Page 19 of Dreams of Falling
And there, behind the curved glass counter that covered the bins of ice cream, was Gabriel Jones, his skin as dark as I remembered, his black hair now mostly gray. But his smile as he spoke with a customer was as large and warm as it had been the first time I’d come there with my mama and daddy as a little girl.
The door was propped open to allow in the cool river breeze, and I stepped inside, waiting against the wall for Gabriel to finish with his customers. A tall man peered into one of the cases, his hand resting protectively on the back of a petite brunette standing next to him, both focused on their flavor selections.
I didn’t recognize the woman, but there was something about the man, something about the way his broad shoulders filled out his shirt and the way his sandy brown hair flopped over his forehead as he leaned down, his cheek very close to the woman’s.
In the way a person can tell when they’re being stared at, he turned his head to look at me. That’s when I knew I’d been right. I did know him. Had known him almost as long as I’d known Mabry and Bennett. Except Jackson Porter and I had never been friends. Ever.
His gaze settled on me for a brief moment, long enough for me to see that his boyish good looks had morphed into strong, handsome features, like Christopher Reeve’s in the oldSupermanmovies. But of course they had. People like Jackson didn’t allow themselves to grow soft with age.
He frowned slightly, as if wondering whether he should recognize me, then turned back to the woman. It was stupid, really, the rush of heat to my face, the not-so-distant feeling of humiliation. Maybe I found it hard to believe that someone who was such an important part of the worst day of my life didn’t even recognize me.
I waited, my mouth dry and aching for a root beer float to help push down the shame and embarrassment. Gabriel finished their order, took their cash, then waited for them to leave, Jackson holding open the door for his companion.
“Miss Larkin,” Gabriel said, beaming as if he’d invented my name. “Just as pretty as you ever were.” Before he could make it out from behind the counter, he paused to look up at the ceiling speaker, which was playing something smooth and mellow. He’d only ever played music from the decades right after World War II, saying all the modern stuff was poison to the mind and an affront to his ears.
“‘I’ll Never Stop Loving You.’ Doris Day.”
He must have heard the quiver in my voice, because when he reached me, he already had his arms stretched out. “You don’t pay him no mind.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Some people are too stupid to know any better.”
I started to cry—big painful sobs for my mother, for the good parts of the old me I’d gotten rid of along with the bad parts, and for my shallow, weak heart, which was still infatuated with Jackson Porter after all these years.
eight
Ceecee
2010
Ceecee paused in front of the hall mirror before pulling out the top drawer of the small chest beneath it. Several tubes of lipstick rolled forward. She selected Cherries in the Snow, a Revlon classic from 1953 that she’d always loved and had already told Bitty she wanted to be wearing when it was her time to meet Jesus.
She applied it carefully, listening as Bitty and Larkin finished their breakfast and conversed about the weather and the tides and everything except Ivy.
I know about Margaret. Ceecee’s hand shook, smearing lipstick above her upper lip. What had Ivy meant?
Her gaze shifted to the side window, to the old detached garage where Ivy had been allowed to set up shop for her furniture-refurbishment business. Ceecee had gladly given over the space, donated the old horse-drawn buggy that had once been stored there to a local collector. At the time, she’d assumed this would be another of Ivy’s phases, but it had lasted longer than most. It had been relatively lucrative, too, considering her work space was rent free and her business came word of mouth from Ceecee’s friends.
As Ceecee smudged out the lipstick mistake, she made a mentalreminder to go inside the garage when they returned from the hospital. She was fairly confident that Ivy had left out open cans of varnish and paint remover and Lord knew what else. As she’d always done, Ceecee would go behind her, cleaning up, putting on lids, and emptying trash bins overflowing with Diet Dr Pepper cans and cheese slice wrappers. It was all Ivy ate or drank when she was in one of her creative phases, finding the sheer monotony of meal preparation stifling to her creativity.
“Are y’all ready yet?” she called out to Bitty and Larkin, impatient to go now. She had her notepad and pen in her purse, prepared to interrogate Ivy’s doctors as to what kind of care she’d need when she returned home. When, not if. Ceecee had already decided she’d convert the library on the first floor to a sickroom. Ivy wouldn’t have to navigate the stairs to her old bedroom until she was completely healed.
She hadn’t bothered to ask Mack if he agreed. She was Ivy’s mother, and considering what Ivy and Mack’s marriage had been like for the last ten years, his opinion simply didn’t matter.
“What are those for?” Bitty asked, looking at the bouquet of tea roses Ceecee had placed in a vase.
“They’re from my garden, and I’m bringing them to the hospital for Ivy’s room. I thought the scent might help bring her around. She’s always loved my roses, and they bloomed a little early this year, as if they knew she’d need them.”
Larkin appeared behind Bitty in the kitchen doorway. “I’m ready.”
Ceecee looked at Larkin’s face, scrubbed clean and bare. She had beautiful skin, most likely thanks to Ceecee keeping her out of the sun when she was younger and insisting on the importance of a good skin-care regimen. Although she’d inherited the Darlingtons’ vivid blue eyes, Larkin’s lashes were pale gold, even lighter than her hair.
“Aren’t you going to put on some makeup?” Ceecee asked. “Maybe a little mascara and lipstick?”
“I think Mama will recognize me without it, don’t you?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Ceecee smiled tightly. “But if you change your mind, I’ve got some in my pocketbook.”
Ceecee was aware of Bitty and Larkin exchanging a glance behindher back, but she didn’t care. She’d kept this family together for too long to mind what other people said about her.
“I’ll drive,” Larkin said, stepping in front of them and holding open the door.
