The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(102)

But I’d already begun to back up, tripping on my dress and feeling the tug of fabric before the sound of it ripping beneath the heel of my shoe set me free.

“Mellie,” he said again as he began running toward me. “Please come back. It’s not what it looks like—I promise. Please stop. Let me explain.”

But desperation and anger and hurt gave me the energy to move faster than I’d ever run. Somewhere between the kitchen and front doors of the restaurant, I’d lost a shoe, the second one coming off in the middle of Spring Street. I’d only run a block before I realized that Jack wasn’t following me, the absence of the sound of running footsteps making me stop. I sat on the curb to catch my breath, wondering what was worse—the image of him and Jayne in an intimate embrace, or the fact that he didn’t care enough to pursue me.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, unaware of any passersby or the weather or any critters crawling along the sidewalk, much less the passage of time. I remembered trying to cry but found I couldn’t. Like after all those long, sleepless nights with the babies when I’d tried to finally go to sleep and found that I was too tired. It was like that now. My grief and sadness had gone beyond tears.

I’d somehow managed to hang on to my evening purse, the small strap still dangling from my arm. I fished my phone out of my purse, seeing that Jack had left me fifteen text messages and tried to call ten times. I deleted the texts and voice mails and then blocked his number, the new Mellie voice growing fainter and fainter until I couldn’t hear it anymore. Then I dialed my mother, and the sound of her voice almost broke the dam of tears that were blocked in my throat.

I wasn’t sure what I said, but she promised me that my dad would leave right away and could be here within fifteen minutes. I don’t know how fast he drove, or how many red lights and stop signs he must have blown through, but he was there in less than ten. He took one look at me, barefoot and with my dress torn, and he immediately jumped out of his car and practically carried me back to it as if I were a small child.

I know he talked, and asked me questions, but I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t listen. All I could do was relive those horrifying few moments in the restaurant kitchen. It had to have been less than a minute, but the memory of it made it last for an eternity.

My mother was waiting at the front door of her house on Legare Street, and gathered me in her arms before steering me up the stairs and into the bathroom, where she’d filled the tub with hot, scented water. She unzipped my dress and then gave me privacy while I stepped in the tub, then sat on the closed toilet lid while I soaked in stunned silence as the steam wafted over me. She didn’t talk, which made me think she was there as less of a companion and more to make sure I didn’t deliberately slip under the bubbles.

Eventually, the water must have grown cold, because she pulled the stopper on the tub, then placed a large fluffy towel and thick robe on the vanity before stepping out of the bathroom. Afterward, she led me to the large four-poster bed in the room where Nola had once stayed before I married Jack, and pulled back the thick duvet.

“Take these,” she said, offering me two white pills and a glass of water. “They’ll help you sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, and we can talk.”

I didn’t question her but took the pills and swallowed them before lying down on the pillow and letting my mother cover me. I kept my eyes open, not wanting to be tortured with the image of Jack and Jayne, and waited for the pills to take me to oblivion.





Two days later I sat on the floor of my mother’s drawing room with JJ and Sarah, the sun creating a kaleidoscope of colors through the stained glass window, bathing us in a multihued blanket of light. My mother laughed as the children tried to catch the colors in their chubby fists, but I could only find the energy to smile.

“Mellie, I wish you would talk to him. You can’t stay here forever, with so much unresolved between you.”

I stared blankly at her, realizing that I had, actually, imagined staying there in my parents’ house forever without ever leaving it or having to see anybody ever again.

“Jack’s been here about a dozen times.”

“Did you tell him I didn’t want to talk to him?”

“I didn’t have to.” She paused. “He just said that he needed to talk to me.”

I sat up straighter. “To you? About what?”

“I have no idea, but he said it was important that he speak with me before you and he had a discussion.”

“Please tell me you shut the door in his face.”

“I was more polite about it than that, but in essence, yes. I told him that he needed to speak with you first. But, Mellie, one of us will have to talk to him sooner or later. And the sooner the better. It’s not a good idea to make assumptions without knowing—”

I cut her off. “He had his arms around her! And they were not talking about the weather. And I heard Marc’s announcement myself, so I know Jack’s been going behind my back in more ways than one.” I glared at her. “This is all your fault. You were the one who told me I should be a grown-up and find out the truth no matter how uncomfortable it made me. So I did, and look what happened!”

She frowned but didn’t defend herself. “He wants to see the babies. You can’t keep them away from him. He’s their father.”