Janice set down her fork. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.” She sighed. “You obviously believe some of what you said, or it wouldn’t have even come to your mind. And that’s fine. You shared your opinion.”
“I really don’t think that—” Carla stopped, knowing by the look on Janice’s face that her insistence of total denial would not be believed. “I’m not sure why I said those things.” She rubbed her temple, digging deep within herself to find the source for her comments. She owed Janice the truth and she needed to know and examine it as well.
Janice sat waiting quietly. She’d set down her fork, giving Carla her full attention. Seeing her sitting across from her at that table brought up many feelings. One of those feelings, though, was more prominent than some of the others.
“Do you remember our conversation the other morning? Over breakfast? The day you burnt the eggs?” Carla continued, not expecting a response. “Some of the things you said about my forgetting my roots bothered me. Not so much at the moment. Mostly I was just doing my best to try to make sense of what you were saying and then defending myself rather than thinking deeply about it. But later, after time had allowed for those things to seep in, I realized they did bother me. They actually upset me. So tonight, I think I took a shot back at you simply out of resentment and fear instead of coming to you and discussing it the right way.”
“Fear?”
“A part of me feared you might really be small-minded and too set in your ways to understand where I was coming from. The thought of you possibly being like that…really scared me.” Her voice cracked with a surprising rise of emotion. “But regardless, the way I handled the situation was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken a cheap shot at you. I should’ve discussed it with you. I apologize. Again. Because I need to and because I mean it.”
Janice propped her elbows on the table and folded her hands beneath her chin.
“It seems we’ve both made some assumptions we shouldn’t have. I can’t sit here and be upset with your assumptions and implications when I’ve done the same. I’m even thinking that way now, even though I know I shouldn’t.”
“What are you thinking?”
She appeared hesitant.
“Please, I’d like to know.”
“I’m thinking, in response to your earlier comments tonight as well as your comment at the funeral about my possibly being homophobic, how surprised I am that a woman of your intelligence would make such implications about a person, whom you’ve been acquainted with for a very long time, yes, but whom you really don’t know on a present, personal level. Which leads me to believe, ignorant as though it may be, that you doing so is due to your big city mentality, where everyone is enlightened and open-minded and far above small town folk like myself who are often considered to be backward. “
Carla stared, dumbfounded.
“Sorry you asked?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
“We both screwed up. I’m incredibly sorry for my hurtful words. I wouldn’t ever want to hurt you. You’re sorry for yours. Let’s just move on.”
She grabbed her fork and pointed at Carla’s plate.
“Your food’s gonna get cold.”
“I don’t think I can eat.”
“Don’t let a good dinner go to waste because of something stupid.”
“You saying that I think I’m somehow better than you is not something I can just forget, Janice.”
“I said it was ignorant of me to think it. I don’t believe it.”
“I need to make sure that you don’t. Because it is not in any way true.”
Janice took a bite and chewed.
“Janice?”
She swallowed. “I don’t, okay? I don’t. Now quit behaving like a big city woman and mind your southern manners and eat. You know I made this just for you, so you refusing, regardless of reason, is just downright rude.” She grinned. Impishly.
Carla laughed and buried her head in her heads. “I almost had a heart attack,” she breathed. “It would seriously kill me if you thought that I felt that way.”
“And vice versa.”
Carla straightened and smiled back at her. She grabbed her fork and took her turn in pointing it across the table.
“That grin of yours,” she said. “It’s nice to see it again. Makes me forget all about being homesick.”
Chapter Twelve
The soft jingling of bells sounded as Janice entered Dog Eared, a small used bookstore nestled in one of the original buildings in the center of town. She inhaled the scent of old, printed pages and welcomed the relaxation that washed over her. The past couple of days had been good, but noticeably different with Carla. They still talked and ate together when Carla was home, but there was a hesitation now to their demeanor, as if neither of them had the courage to lower the quick walls they’d both built after their heated conversation. Janice wished she were stronger, braver, so she could reach out to her, reconnect, see her laugh heartily and share her thoughts and emotions unapologetically as she’d done their first few days together. But Carla’s distance, in her eyes and in her tone, kept Janice’s wall intact. It was self-preservation, and admitting that was guilt-inducing. Especially in knowing how badly Carla needed to express her feelings with all she was dealing with. And Janice felt more guilt when she realized that as badly as she wanted Carla to share her feelings so she could process and heal, she wanted her to do so with her. Selfishly, she wanted to be the person she turned to and leaned on, when really, she should be wishing that Carla find someone, even if it wasn’t her, to confide in.
But Carla had closed off, and Janice suspected she wasn’t talking with anyone about her grief, not even Maurine. Janice could see it in the way she carried herself, like she’d noticed at the funeral, like she had the entire world upon her shoulders. She tried to hide it, replacing her usual report of the day’s events with light conversations and friendly but shallow smiles that didn’t come from her core.
Every time she flashed one, it stabbed Janice in the heart.
She was behaving like they were acquaintances.
Like we don’t know each other. Like she’s just a guest staying at my bed and breakfast.
“Janice, how are you, sweetheart? You doing all right?” Pearl Pine, the store’s long-time owner, greeted her from behind the counter.
“I’m doing okay, Ms. Pine.” She smiled at her, knowing she was putting on a face, just like Carla. It felt awful. She began to rethink her trip into town.
“Such a shame about Betty. Everyone’s been so tore up over that. Her family looked so sad at the funeral. They doing okay?”
“They’re doing as well as can be expected.”
She shook her head. “They were so close, that family. So sad. And that Carla, Betty’s granddaughter. I was worried she wasn’t going to make it through the eulogy.”
Janice stood at the new arrival table and picked up a paperback to peruse. She tried to concentrate on it, but Pearl continued with talk of Carla.
“I hear she’s staying with you,” Pearl said. “That’s mighty kind of you.”