Everyone in Hickory had heard of Mary Thomas. Even when Emmy Jo was a young child, Tandy had usually whispered Mary’s name when she spoke of her. Mary had a horrible reputation, and folks said that marriages could have been ruined if wives found out where their husbands went at night.
But no one ever talked about the two people buried beside her. Those small granite stones rested flat on the ground. One said “Mother of Mary.” The other said “Father of Mary.” So those two people right there on the other side of Mary were the young couple in the photograph. Why weren’t their names engraved?
Mary’s pale-pink granite stone sat about knee high. Engraved on the front were the dates October 1, 1917, and May 23, 1953. And below that in lovely script lettering were the words Beloved Mother. Emmy Jo couldn’t stop staring at the dates. Mary was only thirty-five years old when she died. Was it an accident, or had she had some incurable disease?
She wanted to sit down on the grass and ask questions, but Logan awaited.
“Well?” Seth said tersely.
She checked the time on her phone. “One hour, right?”
“Yes, two o’clock exactly,” he said. “And you need a watch. That thing could die or get lost. A watch around your wrist won’t.”
She pulled up the sleeve of her bright-red hoodie and showed him a wristwatch. “For pulse readings and all that kind of thing, but since I’m an assistant and not a nurse’s aide today, I can use my phone for the time. I will be back at two on the dot.”
“Sassy girl’s got an answer for everything,” he grumbled as he waved her away with a flick of the wrist. When she was about halfway to Logan’s truck, she glanced over her shoulder. She could see that his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear a word. Did he talk to his mother out loud every week?
Logan waited in the backseat of his club-cab truck, and she crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him—long, lingering, and passionately. He stared into her blue eyes long after the kiss ended. “I miss seeing you every night. You look sad.”
She never could hide her emotions from Logan. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I am a little bit. Look at him. He’s a sad old guy who has no one to talk except his mother. He has no children, and his sister lives more than two hundred miles away.”
“And the house?” Logan asked.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” She frowned.
“Is it a depressing place?”
She nodded, thinking of the contrast it made to her trailer with Tandy. “Yes, it is. All those lovely rooms. Four bedrooms with a bathroom each on the second floor, and there’s an attic that I haven’t even seen. There’s no life in there. I can’t imagine living in that place forever. It needs laughter and stories and kids sliding down the staircase and . . .”
He ran his hand down her bare arm and then laced his fingers in hers. “Our house is going to be filled with happiness.”
“Of course it is.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “We are in love and we’re going to work at making it amazing.”
“That’s what marriage is—teamwork.” He grinned. “At least that’s what Gramps preaches at weddings he officiates at,” Logan said. “Have you found out more about the fight between those three?”
“No, but I found out in the first three seconds that he hates red. Like, really hates it. I’m going to find out why. Now tell me about your weekend.”
“I worked half a day yesterday and then Gramps and I went fishing last night. Saw Diana at church this morning, and she said to tell you to call her this evening. She’s missing you.”
“Diana and I argued. She didn’t want me to work for Seth,” she said.
“I know,” he said softly.
“I hate it when we fight. She’s been my best friend my whole life.” She and Diana had not come down on opposing sides like this since they were little.
“I know that, too. And I don’t think I’ve ever known you two to argue about anything,” he said.
“We did once when we were kids. It was a silly little girls’ fight when I thought she was throwing me away for another friend. She said she could have two best friends, and I disagreed.”
“What happened?”
“The other little girl moved away the next week, and we were both miserable until we made up.”
Emmy Jo remembered the way her stomach hurt that week and how she couldn’t eat. Tandy had threatened to take her to the doctor if she didn’t straighten up. This time she didn’t have trouble eating, but there was an emptiness in her life when she couldn’t see and talk to her best friend every day.
“Call her and straighten it out. Even best friends don’t always agree,” he said.
“Sometimes engaged people don’t, either,” she said.
“But they compromise and work it out like we do.” He toyed with her promise ring, a tiny diamond in the middle of connecting hearts. “I wish you would let me buy you an engagement ring.”
She held up the ring to let the sunlight dance on the little stone. She loved that ring and relived the excitement of the night when he’d put it on her finger every time she looked at it. A bigger diamond couldn’t possibly bring her more happiness. “This promise ring will do until I can have a wide gold band.”
“I’m in a bit of a pickle here, Mama,” Seth said. “Nora has made a big mess of things. She thinks she’s helping, but she’s not, and I can’t explain it to her without going all the way back to the beginning. She and Walter did good, helping to finish raising Matt. He did better out where nobody knew anything about the Thomas family.”
He paused and watched a robin fly down and peck at the ground not five feet from him. “This is a tough time of year for me. I like to think that Matt is with you and it’s a comfort. But now it’s just me and Nora left. You know that, but this year is double bad. Lord, what was Nora thinking? She wasn’t thinking, is the answer. She was so wrapped up in her own love life with Walter our senior year in high school that she was oblivious to anything else. She might have known Tandy at school, but she had no idea that Tandy and I were more than just classmates.”
He grimaced. I’ve always wondered if Tandy was telling me the truth that horrible night when we all graduated.
He caught a movement in his peripheral vision and checked his watch. It was exactly two o’clock. Where had the time gone? The hour had never passed so quickly.
“You ready?” Emmy Jo asked.
“I hoped you’d drive off with that kid in the truck and never look back,” he said.
He eyed her carefully. Not a single thing looked like her great-grandmother. Red hair, blue eyes, short—nothing at all like the tall, dark-haired, green-eyed girl he’d known more than six decades ago. Even after all this time, thinking about the way she laughed when they were together and how her hand felt in his put a little extra thump in his heart.
“In your dreams.” She laughed. “Where to now?”
“To the Dairy Queen. I have a soft vanilla ice-cream cone for my afternoon snack on Sunday afternoons after I visit the cemetery. I suppose you could have one, too, if you like.” He handed her the quilt and rose slowly to his feet.
She took the chair and the quilt to the car, put them into the trunk, and got out his walker. “I like a peanut parfait occasionally, but a plain old vanilla is the best ever.”
“Don’t patronize me,” he growled. “I’m not going to be your friend, and you are not going to make me like you.”
“I don’t mollycoddle anyone. And I’m tellin’ the truth. I like vanilla ice cream,” she shot back at him.
He put his hands on the walker and grimaced. He’d hoped to be better than this after the surgery a week ago. The doctor really wanted him to go to a physical therapy place for six weeks now that the staples were out. But Seth would have been ready for a mental institution if he’d had to endure other people that long, so the doctor said walking was the next best thing he could do. He’d gotten out of the hospital two days ago a
nd he’d expected to get better hourly. So far that wasn’t happening.
“So vanilla is really your favorite?” He slowly made his way to the car.
“Only thing better than Dairy Queen is homemade in one of those old crank freezers. Granny used to let me turn hers when I was a little girl. And the only thing better than that is snow ice cream.” She opened the passenger door for him and waited for him to get settled before she folded the walker and took it to the trunk.
She hummed the whole time she worked and was still at it when she got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It shouldn’t annoy him but it did, maybe even more than that ugly red outfit she was wearing. He set his jaw and stared straight ahead. By midsummer, he’d be back in his routine, driving himself to the cemetery, and that damned walker was going straight to the trash bin.
“Home after we get ice cream?” she asked as she drove back to town and lined up behind two cars at the Dairy Queen drive-through.
“No, we are going to the cabin, the house where I was raised. I’ll sit on the porch for an hour or two while I eat my ice cream and then we’ll go home. We should get there about four thirty, and at five you can heat up leftover dumplings for our supper,” he answered.
He’d never taken anyone to the cabin, not even when he was a kid. He’d learned early on that mamas didn’t let their children go to that place. Would it be strange to have Emmy Jo there? Maybe he should have changed his routine and not visited the cabin again until she was gone.
“Why do you keep to such a strict schedule?” she asked.
“Because I want to,” he said bluntly. “I’ll want a large ice cream in a cup.”
The lady at the window keyed his order into the register and then looked at Emmy Jo, who ordered a small cone.
“You should get it in a cup. It’ll melt while you drive to the cabin.” If she was going to bug him about his schedule, he would boss her about her order.
“I can eat and drive, too. I like a cone,” she argued.
He shrugged. “Have it your way, but don’t ask me to help you.”
“Five dollars and nineteen cents,” the lady in the window answered.
He took a five and a one from his shirt pocket and handed it to Emmy Jo. “Tell her to keep the change.”
They were pulling back out onto Main Street when he pointed to the right. “Go to the traffic light and then two more blocks. Turn left and keep going until the road ends and make a right. The place is right there on the corner. Just park in the front yard.”
His hands got a little clammy. It was just a run-down shack, but it had been the only place he’d known peace for years. If she ruined that for him that day, he wouldn’t come back until he could drive himself.
“This it?” she asked as she made the last turn. Her tone and the way her eyes bugged out told him that she was comparing this place to the house he now lived in. Seeing it through her eyes, he noticed how shabby the little house looked. A few bits of paint hanging on the place were the only signs that it had ever been white. The yard was a fright, and last year’s leaves were stacked up in the corners of the porch.
He nodded. “This is the place.”
“It don’t look like a cabin.” She grabbed her head with her free hand.
“Brain freeze?” he asked.
“Yes, and if I don’t eat fast, my ice cream will be running down my arm,” she said. “Where was I? Oh, yes, I was expecting a log cabin, I guess. This just looks like a house.”
“It’s what it is.”
Since he’d been there last, the wisteria and forsythia were both in bloom and the magnolia tree in the front yard was about to outgrow the tire around it. His mother had planted it there the first year she was married to Sam Thomas. Another year and he’d have to remove the tire.
“Here, hold this.” Emmy Jo shoved the rest of her ice-cream cone at him.
“You should have gotten it in a cup. I’m not helping you.”
“Either take it or I’ll set it in your lap,” she said.
He held it between his thumb and forefinger.
“It’s not a snake and I don’t have germs,” she told him.
“If it drips, it’s going out the window.” He raised his voice.
“How you going to roll it down with both your hands full?” she hollered back at him as she crawled out of the car and jogged around the front to open his door.
Sassy piece of baggage. So much of Tandy in her. A vision of Tandy with all that gorgeous dark hair and those big eyes with mischief in them appeared in Seth’s mind, but he quickly shook it away.
And that’s what makes you so angry, isn’t it? The voice in his head sounded a hell of a lot like Nora’s.
No, she’s got a right to act like Tandy. I kind of like that in her. Sparring with her is fun. It’s those blue eyes that upset me, and that damn red outfit.
The door swung open, and his walker was already set up and waiting. “Give me my cone and your cup so you’ll have both hands to get out. You really are doing better than most patients out of the hospital such a short time.”
He winced when his feet hit the ground, but he bit back the groan. He was doing good, she said. Maybe by the time they came to the cabin next Sunday, he’d be able to walk without that damned contraption.
Nothing changed. Serenity surrounded him like a warm blanket when his feet hit the ground. He was home, and for a little while, all would be right in the world.
“You want anything from the trunk? The quilt or your folding chair?”
He shook his head and made a slow beeline for the porch, where an old wooden rocking chair sat. “That will do just fine. You can give me back my ice cream when I get there.”
“Think you can manipulate those two steps?” she asked.
He frowned, his snow-white brows knitting together in a solid line. “I will, or else I’ll crawl up there.”
“No need for that. I’m trained in how to get you into that rocking chair.”
“Little bitty thing like you is going to carry me up onto the porch.” He snorted.
“No, I am not. Park your walker to one side. Now, I’m going to the first step and you will hug me like I’m a big teddy bear. I will put my arms around your waist and you will step up with your good leg first. Then we’ll repeat the process and you will hold onto the porch post for support while I bring up the walker.”
“If I get to the porch, I can use the railing for support,” he said.
“If? Come on, Seth, give me a little credit. I’ve been working in home health for three years,” she said.
“I’m a foot taller than you are, girl, and I outweigh you by seventy pounds.”
“I may be short, but I’m strong. Now wrap those long arms around me and hold on.” She set his cup on the porch railing and held her cone out widely so she wouldn’t get ice cream on him. “Now hurry up or my ice cream will start to run and get all over both of us.”
The girl was insane. She couldn’t possibly support his weight, and if he fell and the staples broke loose, he could wind up back in the hospital.
“Come on. Don’t be shy. It’s a business hug,” she said.
“If I fall—”
She held up a palm. “Hush and do what I say.”
He had not hugged anyone in decades, but he opened up his arms and she walked into them.
“Now use your good leg and step up.”
One step and then the next, and she stepped out of the embrace and he grabbed the porch post. By damn, it worked. Using the railing, he inched his way to the rocker and eased down into it.
He was eating his ice cream and enjoying the spring breeze on his face when he heard humming again. Seth glanced over to see that she’d finished eating her cone and was meandering about the yard, smelling the blooms on the flowering bushes. Her movements were like a happy little girl’s, not at all like Tandy’s had been back when she was young. Tandy had a sway to her walk and a way of lowering those dark lashes and cutting her eyes arou
nd to wink at him.
“Did you grow up here?” she asked as she made her way back to sit on the top step and prop her feet on the next one down.
“I was born here,” he said.
“No kiddin’! How old is this place?” she asked.
“About ninety years, near as I can figure. My daddy won it in a poker game the year before I was born. Lost his family farm the same night in the same game.” Dammit! He hadn’t meant to tell her anything. That’s what happened when someone invaded his perfect hermit world.
“So your mama wasn’t born here? That woman who’s a baby in the picture on the mantel?” Emmy Jo asked.
“No, she wasn’t.”
“Was she born here in Hickory?”
He shook his head.
“What do you do for a whole hour while you are here?”
“I’m going to ignore your nosiness, for a start,” he said.
Dratted girl. She was going to interfere with his quiet time at the cabin with her incessant questions and talk. Couldn’t she simply sit there or even pick a bouquet? He wouldn’t mind either one if she’d leave him alone.
She giggled. “I thought I was sassy.”
“You can be both.”
“Tell me about your mother. She died too young.”
“Yes, she did.” The pain in his hip grew worse as his whole body tensed. “It was the night I graduated from high school.”
“Don’t tell me about that time. Tell me about when she was a baby in that picture with your grandparents. They looked so happy,” Emmy Jo said.
His body relaxed, and the pain lessened. She wasn’t going to hush, so he might as well tell her something, but next week he might change his schedule. “I never knew them, but then neither did she. They died when she was a baby, not even a year old. The whole story didn’t come out until I was past fifty and my uncle visited from Virginia. He was on the same mission that I was.”
“Mission?” Emmy Jo’s big blue eyes locked with his.
“Look, if you’ll promise me you’ll never wear red again, I will tell you about my grandparents.” If he had to talk, then she could give a little something for the story.
The Lilac Bouquet Page 5
