“I told you that you couldn’t force it.” He leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees. “You can’t force this either.”
“I know.”
“She has to find her own way. You can’t help her find it. And if you try to force your way on her, it likely won’t take.”
“I know that too.”
Royal walked toward the opening of the barn. She hesitated for a moment in the sun, scuffing the dirt with the toe of her boot. She looked back at her grandfather, partially hidden in shadow, and gave him a halfhearted smile.
“Thanks for talking to me. I think I’ll go for a drive.”
As she walked toward her car, she called forth again the memory of her first drive with her grandfather. How he’d pulled open the gate and ushered them out on the winding dirt road down the mountain. The feeling of elation she’d had in that moment came rushing back as she settled behind the wheel of her car and cranked the engine. She figured a long drive through the hills would do her some good. She eased onto the dirt road and headed north, into the mountains.
❖
Lovey lifted several garments and inspected them for rips or tears. She and a few other women from the church were sorting donated clothing that would end up being delivered to the children’s home in Gainesville. The task today was to repair any small imperfections, like rips or missing buttons, before delivering the garments for dispersal to needy kids. She held up a tiny dress and felt a pang that she and George had not had a chance to have a child. If they’d had a child, at least she wouldn’t feel so alone.
As soon as she formulated the thought, she realized her loneliness was her own choice. She’d not felt alone with Royal, but because of her own fears, she’d pushed Royal away. She let her hands, holding the small pink dress, drop to a heap in her lap and gazed down at it.
“Are you all right, Miss Lovey?” She heard a young woman’s voice and looked up to see Laurel Lee regarding her.
“I’m fine.” She remembered that Laurel was the woman she’d seen with Royal that day at the church when everything had gone so wrong. She’d wondered ever since that day what Laurel and Royal had talked about. But how could she ask? She didn’t know Laurel except distantly as a fellow church member. They’d never spoken more than a few words to each other. And to question her about Royal would likely only give the gossip mill fuel.
Or was she so self-involved that she just thought everyone cared about what she was up to when in fact, no one was paying attention? She wasn’t sure.
“So, you and Joe Dawson seem to be getting along.” It was a statement more than a question from Laurel. It seemed she wanted to connect with Lovey in some way. Maybe because they were the only two at the church this morning who were close to the same age. The rest of the women, clustered near a large pile of clothes they were sorting, were much older.
“Yes, we are.” Lovey wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal to Laurel about Joe. She didn’t really want to talk about Joe. She was dying to ask about Royal. She decided to tread lightly and see what she could uncover. “I saw you speaking with Royal Duval the other day after the service. Are you two friends?”
Laurel seemed to smile with satisfaction. Maybe she wasn’t the only one looking for an opportunity to talk about Royal. Lovey’s stomach knotted as she waited for Laurel to respond.
“I’ve known Royal since we were kids. She’s a real character, that Royal. She definitely marches to the beat of her own drum, if you know what I mean.”
Lovey was trying to discern judgment from Laurel’s comment, but she didn’t hear reproach in Laurel’s voice, only playfulness.
“I do think I know what you mean.”
Lovey tried to envision Royal as a youngster. She pictured a towheaded child, dressed like a boy, playful and carefree. She contrasted that against her own experience as a child. She could call forth the feelings she’d had as a young girl, seated quietly on a hard church pew, listening to her father in the pulpit. There had been no tolerance for distraction or fidgeting. Sit up straight. Shoulders back. Be seen and not heard. And all the other admonishments little girls endured so that they would grow up to be the Southern belles their parents desired.
Lovey ached to share her true feelings with someone, but she didn’t know Laurel well enough to know whether she could be trusted.
“She was pretty upset about you and Joe.” And there it was. Laurel had made the first genuine move toward honesty.
Lovey looked down at her hands in her lap trying to decide how much to say. Her emotions were so raw, so near the surface, that she feared even trying to share the smallest amount of her true feelings would cause the dam to burst and she’d lose total control. The last thing she wanted was to dissolve into a crying heap on the floor of the fellowship hall.
“She was upset?” That was lame, but she wanted Laurel to share more.
“Yeah, I don’t think she knew you and Joe were seeing each other. It’s a terrible thing to see the person you care about with someone else.”
A knot formed quickly in Lovey’s throat, and she knew there were tears in her eyes when she looked at Laurel. “I was—” The words died as her voice was choked by tears. She stood abruptly and went to sit in one of the small Sunday school rooms
