BABY SHOWER GIVEN
The Sweetwater Belles hosted a baby shower for Belinda Anderson on Sunday afternoon. All twelve members were in attendance.
“I’ll give you a baby shower when the time comes,” Cricket said. “Think that might be anytime soon?”
“How about in seven and a half months?” Jennie Sue laid a hand on her flat stomach.
Cricket turned the page and then gasped. “What did you just say?”
“That I’m six weeks pregnant. Rick wanted to tell you the day I took the test, but I was afraid I’d jinx it until I saw the doctor and he confirmed it. We’ll be out of your house by the time the baby is born, so don’t worry about diapers and sleepless nights,” Jennie Sue told her.
Cricket grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Oh! My! Goodness. I’m so excited I can’t breathe.” She fanned herself with both hands. “This is the best Thanksgiving ever.”
“We’ve got so much to be thankful for, don’t we, sister?” Jennie Sue said.
“What was that about being thankful?” Rick, Lettie, and Nadine all pushed their way into the store.
“I’m going to be an aunt,” Cricket squealed.
Rick crossed the floor and kissed Jennie Sue. “And I’m going to be a dad, and this baby is going to have the best mama in the world.”
“Well, how about that?” Nadine grinned. “We are going to be grandmothers, Lettie.”
“I’ll start knitting a blanket next week.” Lettie fished two dollars from her purse and handed it to Nadine. “A week ago she said you were pregnant, and I told her she’d been listenin’ to the aliens in her sleep.”
Lettie clapped her hands like a little girl. “I’m so happy I could dance a jig, but my old knees would give out.”
“You ready now that we’ve dropped this bombshell on them?” Rick asked.
She put her hand in his. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
“If you are ready, but there’s no rush,” he said.
“Sure you don’t want us to go with you?” Lettie asked.
“No, I need to do this by myself,” she said. “Thanks for helping Cricket with the store today so Rick and I can have the day to ourselves once we get finished.”
“Honey, we’re glad to help,” Nadine said.
“Caddy or truck?” Jennie Sue asked when they were on the sidewalk in front of the store.
“Caddy—you’re carrying precious cargo, and it’s an easier ride,” he said.
She handed him the keys, and he opened the door for her. She fastened the seat belt and looked over her shoulder. Rick had carefully pulled the seat belts around the two silver urns so that they wouldn’t tip over. The tombstones had been in place for months, but Jennie Sue had procrastinated. She’d gone back and forth between burying them or combining the ashes and scattering them somewhere that had been special to them both. In the end she’d decided that burial was the best decision, and what better time to do that than right before Thanksgiving.
“It’s your last ride, Mama, and it seems fitting that it’s in your Caddy,” Jennie Sue whispered as Rick rounded the back of the car and got into the driver’s seat.
They were at the cemetery in only a few minutes. Rick helped her out and then handed her the urn with her mother’s ashes. He picked up Dill’s urn, and together they carried them to the two holes dug to the right depth for that kind of burial.
“One more time,” he said. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I want them to be here with Emily Grace so I can put flowers on their graves and remember them. I want to bring our children here and tell them about their sister and grandparents,” she said as she knelt down and put the urn inside the hole. “Rest in peace, Mama. You will always be beautiful in everyone’s memories.”
Rick handed her Dill’s urn next, and she did the same.
“See you later, Daddy.”
When she straightened up, Rick drew her close to his side, and then he worked his phone from the hip pocket of his jeans and laid it on Emily Grace’s tombstone. Vince Gill’s “Go Rest High on That Mountain” seemed to fit her feelings about Emily Grace and her parents better than any church song that she’d thought about playing that day.
Tears flowed when the lyrics said that their lives on Earth had been troubled, but she kept her eyes locked with his and found strength and happiness there. When the song ended, Rick put the phone back in his pocket. He turned to face her and took both her hands in his. They bowed their heads at the same time and said a silent prayer.
“Amen,” they whispered at exactly the same time and looked up at each other.
He pulled her toward him and whispered, “I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.”
“And I’m the luckiest woman. Let’s go home now and take a quilt to the creek,” she said without a single doubt about any of her decisions and so much peace in her heart that she knew she’d never have a single regret.
“That sounds like the perfect finish to this day.” He tipped her chin up and kissed away the tears.
Acknowledgments
Dear Reader,
I’ve lived most of my life in small towns. They have a heartbeat and pulse of their own, and I love them. When you read in my biography about everyone knowing everyone else, knowing what they are doing, with whom and when they’re doing it—and they read the local newspaper on Wednesday to see who got caught—that is the truth in a nutshell.
It’s fall here in Oklahoma as I finish this book and have to say goodbye to Jennie Sue and all her new friends in Bloom, Texas. Putting the last words to a story is always tough for me, because by then I’ve made such good friends with the characters. But in order for them to move on with their lives, and for me to move on to writing the next story, it’s necessary. You’ll be reading the book in the summertime, so pour a glass of sweet tea or lemonade and find a cool spot—like maybe under a shade tree beside a babbling brook—and enjoy your visit to the small town of Bloom, located just north of Sweetwater.
I’m a very fortunate author to have such an amazing team at Montlake Romance. They take my ideas and help me turn them into a finished product for my readers. From edits to covers to publicity, they are all amazing, and I appreciate them more than words could ever express.
Special thanks to my editor Megan Mulder, who continues to believe in my stories; to my developmental editor, Krista Stroever, who always manages to help bring out every emotion and detail in my books; to my awesome agent, Erin Niumata; and to Folio Literary Management. And once again, my undying love to my husband, Mr. B, who never complains about takeout food so I can write “just one more chapter.”
And thank you to all my readers who buy my books, read them, talk about them, share them, write reviews, and send notes to me. I’m grateful for each and every one of you.
Until next time,
Carolyn Brown
About the Author
Photo © 2015 Charles Brown
Carolyn Brown is a New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author and a RITA finalist with more than ninety published books, which include women’s fiction and historical, contemporary, and cowboys-and-country-music romance. She and her husband live in the small town of Davis, Oklahoma—where everyone knows everyone else and knows what they’re doing and when—and they read the local newspaper on Wednesday to see who got caught. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.
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