“Thank you, Georgia,” I said. “It’s a really hard time, but I’m lucky to have so many wonderful people around me. I’m so grateful to live in Peachtree Bluff.”
She smiled. “Well, silver linings.”
Jack came down the stairs, and much to my delight, walked to me first, gave me a big hug, kissed my cheek, and said, “I hope you’re here because you’ve thought of something I can do for you.”
I cut my eyes at Georgia. “No, no,” I said. “I just needed a little peace. There are like forty-two Mrs. McClaskys over there.”
Jack’s eyes widened in mock fear. “Yikes. That is absolutely terrifying.” He patted my arm and said, “You may hide out here as long as you like.”
“We’re going to look at houses,” Georgia said.
I didn’t like the way she said it, liketheywere going to look for houses—for the two of them. “Like rental property or something?” I asked.
Jack shook his head. “No. I’ve been toying with the idea of moving back to Atlanta.”
“I was in the area,” Georgia trilled, “so I thought I’d pick him up.”
In the area, my left foot. She was in the area like I was born yesterday.
I could feel my throat go tight. He was actually going to do it. He was toying with the idea of moving away from here. Away from me. “Hey, G,” he said, “would you mind giving us a second?”
She nodded. “ ’Bye, Ansley. Sorry again. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
You can get the hell out of my life and away from my Jack, I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled tightly.
Jack squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t going to tell you all this right now. This doesn’t change anything. Finish the house. Make it a dream. I just have to look ahead.”
I thought I might cry for the fortieth time that day. Instead, I stood there, open mouthed. “You said six months,” I whispered.
He smiled. “And I meant it, Ans. This was a convenient day for both of us, and I thought I’d see what Atlanta has to offer.”
He didn’t add anything like, “We can have a city getaway.” Or, “Wouldn’t it be so convenient for you to stay there when you go to Market?” Nothing to indicate that he saw me in his future at all. But maybe he saw Georgia in it, which was even worse. She represented the very real idea that he wasn’t going to wait for me forever, as he had clearly signaled. I liked to fancy myself the love of his life. I liked to believe he couldn’t possibly be with another woman, that what we had was too deep and too consuming. But Jack had waited for me for a long time. And he was serious about being through with all of that.
I walked out the back door, and I could see my brother’s big head on the screened-in porch—and my other brother’s smaller head beside it. A row of beer bottles were lined up in front of them, ready to be consumed. I sat down in a chair across from my brothers, handed a beer to Scott to open for me, and took a swig. Then I looked at John. “I forgive you,” I said. “I still think you’re an awful person, but I forgive you. I think I actually did a long time ago.”
I smiled at him, and he smiled back. “Thanks,” he said. “That means a lot.”
“Oh,” I added. “No one invited you for Christmas.”
We all laughed. I knew even then it couldn’t be this easy. It would get infinitely more complicated as the months went on. But, for now, I was sitting on the porch in Peachtree Bluff, drinking a beer with my brothers for what must have been the millionth time. I pretended my mom was right inside the kitchen and I had to be ready to hide my bottle behind my chair if I saw her coming toward the door.
I pretended Georgia was nothing more than Jack’s Realtor and nothing was or could be going on with them.
Because, sometimes, the truth, like warm beer, is simply too hard to swallow.
TWENTY-NINE
lost
sloane
After Grammy died, I wallowed and harped on the thoughts that I would never eat her particular cheese straws again or hear her tell my kids a bedtime story. I stayed up too late crying and drinking wine and sharing memories with my sisters. But life dealt her a hand. She played it. And that was something to be terribly grateful for.
Caroline and Mom had the funeral preparations under control, and Emerson, ever the cool, fun aunt, had asked if she and Mark could take the kids to the park. I was going to take her up on the offer, even though the boys would come back sugared up and loaded with any toy or trinket they had even looked at. I was going to have to watch her more closely when they got older and started asking her to sign for their tattoos.
I decided to go to the store to get a little bit of peace and quiet and to do the one thing my mother had asked me to: paint a piece for Jack’s living room.
I had immediately said, “No.”
