Possibilities: A Contemporary Retelling of Persuasion Read online

  Allie squared her shoulders. The time had come to face Frederick again. Maybe they could start over. And maybe this time, they could make it last.

  Frederick stood near the sanctuary door and watched the ladies’ room. He also watched the sandy-haired man in the sport coat. The guy was obviously waiting on Allie. He’d been trotting behind her while she streaked across the foyer. Just about the time he was going to tap her on the shoulder, she’d maneuvered around a young family, and the guy lost the moment. Now he leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, waiting.

  Narrowing his eyes, Frederick sized up the man. The guy checked a large gold watch and fidgeted with the clasp as his attention darted around the hall. The assured tilt of his head gave him a cocky edge, and Frederick wanted to wipe the smug expression off the guy’s face.

  The ladies’ room door opened. Allie stepped out and strode back into the foyer. Other than her slightly reddened eyes, no one would guess she’d been crying. And Frederick was as curious as ever for the reason. He sensed her emotion involved him and prayed it was all good.

  When the stranger stepped toward her and spoke, Frederick decided not to leave Allie to the snares of what he called a “church wolf.” Frederick had long ago realized that many men and women used church merely as a place to hit on the opposite sex. While he saw nothing wrong with a strong singles’ group and figured the best place to meet a spouse was at church, Frederick found it hard to swallow when people used the church as a hot spot for picking up dates and nothing more. If this dude wasn’t a wolf, Frederick would eat one of his cowboy boots. He moved toward Allie, who was gladly shaking the guy’s hand and smiling into his face as if she already knew him. And the church wolf was looking at Allie like he’d like to take her home with him now. A fresh shaft of jealousy surged through Frederick. What was the deal with Allie and men these days? First Jim, now this . . . this . . . impostor.

  Without acknowledging the man, Frederick neared Allie and said, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Allie glanced into his eyes, ducked her head, and tucked a strand of short hair behind her ear. Frederick used every ounce of restraint to keep from taking her hand in his. Her eyes hinted that she would have liked nothing more.

  “I’m Brent Everson,” the stranger said and offered his hand to Frederick. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “No, we haven’t,” Frederick said and made himself shake the guy’s hand. He looked into the man’s eyes and saw everything he expected to see—right down to the self-centered desires.

  “Brent is my cousin,” Allie explained.

  “Well, a used-to-be cousin,” Brent supplied and smiled toward Allie. “Like I was just explaining to Allie, I saw her from across the sanctuary and was nearly dead sure that was her. Turned out I was right.” He shifted his weight to the left and shifted back to the right.

  “I married Allie’s cousin,” Brent continued. “But she passed away last year.” He looked beyond Allie with just the right hint of regret.

  Frederick nearly raised his hands and huffed, What gives with these dead wives or fiancées?

  “I was so sorry when I heard,” Allie said and laid her hand on his arm. “That was the saddest funeral I’ve ever been to in my life.”

  “It was just such a shock,” Brent said, his eyes going red.

  Nice theatrics, Frederick thought and wondered if the guy could ever love someone as much as he obviously loved himself.

  “I had no idea that killer bees could really kill someone,” Allie continued.

  Frederick swallowed an incredulous snort. “Killer bees?” he blurted.

  “Yes. My wife—her name was Chrissy—she loved to garden, much like you, Allie . . .” Brent paused long enough to bathe Allie in an adoring gaze. “Anyway, she was near the woods behind the house one evening and stumbled into a hive of killer bees. They overtook her and,” he lowered his head and crossed his arms, “she had an allergic reaction and died.”

  Frederick eyed Allie, who was just as attentive to “poor Brent” as she had been to “poor Jim.”

  “It was just dreadful,” she soothed.

  Brent sniffed and squared his shoulders. “But I’m getting better all the time. You know, life must go on.”

  “Listen, would you like to sit with us?” Allie asked. “I’ve got a new friend—Frederick’s friend, actually—whose fiancée suddenly died about nine months ago. I think the two of you might be able to help each other.”

  “Sure, I’d love to sit with you,” Brent agreed, and the hungry look in his cold, green eyes suggested he barely remembered his wife’s name. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other; we need to get caught up.” He tugged Allie into the crook of his arm and moved toward the sanctuary.

  Frederick rubbed the corners of his mouth and watched the two walk away. Allie didn’t even have the decency to look back at him. He glared at Brent and decided the time had come to make a move with Allie. Enough with this undercover operation. Frederick should let his heart and intent be known or risk losing her forever.

  “Frederick!” Helena’s ecstatic voice echoed from near the entryway.

  He braced himself for a knock-you-flat hug and a cloud of perfume to go with it while turning toward her. She broke loose from a tall, lanky guy who looked like he could stand beneath a basketball net and dunk the ball flatfooted. His jeans were twice as long as Frederick’s, and Frederick tried to imagine the guy folding himself to fit into his airplane. The image left him on the verge of laughter.

  “Frederick!” she repeated. “I didn’t know you were going to be here this morning!”

  “Well, it was a last-minute decision, actually,” Frederick explained as the orchestra’s first strains of “Lord, I Lift Your Name on High” filtered from the sanctuary.

  Helena looked every bit as cute as her sister was gorgeous. For once she wore a demurely cut dress that made her look closer to twenty-nine than nineteen. Her hair was caught up in a twist, and she had the decency to offer Frederick a friendly, sideways hug and nothing more. However, her knock-your-socks-off perfume was as powerful as her hug was discreet. A sixth sense told Frederick the guy approaching must be Craig Hayden.

  “Craig,” Helena said and turned toward him, “this is my sister’s boyfriend, Frederick.”

  “More like a big brother,” Frederick corrected and shook Craig’s hand.

  “Yeah, right,” Helena teased, her glossy lips curving into a knowing smile.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Craig said. The sharp-eyed guy looked from Helena to Frederick and back to Helena like a pitbull protecting his favorite bone. Frederick nearly raised his hands palms outward in silent denial of any romantic interest in Helena. Frankly, he was thankful that Helena’s boyfriend seemed so attached. Maybe the two of them would get married, and Helena would stop kissing on him.

  The orchestra’s increased volume suggested the service was within seconds of starting. “I guess we’re just in time,” Helena said as she grabbed Frederick on one side and Craig on the other.

  “We’re sitting on the south side,” Frederick said. He pointed to the right, suavely disentangled himself from Helena, and motioned for the couple to move ahead of him.

  By the time Frederick entered the sanctuary, he suspected that Allie had somehow landed between “poor Jim” and “poor Brent.” When he stepped down the aisle, his suspicion was confirmed.

  Nineteen

  The day couldn’t have been longer for Frederick. He watched Brent compete with Jim for Allie’s attention all during lunch at the steakhouse while Louise monopolized him. The only person happy about the Louise business was Craig Hayden, who finally decided Frederick might be a potential friend, rather than a rival for Helena’s attention.

  The good thing that came of lunch was Frederick’s learning more about Craig, including that he was a senior who played basketball at the University of Georgia. The guy seemed every bit as stable as Helena was flighty. And Frederick hoped the young woman
had the good sense to marry the guy. The best Frederick could tell, he was everything she needed, and he desperately loved her.

  After lunch Brent Everson assumed the group was breaking up. No one bothered to tell him differently. While he drove off to wherever he was staying, the rest of the group gravitated back to Grove Acres. They spent the afternoon playing pool and card games. Mrs. Grove asked their cook to prepare sandwiches for the evening meal. Frederick couldn’t recall what he ate or who won the games. He was too exhausted trying to keep from being mauled by Louise while doing his best to eavesdrop on Allie and Jim’s conversation. The two had remained apart from the group all day. Now they were taking a moonlit stroll along the landscaped creek that also ran near Allie’s guesthouse.

  Frederick stood on the mansion’s deck, rested his hands on the railing, and strained for any signs of Jim and Allie. Decorative street lamps lined a path that looked like a romantic rendezvous from Southern Living. The sound of the creek played the accompaniment for a hoot owl’s lullaby. Frederick felt like a victim of his own schemes. The moon had never been fuller or brighter; the balmy evening, laced with the scent of magnolias, never more perfect for lovers.

  Frederick revisited his resolution from this morning. He had decided to make his move. Tonight would be the night, even if he had to lock Jim in the bathroom and beg Allie for a few minutes of her time.

  Frederick rested his elbows on the railing and leaned forward. His back threatened to tighten into a kink, and he jerked upward. He’d learned to heed those little warnings. Frederick had spent too many days in bed because of foolishly ignoring the threat of a kink or two. A chilling breeze stirred the trees into a whispering frenzy, and Frederick rolled down the sleeves on his shirt and buttoned the cuffs.

  Just about the time he’d relaxed again, the patio door opened. He swiveled toward the house as Louise erupted onto the deck.

  “There you are!” she purred. “I wondered what happened to you.”

  His shoulders tensing, Frederick stopped himself from jumping over the rail and decided this was the perfect opportunity to have their little talk. The time had come for some unquestionable boundaries.

  But Louise stopped halfway across the deck and gazed at the stars and golden moon. “Is this perfect or what?” she oozed and lifted her hands skyward. Then she scurried toward the service bar, and Frederick strained to see her through the shadows.

  When an instrumental melody floated across the deck, Frederick understood Louise’s intent. He covered his eyes and decided he needed to be firm. Very firm. Gentlemanly hints were not working here. When he lowered his hand, Louise was sashaying toward him, her sandals slapping against the ground. With a sly smile, she looped her arms around his neck, rested her head on his chest, and began to sway to the music. Her tank top left her shoulders nearly as bare as her short, denim skirt left her legs.

  “It’s cold out here,” Louise said and shivered. “I need a big, strong man to keep me warm.”

  Lifting his hands, Frederick debated his options while a cloud of her sweet perfume nearly sent him into a sinus attack. Finally he gripped Louise’s hands, removed them from his neck, and put some space between them.

  “Louise, we’ve got to talk,” he said.

  “Who can talk on a night like this?” she gurgled while moonbeams danced in her hair. Frederick couldn’t deny that Louise was gorgeous—even more so in the moonlight. But she didn’t stand a chance next to Allie and the memories she stirred.

  “Listen.” He cupped her hands in his and jiggled them for emphasis. “Just listen to me,” Frederick admonished like a correcting father.

  She blinked as confusion played upon her features.

  “You need to understand that you shouldn’t throw yourself at men like this.” Frederick shook his head from side to side. “There are some men out there who’d take you up on what they see as an offer of . . .” Frederick searched for the best words and finally came out with, “well, you know.”

  All Louise’s confusion was chased away by a veil of joy that brightened her eyes. “You’re jealous!” she enthused and hopped up and down. “You saw me talking to Jim earlier and you’re jealous!”

  “No!” Frederick declared. “No, I’m not!”

  Louise lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him for a tight hug. “Oh! You love me! I knew you did. I just knew it,” she rushed. “I can’t wait until we get married. It’s going to be wonderful!”

  “Get married?” A surge of desperation attacked Frederick. He gripped Louise’s shoulders and pushed her away a second time. “Louise, listen!” he barked. “This isn’t about marriage or love or . . . or jealousy! I’m trying to tell you I need some space and that you need to be careful! You just don’t treat men the way you’ve treated me without most of them thinking it’s an offer! You’re lucky I’m not just out for myself, otherwise—”

  “You mean you’re breaking up with me?” she squeaked.

  “No!” Frederick wailed. “How can we break up when we aren’t even—” The tears filling her eyes stopped him. Frederick worked his mouth as a hard reality hit him between the eyes: She really thinks I care for her. But all I’ve done is use her to get to Allie.

  “Oh man,” he groaned and turned back toward the yard. Frederick gripped the handrail and gazed at the dark sky filled with a canvas full of stars. Now what? he thought and realized he wasn’t much better than the men he was trying to warn her against. While he was afraid someone might take advantage of her physically, Frederick had used her attachment to him as a cover. Both involved selfishly using Louise.

  Frederick had rationalized his choice by assuming he’d be another of Louise’s “catches of the day” and that she’d get over him as quickly as she had the other “fish” she brought home. But what if I’m really not just another catch of the day for her? he worried and didn’t even want to look at her.

  The sound of sandals clapping against the deck preceded the patio door’s slamming. Frederick’s shoulders drooped. He’d rather die than hurt a woman, but it looked like that was exactly what he’d done.

  He stared toward the creek and wondered if Jim and Allie were ever going to finish their walk. Sophia and Darren left an hour ago, and Frederick was ready to go home, too. Thoughts of Louise’s hurt glares were enough to drive him away for good . . . if not for Allie’s presence.

  A hint of soft conversation soon turned into distinguishable voices, and Frederick detected the shadowed figures of his friend and ex-almost-fiancée nearing through the darkness. Worries about Louise vanished as they merged into a yard lamp’s glow near a row of weeping willows. Fully expecting them to be holding hands, Frederick rammed his hands into his jeans pockets and stiffened. But the tension was for nothing. The two were several feet apart and not even touching.

  Frederick released his breath and rubbed the base of his neck. Before he could even call a greeting to them, the back door opened again. Frederick glanced over his shoulder. Louise stared at him, and even through the shadows he detected the tears. The soft beat of a jazz swing number filled the night with romantic promises that were as ironic as they were sweet.

  “Are we still going on the flight with you t-tomorrow?” Louise called, her voice wobbly.

  “Yes, of course.” Frederick didn’t know what else to say or how to communicate the regret swelling his heart. Before Sophia and Darren left for the evening, Louise had once again invited herself for a plane ride. Frederick had included the whole group. He’d already booked a seat on a shuttle flight to Charlotte for early tomorrow morning. By noon he should be landing the Beechcraft at the county airport near Atlanta. Tomorrow afternoon, the gang was all set to drive to the airport, where Frederick would take them for a ride.

  Louise’s spontaneous smile accompanied her dashing aside her tears. “Good,” she said as if she’d won some sort of contest.

  Frederick squinted. Before he could even begin to fathom her logic, Jim’s voice floated from nearby. “I need to go. I’m not doi
ng well.”

  Turning from Louise, Frederick focused on his friend, who trudged up the deck’s stairs like a sailor who spent a long night on a stormy sea. The owl’s lonesome hooting mingled with the music and accented Jim’s hollow-eyed desperation.

  “He’s really not doing well,” Allie mouthed from close behind him. She pretended to be slitting her wrists and raised her brows for emphasis.

  Frederick cut his gaze back to Jim, who stared straight ahead with a lifeless expression. Even though Jim had never referenced suicide, Frederick had worried about the possibility. After all, Jim had been depressed out of his mind, and depressed people often thought of taking their own lives.

  Jim walked toward the house like a zombie. Stunned, Frederick watched him as a tendril of regret twined through his soul. Only this morning he had been aggravated at Jim for monopolizing Allie. Now the poor guy didn’t look like he even realized Allie was female, let alone attractive.

  Allie moved to Frederick’s side. He glanced her way. “You mean suicide?” he queried.

  Crossing her arms, she nodded.

  Jim paused at the door and twisted toward Frederick. “I’ll be waiting,” he said softly.

  “Uh, sure,” Frederick replied and gripped Allie’s arm. “Tell me what he said.”

  “We were talking about Robert Frost,” Allie explained. “You know that famous poem, ‘Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening’?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Frederick replied and searched his memory until he unearthed bits and pieces of the poem. “What about it?”

  “Jim just said he thinks it’s about suicide. The poet says he’s looking into the forest dark and deep, but he’s got miles to go before he sleeps. Jim thinks sleep refers to death and that the writer is tempted to commit suicide. And he said he didn’t feel like he had miles to go—that he wished he could sleep now.” She lifted one hand and drew invisible quotation marks around the last two words.