Need You Now

Chapter Two




As Darlene neared Layla’s estate, she stopped to admire the view. Even Layla’s entryway was something she could only dream about. A flight of sculpted blackbirds arched above the iron gate, and rosebushes bursting with red grew in front of white-rock columns. She thought about her family’s metal pipe gate, which required you to push the button three or four times before it opened with shaky effort.

She was surprised to see Layla’s gate already open. Darlene drove onto a beautiful cobblestone drive. She tried to speculate what such a project would cost, especially a driveway as long as Layla’s. After only a few moments, she gave up, knowing it was completely out of reach for her and Brad. They were just hoping to get some gravel poured over the dirt driveway. As it was, someone got stuck every time it rained.

The closer she got to Layla’s house, the more nervous she felt. Layla might not like unannounced visitors in the middle of the afternoon. Darlene thought back to the days when you looked up a person’s number in the phone book. Now everyone had a cell phone. On the off chance Layla was listed, Darlene had checked for a landline but hadn’t found one.

With a quick glance in the visor mirror, Darlene saw that her makeup and gloss were in place. Then she fluffed her hair and stepped out of the car. Smoothing the seat-belt wrinkles from her sleeveless white blouse, she felt much more presentable today.

She looked around and gaped at Layla’s amazing flower beds, a mix of begonias, lilies, and tulips. With her decorative tin of chocolate chip cookies in hand, she breathed in the aroma of freshly mowed pastures and walked toward the door, her heeled sandals clicking against the cobblestones. Her black sunglasses slid down her nose, so she gave them a push upward. It was only the beginning of April, but already the temperatures were in the 80s.

She knocked several times and waited. No answer. She shifted the cookies to her other hand and knocked again, but still no answer. She was heading back to her car when she heard movement to her left. Layla was closing the barn door and heading across the yard.

“Hello!” Darlene waved, feeling intrusive. She’d just give her the cookies and go.

Layla was dressed the same way as before—blue jeans tucked into pointy-toed boots, long-sleeved denim shirt, and the cowgirl hat. The woman had dirt on her face, yet Darlene was sure Layla still presented herself better than she did.

“Hi, Darlene.” Layla stopped in front of her, expressionless. “What can I do for you? Another snake?” She grinned. Only briefly. But enough for Darlene to see that her teeth were as perfect as the rest of her.

“Oh no . . .” Darlene waved a hand and squeaked out a laugh. “No more snakes. I just wanted to bring you something, you know . . . a thank-you for slaying my intruder.” She pushed the tin toward Layla.

Layla pulled off one of her work gloves, took the tin, and wasted no time prying off the lid. After studying the cookies for a few moments, she chose one and took a big bite. “Thanks,” she said after she swallowed. Then she proceeded to polish off the rest of the cookie.

“You’re welcome.” Darlene wondered if Layla would invite her inside, or if that was Darlene’s cue to hit the road. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and once again gave her sunglasses a heave-ho up the bridge of her nose. “How many acres do you have?”

Layla pulled out another cookie, then shut the tin. “Thirty-five.”

Darlene thought about their ten acres and the time Brad spent keeping it up. “Wow. That’s a lot. Do you have help, or do you take care of it all by yourself?”

“No help. It keeps me young.”

I’ll say. Darlene watched her eat another cookie, feeling her own hips expand. She loved to bake, but seldom partook. She was short, and she had to work at not being short and fat. “My kids love chocolate chip cookies, so I make them a lot.” She paused. “Do you have children?”

Layla swallowed. “No.”

Hmm . . . No husband. No children. Lives in the mansion on the hill. And looks like a forty-plus supermodel dressed in cowgirl gear.

“Okay, well, I just wanted to bring you the cookies. Thanks again.” Darlene gave a wave. Layla was taking off her other glove and didn’t look up. Darlene had taken about four steps toward her car when Layla called her name. Darlene turned around.

“You don’t know how to sew, do you? I mean, you kind of look like the sewing type.”

The sewing type? “Um, yeah. I sew.” Maybe the fact that she’d been a homemaker for almost twenty years showed.

Layla ran her sleeve across her forehead, which further smudged the dirt already there. “I have a formal event to attend.” She sighed. “I’ve lost twelve pounds, and my dress is swallowing me. I’d pay you to alter it for me.”

I should have such problems. “Uh, okay.” Darlene pushed her glasses up on her head. “You don’t have to pay me, though.”

“Okay.”

No argument? She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her Capri jeans and stood tall, but no amount of stretching would bring her any higher than Layla’s shoulders.

“Can you come in and pin the dress now?”

Now? “Uh, yeah . . . sure.” At least she’d get a chance to see the inside of Layla’s house.

Layla started walking toward the house, so Darlene followed. Before Layla opened the door, she turned to Darlene. “Can you give me just a minute? I wasn’t expecting company.”

Darlene smiled. “No problem.” She felt somewhat relieved that Layla’s house might not be in top condition since Layla had seen Darlene’s house on the back end of the cleaning schedule.

It still seemed odd that Layla would leave her standing on the porch. Usually folks just had to deal with an unexpected guest, clean house or not.



Layla moved like a tornado through the living room and kitchen, clearing the areas of evidence. Last thing she needed was a nosy neighbor getting in her business, but at least she’d get her dress taken in. It was a great gown. Seemed a waste to go buy a new one for an event she didn’t even want to attend. She reminded herself it was for a good cause and a way to unload some money for tax purposes.

She piled everything in her arms, dumped it on her bed to deal with later, then closed her bedroom door. Down the hall, she went into the extra bedroom and found her emerald-green gown. She draped it over her arm.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she opened the door for Darlene.

“That’s okay.”

Darlene was a petite little thing with blond hair and a much-too-friendly smile, as if the world hadn’t sucked the life out of her yet. Give it time, Darlene. Layla sighed, then motioned for Darlene to sit down on the couch. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll go put the dress on and round up some pins.” She went to her bedroom and closed the door.

A few minutes later, Layla stared at herself in the mirror. Wearing the gown reminded her of times past. She closed her eyes and pictured herself in Tom’s arms, swirling beneath the twinkling lights in the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan. Those days were gone, and agreeing to attend this gala alone was probably a mistake. But she’d already committed. The peppy woman who’d come calling a few weeks ago had promised that the plaza at Festival Hill would be transformed into an exquisite venue, and she’d said, “Your presence would make a huge impact on our event.”

It better. Layla was just glad that Darlene hadn’t figured out who she was yet, or so it seemed. Because then she’d want to be Layla’s best friend, and Layla didn’t have the energy for that.



Darlene took the opportunity to look around Layla’s living room. Every antique was purposely placed and adorned with expensive-looking trinkets, the inside décor matching the early 1900s style of the outside. Shiny wooden floors were partly covered with patterned rugs, and several glass hutches were filled with exquisite pottery and china. Darlene didn’t know a lot about antiques, but it seemed a hodgepodge of old collectibles and vintage pieces. There was a certain warmth throughout Layla’s home but also a chill that Darlene couldn’t quite put her finger on.

When Layla walked in wearing the gown, Darlene homed in on the tiny lines feathering either side of Layla’s eyes. The woman had to have six or seven years on Darlene, but it hardly mattered. Layla had gorgeous features. And Darlene was sure she could never wear a dress like that. She just didn’t have the figure for it.

“That’s an amazing dress.” Darlene stepped closer and squinted as she leaned down and took a closer look at the tiny crystals encircling the base of the gown. A light emerald-green, the sleeveless, floor-length gown had a flattering V-neck, and when Layla turned to the side, Darlene saw the open-draped back. She stood straight, put a hand to her chest. “I’m not sure I should even touch this dress.”

“I thought you said you could sew.” Layla frowned.

“Well, I can, but . . . this looks like a very expensive dress. I’d hate to mess it up.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to have a professional seamstress alter the dress for you?” Darlene could see where it needed to be taken in around the waist and in the bust.

Layla folded her arms across her chest. “Have you forgotten where we live?”

“I know there isn’t anyone in Round Top who can alter it, but maybe go to Houston or to—”

“If you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

“I’m just worried. What if I mess it up?”

“Then just don’t mess it up.” Layla handed Darlene a box of pins. “I don’t want it too tight. If I have to attend this gala, I’m going to enjoy the food.”

Darlene took the pins and set to work. What a transition, from working cowgirl to glamour queen. “What’s the event?”

Layla sighed. “Another one of the many fund-raisers I’m asked to attend.” She paused. “But this one is for a very good cause.”

“Why don’t you just send a donation if you don’t want to go?” Darlene carefully pinched the delicate fabric near Layla’s waist and prepared to pin it.

Layla chuckled as she tossed her hair, causing Darlene to lose her grip on the fold. “They are expecting me there . . . in person.” She shifted her weight, and Darlene wondered if she’d ever get the dress properly pinned.

After another few minutes, Darlene was finally done, and Layla walked to her bedroom. She returned with the pinned dress on a hanger. “The gala isn’t for three weeks. Can you have it done by then?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You think so? Yes or no?”

Darlene wanted to tell Layla that she wasn’t her servant, but instead she just smiled and said, “Yes, I can have it done.”



Later that evening, Darlene crawled into bed next to Brad. Her husband had his laptop in his lap and papers scattered all over the place. She’d be glad when tax season was over. She waited until he took a break before she told him about her time at Layla’s.

“She’s just . . . different. I can’t figure her out.” Darlene pumped lotion into her palm, then breathed in the aroma of lavender as she spread it up and down her arms.

“So why try so hard to be friends with her?” Brad took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He’d probably needed the glasses for much longer than he would admit, but when he turned forty last year, he’d finally stepped out of denial and purchased a pair.

“I’m not trying hard to be friends with her, she’s just . . .” Darlene shrugged as she smoothed the last of the lotion on her neck. “Interesting, I guess.”

Brad put his glasses back on and focused on the work in front of him. Darlene reached for a book on her nightstand and started to read, finding it difficult to stay in the story. Her mind kept drifting.

In Houston, she’d worn herself out by volunteering for too many things—Girl Scout leader, band booster sponsor, softball mom, room mother, T-ball coach, and the list went on. She’d been happy to do it, but her kids were older now and didn’t need her as much. Even though she’d been enjoying a quieter life for the past two months, an idea had been rooting around in her mind.

“I was thinking about maybe getting a part-time job.”

“What?” Brad turned to her and grimaced, a reaction she’d expected. “Why? I told you I think I’ll make partner soon, and we’ll have plenty of money to do everything you want with the house.”

“It’s not the money. I think if I was out and about, I’d meet more people in the community. The kids are older now, doing their own things, so I don’t meet their friends’ parents like before.” Darlene knew Brad was a proud man, and she’d need to tread carefully around anything to do with money. Her husband was old-fashioned in that way, believed the man should take care of the family. She gave him a playful nudge before saying, “But you have to admit—any money I make would help.”

He pulled off his glasses, leaned down, and kissed her on the mouth. “If you want to get a part-time job, you go for it. But not for the money. Do it for you. I’ll take care of us financially.”

“I know that. And it would be for me.” She thought about having play money in her pocket, not a bad perk either. Then Layla’s dress came to mind. She’d noticed earlier when she hung it in the closet that it was a Versace. Darlene couldn’t imagine purchasing a designer dress for two or three thousand dollars, and she wished more than ever that she’d never agreed to alter the gown. She and Brad led a comfortable life and had never gone without, nor had their children. But her formal attire came from a local department store, and spending anything over three hundred dollars seemed extreme. She was worried about ruining Layla’s expensive dress.

Brad closed his laptop, picked up two file folders, and gathered up some loose papers.

“Done for tonight?” She put her book on the nightstand, then edged closer to him.

Brad moved his laptop and files from the bed and took off his glasses. “Yep. I can’t keep my eyes open.”

Darlene was wide awake, but as Brad clicked his lamp off and rolled onto his side, she knew he was exhausted. She turned the knob on her light too and snuggled into the covers as she waited for his arm to drape across her.

She said her prayers the same way every night, checking off a list, never changing the order, and knowing that it was almost obsessive-compulsive. First she’d run through all the things she was thankful for, then she’d ask forgiveness for her sins—stating specifically the offenses she felt she’d carried with her the longest. That was followed by requests for her children’s health and happiness, and she always asked God to continue to bless her marriage. At the end were all the extra prayers, for people she’d met, certain situations, or if one of the kids needed extra time dedicated to them. But all was well in her family this evening, so as she drew to a close, she felt a strong urge to pray for Layla. She kept it simple, unsure exactly what to pray for.

Lord, please bless my new friend, Layla. Darlene paused, wondering if she and Layla were really going to be friends. I know that sometimes You put people in our lives for a reason, and I’m sensing a purpose. I pray that You’ll guide my steps toward a friendship with Layla and all that I do in Your name. Amen.

She pulled Brad’s arm tighter around her, closed her eyes, and basked in the peacefulness she felt. Things had been rough in Houston. Chad hadn’t been making good choices, Ansley had been failing her classes, and Grace had been all distraught over a boy. This move was exactly what they all needed.

“Who do you love?” she whispered in the darkness.

“You, baby.”



Grace climbed into bed later than usual. She’d stayed up and watched a movie downstairs, despite her mother’s constant push to go to bed. She’d been having a hard time getting to sleep since they’d moved.

The glow of her bedside lamp lightly illuminated her room in the old farmhouse. It was nothing like the bedroom she used to have before they moved to the middle of nowhere.

Once she was tucked beneath her pink comforter, she reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out her trinket box. She loved the lavender sachet she kept inside of it, right next to the necklace Tristan had given her for her fifteenth birthday. She didn’t wear the heart-shaped pendant anymore. Except to bed.

She lifted the sachet to her nose and breathed in the floral scent, then fastened the tiny clasp of the pendant around her neck. She closed her eyes, anguish swimming through her veins. There was only one way she was going to get any relief. She stared at the shiny objects lying in the box.

She just wanted to feel better.

The next morning, she grimaced when she looked down at her sheets. She had to be more careful. She blotted the blood spots with cold water, stripped the sheets from her bed, then hurried to the laundry room downstairs. She stuffed the sheets into the washer, added detergent, and twisted the knob to On.

“I know why you keep washing your sheets.”

Grace spun around at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her heart raced. Mom walked closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Honey, I don’t mind washing your sheets. I know what’s happening.”

Grace was sure her mother could see her heart beating through her chest. “You do?” She stared at the floor, but Mom lifted her chin.

“Yes. It’s happened to all women at some time. I promise. We’ve all had accidents during our time of the month. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide that from me.”

Relief washed over her like water putting out a fire. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Breakfast is ready. Go eat, and I’ll get these in the dryer and back on your bed before you get home from school.”

Grace nodded and walked to the kitchen for breakfast.

Her mom came in a minute or two later. “Your dad left earlier than usual this morning. He said to tell you all to have a good day and to have fun tonight at the youth group gathering.”

Chad stood up as he shoved another biscuit in his mouth. “Hurry up, let’s go,” he said with a mouthful.

“Let your sisters eat, Chad. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“I’ll be in the truck.” Chad left the room, and Grace knew in a few minutes, they’d all hear his music booming. Hopefully her parents would get her a car when she turned sixteen. She hated Chad’s obnoxious rap songs. He was so juvenile. He thought it was cool to drive up to the school with that stupid music blaring, but it was embarrassing.

Grace was ready for school to end for the summer, but there was another six weeks left. She hadn’t made any real friends since they’d moved. Acquaintances only—a group of girls she ate lunch with. Everyone was nice enough, but Grace just didn’t fit in. That was fine by her anyhow. She didn’t expect it would be any different at the “meet and greet” youth group party tonight.

She’d begged her parents not to drag the family here, but when Tristan broke up with her, she’d just given in. Chad and Ansley weren’t for the move in the beginning, but they seemed to be adjusting better than Grace was. Whatever.

She put her napkin on her plate and waited for Ansley to finish her breakfast, which always consisted of two biscuits stuffed with peanut butter and pickles. Ansley’s eating habits were as weird as Ansley was, but Grace didn’t think anyone loved Ansley as much as Grace did. Not always the sharpest tool in the shed, her younger sister was the sweetest person on the planet. She’d never intentionally hurt anyone, and her bubbly spirit was the only thing that kept Grace going some days.

“Grace! Grace! Your arm is bleeding all through your shirt! Look, Mom!”

Grace grabbed her arm and jumped from the table as her mother drew near.

Mom grimaced as she held out her hand. “Grace, let me see your arm.”