Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Sunday morning came way too early. When Gabby’s alarm went off, she groaned and silenced it. A glance at her phone told her it was far past time to be up if she was taking her mom to church.
For a split second, she contemplated saying that Jason needed to get back to Atlanta. She was sure he would back her up. But the thought of her mother’s disappointment stopped that idea in its tracks. If Gabby was going to spend weekends in Blossom Branch, it made sense to pack them with plenty of mother/daughter bonding.
After a quick shower, she decided a ponytail was the way to go. There was no time to wash her hair, and she wasn’t in the mood to spend effort making it look good with a styling wand or anything else.
She had brought a specific outfit for Sunday morning. Dahlia didn’t approve of her daughter wearing pants to church. Gabby knew her mom would never be critical of anyone else’s clothing choices, but for the two of them, a dress code applied.
The skinny navy corduroy skirt she had packed was warm and comfy. She paired it with a dark teal sweater and knee-high boots. By the time she made it to the kitchen, she was yawning, but presentable.
To her surprise, Jason sat at the table already. He was dressed nicely, too, in dark khaki pants and a forest green turtleneck. The shadows under his eyes only made him sexier and more masculine.
The waffle on his plate was half-eaten. His fork halted midair. “Good morning,” he said gruffly. No smile. No discernable expression. Nothing to echo last night’s madness.
“Hey,” she muttered. She kissed her mother’s cheek and sat down at the table. “Thank you for fixing breakfast, Mama.”
Dahlia beamed. “I know how you like my waffles and bacon. Jason seems to be a fan, too. That’s his second one.”
Jason looked guilty. “I couldn’t help myself. This meal is perfection.”
Dahlia chuckled. “Well, if it wasn’t December, I’d be serving these waffles with a fresh peach compote. All of us here in Blossom Branch know a hundred ways to enjoy our town mascot.”
Gabby swallowed a bite and sighed. “I don’t know how you do it, Mama, but these are better than any restaurant.”
Jason nodded. “Agreed.”
Dahlia joined them. “So tell me, Jason. What do you do for a living? I don’t think I’ve asked you that, and my daughter hasn’t mentioned it.”
Gabby saw the stricken look on Jason’s face and intervened quickly. “He’s figuring things out right now, Mama. And renovating a house. Before the wedding was called off, he and Cate were going to open a fancy art gallery in Atlanta. Buckhead, probably. They had planned for Cate to use her art background curating their shop inventory, and they were also going to offer framed prints of Jason’s beautiful photography.”
Jason was stunned to hear Gabby jump to his defense. Not that he needed defending, but still. “I’m finding my way, Dahlia,” he said. “As Gabby told you, I’ve bought a fixer-upper house that I’m having fun with. The hard work gives me time to think.”
Dahlia cocked her head and stared at him. “If you were Cate’s fiancé, I’m assuming your family is well-to-do?”
“Mama!” Gabby flushed, her discomfort obvious.
He smiled. “It’s okay, Gabby.” He turned to her mother. “To answer your question, yes. The Brightman family has been very lucky down through the years. For several generations in fact. I can’t take any credit for that, though.”
“What did you study at the University of Georgia?” she asked.
“I did a combo degree in business and marketing.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “You’re lucky to have so many choices. I know you’ll do the right thing.” She patted his hand on the table. “Having money is nothing to be ashamed of...unless a person is greedy.” She grinned. “My daughter is about to pass out because I’m asking impertinent questions.”
Gabby pointed at the clock on the kitchen wall. “The service starts at ten. Shouldn’t we be going, Mama? You don’t like to be late to church.”
Jason was all too aware of his lover’s embarrassment. Gabby was bristly as hell when it came to the differences in their economic status. That more than anything was the hurdle he had to cross if he wanted her in his life.
It was funny, really. Ever since he turned fourteen or fifteen, girls had chased him with an eager appreciation for his parents’ social status. Now, when he had his eye on a woman who might be important to him and his future, money stood in the way.
His wealth was a subject he and Gabby needed to hash out, but not anytime soon. Right now, it was enough to explore their mutual hunger. Unfortunately, thinking about last night was a mistake. When his body reacted predictably, he excused himself from the table and went into the living room to fold the sheets and blankets he had used on the sofa.
Making love to Gabby changed something in him. Since returning from Peru, his days had been stuck in a rut of regret and guilt. Now, suddenly, he was ready to face the future, whatever it had in store for him or however he shaped it.
Hearing the two women in the kitchen made him smile. Their conversation revealed the depth of their relationship, though they might not realize it. In the back-and-forth of everyday words, the women spoke in a cadence that had been fine-tuned for years.
He called down the hall. “I’m going to warm up the car. You two come out when you’re ready.”
When the car doors opened a few minutes later, Gabby spoke up. “You sit up front, Mama. I’ll be fine in the back.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t help his teasing smile. Gabby’s blush made him want to laugh, but he contained himself.
The little church Dahlia attended was only about half-full as the service began. By the time he and Gabby ended up on either side of her mother in the pew, Dahlia had introduced them to half a dozen of her friends.
Not sitting beside Gabby was probably for the best. Jason didn’t trust himself. All he could think about was how long it would be before he could coax her into bed.
The service was fine, though the sermon was a bit heavy on the fire and brimstone angle for his taste. After it was over, he and Gabby lingered in the pew while Dahlia greeted her friends and said hello to the young pastor.
Jason was caught off guard when Gabby took his hand.
“Thank you for coming with us today,” she said. “I know this isn’t what you expected for a weekend getaway in Blossom Branch, but it means a lot to my mother.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’d say this weekend has been a home run all the way around. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Gabby’s cool gray eyes stared at him. Her lips, shiny with pink gloss, curved upward. “Even freezing your very fine ass off in the back seat last night?” She whispered the question, obviously aware of their audience.
His gut tightened as the memories flashed in his brain. “Not a thing,” he swore. “You were amazingly flexible, Ms. Nolan. Very impressive.”
She laughed softly. “We’re in church. Let’s change the subject. I’m afraid of getting struck down by a bolt of lightning.”
He grinned. “Is that a possibility?”
“I don’t want to chance it.”
When they stood and turned to join Dahlia, many of the parishioners were gone—with one notable exception. A man chatted with Gabby’s mother nearby. He wore a three-piece brown suit and had a shock of familiar gray hair.
“Is that...?” Jason raised both eyebrows.
Gabby nodded. “Dave Langford.”
“Should we join them or give them privacy?” he asked.
“How do I know? But to be fair, they’re right in the middle of the aisle.”
“True.”
“Let’s go,” she said. “My mother may need backup.”
The older couple seemed startled when Jason and Gabby joined them, but Dahlia’s face showed relief.
Dave greeted them. “I was offering to take Dahlia to lunch. And both of you, too,” he said hastily.
Dahlia seemed to gain courage from her daughter’s presence. “I thought I might bring Dave home with us,” she said. “I’d planned on cooking anyway.”
For the span of several seconds, no one said a word.
Jason felt like an intruder.
Gabby found her voice and a smile. “I think that’s a great idea. What time do you have to be out at the tree lot, Mr. Langford?”
“Call me Dave,” he said. “Someone is covering for me until four.” He touched Dahlia’s shoulder for the briefest of moments. “I would enjoy a home-cooked meal, Dahlia. Thank you. I’d be delighted to come.”
Jason was surprised when Gabby took over the situation. “Could we say one o’clock, Dave? I’ll help Mom get everything together, but it will take us a bit.”
“Of course. I’ll be there at one sharp.”
Jason realized Gabby had saved him from entertaining the older man while the women were in the kitchen. In the car, he congratulated Dahlia. “You definitely have an admirer,” he said. “And you handled inviting him beautifully.”
Gabby spoke up from the back seat. “He’s right, Mama. You were perfect. Once you and I have everything ready, Jason and I will sneak away and eat somewhere in town.”
“Oh, no,” Dahlia said firmly. “I don’t want to be alone with Dave. Not yet. I need both of you with me as my wingmen.”
Her daughter laughed. “Where did you hear that, Mama?”
“I watch TV. I’m not a hermit.”
By the time they made it to the house, Dahlia was working up to a tizzy. She hopped out of the car. “I cooked the chicken breasts this morning, but they’re not shredded.”
Gabby put an arm around her. “Calm down. We have plenty of time.”
Jason followed them up the steps. “What are you making, Dahlia?”
“I thought I’d do chicken enchiladas. I assemble them and bake them in the oven with a sauce on top.”
Despite the waffles, his stomach growled. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
Gabby felt her anxiety rise. She would do anything to keep her mother from getting hurt again. But she couldn’t wrap her in cotton wool. Maybe Jason was right. Maybe her mother’s interest in Dave Langford was a sign that she had come a long way.
Still, any romantic relationship was a crapshoot. Dave seemed like a nice man, but what if he wasn’t? Her stomach knotted.
Jason cornered her as she straightened the living room. “I can do that,” he said. “Are you okay, Gabby?”
She clutched a blanket to her chest. “I don’t know. It’s my job to take care of her. What if this is a bad idea?”
Jason wrapped his arms around her. “We can get a feel for that at lunch. We’re both here. And we’re both old enough to sniff out a rat. Don’t worry.”
He kissed her, momentarily interrupting the runaway train of what-ifs.
His lips were warm and firm. When his tongue brushed hers, she found herself embarrassingly weak in the knees. “How do you do that?” she complained. “We’re in the middle of a family crisis, and now I want to jump your bones.”
“Mission accomplished,” he said smugly. Then he rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip, his beautiful eyes dark with what might be the same thing she was feeling. “Any chance we could enjoy each other when we get back to Atlanta tonight?”
She swallowed. “Enjoy?”
“You know what I mean.” He kissed her a second time, this one right below her earlobe, making goose bumps break out on her arms.
“Stop that,” she said, urgently. “You and I are not important right now. My mother needs our help. See what’s going on in the kitchen. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Jason cupped her cheek in one hand, his expression rueful. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, Boss.”
When he was out of sight, she wanted to sit on the sofa and gather her wits. But there was no time for that. She took the sheets Jason had used last night to the washing machine and returned the folded blankets to the hall closet.
After the living room was spotless, she joined the other two in the kitchen. Dahlia had piled all sorts of things on the counter. Jason was on his tiptoes, retrieving a casserole dish from a high cabinet.
“What should I do, Mama?” Gabby asked.
“Start shredding the meat.”
Moments later, Jason joined Gabby at the table and helped her with the messy task. He lowered his voice. “She’s freaking out a little bit.”
Gabby nodded, her eyes on the plate of chicken in front of her. “I know. Should we call this off?”
“I have no idea.”
Dahlia buzzed around the kitchen. After a few minutes, she seemed to zero in on the recipe. She took the bowl from her daughter and began mixing the tortilla filling. Jason stayed at her elbow, grabbing whatever ingredients she asked for.
She fretted when she spilled tomato sauce on her church blouse.
Gabby opened the freezer. “Should I put this pie in the oven?” It was a packaged apple dessert with streusel topping.
Dahlia nodded.
Gabby had witnessed Jason studying the tortilla process. Now he stepped in with a suggestion. “I’ve got this, Dahlia. Why don’t you go to your room and relax a few minutes? Change your top. Powder your nose. You want to be ready when Dave shows up. Gabby and I can take it from here, I promise.”
Dahlia hugged him, her eyes overbright. “Thank you, sweet boy.” She wiped her fingers on a dish towel and put her hands on her cheeks. “I’m a nervous wreck. Maybe this was a bad idea.”
Gabby hugged her mom. “It will be fun. Don’t you worry about a thing except getting to know Mr. Dave better.”
When Dahlia exited the kitchen, Gabby looked at Jason and sighed. “That was exactly the right thing to do. Thank you, Jason. I never would have thought to take over the task.”
He shrugged, still making tortillas. “Because she’s the mom, and you’re the child. It was easier for me.”
“Maybe.”
While they worked in tandem, she studied him surreptitiously. Even doing something as mundane as assembling a simple meal, Jason looked confident and relaxed. Did it come to him naturally? Gabby felt as if she had lived her whole life striving for relaxation. So far, the concept in general escaped her. Sometimes she thought she had struggled too long to ever find peace...or to recognize it if it ever landed on her windowsill.
Jason shot her a sideways glance. “You okay over there?” His smile held enough heat to make her move restlessly in her chair.
“I’m good,” she muttered. He didn’t need to know that she envied him.
When they had assembled all the enchiladas, Gabby lined them up carefully in a casserole dish.
Jason wiped his hands. “What about the sauce? And the sides?”
“I know how to mix the sauce. You should be able to find lettuce and cheese in the fridge. I’ll get the Mexican rice together and do some beans.”
Dahlia returned before her worker bees were done. She had changed clothes and was visibly calmer. “Oh, you two are the best,” she said, beaming. She bumped her hip against Gabby’s at the stove. “I’ve got this now. Why don’t you two set the table?”
As it turned out, even with three adults participating, the meal was barely ready when Dave Langford rang the doorbell at one sharp. Jason ushered him into the kitchen.
Dave lifted his chin and sniffed appreciatively. “Smells great, Dahlia. My stomach is growling.”
Gabby’s mother smiled. “I’ve got plenty.”
Over lunch, the four adults conversed about everything from holiday shopping to movies and whether the almanac said they would see any rare Georgia snow this winter. They touched on personal topics, but only briefly.
Dave shared that his first wife had died of cancer when she was very young. Dahlia told him Gabby’s father had been killed in a motorcycle accident. There was a good chance Dave had gleaned more of the details over the years. Blossom Branch was a gossipy small town. But he didn’t let on.
Finally Gabby touched Jason’s arm and smiled at her mom. “If you two will excuse us, Jason and I need to pack up our things. We’ll need to get on the road soon.”
In the living room, Jason stared at her and lowered his voice. “Well, what do you think? Do we like him? Do I need to break his kneecaps?”
Her lips twitched. “Would you enjoy that? It sounds gruesome.”
“I probably don’t have it in me. My specialty in high school was making bullies laugh. That always seemed safer than physical violence.”
His words were self-deprecating, but she had no doubt he could handle himself in a brawl. Jason was the kind of man who was tough but didn’t need to prove it. Something about him made her feel safe, which was completely bizarre, because he could hurt her badly if she let down her guard.
“What time do you want to get on the road?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly. “That’s your call. Do we leave her alone with him?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably fine. Let me grab my things, and we’ll make a plan.” It didn’t take long. She was neat by nature. In ten minutes, she had her suitcase and toiletry kit together.
When she rejoined Jason in the living room, he was ready as well. Before Gabby could say a word, her mother and Dave appeared from the kitchen. Dahlia’s expression was radiant. Dave seemed happy, too.
He dipped his head to all three of them. “Thanks for the great lunch. It was a real treat for me.” Then he smiled at Gabby’s mother, giving her his full attention. “I’ll call you this week, Dahlia.”
Suddenly he was gone.
In the moment of silence after the front door closed, the three adults left behind stared at each other.
Jason smiled first. “Well, that man is smitten.”
Dahlia swatted his arm. “Oh, hush. All we did was talk.” Her cheeks were pink. She looked as happy as Gabby had ever seen her.
“Will you go out with him, Mama?”
“I think I will. He’s a very nice man. We have a lot in common. Both of us grew up here. We’ve both known sadness and loss. I’m not saying this is going to be a grand love story, but it will be fun to spend time with Dave.”
Gabby hugged her mother’s neck. “I’m so glad. You deserve to be happy—more than anyone I know.”
Jason nodded. “I like him, Dahlia. He obviously has good taste in women.”
“Oh, pooh,” she said, blushing.
Gabby wanted to wallow in her mother’s wonderful mood. But it was after three already. Monday was a workday, and she had plenty of chores to take care of before the new week began. Plus Jason must surely be ready to head home.
They left an hour later, after helping clean up the kitchen. When the house was pristine, Gabby lingered, feeling guilty for no discernable reason. But the feeling was nothing new. Her mother would always be the one left behind when Gabby went back to Atlanta.
In the car, she was quiet. So much had happened in one short weekend. What would Jason expect from her now? What did she want from him?
When he finally spoke, his words had nothing to do with sex or romance or even Dave Langford’s courtship of her mother.
Jason lowered the volume on the radio and shot her a glance before returning his attention to the road. “How old were you when you first started feeling responsible for your mother?”
The simple question was shocking. Jason Brightman saw more than she wanted him to see. “What do you mean?” she asked, stalling to come up with an answer.
“You know exactly what I mean. You feel responsible for Dahlia. And from what I can tell, that feeling goes way back. So I’ll ask you again. How old were you when you started feeling responsible? Or maybe you don’t even know,” he said.
She knew. But talking about it brought back so many feelings. Hard, terrifying feelings. Feelings no child should have to face.
Jason gave her space and silence. He wouldn’t demand anything. But after everything he had done for her mother this weekend, the question wasn’t out of place.
“I was twelve,” Gabby said. The words were flat. She could talk about this without emotion. Maybe. “Someone had given my mother a car. It had over 250,000 miles, but it ran. We only needed it to get around town. One afternoon, we were headed to the grocery store. It was storming that day, only I’m sure that had nothing to do with what happened. The engine made a loud thumping noise, smoke came out from under the hood, and the car stopped dead. Mama steered it onto the side of the road.”
“Must have been scary.”
“It was.” She nodded slowly. “But that wasn’t the problem. My mother simply shut down. Here we were, stranded. And she did nothing. She just buried her face in her hands and huddled against the door.”
“Damn, Gabby.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.
“We had one of those government-issued phones preloaded with a few minutes a month. I asked her if she was going to call for help. She didn’t even answer me.”
“What did you do?”
“I knew how to use the phone. I had watched her. And of course we’d had lessons about 9-1-1 at school. I probably could have gotten in trouble for dialing the emergency center—we weren’t technically in trouble. But it was the only phone number I knew. So I asked them to come rescue us.”
“And did they?”
“Not the police. It was an old guy who owned the wrecker service. He must have felt sorry for us. He hooked up the tow truck and let Mama and me scrunch into the front seat with him. When he dropped us off at the house, that was it. The car was beyond repair.”