Page 48 of Never Always
Tennyson
“IHAVE TOtell you something,” Clover says, pulling me aside after dessert while we’re lingering in the living room chatting about how much tryptophan is in turkey. “I’m sure this isn’t the place or time, but I thought you should know.” Gossip. The root of all evil, but let’s be honest, we all want to hear it. Even when we say we don’t. Peeking over my shoulder, I make sure Sue-Ellen isn’t paying attention and lead Clover back into the dining room.
“Tell me,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears.
She rests her hand on the small swell of her belly. I wonder why she hasn’t told anyone she’s pregnant yet. She abstained from all alcohol today and no one said a word. Not even my sister. Is that what Clover is going to do right now? Tell everyone her good news? “It’s about Sierra,” she hisses the name. “Her boyfriend now.” She pulls me down on the wooden bench. “He doesn’t know, Tennyson. He doesn’t know what Sierra did to Grange. With Ariel.”
My stomach knots and I feel faint. “He wasn’t a part of the plan?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide. “I have it on good authority that he’s a good Catholic boy and he would absolutely leave her in a pile of used Jesus candles if he knew what she did. To the extent of which it was done.”
I ask even though I know. My voice shakes. “Why are you telling me this?”
Clover stands when Rexy and Maeve stumble into the kitchen, lips locked and hands roving. “Go to the guest room,” Clover barks, smile wide.
Maeve pulls away. “Oh, I didn’t know you guys were in here. Sorry.”
“Lovebirds,” Clover says, clasping her hands. Rexy tries pulling Maeve into the guestroom but she objects, obviously, a better woman than I am. When they go back into the living room, Clover’s face grows serious again, a wizard in schooling her features any which way she wants them. A dose of that magic would do me well.
“Do you want to dole out revenge? She hurt Grange.” This is what happens in Greenton, Alabama. It’s quite literally, by definition, how lives are ruined in a small town.
I shake my head. “He’s glad it happened, Clover. I don’t think he’d want that. Why don’t you tell everyone you’re pregnant?” I try to divert the conversation.
“It’s not my day. It’s Maeve’s. She deserves it.” Clover inhales deeply, and takes a bite out of the sweet potato casserole from the serving spoon, then hums. “Okay, honey bear. The info is yours to do with what you will. I felt compelled to let you know.” Her eyes light up when Mercer enters, looking for her. Such ease in their love. For her, it really was just a piece of information. For me, I have the means to destroy a life. At what cost? Tennyson Kline from a couple months ago would never. She’d call it none of her business, and focus on herself. But now, I’m in love, and they say love makes you do crazy things. Jealousy. Rage. Emotions I’ve never experienced on such a level.
With dread, I sit next to my mama on the sofa. Grange is on her other side. “This house is lovely, Corrick. So big for just you, though.”
Grange smiles.
I groan. “Mama, please don’t start.”
“I’m not starting, darling. It’s just a shame a fine man such as Mr. Granger doesn’t share his home with a wife of his own.”
I cover my face. There’s no use in arguing or objecting. “Well, you see, ma’am, I almost did share my home with a wife of my own. She would have been the wrong wife though. Can’t make any mistakes that community service can’t remedy. That would have been one.” He chuckles like it’s a joke, but now she’s going to ask more, want to know details about his botched engagement and I’ll have to sit through another conversation about black-hearted Sierra.
“But that’s his business,” I butt in. “You don’t have to tell her.” His blue eyes sear into mine.
Mama looks offended. “I had no reason to question, darling. It’s obvious the both of you were meant to be together. The past is the past.” She shocks me with her response. It’s level-headed. It’s kind. It’s positive. She’s in my corner. I smile my thanks. We passed. Grange passed. In record time, no doubt. Part of me wants to see her scorecard. What set us over the edge?
Grange meets my eyes and his smile is electric. I feel it in my chest and my stomach, a lovely buzz that tells me that her marriage talk might be crazy, but it’s not off the table. Even though I know we’re far from that prospect—he can’t kiss me, but the fact that he’s not petrified by my mama’s assertions is promising. Grange stands when Mercer and Clover announce they’re leaving to attend another get-together in their neighborhood. I follow suit, hugging Clover. She reminds me of what she told me earlier, and the anvil returns to my shoulders.
Grange senses the shift in my demeanor immediately. Arm placed around my shoulder, he leads me to the empty loveseat. No one can sit next to us, but Rexy perches in front of us and my parents and sister are on the sofa. He pulls Maeve onto his lap.
“Listen, guys, I want you to be in our wedding.”
Grange laughs. “That fast? I mean I knew it would be quick, but that took what? Two hours?”
“I told him I wouldn’t move in until we were married,” Maeve says, annoyance lacing her tone.
“We’re doing it in two weeks, when we get home from the CQC training trip. At the lighthouse on base.”
“That’s what you want?” Grange asks Maeve. “Don’t let him run you over to get what he wants.”
“Isn’t that his specialty?” Maeve replies, shaking her head. The smile playing on her lips tells us she wouldn’t want it any other way. “Steamrolling everything in his path to get what he wants.”
“To clarify, I do love you and want to marry you. Not just so you sleep in my bed every night.” Rexy lays his head on her shoulder, reminding me of a little boy clinging to the thing he loves best in the world. “Trust me. That’s something I knew or I wouldn’t have said yes.” Maeve extends her hand to admire the engagement ring. “I’ve always wanted a winter lighthouse wedding. I’m not afraid of the cold.”
“I will most definitely be there and do whatever I can to help out,” I tell Maeve. “What’s CQC?” Their training trips are something they’ve spoken about in front of me before, but the abbreviations will be the death of me. Now I know what people feel like when I’m talking about my research and I use acronyms.
