Love Starts with Elle(16)

Sara Beth had ridden with Mama to pick Elle up from the airport. “Tell me, how’d it go? I want to hear all about the house.”

“Do you know your daddy and I were married ten years before we bought our first home?”

“We argued a lot, Mama.” She gritted her teeth when her eyes flooded. “We don’t seem to like many of the same things.”

Hadn’t they liked the same things at one time? Food, movies, music? So far, nothing translated into the bigger areas of their life.

Elle gave the abbreviated version of her week with Jeremiah, careful not to paint him in too bad a light.

Mama was undaunted by the story of disagreements and differences. “Sara Beth here came home from her honeymoon ready for divorce court.”

“Really, Sara Beth?”

“Yeah, we had a pretty horrible time.” Elle’s oldest sister had thick brown hair like Mama and wide-set brown eyes on a broad-boned face. “Parker and I had dated for over a year and never fought once. Went on the honeymoon and fought nonstop.”

“Yeah, you unlocked all the sexual tension,” Mama said with all authority.

“Mama,” Elle squealed, heat prickling over her cheeks.

Sara Beth waved her off. “She’s right. All the issues we’d ignored while dancing around unsatisfied passion started rearing their ugly heads.”

Great, what did all this arguing and discontentedness say about Elle and Jeremiah? Sexual tension? Hardly. Elle pressed her hand to her middle, remembering how she tightened and shivered every time his warm breath breezed her cheek or ear. Until this past week . . .

“Elle, don’t worry. This will work itself out.” Mama always said not to worry, as if, poof, just like that all worry vanished. “Oh, and good news. The invitations came while you were in Dallas. Your sisters and I spent an evening addressing them. I dropped them by the post office yesterday.” She turned around in the passenger seat with a fake frown as if to lecture Elle. “So, young lady, you’re getting married no matter what.”

Well, in that case, what’s a girl to do?

Elle remembered feeling better after that, kissing Mama’s cheek and asking to pull into a drive-thru. She felt half starved.

At home now a little over a day, Elle had taken time to reflect and adjust her perspective. She’d hoped Jeremiah had done the same. What time was it? Nine ten. She’d wait another hour and give him a call before she went to bed.

“Hello, anyone here? Marsha?”

Elle stopped on the edge of the hallway leading into the living room. A tall, dark-haired man with a winter complexion stood by the front door with a tiny bit of a girl draped over his shoulder.

“Marsha?” His eyes fell on her face, then slipped down her neck to her robe . . .

“Who are you?” Elle gripped the loose edges of her robe and took a slow step backward. Her softball bat was in the hall closet, right-hand side.

“Heath McCord. Who are you?” he asked.

“Elle Garvey.” She jerked open the door, fumbled for the bat, knocking boxes to the floor with a thump. She cocked the bat over her shoulder. “Don’t take another step.”

His eyes roamed the length of the bat. “Isn’t this 21 Coffin Creek Point?”

“Back it up, bubba. Outside.” Elle shifted the bat off her shoulder, circling it in the air as she stepped into the living room. Most robbers were cowards at heart. “What’s with the girl?”

“My daughter.”

When he was on the other side of the screen, Elle slammed the door and locked it, addressing him through the window. “Okay, who are you and how’d you get into my house?”

“Key. I’ve rented this place.” He shifted the girl to sit on the crook of his arm, exposing a long, wet stain running down the front of his shirt. Her golden curls were tangled and frizzing around her pale face and hollow blue eyes. “My lease started today.”

“Impossible. I’m the owner, and as you can see . . . still here.” Elle lowered the bat. The name Heath McCord did have a familiar pitch. Was that the one Marsha had given her? “Doesn’t your lease start in April?”

He shifted the girl again and Elle could see their weariness. “I asked for March fifteenth and Marsha Downey said fine and dandy.”

Crud. Elle slumped, lowering the bat, recognizing the woman’s catchphrase. Darn her. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not moving out for another month.”

“Is that my problem?” Heath cocked his head to one side, studying her through the window. “I’ve paid in full. Have the proof in my van.”

Elle gripped her robe tighter. “You can have an extra month at the end of the lease.”

“Thanks just the same, but I’d like my lease to start right now. It’s been a hard year and a long trip.” The girl lifted her head, muttered something, then shivered and buckled, covering herself and her daddy with bile.

Elle swung open the door. “Bathroom is down the hall. Towels are in the closet.”



“He’s here now, Marsha.” Elle paced the length of her front-porch verandah, passing under the yellow door lamp, then into the dark corners and back to the light again. The summer material of her robe was too thin to protect against the chill clinging to the night.

“Sugar, what do you want me to do? The man’s paid his money. Signed a lease.”