by Lin Stepp
John pulled up a chair. “Billy Ray prefers to be called Will now. You might want to keep that in mind.”
Mary Beth pulled her chair up closer to John’s. “Daddy, I still can’t believe you went to see the boys. Are they all right? How did that go? Where did you stay?”
“That’s a lot of questions.” He reached down to dig a can of cola out of the small cooler Mary Beth had tucked beside her chair.
“Daddy.” She gave him an exasperated look. “You know we want to know everything and you’re being purposely evasive.”
John took a long drink of the cola and then rubbed his neck. “I decided it was time I talked to the boys. I think your mother might have said it would be a good idea, too.” He sent her a smug smile.
Lydia wanted to punch him for it. How dare he take off down to Atlanta and not even tell her!
He crossed an ankle over his knee. “I stayed with Martha and she helped me get all the boys together at her place for a family visit on Thursday evening. J. T. brought his wife, Laura—they’d gotten someone to sit with the children, Jack and Rachel. Billy Dale—I mean, Will—brought his wife, Amelia, and Parker brought his fiancée, Marie. We had quite a crowd for pizza and salad. Martha ordered and I paid.”
“I can’t believe they all came.” Mary Beth leaned forward. “How did they act?”
“Angry and testy at first. We all threw our weight around, until J. T.’s wife, Laura, got provoked and took us to task. She’d taken some sort of mediation conflict management training in college, and she made us take turns, one at a time, saying what we wanted to say with no one interrupting. She policed us with an iron hand while we did it—then she let us go around again with a comeback. This helped us talk things out, once we all got into the pattern.” He laughed. “That Laura’s a strong, powerful woman. I guess she doesn’t let J. T. get away with much.” He glanced at Lydia.
Lydia’s eyes met his. “Laura has a very strong personality and excellent organizational skills.”
His mouth twitched. “I saw that. She organized us into finding a constructive way of talking things out.”
Mary Beth sighed. “I wish you’d taken me with you. I feel awful about how I acted toward my brothers before they left and how I acted afterward.” Her voice drifted off.
John leaned over to pat her leg fondly. “I said some words on your behalf, Bee. Told them some of the things you’ve shared with me. I hope that was okay.” He paused. “They want you to come down, bring the boys.” He paused again and grinned. “And bring Neal.”
Mary Beth blushed. “You told them about me and Neal?”
Unrepentant, he crossed an ankle casually over his knee. “It came up. You needn’t worry. I didn’t offer details.”
Mary Beth rolled her eyes.
John focused his eyes on Lydia. “We made some peace together, the boys and I. Not that everything’s smooth as silk. You couldn’t expect that after ten years. But we laid hostility aside, talked out what we wanted and expected from one another. That was a part of all that mediation stuff—telling the other person what you wanted from them to feel good again after everyone aired out and got their say.”
Familiar with the mediation process of conflict resolution, Lydia asked, “What did you tell them you wanted in order to feel happy again and have resolution, John?”
She could tell he wrestled with telling her before he spoke. “I told them straight-out I wanted my family back, unified and caring about each other like a family should. I gave my regrets for all the years I didn’t make an effort to be more a part of their lives. I told them I was genuinely sorry for all the unhappiness my mother caused and for how little I did to change what came down.” His eyes found Lydia’s. “I also told them I still loved their mother and wanted to make it up to her for the problems and hurts of the past. That I wanted to create a happy future with her. I expressed my hope that all the anger and resentments in our family could be left in the past.”
“Wow.” Mary Beth shook her head. “What did they say?”
John ran a hand through his hair. “Well, by that late hour in the day, we’d all about vented out all our rage, anger, and hard feelings, so I think it was taken well.”
Lydia put a hand to her mouth, close to tears. “Did the boys talk out all their feelings, too, John?”
“Yeah, they gave it to me pretty good.” He winced. “It was overdue. I needed to hear it and they needed to say it.”
The twins shrieked around them, chasing each other with water guns, Cullie barking and running along behind them. They laughed happily as they leaped back into the wading pool, both unaware of the tensions circling among the adults.
Lydia paused to watch them and then turned to John again. “You drove down to Atlanta on Thursday and it’s Sunday now.” She sent him a probing gaze. “What have you done since then?”
He smiled a slow smile. “I went to see where each of my boys worked on Friday and Saturday—out in the field with Will on Friday morning surveying a piece of mountain land, to J. T.’s architectural firm to meet him for lunch and take a tour with him afterward and then over to the Botanical Garden to see where Parker works on Saturday morning.” His eyes found Lydia’s. “I was proud to see all they’ve accomplished, to let them show me their workplaces and talk about their plans for the future. You did well guiding them, Lydia. They’ve found happiness and satisfaction in what they do. That’s important for a man.”
“And for a woman,” Mary Beth chimed in. “Don’t get sexist, Daddy.”
He raised two hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare with you two around. My new daughters-in-law—and daughter-in-law-to-be—would hardly let me get away with such remarks, either. They pursue interesting lives and work, too.”
Lydia bit her tongue, trying to let John tell about the happenings in his own way, trying not to break in to his account with the constant questions that assaulted her mind. John grinned at her, seeming to sense the effort it cost her. “I got to go to a nice cookout in J. T.’s backyard on Saturday evening,” he continued. “Got to play with my two grandchildren and get acquainted with them. Jack looks enough like J. T. did as a boy to take me back in memory easily, and that little curly-haired baby, Rachel, just starting to walk, is as cute as a button. She liked riding horsey on my knee like Mary Beth used to.”
Tears started sliding down Lydia’s cheeks now. She couldn’t help it.
“Aw, don’t cry, Lyddie.” John went over to drop down by her chair where he could catch her hands in his. This only made Lydia cry more, leaning her head against his.
Mary Beth cleared her throat. “You know, I need to haul these boys out of the pool and take them down to the house for supper.” She waved at the twins, giving them instructions to dry off and get ready to leave. Getting up from her lawn chair, she gathered her things and began stuffing them into the large tote bag by her chair.
Lydia made an effort to pull herself together to tell the boys good-bye. They didn’t need to see their grandmother crying.
John stood, too, and walked Mary Beth and the boys out to her small truck. “You tell Ela and Manu I’ll come on back to the house after I’ve visited with Lydia a little longer.”
“Mom made a big dinner for the boys and me for after church today and there’s plenty left,” Lydia heard her say. “I’m sure she’ll feed you dinner and you two can talk some more.”
Mary Beth waved some fingers at them as she bundled the boys into the truck. “I’ll expect you both to tell me anything I missed later, you hear?”
John glanced toward Lydia as Mary Beth backed out of the driveway. “That was sensitive of her to clear out.”
Lydia kicked at him with annoyance as she stood and started folding up the lawn chairs to take to the shed. “I can’t believe you simply took off to Atlanta without even telling me, John Cunningham. I was worried sick all weekend, wondering where you were. . . .”
He jerked her into his arms, making her drop the chairs, and kissed her with ferocity. Ly
dia made an effort to struggle and then melted into the passion sizzling between them. It seemed shameless standing on the front lawn, practically making out like teenagers, but Lydia didn’t care. It felt so good to have John back in her arms, to hold him, to be near him after that horrible quarrel.
“I’m glad you missed me.” He murmured the words as his lips slid from hers to move over her face and eyes.
“Oh, John, when did you get so romantic?” She dropped her head back so he could continue the journey down her neck.
He lifted a brow. “I thought I was always romantic.”
She kissed him again. “We neither one were very romantic toward the end and you know it.”
He slid his arms around her and drew her closer. “Well, that was then and this is now. I guess it just proves that a couple of middle-aged folks can get to sparking if they want to.”
She laughed and pulled away, swatting at him playfully. “You help me empty that kiddy pool and haul in the chairs and toys, and I’ll fix you that supper Mary Beth talked about. I cooked too much, as usual, and there’s plenty left.”
“All right.” He ducked in to give her another kiss. “I admit I only ate a quick sandwich on the road that Amelia packed for me.”
Lydia sighed. “She’s sweet like that.” She fixed John with a stern look. “I’ll expect you to tell me a lot more details about your visit while I’m fixing dinner, John Cunningham. And I’m still half-provoked with you because you drove down there and didn’t take me.”
His hand tightened on hers, his smile fading. “I needed to do this on my own, Lydia. You know that, and I have you to thank that I went, you and J. T. You both riled me up so that I got angry and finally confronted this issue.” She saw his jaw clench. “I hate to admit it, but you were right that I needed to go to my sons and not the other way around.”
Lydia laid a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you and the boys have made some peace.”
He snorted. “Well, it’s an uneasy one—and still a little volatile around the edges—but we’re making progress. And that’s something.”
John dumped the pool, turned it on its side to dry out, and helped her carry the chairs and toys into the shed. They unloaded the truck next, hauling in the boxes and bags from Atlanta loaded in the back of John’s truck. Then he followed her into the kitchen, sitting to watch her as she pulled out leftovers to heat up for their dinner.
“What’s that?” he asked, eying a casserole she’d popped into the microwave to heat up.
“It’s called Curly Casserole, a quick dinner casserole I used to make when the children were small. I thought Bucky and Billy Ray might like it, so I fixed it for them for lunch today. J. T. and the twins still love it.” She sent a glance his way. “You used to.”
John chuckled. “Is that the dish that had spiral-shaped noodles in it of different colors?”
“The same.” She felt pleased he remembered it.
“I did like that one.” He watched her pull another dish from the refrigerator to heat. “Green beans?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “And watermelon. The boys loved that, plus I made apple dumplin’s for dessert—a big hit with Cool Whip on the top.”
“I think that apple dish is a new one,” he said as he watched her pull the foil cover off the top of the Pyrex dish that had been sitting on the stovetop.
She turned to smile at him. “I couldn’t resist trying it with the fresh apples coming in now.”
He sniffed at it appreciatively. “Smells good, what’s in it?”
“Chopped apples wrapped in Crescent Rolls, sprinkled with cinnamon, and then covered with sugar, butter, and orange juice sauce before baking. Wait ’til you smell it when I heat it up.” She popped it into the oven to heat while she quickly warmed up the other dishes in the microwave.
He fell silent for a time as she put the dinner together. To help, he took out the garbage for her, set the table, and poured iced tea from the chilled pitcher in the refrigerator.
“Lydia,” he said at last when she came to a stopping point in her work, “I told the boys I wanted to be married to you again and not separated, to live with you and care for you.”
“Oh, John, I’m not sure it was time for that.” She bit her lip with worry.
“The boys asked me straight-out my intentions. I had to be honest with them.”
She twisted her hands. “How did they take it?”
“Better by Sunday than they would have Thursday night when I first came.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “They realized by then I wasn’t the wicked ogre they’d made me out to be—that I was only a man, trying to do the best I could with a hard situation in my life. Trying to honor my mother, a difficult woman, and honor my father’s last wishes, trying to learn to run the farm alone after his death and struggling to get the place out of debt. Working too hard and too long, and too tired most of the time to be a good husband or a good father. Always hating discord and coveting peace. Expecting too much of everyone to keep harmony when my mother made life so difficult for you and for the boys.”
He paused to collect his words. “I was so used to her ways, Lydia, that I didn’t see how her issues affected your life and the boys’ lives so adversely.” He sighed. “I did better with Mary Beth when Mother tried to come down hard on her and the twins later on. Or at least some better. But Mother was never a rational sort of person to work with.”
That was an understatement, she thought silently as she set the food out on the table for their dinner. But she decided to keep her thoughts to herself on this.
“Tell me how everyone is,” she said instead, changing the subject, hungry to get firsthand news of the boys and their families.
John filled her in while they ate. “Marie found the perfect wedding dress. She passed pictures around, sent one for you to see.” He grinned, dishing out another helping of casserole. “Jack has learned to ride a bicycle, one of those little bikes for kids, and he said he wished you could see him ride it. He’s another ‘watch me’ exhibitionist like J. T. was.”
“He was the first grandchild, and he does love attention.” Lydia passed John the rolls. “What else, John?”
He scratched his head, trying to remember. “Amelia’s online business is taking off, and she wants you to look at the new products on her Web site. And Parker is excited because they’re negotiating with Chihuly, the glass artist, for another exhibition at the Botanical Garden. He wants you to come down for it.”
“Oh, Chihuly is wonderful, John.” She sighed. “If you haven’t seen his glasswork, you need to go down with me. It’s stunning in any exhibit, but even more so displayed in the ponds and landscape of the gardens.”
He grew still, watching her. “Do you miss it, Lydia? Do you miss Atlanta and all the culture and things to do there? All the shops? The concerts? Moving in more educated and cultured circles?” He laid his fork down. “I went over to the college on Saturday, saw where you worked, walked around the campus, saw where the boys studied and went to classes. It’s a very different world from Maggie Valley, North Carolina.”
She smiled at him. “I know, but I love Maggie and western North Carolina and the mountains. I enjoyed the city and its culture, but you have to remember, I grew up in the mountains above Boone. It’s a small town, too. I’m really a rural girl at heart, John.”
Lydia watched him visibly relax.
“Atlanta also lacked one other important thing. I missed—you.” She reached a hand across the table to catch his. “I missed you, John.”
His eyes darkened. “If you keep sweet-talking me over dinner, I might not get around to tasting that fine dessert you made.”
Lydia felt herself blush and dropped her eyes. She concentrated on finishing her supper.
As they came to the end of their meal, they took their dessert out on the porch. She’d made coffee for John and Earl Grey tea for herself. There John told her more small details about his trip with her questioning probes—what people ate, what they wore, t
hings they said, how Martha acted, what words little Rachel could say now—the sort of information women generally needed to worm out of men. But Lydia wanted to hear every detail.
As the evening grew late, Lydia and John curled up together on the old swing to smooch, drifting quietly back and forth in the swing in the dark.
“John,” Lydia said in a quiet moment. “I want you to know I can help you with finances for the farm if you need it. I have a little money put back, and the salary I’ve been offered at the college is a good one.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “I figured Mary Beth or Rebecca would have told you by now there are no financial problems. They sort of made that up, knowing Hill House was vacant. Mary Beth wanted you to live close so she could rebuild her relationship with you and so the boys could get to know you better.”
Lydia slanted him a sharp glance. “You mean you all lied to me? Let me think you might have to sell off part of the farm when that wasn’t true?”
“Now, don’t get whipped up about this.” John shrugged, too casually to suit her. “Mary Beth and Rebecca cooked this up in love, and I didn’t even know about it until a week or two before you moved in.”
“Honestly, John.” She leaned away from him and put her hands on her hips, provoked. “Surely you suspected I had some reason for deciding to move into Hill House. I doubt you thought I’d move into the house simply because it was empty. Didn’t you ask Rebecca how I even knew it was for rent? I find it really hard to believe you couldn’t figure out that Mary Beth was up to something, either. You know how transparent she is about her feelings.”
“I admit I wondered and eventually got to asking some questions.” He blew out a breath. “I guess this means you’re not going to let me stay overnight.”
Lydia felt a blush steal up her face. “I never intended that anyway.” She stood up, feeling annoyed.
“You’re a prickly woman, Lydia Ruth Cunningham.” John stood, too. “And I’m too tired to take you on tonight after this long weekend and the battles with the boys. I think I’ll head on home and talk to you some more tomorrow.”
