Deconstructed(75)

“Oh my God,” Cricket breathed, pressing her hand to her mouth. “That’s crazy.”

“I know. It was . . . well, something I’m not willing to ever repeat. And because I got railroaded by a member of my family, I knew how you felt when you found out your husband was cheating and thought you were too stupid to figure it out. I was angry for you because I had been there. Well, in a way.”

Cricket reached over and put her hand over mine. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. Life has dealt you an unfair hand, but I’m going to help you find a better dealer. I mean, not a dealer, but you know what I mean. I’m going to help you get your business started. Because your deconstructed dresses fashioned into—” She stopped, her eyes growing big.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s an analogy, Ruby. You’ve taken the good parts and made them into something better. It’s like a theme for both of our lives. Well, at least yours. You’re re-creating your life, Ruby, and it’s worthwhile.” Tears glittered in her eyes and she smiled. “Oh, oh . . . What do you think about calling your clothing line Deconstructed?”

I turned my hand over in hers and gave it a squeeze, my heart suddenly lighter. That burden I carried had been lifted, and Cricket had taken it and tossed it over her shoulder as if it were nothing more than some spilled salt. “You know, I think Deconstructed is a perfect name. Even though the ripped-up parts are used to reconstruct the new thing.”

Cricket withdrew her hand, took a sip of wine, and narrowed her eyes. “True, but without the deconstructing, you have no history. It’s the deconstruction that matters. Without understanding who you are and accepting all the good and bad parts of your past, you don’t know the things worth keeping, and you can’t get rid of the things that need to be tossed. You can’t remake yourself.”

Her words sank inside me, causing me to cast yet another glance at Dak. “That’s true. Maybe I focused way too much on the stains and rips rather than seeing how the rest of me could become something better. I can’t change my past. I can’t hide it under a big, ugly sweater, either.”

“No. Neither of us can. I guess we all find out in life that a little deconstructing—a bit of pulling away, examination, trimming, and refitting—helps us discover what will hold up. And if we’re lucky, we get a chance to become something even better.” Cricket nodded as she affirmed these things to herself. Her color was back to normal. Distracting her with the sins of my past had at least taken her mind off the sins of the present.

“This whole analogy thing is pretty good, Cricket. Oh, and I meant to tell you another thing—Ed Earl came to see me last night and gave me a check for eighty thousand dollars.” I couldn’t believe I was blabbing about the money, too. It was like once I had opened the closet door to my real self, I had tap-danced out in a shimmy dress. “I’m thinking it would be great seed money for my new side business. Maybe get a website and some advertising? Or something.”

“Eighty thousand? That’s a great apology,” Cricket said, her lips finally curving into a smile. “How about we do a soft launch of your line at the Spring Fling? That could be perfect. Do you think a month is enough time? I know someone who can do the website. We have only four dresses, though. I would think you’d need a few more. But you can also do custom. Yes, ready-to-wear and custom pieces . . . hmm.”

Juke entered the bar through the kitchen as Cricket mulled over a plan for my business, tossing Shirley a wave as he beelined for our table. “Hey, Juke is here. We’ll talk dresses later.”

Cricket lost her smile as she drained the wineglass and set it down.

“Hiya, ladies,” Juke said, turning and catching Dak’s eye. “Coffee if you don’t mind, Dak.”

“Well, you look positively normal, Juke,” I said, noting that his shirt was clean and his jaw was freshly shaven.

My cousin waved my compliment away as he hooked an empty chair with his foot and dragged it over to our table. “Yeah, okay, I get it. I know I’ve been acting a fool. But Griffin threatened to beat me into oblivion, so I decided I like my mug enough to keep it pretty.”

I snorted.

He looked slightly hurt.

“Well, I’m very glad you’ve decided to stop spending your days dead drunk,” Cricket said as Shirley set a cup of black coffee in front of Juke and then disappeared without a single word. “I’m giving you a second chance, thanks to Griffin. You owe your cousin a great deal. He seems to care more about you than you care about yourself.”

Cricket’s admonishment was delivered a bit high-handedly.

Juke, however, looked nonplussed. “Well, Mrs. Crosby, the anniversary of my wife’s death always does that to me. Makes me want to numb myself so I can’t feel. Not healthy, but I usually get past it. What can I say? You caught me on a bad month.”

His words were almost too honest. Made me twitchy to hear him say such a thing so easily. Shouldn’t it be hard to admit that kind of hurt? I had my fair share of dings growing up the way I did, but I could never be so matter-of-fact about my own shortcomings. Maybe that was my problem. I played everything too close because I didn’t want people to know I was human. That I hurt. That I cried. That I had weaknesses. And I had just spilled the greatest shame of my life to Cricket, and she hadn’t rejected me. In fact, she’d extended me grace and comfort.