by Lin Stepp
He started down the steps, then turned. “I’ll always be grateful to you for helping to pull the farm out of debt after my father died. Things stood in a bad way then, and I wondered if I’d need to sell off a large portion of the farm to keep us afloat.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for all you did then. I felt guilty about it, but I needed the help. I did get a lucrative offer for Hill House then and for this property. Mother urged me to sell, but I had sentimental feelings about the house and I didn’t want to break up the farm, either. I’m glad I didn’t have to sell.”
She watched him. “You’re sure Hill House is in no jeopardy now? That you’re not simply trying to shield me from the truth?”
“No.” He leaned against the porch post. “The farm is in better shape than it’s ever been. The diversification moves we made to have rental cabins, the lodge, the tube run for the winter, and our expansions in opening the store and hosting more events during apple season have kept the farm from being in jeopardy even when a bad year occurs for the crops.”
“I’m glad.” Lydia knew she meant it. “But I’m still a little provoked you let me worry all this time that there was trouble here.”
He gave her an easy smile. “Didn’t you enjoy today, having Mary Beth here and watching the boys play in the pool?”
“Yes.” She spoke softly, dropping her eyes.
He moved up a few steps to reach out and tilt her chin to raise her eyes to look at his. “Even though a little deception occurred, I’m glad you moved here close by. And I want you to know I’m putting all your rent money into a little savings account for you.”
“What?”
“I’m not letting my own wife pay rent to me.” He leaned over and kissed her. “And there’s nothing indecent or immoral about you leading me into your bedroom here one night. We slept together until you left, you know. We made four children together. And we never divorced. In the sight of the law, and in God’s eyes, too, we are still man and wife, Lydia Ruth.”
She felt suddenly embarrassed. “I know, and I’m thinking about it.”
“Good.” He kissed her again. “You think about it in more detail while you’re trying to fall asleep tonight. I surely will. Good night, Lydia.”
CHAPTER 16
Later that evening, John sat outside on the back patio of Main House with Mary Beth, listening to the shrieks and shouts of the twins playing kick-the-can with Nevelyn and Charlie Sheppard’s girls, Sara, eleven, Kristen, eight, and the two Crowe boys, Nalin and Davy, ten and six.
“How did Nalin and Davy get into this mix tonight?” John asked, seeing Nalin streak out from behind a shrub to race across the lawn. The boy kicked the can with a thwack, freeing the captives that Sara—currently “it” for the game—had tagged and captured earlier.
“I’ll get you for that, Nalin Crowe!” Sara’s fun-loving threat echoed through the night as the children raced from the base to hide out again. Plopping the can on the sidewalk, she turned her head to the wall, counted to twenty, then ran across the yard looking for where her friends hid. Spotting Davy behind a big tree, she called, “One, two, three on Davy. You’re tagged!” while she raced back to put her foot on the tin can to secure her capture.
Mary Beth laughed, her answer to John’s question interrupted by the children’s shrieks and shouts. “I loved that game growing up.” She turned a sunny smile to her father.
“I remember.” He smiled back at her. “And about Nalin and Davy?”
“Oh.” She shook her head, realizing she’d forgotten his question. “Manu and Ela offered to keep them tonight while the family drove over to the Long House Funeral Home in Cherokee. A distant relative died—one that the boys didn’t know well—so Ela offered to feed the boys supper and let them play here tonight until the family returned.”
“That was kind of her. I imagine those boys don’t get many treats.”
“They’ve known some hardships.” Mary Beth looked out into the night, thinking. “Ela said they lost their house and a plot of land they owned near the reservation through some misunderstanding.” She gave a small snort. “Manu said some crooks at a bank took advantage of them, encouraged a loan with terms they knew the family couldn’t easily meet—then foreclosed at the first late payments.”
“Is that true?”
“I’m not sure. You’d need to ask Manu or Alo Youngblood. Manu said Alo and his wife, Reena, owned a nice house on the land. Their daughter Nita, her husband, Falgun Crowe, and their children, Izabelle, Nalin, and Davy, lived in a trailer on their land, too. They lost it all. Now they’re all sharing the rental on Silas Green’s upper land. And recently Alo’s widowed sister, Mala, moved in with them. It has to feel crowded, Dad, and I’m sure they miss their own place.”
He watched Kristen dart from behind a bush to steal closer to the game base. “They can’t be making enough money from farming that mountain land to make ends meet.”
“No, although they have found things to grow and sell.” Mary Beth shifted in her chair. “All the family are artisans, Dad. The women make exquisite baskets and detailed beaded jewelry, and the men create handmade weapons they decorate with natural fibers and feathers. They sell their work in several shops and galleries in Cherokee, which supplements their income. I carry some of their baskets and crafts in the store. The tourists love them.” She paused. “Falgun started working in the casino on the reservation this year, too. It’s good money and they’re hoping to save to buy another place of their own again.”
Sara’s voice rang out in the middle of their conversation. “One, two, three on Kristen.” Sara raced to put her foot on the can. “And Bucky, I see you squatted behind the well.”
John frowned, thinking about Nalin and Davy’s family situation. “I can’t imagine Silas Green has made life any easier for that family. He’s a mean-spirited man.”
“I’ve always heard that.” Mary Beth made a face. “He used to scream at J. T. and the twins and chase them off whenever they played too close to his property. They always fumed and grumbled about it.”
John raised his eyes in surprise.
“We didn’t tell you everything we did when we were kids.” Mary Beth wiggled her eyebrows. “Kids don’t, you know.”
His jaw clenched. “I didn’t notice J. T., Parker, or Will holding back much this weekend.”
“Were they hard on you, Dad?” Mary Beth’s face softened.
“No more than I expected, I guess. Lydia gave me warning they’d built up a stack of resentments.” He scratched his neck. “I’d say they aired them all out right well.”
“It was probably needed.”
John watched Sara raise a fist in triumph after capturing the last of the children. Davy, caught first, would be “it” now. He hid his eyes against the toolshed and began to count out loud to twenty while the other children raced in every direction to hide.
“It’s getting late for these kids to be outside.” John glanced at his watch.
“Oh, Dad.” Mary Beth waved a hand. “It’s summer. There’s no school tomorrow and children grow up so quickly. Let them play a little longer.”
He glanced across at her, suddenly seeing her round face much younger—remembering back. “Have you heard any more from Sonny about when he might arrive in Maggie?”
Her smile faded. “No, and I really should have heard back from him if he’s still coming.”
“Perhaps he changed his mind.”
“Maybe.” She twisted her hands. “I’m uncomfortable about it, Dad. He wasn’t happy when I refused to send money to him the last time he got in a bind. He claimed I owed him, since I let him change the boys’ names back to Cunningham without him objecting.”
John’s shoulders stiffened. “Seems to me I recall we had to send a chunk of money to him, along with the paperwork, to get him to sign for that.”
“Yes.” She dropped her eyes. “He’s changed so much from the boy I dated in high school. It’s sad to think about it.
I know it hurts his parents, too, that he ran off and keeps so little contact with them.”
“Have you asked the Harpers if they’ve heard from him? Or if he wrote to tell them when he’s coming through?” John kicked at a twig on the patio. “Sonny’s usually broke, so he’ll need somewhere to stay.”
She shook her head. “I saw Wilma last week when I took the twins to her place to get their hair trimmed. She told me quietly, when the boys weren’t listening, that she hadn’t heard from Sonny in a year.”
John mulled this over, watching the children play. “If Sonny comes, I want him to see the boys here at the farm with supervision.”
“I agree.” Mary Beth’s eyes drifted toward the twins, both tagged and sitting captive on the wall by the toolshed. “Dad, do you think I should talk to Bucky and Billy Ray about their father? Let them know he might be visiting?”
He considered this. “I guess there’ll be time enough if he contacts you again or shows up. I’d hate to see the boys expectant to see him and then be disappointed if he doesn’t show.”
“You may be right.” She sighed. “But perhaps one of us ought to show them pictures, tell them a few stories about Sonny, so seeing him again won’t be too much of a shock—if he does come. You know, they don’t remember the last time they saw him. They were only three.”
John bristled. “It’s hardly their fault they have no memories of the man.”
“Yes, but he is their father.” She stood, seeing Ela step out on the front porch of her house. “There’s Ela. She must have gotten a call from Davy and Nalin’s parents that they’re home now. Manu said he’d drive the boys home when they got back. I’d better help Ela round them up.”
John thought of their earlier conversation later as he helped the boys into bed while Mary Beth worked on her online course work at the computer.
“Read us a story, Daddy John,” Bucky begged as he climbed into his twin bed and pulled up the covers.
“Yeah, read a scary one.” Billy Ray bared his teeth. “About wolves or dinosaurs or ghosts.”
John picked up the stuffed dog Billy Ray liked to sleep with and tucked it under the covers with him. “There are no such things as ghosts. Remember what your mother said about that?”
“Yeah, she said that bad people probably just act like ghosts.” He repeated the words with regret, his eyes lifting to John’s.
Bucky sat forward, scowling. “Nalin says our daddy is a bad man to run off and leave us when we were only little. Is he bad, Daddy John?”
John sighed. He guessed the conversation he and Mary Beth discussed would be conducted sooner rather than later now. “I don’t know that your daddy is a bad man, Son, but I reckon it’s safe to say he’s a mixed-up man.”
He pulled up a chair to sit between the two beds, thinking about what he wanted to tell the boys. “I remember Sonny Harper as a good, fun-loving kid growing up. He liked baseball, music, and singing, had a fancy for motorcycles. Loved the motorcycle rallies at the fairgrounds here in Maggie. He collected those little Matchbox and Tonka motorcycles. I remember he still had a lot of them when he and Mary Beth got married.”
Billy Ray interrupted. “Mama still has those in a metal suitcase. Sometimes she lets us get them out and play with them.”
John nodded. “I liked hearing Sonny sing, too—enjoyed hearing him play the guitar. He had a God-given musical talent. Starred in a lot of high school events and shows around here. Performed onstage at a young age.”
“He played and sang in a band. Mama has pictures of it.” Bucky sat up in the bed, punching the pillow behind him. “I think they were called Flat Ridgers.”
“The Flat Ridge Boys,” John corrected. “Three boys played in the band besides Sonny—Bailey Hanks from over near Jonathan Creek, Damon Bradley, and Rocky Sykes from Canton, and later, Ross Dodds managed them. At first they played mostly bluegrass, a little country, but gradually got into playing more country rock music.”
“Grandma Harper says that’s when Sonny started getting wild, when the band changed and they began to travel and play in honky-tonks.” Bucky paused. “What’s a honky-tonk?”
John rolled his eyes. Wilma Harper always did run her mouth too freely. “A honky-tonk is a bar that offers musical entertainment. Some offer dancing and are fairly nice places. Others are rough and often filled with drunks and trouble.” He paused, crossing a foot over his knee. “What else did Grandma Harper tell you?”
Bucky wrinkled his nose. “She said our daddy was a sweet boy who got misguided and went astray. She told me we ought to pray for him to come back to the Lord and quit his wrongful ways.”
John bit down on a smile.
“Grandma said he wasn’t a bad person,” Billy Ray added. “Just a good person gone bad for a while.” He fiddled with the bedcovers. “Do you think he’ll get changed?”
Bucky chimed in before John could form an answer. “Grandad Harper says Sonny needs to straighten up and fly right. Does that mean he flies planes now?”
“It means he needs to act right, and you boys have already gotten the gist of this story, from what I hear.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sonny started spending time with some bad company, took up a harmful lifestyle, and soon lost interest in the good things that really matter.”
Billy Ray’s voice dropped low. “Like us.”
John reached over to tousle his head. “Yes, I’m sorry, Son, but that’s the truth of it. Other things became more important to Sonny than his family—and that included his parents, his brother, Eric, and Eric’s family, your mother, and you guys.” He got up to kiss both of them on the forehead. “He sure is missing out on something special not knowing both of you, I’ll tell you that. I’d say he’ll come to regret it one day. Maybe come around wanting to make amends.”
“I’ve seen pictures of him, but I don’t really remember him.” Bucky put a hand to his head, rubbing it through his brown hair, cut in a typical childish bowl cut. “Sonny had his hair all shaved off the last picture I saw and he had a little bit of a mustache and a beard, like he forgot to shave.”
“Where did you see that?” John asked in surprise.
“Grandma Harper had it. Her friend, who’s the mother of one of the other guys in the band, gave it to her.”
“Bailey Hanks’s mother?”
“I think.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Grandma does the lady’s hair and she brought the picture over to Grandma to keep. It’s a shiny picture and shows all the band. Grandma put it on her beauty parlor mirror.”
“I bet it’s a promo picture—a picture bands use to promote themselves and give out to fans.”
Billy Ray crossed his arms, pushing out his bottom lip. “I’d rather have Neal as a daddy than for Sonny to straighten out and come back. I like Neal, and I heard Ela tell Manu that Neal really likes Mama.”
Bucky’s eyes brightened. “Manu said Neal is smitten with her. That means he likes her a lot, doesn’t it, Daddy John?”
John hesitated on this discussion. “I think whatever friendship that’s between your mother and Neal Caldwell is their own private business until they tell anyone otherwise.” He focused his gaze on the twins. “And you two had better keep those matchmaking ideas to yourself, you hear?”
“You do like Neal, though, don’t you, Daddy John?” Billy Ray lifted big brown eyes to John’s as he asked the question.
“I like Neal very much.” He got up to pick out a book from the shelf nearby. “Neal practically grew up at our home and he was J. T.’s best friend. He’s a fine man.” He sat back down with the book. “Now, if you boys expect to still hear a story before bed, I’d better get to reading it.”
He opened the pages of Andrew Henry’s Meadow, one of the boys’ favorite books, as well as one of his, and started to read.
A little later, he found Mary Beth at the computer. “The boys got to asking some questions, and I had that little talk with them about their daddy you and I discussed earlier.”
She looked up at
him. “How’d it go?”
“They know more than we thought.” He leaned against the side of the desk where her computer sat. “Seems Grandma Harper filled them in on her view about things.”
“I see.” Amusement filled her eyes. “I guess we can’t be sorry they know what folks think about their father.”
“Those boys don’t miss much.” A half smile played over his lips. “They told me they thought Neal would make a good daddy.”
His daughter blushed. “You didn’t talk about that with the twins, did you?”
“Just told them they ought to keep their thoughts to themselves about that. That any relationship you and Neal might have was your own business.”
She dropped her eyes and twisted a ring on her finger. “I don’t know what to do about that relationship, Daddy.”
He didn’t reply at first. “I guess you’ll figure it out. You’re the only one who knows your heart in this. It’s not for me to suggest what you should do, Bee. You’re the one who has to wake up to him every day if you decide to marry. As you know, that’s a serious decision.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “I didn’t give enough time to that decision the first time. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”
John watched her. “Sonny Harper and Neal Caldwell are two real different men, daughter. Don’t judge one by the other.”
Her eyes softened. “I won’t.” She turned off the computer and yawned. “And thanks for talking to the boys. I’ll slip in and check on them before I head to bed.”
John started for the door.
“Daddy.” Her voice stopped him. “I’m glad it was you and not me who talked to the boys. It’s hard for me to talk to them about Sonny.”
He nodded as he left, thinking that it hadn’t been easy for him, either. He hoped Sonny Harper would bypass Maggie Valley altogether as he traveled this way. The man had hurt people he loved too much for John to be eager to see him again—ever.
CHAPTER 17
Lydia let her mind wander over the events of the last week as she drove back from a meeting at Western. Her recent talks with the boys, Amelia, and Martha Howard filled her in on more of what had happened on the weekend John drove to Atlanta.
