To Save a King, page 30
“It’s cathartic to write with pen and paper. Or in my case, napkin.”
She wrote about the lights and fragrances of the Heart of God and how she felt different, cleansed, after being filled with the heart’s glow.
She described the ball and dancing with a prince. She wrote about the puppies and the herd.
Then there was the weird Brillo-haired lady that Daffy also knew. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed less of a coincidence and more of a divine plan.
But Gemma was no princess. What did she and Princess Daffy have in common?
She scribbled about her land-purchase folly. That was an entire napkin pack according to Tina.
Last but not least, she wrote about the Vegas video going viral. Surely everyone in town knew about the land deal and the video by now. Even stern-lipped church ladies wanted to see how Gemma Stone took off her clothes on a Las Vegas stage so they could be appropriately appalled.
She wrote about her kitchen conversation with Daddy. About his love and affirmation. She wrote about the cracked mirror and the slightly new look in her eye.
She wrote that she loved the prince.
But these were notes for her eyes only. No one would ever see. Well, not until she was eighty-five and decided to write her memoirs.
On her days off she visited Hercules, Whinny, and Silver. They were so well loved she was almost jealous.
The family in Nashville sent pictures of Ross and Rachel sleeping in the children’s beds. Penny and Justin kept Gemma informed on Joey and Phoebe. And Mr. Paul, who finally came for Monica right before the move, said he never had a better creature living in his house.
“Including my wife.” There was certainly more to that story.
Writing about her past was one thing. The words flowed. But where she fumbled was her future. Last night she grabbed a napkin and wrote GOALS on the top.
Nothing. Blank.
This afternoon, she set an appointment with a social worker to get Imani’s adoption into motion.
“Anyone home?” Gemma stepped into the kitchen and settled her Prada on a hook by the door. “Mama? Daddy? Imani? Anyone home?”
Except for a light over the stove, the place was dark. Gemma switched on the kitchen wall lamps.
“Imani?”
Her truck was out front as well as Mama’s car. Gemma walked through to the living room where she found Justin sitting in the shadows, the only light coming from a light on in the bedroom hallway. He jumped to his feet, a nervous twitch.
“Miss Gemma.”
“Justin.” She gave him a stern look. “What are you doing here?”
Beyond the walls, the dogs barked to be let in. Gemma reached for the back door. All five scrambled inside over the high wrought iron steps.
“Waiting for Imani. We’re meeting my folks at Ella’s for a burger. She said she was going to text you.”
“She didn’t.” Burgers at Ella’s? Something didn’t add up. This whole scene was suspicious. Very suspicious. “Where’s Mama?”
“Don’t know.” With a shrug, he averted his gaze to his feet. He couldn’t look her in the eye and there was only one of two reasons for that as far as she was concerned.
Gemma invited him to sit then made her way down the short hall to Imani’s room.
“Imani.” She tapped on the girl’s door.
“Gemma?” Her surprised voice was followed by a bump and bang, then the door swung open, a breathless Imani shoving back her hair and yanking her jeans at the waist. “Hey, what are you doing here?” She looked away, pretending to search for something on her dresser.
“I live here. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Imani looked at Gemma, her gaze barely holding on.
“Justin’s here.”
“Is he? Really? I didn’t hear him come in.” Imani started past Gemma but she caught her by the arm.
“Why are you in your room, door closed? Why did you open the door breathless and adjusting your clothes?”
“Because I was changing. Geez Gemma. Stop accusing me. We’re going to dinner with Justin’s parents. I texted you.”
“I didn’t get it.”
“Well, I know I texted you.”
“You didn’t know Justin was here? How come his truck is not out front.”
“His truck is in the shop. His friend Cap dropped him off after band practice.”
“Oh not at his own house where he could ride to dinner with his parents?”
“We wanted to ride together. Gemma, what’s with the third degree? Besides, JoJo asked me to help with the Christmas play this year at the Kids Theater,” Imani said. “Justin volunteered too. We’re meeting her at the Kids Theater before we eat. Afterwards we’re helping with the town’s fall decorations. We’ll be at the Gardenia gazebo. Then I’m taking him home.” She made a face. “Do you approve of our plan?”
Gemma folded her arms. “I will when you tell me what you do in your room, making a racket, door locked. Changing your clothes.”
“Am I not allowed to change my clothes?”
Gemma stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Imani.”
“Gemma, I’m telling you, nothing is going on.”
Gemma glanced back to the mirrored closet doors and caught the corner end of a large box. “What’s this?”
Imani jumped in front of her. “Nothing. It’s private.”
“What kind of private?” Gemma pushed aside the doors. “What’s in the box?”
Imani’s eyes filled. “Something.”
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“Gemma, you don’t own me. Even if you are about to be my mom. I’m sixteen. Not a child. It’s my private stuff. Don’t you have private stuff you store in a closet?”
“You want to talk about the video? Then let’s talk.”
“No, I don’t want to talk about the video. Only that I defend you every day at school. Justin punches guys who are watching it in the locker room. I know you had your reasons, but you have a lot of nerve coming in here and acting like I’m up to something with Justin when I’m not.”
Gemma dropped down to Imani’s bed. “I’m sorry, Imani. How embarrassing for you. And you’re one hundred percent right. I have no business treating you like how I was at your age.” She pointed to the window. “Dash used to sneak into that window. Or I’d sneak out. We told my folks we were going to the movies, then go park in the woods off Ox Bottom.” Gemma flopped back on the bed. “Don’t even get me started on the road I traveled to win fame and fortune. Sold my soul and sacrificed my body.”
Imani sat next to her. “Is that how you broke your hip?”
“Yes. I fell.” She forced herself to look Imani in the face. “If you don’t want me as your mama anymore, I’ll understand. I keep waiting for your grandmother to write to me, tell me she saw the video on Facebook and how unfit I am.”
“I want you to be my mom. I mean, no other girls’ mama has a rocking body like you.”
Gemma’s burst of laughter was followed by sobriety. “Don’t joke about it. I was nothing but skin and bones. Please do not admire me. Imani, you cannot know the shame. Taking off one’s clothes for entertainment is not freeing, it’s humiliating. I had to lie to myself every day we filmed to get through. It was blessed relief when I fell.”
Gemma,” Imani began, her voice low. “It’s not that I don’t have feelings for Justin. You know, like that, but I’m not ready. Granny Cook used to preach to me even as a kid how a girl had to wait. Boys too. I didn’t really know what she was talking about, but I know my parents waited for marriage. I kind of had it in my head I would too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of awkward.”
“Tell me about it. I never talked to my mama.”
“Gemma, Justin’s a good guy. We’ve talked about sex because his dad told him to. He knows I don’t want anything physical. Well, except I do like to kiss him.” She blushed. “It’s gotten out of hand a few times.”
“You know, when I moved to L.A., I was going to be the girl who did it right. I knew of actresses who refused to bare all for a part. Who understood dignity. I planned to work hard, study the craft, network, audition, audition, audition, and earn each role for my talent, not my exposed body. But after a few years, when things didn’t break open for me like I thought, I got desperate. Running with the crowd I did, my values and morals slipped. Then Matt came up with the Vegas idea and…” Gemma held Imani by the chin. “Never, ever let some man make you do something you know in your heart is wrong and shameful. Hear me? For that matter, don’t let any woman either. I’ll tell you, the other actresses on the show and the female producer were no picnic.”
Imani stood to retrieve the box, bumping and banging it against the closet walls. “I found this after Granny died and Uncle Roy was cleaning out the house. He was going to throw it away.” She raised the box lid to reveal a mountain of white silk, lace, and tulle, along with a photo album. “It’s Mama’s wedding dress and their wedding album. When I miss them, I put on the dress and look through the album.”
“Oh Imani.” Gemma reached for the book, her tears already spilling over. “You didn’t have to hide this from me.”
“I didn’t want you to feel bad, and…I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It felt personal. As if I was spending time alone with them.”
Gemma squeezed Imani’s arm. “And here I was badgering you. Please forgive me. But anytime you want to talk about them, come to me. I can tell you all about their relationship, how much they loved each other, and their wedding day. How proud your grandparents were on both sides when they graduated from college with honors and went looking at Manhattan apartments. Though don’t get me wrong, neither side wanted Yankees in the family.”
“Was it hard for them? Being an interracial couple?”
“Some. Hearts Bend had been through racial strife in the past, but your parents knew what they were about. If they encountered anything negative, they just went on with their business, their life, their goals. They had the support of their families and friends.”
“Justin’s parents don’t care I’m interracial.”
“Why should they? I don’t care that Justin is white.”
Imani laughed. “I’ll tell him. He’ll be relieved.”
Gemma tapped the teen’s heart. “It’s what’s in here that counts. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Don’t let anyone define you but—”
But who? Herself? She was only as strong as her weakest link. Gemma wasn’t doing well defining herself.
“God?” Imani said. “Granny Cook talked to me about God. A lot. I didn’t understand half of it but I had a dream about her the other night. She’d written everything down in a book and I was reading it.”
“Now that’s a cool way to hear from your Granny. Did she have any wisdom in her book for me?”
“Forgive yourself.”
Gemma’s eyes spilled over. “Easier said than done. Please keep that in mind as you go through life and make decisions.”
“I will. I promise. And I’ll talk to you, no matter how awkward, if I change my mind about, you know, things.”
“Good.” She kissed Imani’s temple. “But don’t. Your mama would be proud of you.”
Imani took the photo album. “You’re in almost every picture. One day can we go through the photo album and talk about them?”
“Of course. And I’m not proud of being in every picture. What was I thinking?”
“You’re so funny. I know you have all the stories.”
“Name the day and we’ll trip down memory lane over a bowl of buttery popcorn. Even better, I’ll get your parents’ friends to come over. Haley and Cole, Buck and JoJo, Taylor and Jack Gillingham. We all have stories.”
“There are days when I never think of them. It’s as if they never existed. I feel guilty about it.” Althea’s dress was still folded in Imani’s lap. “Every person whose blood is in my veins is either dead or moved away.”
“Your gigi will come around. There’s nothing saying you can’t call her.”
Imani shrugged. “What if she doesn’t want to hear from me? Besides, you, Pops and Memaw are my family now.”
“We are but we can still include your Shumaker and Cook relatives. Hey, I think you have second cousins in Arkansas and Texas. We can reach out, see if they want to get together. And when I adopt you, if you still want me to, we’ll slice our hands and mingle our blood like old-world societies used to do when they formed a covenant.”
Her eyes widened. “You’d do that for me?”
“Really? I was joking, but yeah, if you want. Yes. Of course.” Absolutely.
Imani folded the dress back in the box. “I get scared sometimes. Like everyone will leave me. I don’t want to say anything because I don’t want you to think, like, you’re not doing a good job. You are, Gemma. I promise.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“But what about the prince?”
“What about him? He lives four thousand miles away. I haven’t even heard from him since I came home. Consider it a summer love.”
“Was it? Love?”
“Okay, consider it a summer friend-fling.”
“Imani?” Justin’s voice pushed through the door. “We should go. We told JoJo we’d meet her at five-thirty.”
“Go,” Gemma said. “I’ll put the dress away.”
“No, I want to. It was my mama’s.” Imani carefully folded up the gown then slipped the photo album underneath. She slid the box back into the closet then checked her appearance in the mirror. She started for the door then looked back.
“Gemma, I know the video is embarrassing. But if the prince rejects you for that, especially without an explanation, he’s not the prince I knew in the summer.”
“Oh, Imani, he’s in a difficult position. He’s a leader. A ruler. The woman he marries must be above reproach. Set an example. Let this be another lesson to you. Don’t do, say, post, or share anything on social media you’d not want anyone to see. That you wouldn’t want someone to uncover ten, twenty years from now. It could hinder you from getting a job or some grand opportunity. Character and values matter, Imani.”
“Our teachers tell us not to think no one reads our posts.”
“Imani, we have to go,” Justin said.
She opened the door and a blushed-cheeked teen boy waited on the other side. He was a doll. “One sec, Justin.”
“I’ll be outside.” Justin backed away from the door. “Night Miss Gemma.”
“Give my love to your parents.”
Imani turned to her. “One question. Do you love the prince?”
“He was my friend. He said I was his best friend.”
“But do you love him?”
“Imani, I—”
“Gemma, yes or no. Do you love him?”
She was about to answer honestly when a door slammed and Mama called out she was home. Then Daddy. Next the dog barking frenzy began, their yips and snarls filling the double-wide. Last but not least, Mama announced fried chicken for dinner.
“We should get out there before Daddy feeds all the dark meat to Barksy,” Gemma said.
“Tell me.” Imani gripped Gemma’s arm. “Please.”
“What was the question again?”
“Do you love Prince John?”
Imani’s question was so sweet, so sincere, Gemma could not stop the tears. “Yes, I believe I do.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
John
He traveled to Dalholm every weekend in September. Briley grew stronger and braver each week.
Wilford was a splendid groom but he took no credit for Briley’s health other than to say he’d attended the beast.
“It was that man, Emmanuel.”
Yet John was beginning to doubt Emmanuel. Why the mystery? Why come and go without a word? What was his scheme?
On this Saturday night, he joined Wilford—with faithful Gunner at a table by the door—at the Belly of the Beast for fish and chips, and a pint or two.
His Mondays through Fridays were stressful between the court case he sat on, filling the queen’s duties as well as his own, and dodging the continued fallout of the Reingard case.
The Solicitor General’s office of the Justice Ministry found there was enough evidence to indict Lord Cunningham. He would stand for trial.
His reaction was vicious, pledging to take down everyone with him, including the House of Blue. He found an immediate ally in MP Hamish Fickle.
The social media threads were explosive as well. No member of the House of Lords had been indicted since the eighteenth century.
If John was called to testify, he had one simple, truthful answer. “I knew nothing about it.”
Tonight, the Belly was lively. Every table full and popping with the native shorthand. It was the rhythm and music of the pub.
“On me.” Ernst, the proprietor of the oldest pub in Dalholm, maybe even Lauchtenland, set down a plate of battered, deep-fried fish. “Horse? Good?”
“Yes, Ernst, Briley is still good. He’s fantastic.” There was a concern Briley might develop laminitis, but Wilford cleared the him last week.
“Marvel, yer maj.” Yer maj was Ernst’s accepted nickname for the princes.
The large man moved to stir the fire then welcomed a man at the door. “In. Sit. Pint?”
After his fair share of fish and chips, Wilford downed his second pint and pushed away from the table. “Home. Wife. Good day, sir.”
John laughed. “Give your wife my regards.”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
John shook the groom’s hand. He was the man who’d brought a piece of his heart back to life through a chestnut gelding. “Next week?”
“Your Royal Highness, I know you’re a busy man. You don’t have to come up every weekend—”
“But I want to, Wilford. I need to. This place puts me at ease. Hadsby, the mountains, the old hamlet, the Belly of the Beast.”
