Secrets over Sweet Tea Read Free

her nose almost touching the glass pane of their sunporch. She noticed his hands didn’t make it quite as far around as they had twenty-five years ago, when she was eighteen and he was twenty. But neither one of them minded. It hadn’t been their figures that had attracted them to each other in the first place.
    She patted his hand. “Morning, sugar. Rest well?”
    He breathed his words across the base of her ear. “I’d recognize that Mississippi drawl four states over.”
    His breath gave her chills. She tried to squirm free. “Jackson, you just made the hairs on my legs grow.”
    He laughed. “I know.” He finally leaned back, patted her rear, and came around next to her. “Who are you spying on now?”
    “New neighbor. Four doors down.” She motioned with her fingers in the direction of the house as if she were engaged in some covert mission.
    He played along. He always played along. “Well, that does happen when people move out. Usually someone moves in. Think they’re terrorists?”
    She slapped at him without turning his way. “I think they’re from up North somewhere. They drive one of those Prius cars.”Sylvia Malone could be the neighborhood watch committee all by herself, but Scarlett Jo couldn’t resist helping her out now and then.
    “They do sell those now in the South, you know.”
    “I know that. But I watched them take in most of their clothes too.” Her sigh came out heavy. Did this man not pay attention?
    “Of course you did. And you started this surveillance activity when?”
    “Two days ago. They started Saturday. And had everything in by yesterday.” Her next words came out in a whisper. “Their clothes were mostly black. Only people from New York or California dress in all black.” She took a long sip of her tea.
    “We’d better hide the good china.” He shivered as he spoke. “Plus, all this time I thought you were out there praying in the mornings.”
    “Don’t mock me, Jackson Newberry. Northerners are a different breed, baby. They don’t like you to touch them. They don’t want to be called sugar or sweetie or honey pie or darlin’. They’ve never heard of lard. They have no clue on God’s green earth what fixin’ to even means. And if you say y’all , they look at you like you probably marry your second cousin or something.”
    His phone rang from his pocket. He leaned over and kissed her before he pulled it out. “I’ve always wondered about your cousin Thelma Lou.”
    She swatted at him, and he laughed. “What I know about you, Scarlett Jo, is you can make even Northerners fall in love with you. I’ll see you tonight. And please, don’t take them anything at least for a week. Let them get settled first. Visit them next weekend.”
    She started to protest, but he shook his ringing phone in front of her and walked from the room. She sighed. People thought pastors were like God—needed to be accessible at all times. She turned back toward the house down the street that seemed quiet after yesterday’s busy activity. She breathed a prayer for the hearts that would now live inside. Then her mind began to rummage through the selection of baked goods at Merridee’s. She’d find out what these Northerner newcomers were really like. And she had every intention of finding that out today.

He kissed her softly and rolled over. “That was just what I needed this morning.”
    Her words brushed softly against his ear. “Me too.” She pulled the sheet around her and snuggled up under his arm.
    “I’ve got to go,” he murmured. “It’s time to really get this day started.”
    “No, not yet. This has been the perfect morning.”
    He kissed the top of her head. “I know, babe. But I’ve got to get some kind of run in before I head to the office.” He moved his mouth closer to her face. “But we will pick up where we left off later. How’s that?”
    Her lip poked out in a soft pout.
    He walked into the bathroom and grabbed his runningshorts and T-shirt,