone sandwiched between my shoulder and my ear, so I paused and sat on an ancient couch. This one had escaped a fatal trip to Goodwill because of its clean lines and still-firm cushions.

“So what’s going on?” he asked as I stretched my sore neck muscles. “Are you becoming a permanent Sweet Bay-ite?”

I laughed. “That’s not how you say it.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not becoming a permanent Sweet Bay anything. It’s just a big job and it’s taking a while. You were the one who said I needed to relax and dive in.”

“I know, and I’m glad you are. Things are just fine here, thanks for asking.”

I smiled. “Tell me—how are things going with you and the shop?”

“Everything is still in one piece, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not.”

“I know, I’m just kidding. Everything is good. We had a busy weekend—oh, we sold the grandfather clock.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure that thing would ever find a home.”

“Whatever. You find perfect homes for even the strangest little trinkets. Anyway, a man came in Saturday looking for something for his study. I showed him the clock and told him it would make him look professorial.”

“Professorial?” I asked.

“I don’t know where it came from, but apparently it was the right thing to say. He took it home that afternoon.”

I laughed. Allyn could sell the shirt off someone’s back and make him glad to see it go.

“Now tell me what’s going on with you,” he said. “I know something’s up. The last time we talked, you drilled me with questions about every item in the shop, and now you’ve hardly asked a thing. Spill it.”

“It’s funny you should ask. I’ve . . . well, I’ve sort of met someone.” I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.

“I knew it!”

“You—what?”

“I just had a feeling you’d get down there and meet someone. You’re away from your rigid schedule and routines, you have time on your hands—it’s the perfect situation. And it’s the only reason I can think of that would make you loosen up and actually trust me with your shop. Now you just have to convince him to come back to New Orleans with you.”

“Hold on, we’re not that far along. We’ve only been out a few times.”

“I’m glad for you,” he said. “You need something like this. What’s his name?”

“Crawford.”

“Hmm. Sounds sexy.”

“I’d hit you if you were sitting here next to me.”

“I know. That’s why I said it—because I’m over here and you can’t do one thing about it.”

The bell on the doorknob in Bits and Pieces jangled in the background.

“I need to run. Gotta go make some money for my absent boss.”

“You sure do,” I said, ignoring the drop in my stomach at the thought of life at Bits and Pieces carrying on without me. “Thanks for calling. I’m glad to hear your voice.”