73 - Traitor Sister

“I’m going into the city for my appointment,” Dorothea informed Jon at nine on Wednesday morning before bending over the kitchen table to kiss his forehead.  “I’m going to stay and do a little shopping, so I won’t be home until this afternoon.”

“Okay,” was his affable agreement as he lifted his coffee mug.  “I’ll see you for dinner.”

Things at home had been pleasantly serene since his own therapist’s appointment on Monday.  After he’d left the Mercer Street apartment that evening, they and the two kids had enjoyed a nice family dinner at his parents where she had been affectionate yet not uncomfortably so. 

Yesterday he had spent the day in the studio while she worked on volunteer stuff and started her new book club selection.  Dinner last night was equally pleasant and things felt as normal as they ever did.  He held doors for her and put a guiding hand at her back; she responded with a smile and a kiss to his cheek.   Anyone would believe they truly did have the perfect marriage.

While things were going as well as he could possibly expect in his own home, Cassidy was another story entirely.  His anger had faded considerably, leaving in its place a quiet determination to sweep aside her nonsensical bullshit and restore order to their relationship.  That was the agenda for the day 

“What are your plans for the day?”

Stretching his hands over his head until there was a strip of skin exposed between his black tee and the waistband of his jeans, he yawned before lazily replying, “Fuck around here at the house.”

“I hope that was just a poor choice of words.”

The only woman he had any interest in fucking was six states away and, by all indications, wouldn’t welcome the idea at the moment.

Meeting her pointed look without guilt or shame he assured, “Yeah, it was.  Sorry.  I’m expecting a call from Nashville with the signing date for the Titans.  I figure it will be tomorrow, but there’s a chance I’ll be going down today.”

“I’d like to go with you.”

Somehow, he managed to swallow the coffee in his mouth instead of coughing it up in surprise.  “You would?”

“I would,” she affirmed with a definitive nod of the head.  “You wouldn’t be getting this team if it wasn’t for me, so I’d like to be there for the purchase.”

The heavy black coffee mug hit the table with a thud as Jon’s regarded her with incredulity.  “What the hell did you just say?”

“You wouldn’t be getting the team if it wasn’t for me.”

Yes.  It sounded just as insane the same the second time around. 

“And how exactly do you figure that?”

Because last time he checked, it was his voice that had been used and abused to amass that bank balance.  It was his ass that had been dragged around the world countless times until he was sick from physical exhaustion.  Sure, she supported him, but to go so far as to say he wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for her?  That was more stretch than even Silly Putty could handle.

“I agreed to stay married so you could keep the millions you need for the purchase,” was her matter-of-fact explanation.  “And I’m going along to ensure that the conditions of that agreement are met, seeing as Nashville holds a special place in your pants.”

There weren’t many moments in his life that had left him speechless, but this one just made the list.  Not only did she think she was generously bequeathing him the Titans, she was going along to babysit him while he signed the papers.

”I agreed to your marriage counseling,” he informed her tightly.  “And I agreed to your other condition, too.  After twenty-six fucking years of marriage, if you think you’re going to suddenly start dogging my every step and policing every damn trip I take…  Well, you can forget that shit.”

Dorothea just smiled serenely down at him and patted his cheek with what he heard as a condescending, “We’ll talk about it when I get home.  I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.  Have a good day, sweetheart.”

As she breezed out of the kitchen, he swore under his breath.

Lord, God, Jesus protect me from women who think they can dictate my life.  I still have a set a balls and I fucking well know how to use them.

It was in that frame of mind that Jon fished his phone out to call Cassidy.  If he didn’t find some kind of control in his life in the next five minutes, he was going to go motherfucking berserk.

“I’ve had enough of this motherfuckin’ nonsense, Dixie,” he muttered, swiping across the screen.  “I need you to be my sanity, not another screw coming loose, goddammit.”

When he lifted the phone to his ear, it was to find that the call had immediately gone to voicemail.  The same thing had happened the last three times he tried to call, and enough was enough.  If she wouldn’t answer her phone, he knew someone who would.

Scrolling a little further down in his contact list, he tapped her name and waited to hear the pleasant, “Hello?”

Again, he promised himself that he would someday carry on a civilized conversation with this woman, but today still wasn't the day. “Where is she, Libby?”  

“Now, Judson, no.  I’m sorry you forgot your lunch at home, but I can’t bring it to you this time.” 

Had Cassidy’s sister joined the ranks of the crazy?  It sure as hell sounded as though she had.  Jon thought that Judson might be one of her kids but there was no way to mistake his voice for that of a kid.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I told you this morning, honey,” she chided as though he hadn’t spoken.  “Aunt Glory and I are makin’ a trip up to the Nashville airport and then over to that little place she’s been stayin’ the last few weeks so we can pick up some things.  We won’t even get to her cabin until about one o’clock Tennessee, time, baby.  That’s two o’clock where you are so ask ‘em to let you charge the lunch and I’ll pay for it tomorrow, okay?”

He flipped his wrist around to check the time.  Nine-thirty.  An hour to pack and get to Newark while they prepped the plane, two and a half hours air time, plus another hour to the cabin.  He could be there by exactly two o’clock.

“You’re the only woman I love today, Libby Cassidy.”

“That’s a good boy.  I’ll see you later.”

Cassidy chuckled as Libby hung up the phone.  “Those boys would lose their heads if they weren’t sewn on.  Who are they stayin’ with this evenin’?”

Considering the time it would take to retrieve the Jeep, unearth the chests and the five hour travel time to and from the cabin, it would put Libby late getting home tonight.

“The Wilsons.  They have boys about the same age as Jud and Deacon, so they’re makin’ a mid-week slumber party of it.”

“A slumber party sounds like fun,” Cassidy enthused as she zipped her sister’s car through the outskirts of Atlanta.  “When I go get my stuff from the back room of the bar, I could talk to Tully about us stayin’ in the cabin tonight for our own slumber party.  We could just head back early in the morning and be home before the boys are outta school.”

“I don’t think so, honey,” Libby declined with a consoling pat to the leg.  “I’ll probably need to be gettin’ outta there, but maybe you’ll decide to spend the night.”

Was her sister acting odd?  She had a funny smirk on her face, but maybe Cassidy was just imagining things and seeing ghosts where there were none.

“Maybe.”

There was nothing more than idle chitchat the rest of the way to Nashville, and it was about one o’clock local time when Cassidy pulled the Jeep into its familiar spot alongside the cabin road.  Libby’s Ford slid in behind her and her sister’s door opened so that she could ease from behind the wheel with a groan and a stretch as she took in her surroundings.

“Damn, girl.  Couldn’t get much further out in the sticks could ya?”

“I’d be hard pressed,” Cassidy agreed with amusement as she reached into the back of the Jeep for the shovel and Libby withdrew another from her trunk.  “I’m gonna kinda miss the place though.  Nice and quiet.”

And a lot of good memories.

“It’s this way, Libby.” 

The ground felt odd under her sneakered feet as she followed the path through bushes and trees that seemed like they’d grown since her visit four days ago.  Cassidy couldn’t recall ever making the short hike in anything but high heels, but all of those were either in Tully’s back room or David’s guest room – except for the Dorothy shoes and she just hadn’t felt like wearing them today.  It had called for a trip to the back of the closet, where she dug out a pair of running shoes to go with her jeans, Queen t-shirt and ponytail.  Makeup hadn’t even been a consideration this morning.

“You gotta be a friggin’ pioneer to get through this mess,” Libby complained from behind her. 

“I told you not to wear flip-flops.” 

Her sister shared the same taste in jeans, but she had a cute blue and white top paired with her Levi’s instead of a faded concert tee.  Also unlike Cassidy, Libby had taken the time to define her big blue eyes with eyeliner and mascara.  She was the classically beautiful wild child she had always been, while Cassidy had almost instantly reverted to being the plain, well-behaved sister. 

If she’d had time to go back to her blonde, it would’ve been like old times. 

“Damn,” the wild child breathed when the woods gave way to the clearing.  “That’s cute as a bug’s ear.”

Pinpoints of afternoon sunlight peeked through the leaves, dancing against the glass like daytime fireflies and giving the cabin an ethereal feel.  If one were prone to creating fantastical dreams, it could be believed that a band of fairies had built this cabin, deep in the forest away from the rest of the world.

It’s my castle in the clouds.

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about Uncle Stanley showin’ up unannounced to shoot our heads off,” Libby announced cheerfully, pitching the shovel at the edge of the patio and leaning against it.  

“Thank the Lord for small favors.”

It hadn’t been ideal having her uncle show up at eight o’clock last night banging on Cassidy’s door and waving a gun but, since Scott had the foresight to place a restraining order, it had taken only a quick call to 9-1-1 to have deputies escort him away.  Uncle Stanley was the one who now sat in County lock-up. 

Gerald Ray was sorry about the whole fiasco and had texted an apology this morning, telling her that they were going to take his father in for a dementia evaluation.  Best-case scenario was that Stanley would benefit from a little rest and medication.  Worst-case…  Well, they’d just have to wait and see.  

Her cousin also offered the suggestion of finding a museum that might be interested in the legacy of the gold.  It was his opinion that the secrets had done enough damage to their family and that everyone would be better off to let the treasure go.

It was very similar to what Jon had said, and Libby agreed with both men.  Cassidy didn’t disagree, she just wanted to see what MeMaw had to say about it before she committed to anything. 

She was just putting her own shovel across one of the patio chairs – Jon’s – when there came a rustling in the brush behind her.  Maybe it was because they’d just been talking about Uncle Stanley shooting their heads off, but a jolt of fear streaked up her spine and she wished for Papaw’s rifle when spinning toward the source of the noise.

It wasn’t Uncle Stanley. 

It wasn’t even a deer or chipmunk. 

It was Jon.

Stepping into the cabin’s clearing, he wore jeans, a gray t-shirt, Notre Dame hat and sunglasses that provoked a feeling of déjà vu for her.  In those clothes, hiding behind those tinted lenses, he looked exactly as he had the first day she met him, right down to the sullen features and lack of a smile.

“Liberty Belle Cassidy,” Cassidy growled under her breath, now understanding that forgotten lunch conversation, but her sister wasn’t listening.  The beautiful wild child was too busy strutting up to him with a huge smile and outstretched hand. 

“Hi.  I’m Libby.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” he murmured politely, pulling her in for a hug and whispering something that Cassidy couldn’t make out.  When the two separated, she did hear him ask, “You mind giving us a minute?”

“Not at all,” her traitor sister insisted cheerfully.  “Glory, I’m gonna go find Tully’s and get your other stuff.  I’ll be back in a while.”

The foliage fluttered as she pushed her way down the path while Jon’s tinted lenses remained fixed on Cassidy. 

That first day, she remembered repeatedly wishing that he would take off his sunglasses because she’d longed to feel the impact of those blue eyes and read whatever thoughts were behind them.  Today she was grateful for the barrier that protected her from the impact of those blue eyes and the thoughts behind them.

Lord, it’s me again.  My prayers are never eloquent, but this one’s gonna be worse than usual.  I can’t put the words together to tell You what I need, because I don’t know exactly what that is.  I just know I’m gonna need Your help.  Please?  One last time?