Chapter Five #2
My date pulled at the starched collar of his white shirt with one crooked finger, a pretence of discomfort for my benefit. He truly looked born to wear it.
‘Not my usual either, but my grandmother would have me in a suit seven days a week if she could,’ he said. ‘Oh, hey, I have something for you.’
He held out a white cardboard box, small and square, a little larger than his hands.
‘Cake?’ Ashley enquired hopefully.
‘No, but Lyds was cooking up a batch of red velvet cupcakes when I left. Last I heard she didn’t have plans, if you wanted to stop by.’
‘Or I could open up the garbage and eat whatever I find inside instead,’ she grumbled in response, and Jackson winked in my direction.
‘I didn’t know what colour you were wearing so I went with white,’ he said as he peeled back a sticker seal and opened the box. ‘The lady in the store said this was a classic beauty, so I figured it would be perfect for you.’
Inside, on a bed of pink tissue paper, was a corsage.
The swirling petals of a gardenia blossom, its sweet scent filling the air, grounded by the earthy scent of the fern fronds wrapped around it.
Gardenia, known to enhance magical abilities, ward off evil spirits and negative energy, and bring serenity to the wearer.
And ferns, often used to enhance the abilities of other plants and flowers.
Without realizing it, Jackson had gifted me one of the most beautiful protective talismans I’d ever seen.
‘I love it,’ I said as he slipped it on my wrist before pinning a matching boutonnière to his jacket. ‘Thank you.’
‘Y’all look like you were made for each other,’ Ashley said, hands clasped to her chest and a mischievous smile on her face. ‘I just know your folks would be so happy to see this scene. Let me take a picture.’
Before I could protest, Jackson slid his arm around my waist, grinning at her ancient digital camera like it was his best friend in the whole world.
The flash popped brightly and I blinked away circles of light, steadying myself against his sturdy warmth.
Ashley took one look at the screen and slipped the camera back into her pocket without sharing the result before exchanging her smirk for a not entirely successful attempt at an authoritative glare.
‘You have her back by curfew, you hear me?’ she said, and I felt my date stiffen at the side of me.
‘What time is curfew?’ I asked.
She shrugged and looked to Jackson for an answer.
‘No idea,’ he said. ‘Never had one. Does one a.m. sound about right?’
‘It sounds extremely lenient,’ I said, a sudden flash of panic at the thought of staying from Bell House for so long.
Ashley gave a shallow bow.
‘Then you’re welcome. Truthfully, I don’t give a flying fuck or a rolling doughnut what time y’all come home, just so long as you wake up in your own beds in the morning.’
She waved us through the parlour door, out of the cool air conditioning of Bell House and into the sweltering evening heat.
‘Now, y’all have fun tonight,’ she called as I tiptoed carefully down the steps in my low heels. ‘And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘How much does that leave us with?’ he asked me out the side of his mouth.
I grimaced as Ashley traded her wave for a flash of her middle finger as soon as he looked away.
‘Unless we get arrested for scaling the Pulaski monument completely naked and under the influence, we should be fine.’
‘What if we’re naked but not under the influence?’
An unfamiliar sensation rushed over me as I climbed into his car, laughing. A swell of anticipation, the good kind. Something I hadn’t experienced in a while.
‘Ready to have some fun?’ Jackson asked, slipping into the driver’s seat and closing the door.
I nodded and smiled.
‘So ready.’
And as he gunned the engine, much to my surprise, I realized it was true.
By the time I’d fastened my seatbelt without flashing my bra and worked out how to hold my bag over my skirt in a way that would not reveal my underwear, we were already pulling into a parking bay.
A man dressed in a dark blue polo shirt waited impatiently to open my door as Jackson hopped out, the car engine still turning over.
‘That wasn’t even two minutes,’ I said, looking back the way we came. ‘It would’ve been quicker to walk.’
He accepted a parking receipt from the valet with a manly nod.
‘My grandmother would disinherit me if I invited a lady to a dance then expected her to walk in this heat,’ he replied.
‘But your grandmother would never know.’
‘That’s what you think. My grandmother has spies everywhere.’ He lowered his voice, eyes darting around. ‘Seriously, nothing in this town happens without Virginia Powell knowing about it. Come to think of it, are you sure she isn’t a witch?’
‘Sure as I can be,’ I said, an edge of nerves cutting into my choked laugh.
All around us, people were pouring out of their cars, hugging one another and admiring each other’s outfits.
As usual, Ashley had been right. My dress was not the least bit out of place.
In defiance of the heat, everyone was gussied up in either classic black tuxedos, patterned dinner jackets, or shiny, colourful, strappy dresses. Jackson and I fit right in.
‘Is this your first time?’ Jackson asked.
I stared at him in surprise and he tilted his head towards the hotel in front of us.
‘At the DeSoto?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, squeezing my purse until I felt the beads bite into the flesh of my palm. ‘I mean, I’ve walked by it a million times but I’ve never been inside. Have you been here before?’
‘Feels like we were here every weekend last year. Weddings, birthdays, bar mitzvahs, quinceaneras.’ He reeled off occasions as we walked up the steps and into the hotel lobby. ‘So many sweet sixteens.’
‘Think yourself lucky,’ I said, grinning at the look of despair on his face, like they were punishments and not parties. ‘There weren’t many social events in the Welsh countryside. Not unless you wanted to celebrate the sheep anyway.’
‘Trust me, I would trade,’ Jackson said. ‘Sometimes when I close my eyes at night, I can still hear Pitbull’s voice in my brain. Chilling with a bunch of sheep would be an upgrade.’
‘You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. I know y’all like to say Savannah is a sleepy town, but we had to drive thirty minutes just to get to the closest grocery store.’
He stopped short in the hotel foyer and grabbed my arm. I halted beside him in a panic, people flowing around us like water flowing around a tree sticking up in the middle of a river.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Emily James Bell,’ he said with a gasp. ‘Did you just drop your first “y’all” on me?’
Shaking off the unwelcome hit of anxiety, I gasped.
‘Jackson Powell, I do believe I did.’
He held up his hand for a high five and I met it with a resounding slap, smile firmly fixed to my face when his fingers meshed with mine.
‘I do believe we’ll make a southern belle out of you yet,’ he said, clasping my hand tightly in his as we rejoined the mass of people moving through the hotel. ‘Come on, let’s go celebrate.’
The DeSoto was a beautiful hotel. I’d lived in some beautiful locations when I was younger, most of my travel experiences were a long way from luxurious.
The university housing offered to my historian father was basic to say the least. Our Welsh cottage, charming as it was, could have been politely described as ‘rustic’.
But just like everywhere else I’d been in Savannah, the DeSoto was warm and welcoming and perfectly polished, with one eye and its whole heart set on its heritage.
This place knew it came from good stock and wanted you to know it too.
‘The original hotel was knocked down in the Sixties, but one way or another, it’s been here since 1834,’ Jackson said as we passed under an enormous crystal chandelier.
‘A bunch of people tried to save it, but there’s only so much you can do when money is involved.
It’s a real shame. From the photos I’ve seen, the original building was an amazing example of Romanesque architecture. What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, my hand warm in his. ‘Nothing at all.’
This Jackson Powell was so different to the version I’d first met.
That Jackson was so slick, it felt as though you’d slide right off if you tried to touch him.
Irresponsibly handsome, impossibly charming, and incapable of uttering a word that wasn’t dripping with honey, he was altogether too smooth for my liking.
This new and unimproved version was far superior.
Still handsome and charming but genuine and natural, passionate about his secret historical hobby.
I didn’t feel as though my foot was quite so firmly stuck in my mouth every time we spoke.
‘You think I’m a nerd,’ he said, a flicker of self-consciousness passing over his face.
‘I do, but only in the best way. I think it’s cool how much you love the city’s history.’
‘Then you’re the only girl I ever met who does.’
He ducked his head to hide his embarrassment but he couldn’t erase the enthusiasm from his voice and I couldn’t help but share it.
‘Learning about our history, knowing what came before, feels important to me,’ he said, the sound of our shoes clicking against a marble floor as we walked.
‘Folks are always complaining about the way the world is today but maybe if we paid a little more attention to the past, it would be easier to see how we ended up here and try to change things for the better. Instead of repeating the same mistakes and wondering why.’
‘My dad used to say something similar,’ I said softly. ‘Understanding our past is the best way to make sense of the present.’
‘Your dad was a historian, right?’ He offered me a bittersweet smile when I nodded, chewing on the inside of my lip to tamp down the unexpected swell of sadness. ‘I’m sorry he isn’t here anymore, Em. I wish I could have met him.’
My words came out soft and cautious. I was determined not to cry.
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘I think you would have liked him.’
‘You think he would’ve liked me?’
‘No doubt about it,’ I answered. ‘He got along with just about anyone, but someone who would willingly listen to him talk about history? Forget about it. One time, in Germany, we were asked to leave a production of Hamilton because he was fact-checking the show in real time and the people behind us complained.’
‘The musical is great and everything, but they really did miss out a lot of important stuff,’ Jackson said, suffused with the same kind of excitement I remembered in my dad. ‘Did you know Hamilton proposed senators should be appointed for lifelong terms?’
‘OK, confirmed: my dad would’ve loved you.’
‘Confirmed he must’ve been a cool guy,’ he said happily. ‘Had to be, what with raising such a cool daughter and all.’
‘Me? Cool?’ The snort that exploded out of me was anything but. ‘Trust me, I have never been cool in my life, and that’s fine by me.’
He met my snort with a scoff. ‘I’m not calling you a liar, but I don’t believe you.’
‘If you’re a nerd, I’m queen of the nerds and you are only one of my minions. Until I moved here, my idea of cool was begging my dad to take me to visit Stonehenge for my thirteenth birthday.’
‘What I’m hearing is thirteen-year-old Emily was cool beyond her years.
’ Jackson’s head rolled back and he held a hand against his heart in a faux swoon.
‘What about now? Let’s say I’m the one with the magic and I can wave my wand and take you anywhere you want, past, present or future. Where are we going?’
I started to laugh but the sound fell apart, escaping more like a panicked gasp.
Anything, anywhere, past, present or future.
A past built on a lie, a present I didn’t understand and a future I was afraid of.
It was too hard to see past the prophecy.
Planning for a tomorrow that might never come felt like a trap.
‘Wasn’t supposed to be a tough question,’ Jackson said gently.
‘I know,’ I said with an apologetic wince. ‘Most people probably have an answer ready.’
‘Most people’s lives aren’t as complicated as yours. Sorry, Em, it was a dumb question.’
‘It was a great question,’ I argued. ‘I just need a little longer to come up with a good answer. You go first, what would you do?’
‘Wake up early, play some ball, head home for grandmother’s fried chicken steak then get in my time machine and head back to June fourth 1976.
Courtside seats at the NBA finals game five, Boston Celtics, Phoenix Suns, triple overtime, Celtics win 128 to 126 and go on to win the series.
Go Celtics. You’re coming with me, obviously. ’
‘Yes to lunch, no to the game. People who sit in courtside seats are asking to get a basketball in the face. But I am impressed at how fast you answered. How come you’re a Boston fan?’
The awkward weight of a complicated answer shifted off my shoulders and onto his.
‘One time, a few years ago, Mom mentioned our dad grew up in Massachusetts.’
The twins never, ever mentioned their father and I knew his confession was a precious gift. He tugged at the cuff of his shirt, eyes darting away, but vulnerability looked good on him.
‘I don’t know what I’d do because I’m not even sure who I am anymore,’ I admitted, a return offering of honesty. ‘Anything in the past would hurt too much, the present is not what I thought it would be, and the future I thought I’d have seems kind of impossible now.’
‘Not everyone knows what they want to do with their life at seventeen,’ Jackson said, adjusting the corsage on my wrist. ‘How about we start with tonight and go from there?’
‘Deal,’ I replied, slapping my hand into his, content that my future, at least for tonight, was something to look forward to.