Honeysuckle Summer (The Sweet Magnolias #7)(52)


Sarah looked bewildered. “Why?”

“I’m wondering about that myself right now. He’s a decent, wonderful, caring guy, and he really seems to like me.”

“Isn’t that all good?”

“Right up until I add in all the things that make both of us a bad bet for a relationship.”

“You’re talking about Paul getting out of prison,” Sarah concluded.

“And my awful marriage. I didn’t walk away from that without scars, Sarah. The ones I have run pretty deep. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to have a normal relationship with a man again. Every time Carter touches me, I get jumpy, and not always in a good way.”

“But sometimes in a good way, right?”

Raylene smiled. “Definitely sometimes.”

“You just need time to be sure you can trust him,” Sarah concluded. “Even I can see that, but talk it over with Dr. McDaniels when you see her. I’ll bet I’m right.”

“I’ll bet you are, too, but what if it never happens? What if I lead Carter on for a few weeks or months with the hope that things will get better, and they don’t?”

“He’s a grown man. I’m sure he understands the situation. He’ll deal.”

“But by then, it would more than likely break my heart to let him go.”

“Are you feeling all that great about sending him home tonight?” Sarah asked wryly.

“No, but you know what I mean. It will hurt a thousand times worse if I let myself fall in love with him and we can’t make it work. Plus, I haven’t even mentioned the complications in his life. What about Carrie? He needs to be able to focus on her problems right now.”

“All very valid points,” Sarah conceded. “But I’ll tell you what a very wise friend—that would be you—told me when I was questioning whether Travis and I could make it. Love flat out doesn’t come without risks and complications, but it’s worth it. Because when it works, there’s nothing more amazing. To not even try for that brass ring when it’s right within your grasp, that would be wrong. In a way, it will be letting Paul win.”

That, of course, was the most persuasive argument she possibly could have offered. No matter what happened down the road, Raylene vowed she would do absolutely nothing in any way that would let Paul have even the tiniest bit of control over the rest of her life. Whatever strength it required, she would find some way to keep that promise to herself.



Fortunately Carter was working the evening shift this week because that allowed him to hang around the house until Carrie and Mandy finally dragged themselves out of bed on the day after the holiday. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d allowed himself to linger in bed as late as those two did.

Of course, lately he hadn’t slept all that well either. Last night he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the conversation he’d had with Raylene about Carrie’s eating patterns. He didn’t want to think his sister was in trouble, but he couldn’t deny it was possible. The upcoming dinner with Raylene and Annie would tell the story, but like any good cop, he wanted to start assembling his own evidence.

When Carrie eventually wandered into the kitchen, she paused when she saw him, her ever-ready scowl settling into place. “What are you doing here?”

“Hanging out,” he said, determinedly keeping his own tone light. “My shift doesn’t start until three today. What are your plans?”

She shrugged. “Mandy wants to go swimming. I don’t know, though. I don’t like going out in public in a bathing suit.”

“Why on earth not?” he asked, then realized that when they’d been in Columbia and her friends had been over to swim in the hotel pool, Carrie had stayed on the sidelines wearing a cover-up over her suit. Was this a symptom of the messed-up body image that often came along with eating disorders? He’d read about that in the middle of the night when he’d gone online, determined to get up to speed on anorexia.

“I need to lose a couple of pounds before I’ll look good enough to wear that bathing suit I bought,” she said, confirming his fear.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped without thinking. Obviously if there was a problem, it wouldn’t be solved by him yelling at her. He’d vowed to handle her with compassion and try his best to understand what was going on in her head.

“Carrie, you look great in anything you wear,” he said more gently.

“You’re just saying that because you think you’re supposed to,” she said, dismissing the comment as biased.

“No, I watched the way those boys were looking at you when we were in Columbia. Made me want to strangle every one of them,” he said with feeling. That had been true.

She almost smiled at his words, but then shrugged off his observation. “They’re just boys. If a girl’s got boobs, they look.”

Now he had to smother a smile at the accuracy of her assessment. “Possibly,” he admitted. Then, struggling to keep his tone even, he asked, “What did you have to eat over at Raylene’s yesterday? Did you try the fried chicken? I’d love to get Dana Sue’s recipe.”

“And we’ll all die from clogged arteries,” she retorted.

“Then you didn’t even taste it?”

She shook her head.

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