Love In Magnolia

CHAPTER SIX

T he heat of the summer sun was relentless. I spent the entire morning finding shade beneath trees, hiding inside large canopies erected for various food stalls, and if I wasn’t doing either of those things I was slowly dehydrating. Luckily, the kind residents of Magnolia sensed when I needed a refill and kept me hydrated for the most part.

The weight of my duty belt pressed against my hip, causing discomfort. I tried to ignore it. I was trained for physical exertion. The weight itself didn’t concern me, but the perspiration did. The lively atmosphere only intensified the heat.

I tried to maintain a professional appearance. The occasional swipe of my brow didn’t go unnoticed.

“You must be so warm in that uniform,” Mrs. Griffin said. The captain’s wife was a kind woman. She pulled a handkerchief from her designer handbag. “Here. Have you seen Jeffrey?”

“I think he’s over by the entrance, ma’am.”

She waved me off. “Lieutenant, you make me sound old.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” I smiled politely.

The demands of my role required constant vigilance. I was trained to remain focused in order to ensure the safety of the guests, but I occasionally allowed myself the freedom to interact with residents.

My sweat-soaked uniform was unforgiving. My beige shirt quickly became a dampened dull brown. I could feel my feet slowly swelling like a cake being baked in the oven, and I prayed in that moment for a swift summer. The spring and autumn months were by far my favourite, when it was too cool for a T-shirt, but too warm for a padded coat. Alabama managed to get the balance just right.

James Henderson stopped to chat, he was midway through his first of three BBQ egg rolls.

“Have you tried these?” he mumbled. “They’re so good.”

“You bet. They’re great. Did you get the corn dog?”

“Pops had one. He loved it.”

“James, I’ve been meaning to ask you about some work.”

“You finally want rid of that god-awful wisteria, Lieutenant?”

I happened to like the wisteria in my back garden, especially in bloom. James, just like his father, informed me of their tendency to smother, strangle, and destroy everything around them.

“No, not quite.” I laughed. “I have a friend, Amelia. She’s just inherited the Baker house, and the garden needs an awful lot of work. Would you mind if I put her in touch with you?”

“Sure. My dad would love to get his hands on that garden. If he could bend down the way he used to, I’m sure he’d have done it himself already.” James took a large bite of the egg roll, and a small piece of batter fell from his lips .

“I bet.”

James conveniently pulled a business card from his back pocket. “I’m pretty slammed for the next three or four weeks, but I can certainly take a look. How long is she in town for?”

It was a good question and one I was reluctant to ask for fear of an unfavourable answer.

“A while, I think.”

I hoped.

I rolled up the sleeves of my academy T-shirt. The line on the ground was clear for all competitors. I planted my feet, positioned myself securely, and grabbed hold of the rope with both hands. The referee signalled the start of the game. The tension in the rope became instantly visible.

“Pull,” I yelled.

“Pull, pull, pull,” Travis, my fellow lieutenant echoed from the back of the line.

The crowds began to cheer. A group of high school cheerleaders started chanting a song I didn’t understand. No doubt one of the young men straining to keep their pride in check belonged to them. Katherine tried her best to boisterously outdo them by shouting shrill words of encouragement.

“Wilson, you better try harder.” Was my absolute favourite of her cheers. The bulging of my scrawny biceps wasn’t enough to portray my efforts. My muscles felt like they might explode at any moment. I dug my heels further into the ground, trying to maintain a low centre of gravity to avoid slipping. I used every ounce of strength I could summon to try and forge a small advantage. We used quick and coordinated tugs in sync just like we’d practiced to create momentum; it seemed to catch the other team off guard.

Somehow, they counter-pulled perfectly, anticipating our movements, which gave them the advantage. I felt myself being tugged closer and closer to the designated line. The guy at the rear of their rope was tall and imposing with broad shoulders, clearly a result of hours in the weight room. The determined look in his eyes burnt through our team. He wore his team jersey with pride, commanding attention. He was clearly the leader of their team.

If he falls, they all fall.

We had one thing the young athletes didn’t have—mental focus. It was in our blood, part of our DNA, and pivotal to our job. We had to remain calm under pressure, keep a clear head, and always strive to make the right choice, regardless of circumstance. Tug-of-war was our game to lose.

Suddenly, their strength at the rear lost his footing, and like an avalanche, the whole team propelled forward, tumbling over each other until they formed a pile of bodies on the wrong side of the finish line. The thrill of the victory was exhilarating, but my body was physically exhausted. The adrenaline rush carried me through the celebrations, but I finished up hunched over by the water fountain gasping for air.

“Nice win,” a voice purred.

I looked up to find Amelia towering over me. Her curls fell loosely around her shoulders, a different look from the day before. She wore a black oval pair of sunglasses. The lenses were too dark for me to see her eyes. She dressed appropriately for the weather in a white fitted T-shirt and a pair of cutoff denim shorts. The great thing about Levi jeans was no doubt their durability, but also their adaptability. I couldn’t understand how Brittany ended up with so many pairs in her store. I refused to part with mine.

“Thank you,” I said, straightening up. The heaving of my chest was slowly coming back to a steady rhythm.

“I thought they had you there for a minute.” Amelia nudged my arm.

“Me too.”

Did Amelia watch the whole thing? I hadn’t noticed her in the crowd. The space between us felt heavy. She opened her mouth, but she waited as she watched me pour droplets of cool water over my forehead. The shock of cold contrasted sharply with my sun-soaked forehead.

“I think you had some admirers in the crowd.” Amelia smirked.

“Do I want to know?” I asked. I used the cool water on my fingertips to smooth the parting of my hair. The strands of hair that couldn’t reach my hair tie fell onto my face like some uninspiring nineties boyband wannabe. It wasn’t my finest look. Normally I could hide beneath the brim of my hat. Today was different.

“I overheard one of the cheerleaders say she would happily get herself into trouble if you would use her as a rope and tug her all the way to the station.” Amelia could barely keep a straight face.

“Interesting.”

“How does it feel to be a hometown hottie,” Amelia teased.

“I wouldn’t know.” I smirked.

“Modest too, well done,” Amelia joked.

My arms felt like someone had strapped dumbbells the size of bowling balls to my wrists .

“I was just wondering if you’re free for that drink?” Her smile was hesitant as she stumbled over her words. Amelia flushed. She averted her gaze and stared at the puddle on the ground beside the fountain.

“Sure, let’s do it.” I smiled warmly.

We found a comfortable spot beside the pop-up coffee shop. The industrial style metal chairs were shaded and cool against my exposed legs, which I was grateful for. We started by discussing what we knew with hopes of filling in the blanks.

Caroline Baker, mother of Pamela Baker, was married to George Baker for the best part of thirty-five years before he sadly passed away. She lived in Grapevine, Dallas, where we assume she met Frances. A friend? A colleague? A lover? All of the above potentially at one time or another. We were yet to understand how they met. We had to work backwards and that was a challenge. Frances was married, had children, moved away in her twenties, and moved back to Grapevine a short while later—date to be confirmed.

We assumed the affair spanned decades and continued until as recently as Caroline’s final years in Magnolia. We made this calculation based on a picture taken outside the winery on the edge of town and the inscription at the coffee shop.

If I forget you, remember me.

I didn’t truly understand the meaning of the words, but they filled me with a frightening unease. Amelia informed me of her latest discoveries. She had opened fifteen different letters the night before, all of them dated in the late eighties. Caroline hated travelling. Frances had to travel with her husband for work, and they didn’t seem to settle in one place for very long. Oklahoma, Memphis, Louisiana, Frances wrote her from every place she resided, but eventually the letters turned from talk of children and lavish lifestyles, to the strain of George Baker’s illness and the regrets of a life left wanting.

“You can feel the strain on their dynamic in this letter. I assume this is after my grandfather passed.” Amelia handed me the torn piece of paper.

I know you will never be satisfied with the time I am able to allocate for us, nor will I. I have always and will always wish for things to be different for us, Caroline.

Whilst I cannot promise you a life together, as you implied in your last letter. I can promise you one thing I hope will ease the pain. I promise I will do everything within my influence to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you feel worthy, and I will do that with no hesitation, and with no haunting commitments.

I promise when we have our time that I will love you dearly, as I have since the first moment we locked eyes, as I will continue to do in this life and the next. I know these are merely words, and you deserve so much more.

You speak of a move to Magnolia Springs? I have never been to visit. I am unfamiliar with the town, but it sounds wonderfully serene from your description, and if it’s soon to be inhabited by you I must pay a visit .

One day, I hope we can find our own safe haven. Maybe it’ll be Magnolia? Spring is coming after all, and that’s when Magnolia’s bloom.

“Do you think Caroline gave Frances an ultimatum?” Amelia asked.

“It sounds that way. If George passed, there was nothing stopping Caroline from pursuing Frances, but in a sensitive way the letter is quite clear; Frances couldn’t commit to anything more.”

“What if that’s the reason she moved to Magnolia.”

“She hoped Frances might follow,” I whispered.

“She wanted to start a new life with Frances, away from the scrutiny of her family,” Amelia agreed.

She pulled the thick curls of her hair back, so her neck was exposed to the cool breeze. The tiny semicircle scar above her upper lip was more prominent under the sun’s rays. I refrained from asking how she came to have it. Maybe she would tell me in her own time, but, oddly, it suited her.

“There’s just one letter that confused me.” Amelia slid the letter across the table. On the front was a large question mark scrawled in black ink.

“It’s the last paragraph. It feels like a goodbye, but I got the feeling it was sudden, and it caught them off guard.”

I’m sorry our safe haven became an impossibility. I’m sorry for all the years you dedicated to us, to me, to the possibility of the life we dreamt. It’s heartbreaking, and I struggle with the cruelty of our reality. I know I am to blame. You could say genetics is partly to blame too, but this disease didn’t force me to spend my life making you a lesser priority. I did that, and it’s truly my biggest regret.

We discussed what has to happen next, and it won’t be easy, but your faith will guide you through the tough times. My mind might fight to remove you, but nothing and no one can make me forget what’s in my heart.

I love you, Caroline.

“Frances developed Alzheimer’s,” I whispered.

It was a heart-wrenching revelation, but I was certain of it. The signs were clear. The words in the letter told a story of disease and fighting to remember—

Amelia’s expression changed to sadness; her features softened as she took a moment to absorb the weight of my words. “Oh my God.”

“The inscription at the café makes sense now,” I said.

“No.” Amelia’s hand flew to her gaping mouth. Her eyes clouded with tears. “That’s awful.”

Her gaze met mine; there was a moment of silent connection. I didn’t know how to dissect such a discovery. We probably needed more proof, but I suspected the letters would give us that eventually. I reached out a hand to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia mumbled. “I didn’t expect to get so emotional, but there’s just something about their story that breaks me. I don’t know if it’s the tragedy, the forbidden love, or maybe the idea that they never got to experience life together; it’s killing me.” She swiped at her eyes.

“We have to remember it wasn’t all bad, right? They had so many amazing memories together. They loved each other beyond reason and doubt. They did the best with the hand they were dealt, and we have to remember that. I’m sure they were incredibly happy in the times they spent together.”

“Surely that doesn’t make up for a lifetime of yearning.” Amelia sniffled.

“Maybe to them it did.” I shrugged. “Everyone is different. I’m sure your grandma was happily married to George and content with her two children. If she hadn’t chosen that path you wouldn’t be here either. There’s nothing to indicate she was forced to stay in her marriage.”

“I don’t think you have a thirty-five-year affair if you’re happy.”

“It’s hard to understand because we don’t know all the details.” I removed my hand from Amelia’s, suddenly very aware of the intimacy. She removed a batch of letters from her bag and slid them across the table. They were held together by a thin piece of blue ribbon.

“I found some more letters,” Amelia confirmed. “I was hoping you might take these with you. There’s still a lot left from the box, and it’s a lot to process.”

“I can do that.” I smiled. “Where did you find them?”

“I cleared out a locked sideboard in one of the bedrooms last night. I couldn’t find the key, so I had to pry it open, but I found these letters buried beneath a collection of scarves.”

I adjusted the bow across the front of the letters. At a glance, there had to be at least twenty in total. The letters were still white. They didn’t show signs of wear and tear like the others.

“Have you had any contact with your mom? What does she think of all the letters? ”

Amelia shook her head. “She called me the other day. I kept it brief.”

I remained silent, but I was curious about the dynamic, and she sensed that.

“You don’t know my mother; telling her would only cause problems. If she knew about my grandma’s affair, she never told me, so I can only assume she would like to keep it a secret.”

“Do you think she knew?” I asked.

“It would make sense, considering the estrangement after my grandfather passed.”

Amelia’s mother intrigued me. I didn’t know a great deal about Amelia’s life back in Texas. I knew her parents were still together. I knew she had a younger brother. I was aware of her coffee shop venture and her sports background playing tennis, but we were yet to delve deeper. I was yet to discover what made her tick, what she chose to do for fun, her friendship group, past relationships, or current. Did she have a partner?

Was she secretly judging the iced coffee because she knew she could make it better? She was a mystery to me.

“I wish...” Amelia hesitated. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is stupid,” I encouraged.

“You haven’t known me long enough to assume that, and my friends would beg to differ,” she joked.

“I know you a little,” I whispered. “As much as you can know someone after a few days, of course,” I stumbled, quickly trying to redeem myself.

“Hmm, okay.” She picked at the remainder of her cinnamon twist. “I wish I could feel the way that Caroline and Frances felt, just for a moment. I want to feel that level of emotion, desire, and undying love that seems to grow stronger in spite of distance and circumstance. ”

“It’s truly a gift,” I said.

“How do you spend your whole life loving someone you can’t be with? How do you wake up on a morning and know your day can never be completely fulfilling? How do you spend every single day for fifty years wishing you could be lying in someone else’s arms? It’s heartbreaking.” Amelia’s eyes welled up again.

“I don’t know. I think it sounds excruciating, but I think sometimes as humans we avoid the road less travelled so we can protect the people we love. There was a lot to consider in their situation. Unfortunately, the only two people that could really tell us what that was like are no longer with us.”

“What if Frances is still alive?” Amelia speculated. “She was a little younger than my grandma. She’d be around eighty now, maybe?”

“She could be.” I nodded, but the revelation of her condition didn’t give me much hope.

“You think it’s a long shot?” Amelia looked at me for reassurance, but I couldn’t give it to her.

“I think if she is, it’s highly unlikely she will remember who Caroline was.” My heart ached.

“Why does this feel so real? My heart hurts for them, for Frances, for my grandma. Imagine forgetting the love of your life?” Amelia sighed.

“It’s heartbreaking.”

I walked Amelia back to her car. She’d decided to rent a blue Toyota after discovering that hauling paint back from the hardware store was challenging without a vehicle. She leant back against the driver’s door, nervously toying with the keys in her hand. The sharp jingle of the metal was a distraction.

“Thank you for today,” Amelia said.

I nodded. “You’re always welcome.”

She smiled softly, the sunlight enhancing the graceful contour of her cheekbones. “I didn’t know what to expect when I came to this town. I had no idea what I might discover, if the people would be kind. I didn’t know if the house was even still standing. It was a lot to take in, but—”

I stared in silence, waiting. I was completely mesmerised by the movement of her lips and the warmth in her eyes. She finally mustered the courage to continue.

“You made me feel welcome. You helped me. You sympathised with me, and to be honest.” She laughed, embarrassed by whatever she wanted to say.

“What?” My gaze was fixed on her.

She took a deep breath, releasing her left hand from the tangle of keys so she could shield the sun from her eyes.

“I’m not even sure you’re real,” Amelia whispered, tilting her head. I manoeuvred my body to stand directly in front of her. The angle at which she leaned against the car meant I could block the majority of the sun from her face. I was a few inches taller than Amelia, so it worked in her favour.

“See?” She smirked.

“What?” My brows furrowed in confusion.

“You just so casually stand in front of me to block the sun. I didn’t ask you to do that,”

“Should I not have done that?” I questioned.

“No, it’s sweet and thoughtful and kind of proving my point.” She shook her head, a playful sigh escaping from her lips .

“Thank you.” I reached out and gently placed my hand on her arm. “I think it’s easy to be kind and thoughtful when the other person deserves it.”

Amelia caught my hand with her own. The touch was tender and more intimate than I anticipated. My gaze fell to the way our hands intertwined. Her fingertips softly brushed mine, and the tingling sensation caused my whole arm to shiver. The light breeze blew Amelia’s thick curls against my cheek, and the awareness brought me back to the present moment. We were inches apart, our lips so close, the promise of a kiss hung in the air, but Amelia pulled back. Her eyes were downcast.

“I . . . I can’t,” she stammered.

I searched her face for answers, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. The small moment of raw vulnerability made me realise that, maybe, I was more invested in Amelia Baker than I anticipated. And, maybe, she didn’t feel the same.

I freed my hand from our embrace, reaching through the space between her hip and her outstretched arm to open the car door. As I stepped back, the side of my face brushed hers, and I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. She inhaled, and my whole body pulsated in retaliation.

She gave me a knowing smile. I could sense the disappointment. Did she want to kiss me? I didn’t know what her reservations were, but I felt she also wished they didn’t exist.

“Can I ask you something?”

Amelia nodded.

“You said earlier that you wished you knew what it was like to feel what Frances and Caroline must’ve felt. I’ve never actually asked you your preference. ”

Who was Amelia Baker? She was closed, but she was open. She was kind, but she was brutally honest. She was carefree but also worried. Essentially, she was human.

“My preference?” She looked up at me through the rolled down window.

“Oh, that preference.” She blushed.

“You don’t have to tell me. I guess I’m just curious.” I bent down, holding the inside of the window frame for support. The blistering heat was causing the small strands of hair at the front of my head to curl. I brushed them down, trying to covertly fix my appearance based on the wing mirrors view.

“I... erm... guess... I’m straight?” she replied hesitantly. She sounded unsure, almost like she didn’t believe her own answer. “I mean, I’ve never been in a relationship with a woman. So, I don’t know, does that mean I’m straight?” She shrugged.

“I can’t answer that for you.” I smirked.

“Do you think I’m straight?” Amelia asked.

“That depends.” I unhooked my sunglasses from the top of my T-shirt.

“On what?” Amelia whispered. She shifted her weight so her body was closer to the window. I felt her breath against my arm.

“If I kissed you, would you push me away?”

Amelia’s eyes widened. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was a bold move. The weight of the question lingered between us. I could see the switch in Amelia’s eyes, the struggle between fear and curiosity.

“I . . .” Amelia attempted to speak.

“Riley!” I heard my name yelled from an unknown location. “Ley!” I instantly knew it was Katherine, and before I could wave her away for terrible timing my niece hit the side of my body with the force of a two-hundred-pound wrestler.

“Wow. Hey little one.” I steadied my body, rising to lift her into my arms as I so often did. Katherine came trailing behind, heavily pregnant and panting.

“I’m so sorry. I thought she was going to run into the road, turns out she’d just seen you.” She tried to regulate her breathing.

“Are you okay?” I reached out with my free hand to steady Katherine.

“You try running after a toddler when you’re carrying a giant bowling bowl in your stomach... I need to pee,” Katherine wheezed.

“Okay, let’s get you to a toilet before you cause a scene.” I laughed.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Katherine acknowledged Amelia who was watching the scene unfold. Amelia was probably thankful she’d been saved from answering by the panting pregnant lady.

“That’s okay. I was just leaving.” Amelia turned on the ignition. Little hands pulled on my ears, unflatteringly, but Amelia found the exchange amusing.

“I guess I’ll see you soon.” She smiled.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

What had begun as me helping a stranger clear out an old home had transformed into something more. I wanted to explore the connection we had formed. I wanted to know her, to understand what made her tick, what her motivations were, and her opinions on topics that were completely irrelevant. Amelia Baker had been a stranger a week ago, and now she was at the forefront of my mind.

A clear image of my mom squealing popped into my head. It was from a reoccurring dream I had about a conversation where I finally tell my family I’ve found someone to settle down with. She’s always ecstatic; she celebrates by opening a bottle of the most expensive champagne she can find and consequently starts to write an article on my ‘transition to monogamy’ for the front page of the local newspaper.

It’s a weird dream.

“She seems sweet,” Katherine said.

“She is.”