“I need to meet this woman,” Big Poppy teases, and we all respond with a resounding no, but Nathan might be on to something. If Scotia Simmons can find it in her two-sizes-too-small heart to defend her sister, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
Chapter Thirty-Five
[Beverly]
I have no idea why I’ve allowed Howard to stay. The moment I lead the way for him to follow me into the house, I know better.
“What’s all this?” Howard’s question about the ingredients on the kitchen table isn’t one of interest but more accusation. As in, what kind of mess have I made.
“It’s for soapmaking,” I state, although why I’m explaining myself is beyond me.
“Soapmaking,” he repeats.
“Yes, soapmaking.” The exchange is similar to my first conversation about interests with Jedd, yet it’s every bit dissimilar. This is Howard. I should have followed Jedd.
Visions of his extended hand, his eyes pleading as he muttered my name, force my chest to clench again. The pain is real. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.
“And what do you do with all this soap?” Howard asks, drawing out the object like it’s dirty. I want to respond with the obvious—wash with it—but I don’t.
“I sell it.”
“Sell it?” he questions, his brows rising as he picks up the spoon I use to fill the soap molds. His nose wrinkles as he smells the concoction, which doesn’t have a scent added to it yet. “What an interesting…hobby.”
The word is like a sharp slap in the face, and I flinch at the reference. It isn’t a hobby. I’m making a business of it. I’m selling soap and making a name for myself. It isn’t some fleeting activity, but one I’m working at mastering, and I hope it will take off. Wilhemina can’t keep it on the shelf. I have orders through their website. Jedd’s going to convert the garage.
Jedd.
He explained it all—his sister—but I’m still confused. Jedd made it clear he is from Green Valley, but no one of importance remained. There’s nothing left, he told me, but that isn’t true. His sister is my lawyer’s partner, and his brother lived in the house on my back property. He asked me about this brother, but I didn’t have any information. I’ve been a terrible landlord when I didn’t realize I had a tenant.
The land is yours.
How could I not know this? I hadn’t gone to any formal reading of Ewell’s will. Howard told me it wouldn’t be necessary, just a straightforward reading of legal jargon I wouldn’t understand. He’d been gone for hours that day. As I put two and two together, I realize Janice must have been the one to read the will to Howard. Did he not want me to go because he knew it was her? Did he know I’d inherit it all, or did Ewell pull one over on his son, like he did when he forced Howard to marry me? How could I have never known these things?
I recall receiving official letters in the mail, but Howard had left by then, and I didn’t open them. I assumed they were legal notices relating to Ewell, and without Howard present, there was no way to make claims. I’d been so stupid because I didn’t know any better.
As my thoughts wander, Hannah appears in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Howar…Dad?” she chokes, and Howard turns to look at her.
“Hannah girl,” he cheerfully calls out to her, stepping toward her, but she steps back, her body language clear he’s not to touch her. Howard stops and turns to me before looking back at his daughter.
“Is that any way to greet your father?” His voice turns edgier, his tone deeper, rougher.
Hannah blinks before glancing over at me. She’s such a good girl, and I see her struggle. She wants to tell him what she feels. What father? I can almost read it in her thoughts. Instead, she nods at him and reaches out a hand, offering to shake his like a business transaction.
“I’m not going to shake your damn hand. Give your old man a hug.” Frozen, Hannah doesn’t respond as Howard steps to her and wraps his arms around her. Hers fall to her sides, her fingers fisting as he traps her within his grasp.
“Where’s Jedd?” Hannah asks; it’s a reminder we both count on his presence.
“That’s enough,” I snap, the mother bear in me awakening to Howard’s awkward embrace. He pulls back, keeping his arm around Hannah, but her eyes meet mine, clearly uncomfortable with this position.
“She looks just like you did.” He turns to her and kisses her temple, and Hannah’s eyes close under a shudder. “What happened to you?” He sneers as he looks back at me, his eyes roving up my body as I stand behind a kitchen chair. Hannah uses the attention on me to slip out from under his arm.
“Excuse me,” she mutters and leaves the room. While I don’t want to be alone with Howard, I don’t want Hannah anywhere near him either. She’s clearly uncomfortable with him, and he’s not getting the fatted-calf celebration he must have expected.
“What did you do?” he barks at me. “Turn my kin against me?”
I snort. “You aren’t serious, are you?” I question. “You did that all on your own.” I sweep a hand in the direction my daughter retreated.
“You turned her against me,” Howard retorts, and I flinch back. Again, I want to ask him if he’s serious, but my lips remain closed, knowing what I have to say will fall on deaf ears.
“What do you want, Howard?” I ask instead. “What are you doing here?”
He sighs as his hands grip the back of a kitchen chair on the other side of the table from me. “I want to come home. I’ve missed you, baby.” The fake smile has returned. Too many teeth. Too tight jaw.
“Where have you been?” I ask next, ignoring his false plea.
“Around.”
The word strikes a nerve. He’s been around? More like playing around, behind my back, and then off who knows where with who knows who. No, thank you.
“That’s not an answer.”
He glares at me, but I glare back, and something in my expression makes him flinch. He exhales and lowers his head, shaking it side to side.
“I saw your post in the paper. Why’d you have to blast it to the world you want a divorce?” His head pops up.
I snort. “Posting it in the local paper isn’t the world, Howard. I’m surprised you found it.”
“Is that what you hoped? That I wouldn’t read the notice.”
How easily he’s read my mind, but I don’t answer him again.
“I want a divorce,” I state.
“Because of Jedd.”
“Jedd?” I laugh without humor. “Because of the hundreds of women you’ve been with.”
“Not hundreds, baby.”
He’s kidding me, right? “Get out of here,” I whisper, but venom drips from my tone.
“I’m just joking, Beverly. It wasn’t that many.” Is any number a limit? I’d say one outside the marriage is one too many. Obviously, Howard’s and my math skills differ.
“I said get out.” My voice seethes, a bitter taste mixing with the saliva.
“Bev, don’t be like this.”