Leave yesterday behind, p.10
Leave Yesterday Behind, page 10
“You’re a Chennault, dear. What you seek has always been within you. You’ll find it’s there.”
She grinned. “Then maybe I’ll be able to hear it without cab drivers blaring their horns and construction crews’ jackhammers, or street vendors hawking their wares.
“Maybe I’m like Dorothy, Aunt C. I’ll find out there’s no place like home.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Miss Pam just called,” Essie told Callie. “She’s coming by shortly.”
Callie closed Southern Living Magazine and placed it on the coffee table. “Thanks, Essie.”
Callandra’s eyes left her embroidery a moment. “It’ll do you good to see her. You girls were thicker than bees’ honey back in high school.”
“We still talk all the time. Usually texts and a monthly FaceTime. It’s hard for either of us to be free at the same time with our schedules, but we’ve always stayed in touch.”
“She still wants a child?”
Callie nodded. “Pretty badly. She had a third miscarriage back in the spring. I didn’t know about it until summer because of... you know.” She stood, feeling restless. “I think I’ll go wait for her out on the porch.”
“I’m sure you’ll be out there half the night, so I’ll say goodnight to you now. Be sure to look at Gretchen’s latest flower arrangement. She’s doing quite well.”
Callie went and brushed a kiss on her aunt’s paper-thin cheek. “Good night. Sleep well.”
She walked out of the living room and into the foyer. A new arrangement of roses and day lilies stood on the entry table. Aunt C had taken Gretchen under her wing since they’d arrived a few days ago, helping her to learn the fine Southern art of arranging flowers. Under Callandra and Essie’s tutelage, Gretchen believed she was well on her way to becoming a modern Southern belle.
Callie opened the front door and stepped out onto the wide porch. The evening heat washed gently over her, as did the smell of magnolias. She went to sit on the porch swing to wait.
Pam pulled up in her old Chevy minutes later. She swung her long legs out and hurried up the path, a wide grin on her round, freckled face.
Callie rose and they embraced, then she pulled away, her head cocked to one side. “When are you going to get another car? That sedan was ancient when we were in high school.”
Pam laughed. “It’s reliable. Still gets great mileage. I wouldn’t trust it on a cross-country trip but for going from one end of the parish to the other, it suits me fine. Besides, what would you expect a poor public school teacher in Louisiana to drive? A Lexus?”
They took a seat on the porch swing. Pam studied her with a look of relief. “God, it’s so good to see you in the flesh, Cal.” She gripped Callie’s hands in hers. “I miss you. I always do. You could’ve knocked me for a loop when I got back from my debate workshop at LSU and Eric told me you were back in town. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know if we’d actually make it all the way down here. I didn’t want either of us to get our hopes up and then me not show.”
Pam gave her a questioning look but Callie fell silent. How could she explain to her oldest friend that she didn’t know if she could be confined in a car that long? That tight spaces made her throat go dry. That there were a thousand times she fought to keep the words in her mouth for Gretchen to turn the car around and go back to New York. That she didn’t think she could set foot on a plane because she might freak out somewhere over the Appalachians and be arrested by Homeland Security after the plane made a forced landing.
Pam squeezed her hands and then released them to ruffle her curly, short hair. “Well, girl, we are definitely going to celebrate your homecoming in style. I’m throwing a barbeque tomorrow night in your honor.”
Callie’s eyes widened. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Pam.”
Her friend frowned. “I sense reluctance here. Is the heat of August too much for my little New Yorker these days? I know this steam bath makes me tired and all wrung out. If that’s the case, we can just send the men out to grill and eat indoors.”
She swallowed. “Would... are you inviting lots of people?”
“Not really. Tom and me. And Eric is itching to bring your friend Gretchen. I can’t wait to meet this gal. Eric is about as smitten as I’ve ever seen him.” Pam laughed. “Wait until Sally runs into them. She still thinks Eric pines away for her. Dumb bitch,” Pam grumbled. “I’m glad she’s history.
“Oh, and Nick, of course,” Pam continued. “But that would be it. Why?”
At the sound of Nick’s name, that funny feeling washed over her, making her heart flutter and her pulse race.
Pam touched her arm. “Say yes, honey. We need to catch up and with school beginning in a couple of weeks, I won’t have as much time as I do right now. That reminds me, would you like to be a guest speaker for my drama classes? They will go nuts hearing it straight from a real live star who’s been there, done that, in style.”
“I don’t know, Pam,” she said quietly. “That’s a lot of people. A lot of strangers to talk in front of.”
Shock painted Pam’s face. “I have seen you roll around half-nekkid on TV with a dozen different men. Not at the same time, of course. But talking with your clothes on in front of a few hormonal teenagers should be a piece of cake for a pro like you.”
Callie closed her eyes. “Seems like it would be. But...” She hesitated. “Pam, it’s different now. I’ve... changed.”
Pam reached for her hand. They sat silently for several minutes, only the creak of the swing making any noise.
“I remember how we sat here and talked about when I first got my period,” Pam finally said. “It about freaked me out. I thought I had to be dying.”
She smiled. “Your mom hadn’t thought to tell you, having two boys ahead of you. Thank goodness Aunt C clued me in before it hit.”
“Remember how we used to sit out here and make our plans? Talk about boys and life and everything?” Pam eyed her steadily. “We need to talk about what’s wrong now. We’re face-to-face. It’s not e-mail or a text. Don’t put me off, Cal.” Pam put an arm about Callie’s shoulder. “I want to help. In any way I can. You’ve got to trust me.”
“I try to be normal,” Callie started. “But it’s hard. I get these panic attacks. I think... he’s... following me again. I know it’s incredibly stupid because he’s in jail back in New York, but I still get paranoid. If it starts to storm, that scares me even more.”
She broke off, her eyes searching Pam’s face. “It was raining that night. I lay there bleeding on that dirty sidewalk as the thunder growled and the rain beat down on me, and I knew I was a goner.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Being around people—men, really—upsets me.”
Pam squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll just be Tom and Eric. You’ve known them forever. And Nick. I forget you don’t really know him much. But you’ll like him. He’s family.”
“I don’t want to like him,” she said stubbornly.
Pam snorted. “He probably doesn’t want to like you, either.”
“Why?”
Pam faced her. “Nick had it rough. He retreated here, mostly because his mom had moved back to Aurora. It’s complicated. Besides, it’s not like I’m setting you up on some god-awful blind date with him. And he’s here at Noble Oaks anyway. He and Miz C are tight. You’re going to have to get used to him sometime. Might as well be with a medium-well cheeseburger in your hand.”
Pam stood. “In fact, I’m going to go see him now and let him know about tomorrow night. He never has plans anyway.” Her face softened. “Please come. Please. We’ll make it like old times.”
Callie bit her lip. “Okay. Only because it’s you asking. I can’t promise how long I’ll stay, though.”
Pam laughed and grabbed Callie’s hands, pulling her to her feet. “Okay, your mission—which you’ll now choose to accept—is to go sweet-talk Essie into sending her world famous coleslaw along with you. I’ll admit it, that’s the only reason you’re being asked to come. We’re all hankering for Essie’s slaw and couldn’t figure out how to get it there without inviting you.”
Pam kissed her cheek. “You be good now. Bye-bye.”
As Callie watched her friend cut around the side of the house and head to Nick’s cottage, she wrapped her arms around herself and whispered, “What have I gotten myself into?”
Nick had the lights low. Eric Clapton played softly in the background. His thoughts wandered, his writing pad close by in case he needed to capture something as he sat on the sofa.
Nothing came.
Nothing except Callie Chennault’s image—fragile, vulnerable, constant.
He lowered his head to his knees and groaned. He refused to let it happen again. He’d fallen for one self-centered actress, the biggest mistake of his life—and he’d made several doozies in his thirty-five years. He would not let another one get under his skin.
Vanessa had played him like a master strumming a classical guitar. He believed every smile, every lie, until it was too late. She trapped him into marriage, something he didn’t really believe in. Or so he told himself now.
She never really loved him. That’s probably what hurt the most. Oh, she loved the nine thousand-square-foot house with every amenity available. Her designer clothes and Jimmy Choo shoes and diamonds too numerous to count. The first-class travel. The couple who took care of the house and the lawn crew. Having her own personal assistant at her beck and call.
But most of all, Vanessa had loved the status. How little Vannie Malone from Hicksville, Nowhere, had become the lethally seductive Vanessa La Chappelle. The fact that she hadn’t made it as an actress didn’t matter. Acting proved too much work, with all the early calls and learning lines. But she loved playing at being Mrs. Nick La Chappelle and seeing all the doors that name opened for her.
When Nick retired early due to rotator cuff problems, she’d been thrilled when he reluctantly accepted the network job she pushed him to take. It only improved her status among her in-crowd, having her husband in the ESPN booth.
When he became so miserable doing it that he didn’t want to get out of bed anymore, he told her he couldn’t stay in broadcasting. He wanted to get serious about his writing and return to his own small town roots. Aurora, in particular.
That’s when the shit hit the fan. He could still hear her screaming now.
“Nick, you don’t want to do that. Leave this? L.A.? This is our life, Nick. This is what makes us happy. I have my charity work but you’re an athlete and an entertainer. You need the spotlight to thrive. Don’t you realize that? How can you think to go back to some backwater bump in the road to be a fucking writer? Besides, I have a terrific chance to be on next season’s Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.”
“No,” he’d replied. “You need the spotlight. You need the three-hundred-dollar massages and nine-hundred-dollar shoes and the stylist and limousine and paparazzi. Me? I need a life again. My life. Not this glitz and glamour fakery.”
“You dumb fuck, you can live it without me. I will never give up all of this. Never!”
“What about love?”
“Love?” She looked puzzled before her nose crinkled and her whole face turned into a giant sneer. “What about it? It’s just a fantasy, Nick. Love doesn’t exist. It never has. Not for us. Not for anyone. Just face it. We used each other. I needed you to get out of the rattrap I was in. My career was headed straight into the toilet. You gave me instant name recognition and opened all the right doors so I could blossom into who I am today. People Magazine writes about which fashion shows I attend. US covers my charity events. I’m named to best-dressed lists. Even Oprah returns my calls.”
“How did I use you, Vanessa?”
She laughed. “You needed a nursemaid, Nick. Someone to be sure your clothes matched. Someone to organize your leukemia foundation and keep your head out of the clouds with all that silly writing and be sure you showed up to games on time. You needed someone around so you wouldn’t feel so lonely. Well, I did my part, babe, but I refuse to do it out in the sticks. I’ll take you for every cent you have, down to your last cashmere pullover.
“I never loved you, Nick. That’s why it’ll be easy for me to walk away.”
That’s why he couldn’t fall for another shallow, self-consumed actress. Or really any woman. Women always had a hidden agenda. The few dates he’d been set up on since he’d come to Aurora proved it. They only went out with him for who he used to be, in order to brag about their time spent with a sports legend.
The one woman he thought was different ended things a month into their relationship when she realized he had no money—and what she decided were no prospects.
That made him give up on women. And romantic feelings. He wouldn’t be bothered by them anymore. He knew he’d never marry again. He was all right with that. As a writer, he was used to a solitary life. Besides, he still had his family.
And his characters.
That’s where he created true, lasting love. Each of his novels had murder and mayhem in them since crime sold well, but every time, every novel, he built a romantic relationship between two main characters. Twice it had been between a cop and the heroine. Once the hero had been a journalist instead. But in his perfect world, he could create real, lasting emotions. He could give his people the love he craved that he knew didn’t exist in real life.
He would not—under any circumstances—give in to this momentary infatuation with Callie Chennault. For God’s sake, she was an actress who could probably fake every emotion on the planet. He could feel sorry for her because of the brutal attack she’d endured. He could even learn to get along with her while she resided at Noble Oaks. He would be friendly but keep his distance.
He knew not to get hung up on her, though. Because as an actress, she probably decided to milk this whole attack for publicity purposes. It probably hadn’t been nearly as bad as reported. She’d even retreated to Aurora so the public would keep guessing. Then she’d make the comeback of her career at twice her old salary, and the ratings of her stupid show would go through the roof. Plus, she’d probably win every award out there since she’d survived a crazy stalker’s attack.
Nick would be one of the poor fools she practiced her story on. Glean a little sympathy. Play up to him like they had some things in common.
No, sir—he would not fall for her. Or her act. He would keep his distance and pray she returned home soon. Before he lost his willpower.
Because he wanted nothing better than to take Callie in his arms and kiss her senseless.
A brisk knock summoned him from his reverie. Nick went to the door, flipped on the porch light, and found his cousin standing on the porch.
“Hey, Pammie. Come on in.” He stepped aside to let her inside. “How was your—”
“I’m here to invite you and your grilling skills to a barbecue tomorrow night. You are the best at chicken, hands down, and you give Eric a run for the money with your burgers.”
He laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’d disown you and punch out my lights.”
“Nope. I’m making my molasses baked beans and potato salad, so he’ll show up. Any starving bachelor would.”
“What can I bring? Make it easy. Buns, maybe? Or I can pick up dessert from The Sweet Shoppe.”
“Dessert is covered, so buns it is. That and Callie, and we’ll see you around six-thirty.” Pam started down the porch before her words hit him.
“Wait a minute, kid. Buns... and Callie?”
She grinned. “Yep. The barbeque is in her honor and since Eric is already picking up Gretchen, it falls to you to bring Callie.”
“Why can’t Eric—”
“Because he’s taking Gretchen into New Orleans for the afternoon. On a date. They’ll come straight from there. What’s the big deal? You live right next to her.”
“No big deal. We’ll be there. Hot buns and all.”
Pam reached around and pinched his butt. “You have the amazing hot buns in this family, Cuz. See you tomorrow night.”
She zipped down the drive with her usual, boundless energy. Nick closed the door thoughtfully.
His willpower would definitely be tested tomorrow night.
Chapter Sixteen
Callie checked her appearance once more in the floor-length mirror, nerves flittering like raging butterflies in her stomach.
“Relax,” she told the image in front of her. “It’s just a few friends. Food. A little laughter. Gretchen’ll be there. Pam.”
And Nick...
She knew she was being foolish. Why should it bother her that some stupid ex-jock would be there? She would keep her distance, eat a little of the delicious food, and then hightail it out the minute she felt ill at ease.
Or better yet, she should simply stay home. She was already uncomfortable enough as it was. And it wasn’t just being in the presence of more than two people.
It was being in sight of Nick. Her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of him.
She gave a stern look in the mirror. “This is craziness, Callie Chennault. You are not fourteen years old. This is not a date. You don’t want or need any man in your life. Period. You need to put on ten pounds. Get your head together. Find what you want to do with the rest of your life!”
Her hand gently stroked her right side as she spoke, aware of the scars hidden below her sky blue sleeveless blouse. A man had done that. She hadn’t been able to stop him. She determined no man would ever hurt her again—either physically or emotionally.
She was strong. She was a Chennault. She would conquer her fears, and by golly, she’d enjoy tonight. Damn Nick La Chappelle and any other man that caused her to miss a step. She deserved a little fun. Gretchen told her that all the time.
Callie left her room with a tad more confidence than she’d mustered in weeks and headed down the stairs. She heard voices in the kitchen and turned in their direction. As she entered, her aunt and Essie were seated at the table in the breakfast nook, laughing and chatting over bowls of red beans and rice, accompanied by plates of hot, steaming cornbread. Wolf sat close by, an expectant look on his face in case anyone dropped something.
