Page 136 of The Last Night in London
I told myself it was for the best, but in the wee hours, in my father’s house, I’d sneak down to Suzanne’s home studio, where she had her large-screen monitor, and stick in my memory stick to watch the videos I’d filmed in London. It hurt to see Precious, to remember that she was gone, but it almost hurt more to see Colin again.
Suzanne had walked in on me once when I’d frozen the frame on Colin’s face. Immediately, she’d gone to the kitchen and brought back a half gallon of Blue Bell Buttered Pecan ice cream with two spoons. She sat next to me while I told her everything. About Precious and Eva. About Colin. She didn’t ask me what I was going to do. Like Aunt Cassie, who’d also heard the whole story, she understood that I would eventually figure it out on my own. And if I needed a little advice, I knew where to turn.
After two months of carefully avoiding places where I might runinto him, I’d finally bumped into Rob Campbell with his pregnant wife and little girl at the playground named in my mother’s honor. Contrary to what I’d imagined, I didn’t burst into flames or tears, and the earth didn’t open up and swallow me. Nor did Rob give any indication that he was haunted in the same way I was by the memory of what he’d said to me when I’d given him back his ring. It was very clear that he’d moved on and assumed that I had, too.
Seeing him hadn’t brought me peace or closure or anger. Instead I felt an impatience with myself, a need to escape my past. Which, despite what Aunt Cassie said, would always be just one day away, dogging the heels of my present.
I stayed in Walton through the remainder of spring and the hot days of summer, and watched as the leaves turned and fell as autumn approached. I was no closer to making any sort of decision about my life than when I’d arrived on my daddy’s doorstep with all my belongings in one backpack and one suitcase.
I made paper flowers and stuffed gift bags with Knoxie, met with the bakery and the Dixie Diner about the wedding reception, and discussed music with the organist Brunelle Thompkins at First United Methodist, but I couldn’t make the first decision as to what I was going to do next either with my life or with Precious’s story.
On the Saturday morning of the wedding day, Suzanne drove me to Bitsy’s House of Beauty, where we met with Aunt Cassie and the rest of the bridal party for the day of beauty required for any Southern wedding. My fifteen-year-old niece, Suzy, was the junior bridesmaid and had chosen the nail color. It wasn’t that I didn’t love lime green, but I wasn’t sure if it matched the deep purple taffeta of our bridesmaids’ dresses.
We all kept a watchful eye on the heavy gray clouds outside, which suspiciously resembled snow clouds. I was afraid to voice my fear, not wanting to create a panic, but I could guarantee that my sister would have snow on her wedding day. It had snowed only twice before in Georgia in my lifetime, and I wasn’t eager to see a third.
I was sitting under the dryer with bits of foil stuck in my hair—Bitsy had insisted I get highlights—and cotton balls between my lime-colored toenails when my great-aunt Lucinda burst in, bringing with her an icy-cold blast of winter air. She was in her late seventies, but her recent marriage to the sheriff and her addiction to Zumba made her look and act about two decades younger.
She plastered herself against the front door, her eyes scanning the people in the salon until they rested on me. “Oh, my gosh, y’all.” She closed her eyes and pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead. “There’s a man just got out of an Uber car and walked into the Dixie Diner as I was leaving, asking for the nearest hotel. He’s got a funny accent—sounds just like Prince William. I just about fainted when he looked at me. Oh, my word, y’all! Don’t tell my husband, but that man is like a drink of ice-cold Co-Cola on a hot day.”
I froze at the part about talking like Prince William and felt both Aunt Cassie and Suzanne looking at me.
Aunt Lucinda continued. “And just as the door shut behind me, I heard Hal Newcomb saying something about Bitsy’s. What on earth would he be wanting over here?” She turned around to look out of the glass panes on the door, then quickly flipped around again and placed her hand on her heart. “He’s headed right here!” She fumbled in her purse and pulled out three tubes of lipstick. “Anybody else need some color?”
Cassie and Suzanne were already yanking the cotton from between my toes and unraveling the foil in my hair when the door opened, letting in another burst of cold air. Colin’s wide-eyed look of surprise matched my own; he paused in the open doorway, holding a small carry-on suitcase, his gaze passing over me twice before jerking back in recognition.
“Madison?”
Cassie helped me out from under the dryer, doing her best to block me as she and Suzanne continued to remove foil strips. I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked like an alien from a 1950s science fiction movie. But I welcomed the embarrassment. It distracted from the collision of my head and heart.
“Hello, Colin,” I said, grabbing Cassie’s arms to get her to stop fussing with my hair.
“You must be Colin Eliot,” Cassie said, extending a hand. “I’m Cassie Parker, Maddie’s aunt. We’ve heard so much about you. We are justtickledyou could make it to the wedding. And do not eventhinkabout finding a hotel room. Not only isn’t there one within thirty miles, but I wouldn’t hear of it. You’re staying in our guest room, and that’s settled.”
“Yes, well, thank you. Not just for that, but also for the invitation. And the phone calls.”
“You called him?” I asked, failing at not raising my voice.
“Somebody had to,” Colin said softly, his cool gaze settling on my face before drifting upward to my hair.
Darlene Narpone, Bitsy’s shampoo girl, handed Colin aPeoplemagazine. “Could you please open this up anywhere and read a page out loud? I just want to hear your accent.”
I grabbed the magazine out of her hand and tossed it back on the stack. “He is not going to read out loud.” I faced Colin. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for your sister’s wedding. I hope that’s all right.”
About ten voices shouted some version of “Of course!”
Aunt Cassie stepped forward, her fingers flying on her phone. “My husband, Sam, is at the Dixie Diner right now. I’ve just texted him, so he’ll be expecting you. He’ll bring you to our house and get you all settled.”
I began leading Colin to the door. “I promise to come on over just as soon as I’m done here. So we can talk in private.” I sent a warning glance to the ladies listening attentively behind me.
Colin settled those striking blue eyes on me but didn’t smile. “I’ll see you shortly, then. As soon as you’re”—his gaze took in my half-foiled hair and the lime green paint on my toes—“done.” He gave a polite nod to the other women in the salon, who were doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that they were taking pictures of him with their smartphones.
An hour and a half later—Bitsy had insisted not only on makingmy hair as big as she could get it, but also on doing my makeup—Aunt Cassie and I returned to the old house she’d lived in since inheriting it from my grandfather. It was where my mama and Cassie had been born and raised, and where my daddy had proposed to both of them. He’d married only Mama, of course, but he still liked to pull that story out every once in a while to get a reaction.
The wide white columns on the front of the house gleamed in the sun’s valiant attempt to sneak between hovering clouds, the intermittent light masquerading as warmth as rays peered into the porch and reflected off the chains of the porch swing. Despite the chill in the air, Sam and Colin sat bundled up outside on the swing, drinking Budweiser out of bottles and laughing like they were old friends. They stood as Cassie and I approached, and Sam kissed Cassie on the lips in greeting while I pretended not to notice.
“That’s some hair you got going there, Maddie,” Uncle Sam said, indicating my new do with his bottle.
