Read Online The Memory of Lemon by Judith Fertig - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judith Fertig
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How differently this evening has ended from what I intended
, I thought as I pulled my nightshirt over my head. My sexy lingerie lay at the top of the hamper, not trailing a way to the bed. Now was the perfect time for a pity party.
Why couldnât I be with the man who truly, unselfishly, lovedme? I had given Luke everything I had and he still wanted moreâa one-sided marriage that allowed him to stray and forced me to stay.
And then I got mad.
Luke didnât own me. I had left him and I wasnât going back. I would figure this out. I was not going to lose Ben.
But how was I going to fightback?
6
Neely
After my Saturday night date debacle, I was dreading our trip to Augusta.
Why had I asked Ben to go with us? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe he would simply beg off. I wouldnât blame him.
The clash between Mrs. Stidham and her daughter, Lydia, had taken an abrupt backseat to my personal dilemma. Roshonda, Gavin, and I might find a compromise to the mother/daughter stalemate through our visit to the familyâs Kentucky home place today, but I couldnât see a way yet to make things better with Ben.
The early morning drizzle did nothing to change that. I hoped Ben would still come with us. I would soon see.
I was relieved to see Gavin drive up with Ben in the frontseat. I left the bakery with a to-go carton of coffees and two boxes of my famous cinnamon rolls for the drive. I did a quick visual scan of the parking lot and Benson Street, both empty, before I got in the backseat with Ro.
I passed the coffees around, gave everyone a napkin, and opened the boxes.
Is there anything better than the scent of a still-warm cinnamon roll? Yes: the taste of one. Maybe that would give two star-crossed, would-be lovers a little comfort.
âI canât eat and drive,â moaned Gavin.
âYou mean youâre worried youâll get crumbs on your jeans,â Ben said, between bites. âCrumbs and a crease donât mix.â
âLet me drive, then. Crumbs would only improve my outfit,â Ro said, gesturing to her slightly rumpled appearance, which her quilted jacket didnât help. âCrumbs would add a little texture. Isnât that what interior designers say?â
âHmph,â muttered Gavin, fastidiously licking frosting from his fingers. âLet me finish this, and then weâll get going.â He looked slightly horrified as Ben flicked a cinnamon roll crumb onto the upholstery.
Looking closer, I saw that Roshonda had little flakes of the previous dayâs mascara under her eyes.
âLate night, huh?â
âNobodyâs business what kind of night I had,â she said and then smiled at me in a cat-that-ate-the-cream kind of way.
âWell, Iâm glad someone had a good time,â Ben grumbled.
My heart sank.
Roshondaâs look to me said,
What???
I sighed and made the cutoff gesture to her. I didnât want to get into all of that now. It would cast a pall on the whole day.
Roshonda rolled her eyes and went back to nibbling all the frosting off her roll.
âLetâs get in the zone for this,â Gavin said, drinking the last of his coffee and patting his lips with a napkin. âBluegrass music. A little Emmylou Harris to start our Kentucky trip?â He chose a disc from the console and slipped it into the CD player.
We drove out of the parking lot with âBlue Kentucky Girlâ in Emmylouâs distinctive meandering voice, a little tattered at the edges.
Gavin and Roshonda started singing. Ben and I just listened.
Bluegrass music tells it like it is. Lives full of high spots and low points. Lost loves. Moments of amazing grace. We just had to get through it all.
We took the tangle of highways to Route 52, the Ohio River Scenic Byway, which followed the river through little towns like New Richmond and Point Pleasant. To our right was the Ohio River, wide and slate gray as the sun just
How differently this evening has ended from what I intended
, I thought as I pulled my nightshirt over my head. My sexy lingerie lay at the top of the hamper, not trailing a way to the bed. Now was the perfect time for a pity party.
Why couldnât I be with the man who truly, unselfishly, lovedme? I had given Luke everything I had and he still wanted moreâa one-sided marriage that allowed him to stray and forced me to stay.
And then I got mad.
Luke didnât own me. I had left him and I wasnât going back. I would figure this out. I was not going to lose Ben.
But how was I going to fightback?
6
Neely
After my Saturday night date debacle, I was dreading our trip to Augusta.
Why had I asked Ben to go with us? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe he would simply beg off. I wouldnât blame him.
The clash between Mrs. Stidham and her daughter, Lydia, had taken an abrupt backseat to my personal dilemma. Roshonda, Gavin, and I might find a compromise to the mother/daughter stalemate through our visit to the familyâs Kentucky home place today, but I couldnât see a way yet to make things better with Ben.
The early morning drizzle did nothing to change that. I hoped Ben would still come with us. I would soon see.
I was relieved to see Gavin drive up with Ben in the frontseat. I left the bakery with a to-go carton of coffees and two boxes of my famous cinnamon rolls for the drive. I did a quick visual scan of the parking lot and Benson Street, both empty, before I got in the backseat with Ro.
I passed the coffees around, gave everyone a napkin, and opened the boxes.
Is there anything better than the scent of a still-warm cinnamon roll? Yes: the taste of one. Maybe that would give two star-crossed, would-be lovers a little comfort.
âI canât eat and drive,â moaned Gavin.
âYou mean youâre worried youâll get crumbs on your jeans,â Ben said, between bites. âCrumbs and a crease donât mix.â
âLet me drive, then. Crumbs would only improve my outfit,â Ro said, gesturing to her slightly rumpled appearance, which her quilted jacket didnât help. âCrumbs would add a little texture. Isnât that what interior designers say?â
âHmph,â muttered Gavin, fastidiously licking frosting from his fingers. âLet me finish this, and then weâll get going.â He looked slightly horrified as Ben flicked a cinnamon roll crumb onto the upholstery.
Looking closer, I saw that Roshonda had little flakes of the previous dayâs mascara under her eyes.
âLate night, huh?â
âNobodyâs business what kind of night I had,â she said and then smiled at me in a cat-that-ate-the-cream kind of way.
âWell, Iâm glad someone had a good time,â Ben grumbled.
My heart sank.
Roshondaâs look to me said,
What???
I sighed and made the cutoff gesture to her. I didnât want to get into all of that now. It would cast a pall on the whole day.
Roshonda rolled her eyes and went back to nibbling all the frosting off her roll.
âLetâs get in the zone for this,â Gavin said, drinking the last of his coffee and patting his lips with a napkin. âBluegrass music. A little Emmylou Harris to start our Kentucky trip?â He chose a disc from the console and slipped it into the CD player.
We drove out of the parking lot with âBlue Kentucky Girlâ in Emmylouâs distinctive meandering voice, a little tattered at the edges.
Gavin and Roshonda started singing. Ben and I just listened.
Bluegrass music tells it like it is. Lives full of high spots and low points. Lost loves. Moments of amazing grace. We just had to get through it all.
We took the tangle of highways to Route 52, the Ohio River Scenic Byway, which followed the river through little towns like New Richmond and Point Pleasant. To our right was the Ohio River, wide and slate gray as the sun just
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