by Sharon Sala
With each passing day, Granny Devon’s warning of danger and being her brothers’ keeper wore on Ally’s conscience. She was helpless to do anything to change the minds of two grown men who still treated her like their baby sister, but just maybe, if she knew what was happening, she would know who to go to for help. Still, that was something for another day. Tonight she had more on her plate than she could say grace over, and it was time to start frying chicken for the supper from hell.
Wes passed the Monroe house on his way home from getting groceries and noticed that Gideon Monroe was already home. But the brothers’ truck was still missing, which meant they were still at work. A little surprised, he lengthened his stride, anxious to get home and clean up before coming back for supper. Instead of staying on the road, he decided to take the shortcut through the trees beyond the Monroes’ yard.
He ran the last few yards to the house and hurried to unlock the door. Once inside, he put up his groceries, then began stripping off his clothes as he went and quickly jumped in the shower. A few minutes later, he was at the closet, sorting through his meager assortment of clothes for something to wear, then frowned at himself for being excited. It was just a meal with a woman who needed a favor. Granted, she was a pretty woman, and there was the fact that he was attracted, but that only meant he was still alive. A man would have to be dead not to be attracted to someone like Ally Monroe.
Choosing the least wrinkled of his clothes as the best bet, he dressed in jeans and a clean white T-shirt, grabbed a clean pair of socks and used his dirty ones to brush the dust off his boots.
Once he was dressed, he checked his appearance in the mirror—a holdover from his military days, when everything about him had to be spit-shined and in place. Satisfied that he was presentable, he started for the door, then stopped. It was customary to take something to the hostess who was preparing the meal, and he wished he’d remembered that before he’d left Blue Creek. Then he thought of the wisteria blooming all over the roof. It would be perfect.
Quickly he went outside and cut an armful of the heavy, purple-hued blooms, then wrapped them in an empty brown paper sack from the supermarket and hit the road. It would take a little longer, but he wanted to arrive looking as neat as possible, and cutting through the forest was just asking for a torn shirt or leaves in his hair.
A short while later he was at the mailbox and starting up the Monroes’ drive. The old hound was lying at the side of the driveway between the house and the road. When he saw Wes, he lifted his head and managed a soft bugle.
“Hey there, old fella,” Wes said, and stopped to give the dog a pat.
Buddy took it in stride and then plopped back down, as if satisfied that he’d done his duty.
Wes shifted the flowers in his arms to a more comfortable position and looked up at the house. There were three vehicles in the driveway now, which probably meant he was the last guest to arrive.
“Well, Buddy, here goes nothing.”
Fourteen
Ally was at her wits’ end. Freddie Joe had arrived with his children, who were in sad need of care. The oldest, the only female of the trio, introduced herself as Loretta Lynn Detweiller. Freddie Joe filled in by mentioning her age. She was eleven and, in Ally’s opinion, in serious need of a shampoo and a bra. The middle child was a boy who glared at her without speaking. Freddie Joe introduced him.
“His name is Freddie Joe Detweiller the third, but I call him Booger.”
Ally considered it wise not to ask why he’d gotten that nickname and then bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing when he stuck a finger up one nostril and gave it a poke. He was eight.
The youngest child was four. And if Ally had been weak-minded and desperate, the little fellow would have been reason enough to marry his dad. Thankfully, she was neither weak-minded nor desperate, but she gave him a welcoming smile as he told her his name.
“My name is Toot. I four.”
Again Ally refrained from asking about the nickname as Freddie Joe quickly filled in more blanks.
“That there is Johnny Cash Detweiller. I’m a big country music fan. How about you?” Freddie Joe asked.
“It’s fine,” Ally said. “But I’m partial to bluegrass.”
Freddie Joe frowned. He couldn’t abide a woman who argued, but he remembered that the last time he’d started to argue he’d been ushered out before he’d had time to eat his dessert. And since they had yet to sit down to supper and everything was smelling so good, he figured he would wait a bit to let her know who was boss.
“Food smells good.”
“Thank you,” Ally said, and ignored her father’s beaming smile.
“Is it done yet?” Freddie Joe asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Kids are hungry. I reckon it’s time to eat.”
“Not yet,” Ally said. “My brothers are still cleaning up, and we have one more guest who has yet to arrive.”
Freddie Joe glared at Gideon.
“I didn’t know this was gonna be a party,” he said.
“It’s not…I mean…Ally! What do you mean, someone else is coming? You knew I’d invited Freddie Joe and the kids.”
She gave her father a sweet smile.
“Why yes, I knew you’d invited them. You’ve reminded me at least twice a day, so I thought since you were inviting your friends, the least I could do was add one of mine to the list. He should be here anytime.”
Danny and Porter entered the living room just as Ally made her announcement.
Porter remembered Storm’s complaint about the stranger in Uncle Doo’s house, but before he could comment, there was a knock at the door.
“That must be him now,” Ally said, and rushed to the door.
In truth, she was not only nervous but downright afraid that her family would do something to hurt Wes’s feelings. Despite her request for Wes to act as a buffer, she was feeling guilty for having drawn him into the mess. Then she opened the door and saw him standing on the porch holding an armful of wisteria, and turned loose with a smile.
“Welcome,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her smile rocked Wes where he stood, but he managed to maintain some good sense as she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside.
Immediately, Wes found himself facing the stares of four suspicious men and three curious children. He only glanced at the children, knowing that they could be the trigger to him coming undone.
The sweet, heady scent of wisteria beneath his nose suddenly reminded him of his manners. He handed Ally the bouquet.
“A small gift for the hostess,” he said.
“They’re wonderful,” Ally said. “I’ll put them in water just as soon as you’re introduced.” Then she blasted the men with a glare.
“Everyone…this is Wes Holden. He’s renting Uncle Doo’s house and working down in Blue Creek at the feed store.”
If shock had been a physical emotion, Gideon Monroe would have been flat on the floor. Danny and Porter, having already been forewarned by Storm that he existed, were withholding their opinions, while Freddie Joe was in a panic, taking Wes’s appearance as an immediate threat to his own plans for a wife.
Gideon was the first to recover.
“Ally Monroe! Why is this the first I’ve heard about this man’s presence?”
“I don’t know.…Maybe because not once in my entire life have I heard any of the three of you ever come into this house and ask me how my day went, or if I needed any help. If I thought you were interested in my business—and you do remember that house is my business—then I suppose I would have mentioned Wes earlier. However, he’s here and the food is ready, and since Wes is my guest, I’ll show him to the table and put the wisteria in water as we all sit down.”
Wes stifled a smile. In her own house, Ally Monroe was a sight to behold. She’d taken the wind out of her father’s anger and ignored the rest, leaving Freddie Joe to hustle his brood into the kitchen alone.
Ally laid th
e wisteria on the counter long enough to get a large vase from the cabinet, then put them in water and set them in a prominent place on top of the sideboard, right next to three pies.
“Looks like you’ve been working at this meal all day,” Wes said. “It smells wonderful.”
Ally beamed.
Gideon frowned.
Freddie Joe fumed.
Danny and Porter thought the man was too slick and wondered if Storm had been right.
“Please, everyone, take a seat,” Ally said. Then she turned to the children. “I know you’ll want to sit beside your daddy. Freddie Joe, you sit here between Toot and Booger. Loretta Lynn can help me pour tea in the glasses.” Then she looked at the young girl. “Is that okay, honey?”
Glad that someone else had cooked their meal tonight, Loretta Lynn was more than happy to assist.
“Yes, ma’am. I’d be proud to help.”
Freddie Joe glared at Gideon, as if waiting for him to do something, but Gideon was too stunned by Ally’s defiance to do anything but sit.
Wes followed Ally to the refrigerator, then took the bin of ice out of her hands and set it on the cabinet beside Freddie Joe’s girl.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
Ally was still reeling from turning around to find him nose-to-chest close. When he’d taken the ice as if it was too heavy for her to handle, she found she’d completely lost her train of thought.
“Uh…no, all I have to do is take the food out of the warming oven and—”
“I’ll do that. Show me,” he said.
Now Ally was staring at him, too.
“What?” Wes asked.
“Men don’t do women’s work,” Freddie Joe snapped.
“Where I come from, men do whatever the hell they choose, and since Ally has done all the work of cooking this meal, I choose to help put it on the table.”
Freddie Joe muttered beneath his breath.
Wes turned his back on them all, then wondered if that was wise. He’d seen enough “go to hell” looks to wind up with a table knife in his back.
He took two platters of fried chicken from the oven and carried them to the table, putting one at each end of the long table.
Freddie Joe frowned. “We had fried chicken last night,” he said.
Ally’s face reddened, but before she could answer, Porter decided he’d heard enough. He didn’t know about this Wes Holden, but he did know about Freddie Joe, and he didn’t like the little bastard.
“You don’t plan to stay, then?” he asked.
Freddie Joe sputtered, then glared. “That’s not what I said. I was just pointing out that—”
“Who wants iced tea and who wants lemonade?” Ally asked, purposefully interrupting before a real argument ensued.
The drinks were soon sorted out, with Loretta Lynn proudly carrying the glasses to each place. By the time they were done, Wes had carried the last of the food from the oven. As if he hadn’t done enough to antagonize the men, he stopped at Ally’s chair and wouldn’t sit down until he’d seated her.
Gideon wanted to comment, but every time he looked at Wes Holden, intuition told him to stay quiet. There was something in the way the man walked and the way he stood that said he was a force to be reckoned with. Seeing him beside Freddie Joe made Gideon horribly aware of how willing he’d been to cheat his daughter out of a true man. He was not only ashamed but embarrassed.
“The food looks fine, Ally honey…real fine.”
“Why, thank you, Daddy,” Ally said. “Would you give the blessing?”
“Please bow your heads,” Gideon said.
And they did.
As Gideon began the ritual, Ally slipped her hand into Wes’s and gave it a quick squeeze, as if to say thank-you for coming, for helping, for just being a friend.
Before he had time to think about reciprocating, she’d put both hands in her lap and bowed her head.
He had to be satisfied with the lingering warmth of her touch. Then the meal began, and Wes was forced to face the children, especially the little boy who called himself Toot.
“I like chicken legs,” Toot announced.
Everyone smiled. Wes swallowed past the knot in his throat and picked up the platter of chicken. His hands were shaking, and there was a pain in his chest that hurt worse than dying, and still he made himself smile.
“My little boy liked them best, too,” Wes said. “Which one looks best to you?”
Johnny Cash Detweiller pointed to the biggest, crustiest one, and then looked up at Wes with a smile that nearly ended him in front of them all.
“That would have been my pick, too,” Wes said, then forked it from the platter onto Toot’s plate, took a piece for himself and passed the chicken to Ally without looking up.
Freddie Joe had seen the writing on the wall. He didn’t know where this man had come from, but with three kids and a receding hairline, he couldn’t compete. The most he could hope to get out of this day was a home-cooked meal, and then he was back to square one.
But Toot, having decided that the chicken-man was friendly, did what all small children do—asked a question that was too hard to answer. As the food was being passed, he took a bite of the chicken leg, then looked up at Wes.
“Where’s your little boy, mister? Would he like to play with me?”
Ally stifled a gasp, and all the color disappeared from Wes’s face. But to his credit, he managed to answer.
“He’s not here anymore, but if he was, I can promise he would have wanted to play with you.”
Toot was satisfied with the answer and kept on eating, but like a cur dog sensing weakness in a foe, Freddie Joe figured the man was one of those deadbeat dads and wanted to put him in a bad light.
“So what did you do, walk out on him?” he asked.
“Freddie Joe! You don’t know what you’re saying!” Ally said, then turned to Wes. “I’m sorry. I should not have put you in this position, and I will understand perfectly if you want to leave.”
“No, it’s okay,” Wes said, then made himself smile. “You don’t think I’d walk out on all of this good food and company, do you?”
“What?” Freddie Joe asked. “What’s the big deal? I still got my kids. What’s so special about him walking out on his?”
“He didn’t walk out on him,” Ally said. “His son and his wife were killed in that bombing at Fort Benning last year, and you owe Wes an apology.”
Freddie Joe wilted.
“Hell, man, I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose a wife, and I’m real sorry about your little boy.”
Toot wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was sure his daddy was in trouble and felt obligated to put it right.
He leaned over and patted Wes on the arm.
“Hey, mister…I know a joke.”
There was a moment of silence around the table; then everyone laughed.
“You do, do you?” Wes said.
Not one to be outdone, Booger offered his own skills to the assembly.
“Watch this,” he said as he scooped a pea onto his spoon, put it in his mouth, then snorted it out through his nose. It went flying across the table and landed on Danny’s plate.
Freddie Joe froze.
Danny’s face turned red; then he started to grin as Porter burst into laughter. Thankful that the tension was gone from his house, Gideon joined in the laughter. Loretta Lynn rolled her eyes, while Toot looked crestfallen. As always, his big brother had stolen his moment.
Ally looked wild-eyed at Wes, certain that he would think them all mad, but he didn’t look upset. In fact, he was laughing. Breath caught in the back of Ally’s throat. From the first, she’d thought Wes Holden handsome, but this was the first time she was seeing all of the man. His eyes were dancing, and his lips were turned up in pure joy.
Freddie Joe whopped his oldest boy on the side of his head.
“What?” Booger asked,
“What’d you go and do that for?” Freddie Joe said
.
“’Cause Toot can’t.”
“I still know a joke,” Toot offered.
The laughter rolled through the room again, filling Wes to overflowing. It took everything he had to get serious, although serious he had to be.
“So, Johnny Cash, tell me this good joke.”
Toot beamed.
“Knock, knock.” Then he patted Wes’s arm. “You’re ’apposed to say ‘Come in.’”
Booger groaned. “See. Toot never can get ’em right. It’s ‘Who’s there?’ Toot. Not ‘come in.’”
“Oh, yeah,” Toot said, and looked to Wes, waiting for him to finish his part.
“Who’s there?” Wes asked.
“Peanut butter,” Toot said, then patted Wes again. “Now you say—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Toot! He knows how to do it,” Booger muttered.
“Peanut butter who?” Wes said before Toot started to cry.
“Peanut butter and jelly samwich!” Toot cried, and then slapped his leg and laughed aloud.
Booger groaned as everyone laughed.
“That wasn’t funny,” Booger muttered.
Loretta Lynn punched him and frowned.
“That was a fine joke,” Wes said, and forever became a hero in Johnny Cash Detweiller’s eyes.
“I’ll have another chicken leg,” Toot announced.
Ally passed Wes the plate.
“I don’t know if there’s another leg left. Is there another piece of chicken that you like?”
“The butt,” Toot announced, and pointed to a thigh.
The answer drew another round of chuckles, which Toot promptly ignored.
Later, after the meal had progressed to dessert, Freddie Joe hurried them through it and began to take his leave. He’d been humiliated enough for one day.
Ally was packing up some leftovers for the children to take with them. Gideon and his sons had retired to the living room, leaving Wes alone in the kitchen with Ally and Loretta Lynn.
“Here you go, honey,” Ally said. “It’ll be enough for another meal.”
“I thank you,” the girl said. “I’m not much of a cook.”
Ally’s heart went out to her. “I wasn’t, either, when my mother died, but I learned.”
