He glanced toward the house. “Those Patchetts… I wish you had let Dillon and me beat them up.”
Smiling, she hugged him and looked at Dillon over his shoulder. “I appreciate the offer.”
Dillon leaned forward and softly kissed her mouth. “You’re one hell of a woman.”
“As of last night… thanks to you.”
His wide mustache curved into a smile. “Let’s go home.”
They rode with the windows rolled down, along the highway that was flat and narrow, bordered by live oaks bearded with moss and tall pines that pointed toward heaven.
“You know what my father used to say to me, Graham?”
“Grandpa Sperry?”
“Uh-huh. He used to say, ‘Don’t ever be afraid, Jade.’ I thought he was talking about dying. Today, it occurred to me that he meant something else. He was telling me not to be afraid to live. Dying is easy when you compare it to living. Mama couldn’t stand her life, so she ran away from it. Daddy didn’t have the courage to live at all. I do.”
With youthful resilience and restlessness, Graham was fiddling with the dials on the radio, not really listening.
Dillon, however, had heard and understood every word. He reached across the seat and swept the tear off her cheek. It was the first tear she had shed in fifteen years. She kissed it from his thumb and rested her cheek in his palm.
When they arrived at her house, she told Graham, “Tell Cathy that everything is all right and that we’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Where are you going?”
“Dillon and I have an errand to run.”
“Where to? I want to go.”
“You’re not invited.”
“You just want to be by yourselves so you can kiss and stuff.”
“Out!”
Graham, giving Dillon a man-to-man grin, climbed out. Dillon said, “Set up the chess board. We’ll play after supper.” Graham smiled and dashed toward the house. “He came through it unscathed, Jade.”
“Yes. Thank God,” she whispered.
“Maybe. Mostly thanks to you.”
She waited until Graham had cleared the front door before turning to Dillon. “I want you to take me there.” He didn’t need to ask where she wanted to go, only how to get there. She gave him directions.
As the landscape slipped past, she realized how little she resembled the naïve girl who had driven the same road with her best friend on a cold February evening. Nor was she any longer the determined woman who had deftly navigated the business world like a halfback running full out on the gridiron. She had already scored and no longer had to prove herself.
The two facets of Jade Sperry were merging into one. Like the ingredients of a bouillabaisse, the separate elements of her personality were simmering together. It was an odd mixture, unique in texture and flavor, one she was gradually acquiring a taste for.
After years of driving herself toward one goal, she was back where she had begun. The townsfolk who remembered her no longer regarded her as the girl who had left cloaked in scandal. They treated her with the respect befitting what she was today. Those who had never known her regarded her as a heroine who was doing great things for their community.
All that Jade had convinced herself she hated, she was surprised to find was actually dear to her—like low-country cooking and small-town life, like summer air that was too heavy to inhale and soft breezes that were redolent with intoxicating floral perfumes and the seminal scent of seawater.
The region couldn’t be blamed for the few bad people it had bred. Businesswoman, mother, friend, lover—whatever else she was, she was a woman of the South. Her heart beat in rhythm to its ponderous pace.
The tire tracks leading off the highway were overgrown. No one had been there in a long time. Jade liked to think no one had been there since that night. The banks of the channel looked different in the daylight. The soft slapping sound of the water wasn’t sinister. There were no frightening shadows or furtive movements in the darkness.
Dillon patiently stood nearby while Jade wandered around, remembering… forgetting. At last she came to stand in front of him.
“Make love to me, Dillon.”