He didn’t try to kiss me.
But it lingered in the air between us.
“Come on,” he said, finally breaking eye contact. He rose to his feet and offered me a hand. “Let’s go home.”
HONEY
The next day, Caleb took me to meet his grandmother. She lived in the historic part of town where the homes were built during the nineteenth century and once upon a time served in the Civil War as hospitals and outposts.
The old home with the wraparound porch was off Magnolia Street and was partially hidden from the road by a well-looked-after garden. As we walked through the little gate at the front and along the path to the steps, the sweet scent of roses greeted us.
Caleb led me by the hand as we climbed the steps. Potted ferns and flowers hung from the eves and bright red trumpet flowers festooned the railings, their vines weaving through the wrought-iron balustrade. Farther along the porch, sitting on a comfortable-looking chair with her left booted ankle resting up on a stool, was an older lady with flaming red hair. She was wearing a vibrantly colored caftan, bright red lipstick, and a pair of black biker sunglasses.
She was also sound asleep.
As we stepped onto the porch she didn’t stir.
“Grandma Sybil,” Caleb said gently, so as not to startle her.
She didn’t move. Her head was tilted back and her red lips were slack. Gold-ringed fingers rested on her chest, her long nails as brightly colored as her outfit.
“Grandma?” Caleb said again, this time a little louder. But again, the old lady didn’t stir.
Caleb released my hand and gently nudged her, but when the old lady didn’t move, he nudged her again.
“Grandma.” His voice took on a sharper tone and a prickly sensation took up in the base of my spine. “Sybil. Wake up.”
His fingers curled around her wrist as he gently shook her. He leaned down, his face coming close to hers, and I realized he was checking to see if she was breathing.
“Grandma?” He sounded alarmed and gave me a worried glance over his shoulder.
And just when I thought he was about to ask me to call an ambulance, a devilish grin spread across the old lady’s lips.
“Boo!” she said, startling the life out of Caleb.
He jumped back in surprise. “Jesus Christ, Sybil!”
When he straightened, she lifted her sunglasses and started laughing.
“I thought you were dead!” Caleb exasperated.
“Of course you did. That was the point!” The old lady chuckled.
“Do you want to give your youngest grandson a freaking heart attack?”
She waved off his comment. “I’m stuck on this porch like an old lady because I broke my foot. I’m bored. Give me a break and stop being a pussy.” It was then she noticed me and her face lit up with curiosity. “Well now, who do we have here?”
“Grandma, this is Honey,” Caleb said, still riled by his roguish grandmother.
“Hi, Grandma Sybil,” I said, stepping forward and giving her a warm smile.
She reached for my hand and placed a second hand on top of it.
“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing.” Her wise old eyes glittered over my face before she indicated to the wicker chair next to her. “Please, have a seat.”
I sat down and immediately felt welcomed by the old lady.
“Caleb, there is a fresh batch of lemonade in the ice box. Will you fetch us a glass each, please?”
“Sure.” Caleb glanced at me and then back at his grandmother. He raised a dark eyebrow. “Play nice.”
Sybil gave him an innocent look.
Once he was gone, she focused on me, her bright blue eyes taking in every inch of my face.
“So how long have you and my grandson been an item?” she asked.
“Oh, no, we’re not together,” I said, slightly wilting under her gaze. “I mean, we’re friends . . . but . . .”
She tilted her head to the side, ever so faintly, those eyes trying to work me out.
“Hmmmmm . . . what a shame. You certainly look like you’re something. The way he looks at you. Hmph. I suppose I’m just being a foolish old lady.”
Her eyes sparkled over at me with something I couldn’t put my finger on. It was almost like a secret knowledge. I shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing foolish about Sybil Calley.
Caleb returned with three glasses of lemonade.
“Did you put a little sugar in it, Caleb?” Grandma Sybil asked.
“You know you’re not allowed any liquor while you’re on those painkillers the doctors have you taking.”
“Oh, fooey!” Grandma waved off the comment as if it was a ridiculous idea. She winked at me. “Ain’t nothing like a little sugar to make the afternoon a little more interesting.”
“Yeah, well, that sugar is not happening when you are taking drugs for pain.”
Grandma Sybil rolled her eyes. “I was a child of the sixties, sonny. You think I’m going to let a couple of Advil and a splash of bourbon push me around? What about some weed? This drought is making me crazy. I heard Hawke had some insane buds, is that true?”