by Ava Miles
On the day of her brother’s return, she told the kids about her plan to surprise their aunt and uncle at their old house with a small dinner party. Afterward, she said, they would stay. She made sure not to look at John Parker, who was sitting at the kitchen table with them, his breakfast largely untouched.
“Are you sure it’s safe, Mama?” Annabelle asked her, and Rory stared at her with wide eyes, looking much older than seven.
“Of course, sugar. The police have the bad man in jail now, and Mama would never take you back if there was any danger. Don’t y’all want to surprise Uncle Rye and Aunt Tory and go back home?”
Annabelle lifted her little shoulder in a half-hearted yes. “Mr. McGuiness, are you coming with us?”
Tammy’s eyes locked with his, and her heart trembled, aching for everything to be right between them again. He didn’t say a word, and she realized he was letting her answer.
“I’m sure he can come to the party,” she managed to say through her raw throat.
John Parker broke eye contact first and caressed Annabelle’s hair. “Of course I can. How about I push you in your tree swing when we get back to y’all’s house? You probably missed it, right?”
“Yeah,” Annabelle said and raised her arms to him. When he lifted her daughter and hugged her close, he turned slightly away, but not before Tammy saw him squeeze his eyes shut.
She knew the thought of being parted from the kids pained him. It wouldn’t be the same once they moved out of his house, and they both knew it.
Rory simply stared at her, an accusation in his eyes, before he ran from the room. What in the world was she going to do about that?
She packed up a few of their things, hoping Rye and Tory would help her bring the rest of the kids’ stuff back to the house in the coming days. It would be wonderful to have them around, and their support would ease the transition for the kids. But as she laid her own clothing inside, she had to brush away tears. The thought of leaving John Parker and this magical house was almost unbearable.
Instead of having them all ride together, she took her own car, and John Parker followed in his truck with Bullet and Banjo in the back. It was yet another mark of how things had changed.
When they reached Rye’s place, the kids grew quiet. As the gates to Rye’s property opened and the two guards at the front waved them in, it was like the door to all their fears had opened too.
“Your uncle is just keeping the guards around a little longer to help y’all feel safe here.” She gestured to the land and said, “See, everything is right as rain. Uncle Rye would never come back if it wasn’t safe, and neither would Mama.”
Annabelle made her carry her to the house, and one of the guards opened the door for them. She stopped before heading inside since Rory had suddenly run off, making a beeline for John Parker. When he took his hand, it was like her son was making sure to include him in a way she no longer could.
She made a show of creating a fun atmosphere, hanging streamers from the chandelier in the dining room and helping the kids make Welcome Home signs with markers. After a while, John Parker announced he was going to buy some steaks and other fixings for dinner. Rory told Annabelle then that she should go help Mr. McGuiness pick up the food, and even though she’d looked at him with a quizzical expression, she’d hurried off to do his bidding.
When they were alone, her son put his hands on his little hips and stared her down.
“Why are you mad at Mr. McGuiness, Mama?”
She’d feared this moment. How was she supposed to explain her reasoning to a little boy who saw so much but was still so very young?
“Rory, you know how sometimes you get mad at me if I don’t let you play outside longer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, it’s kind of like that with Mr. McGuiness and me.”
“But Mama, Mr. McGuiness would give you anything you ever wanted. He loves you. He told me so.”
Her breath caught. How had he not told her about this? He’d only said Rory told him about praying with Annabelle that he would be their daddy. “Rory, Mr. McGuiness is a good friend to all of us. Of course he loves me.” Boy, that was hard to squeak out. “He loves everybody in this family.”
His mouth pursed then. “But Mama, he wants to marry you, And he wants to be my daddy.”
Oh, dear heaven. She’d never imagined she was going to break another man’s heart with her decision, but it seemed she was.
“Rory, I was married for a long time to your daddy, and when we came to Dare River, I decided I didn’t want to be married anymore.”
“But you wouldn’t be married to our old daddy, Mama. You’d be married to Mr. McGuiness.”
His words echoed much of what John Parker had said, but she couldn’t explain to her son all the reasons why she wasn’t ready for another marriage.
“I know, but I don’t want to be married to anyone right now, Rory. I like it being just you, me, and Annabelle. Don’t you?”
He studied his shoes and lifted his shoulder. “Sure, but I like being with him too. He’s a good man, Mama. He’ll take good care of us.”
Where had he heard that from? John Parker? Rye? Was that male assertion encoded into the Y chromosome?
“Rory, Mama can take good care of you and Annabelle. That’s what mamas do. We don’t need anyone to help take care of us.”
“But what about Uncle Rye taking care of us?”
“Uncle Rye is family, but we still need to give him and Aunt Tory space now that they’re married. Pretty soon you, me, and Annabelle are going to find a house all for ourselves close by.”
“But I don’t want to move to a new house,” he protested. “Why can’t we stay at Mr. McGuiness’ house?”
“Because it’s not our house, and we need to find our own place.” She needed to shut this down. Right now. “I know it will be hard, sugar, but it’s what families do. All of your friends at school live in their own houses, right? That’s what we’re going to do. Now, let’s go and make Aunt Tory’s special sugar cookies.”
“No!” he told her, and it might have been a first. Her son never used that word with her, especially not with that tone.
“Rory.”
“No, Mama. We’re supposed to stay with John Parker at his house. That’s our new home. Annabelle and I prayed for a daddy, and he’s the one. I just know it. God always answers my prayers!”
He ran off, Bandit trailing at his heels. She sank into a dining room chair and lowered her head to the table.
Nothing had gone as planned since her return from Meade.
When Annabelle and John Parker returned with the groceries, Rory re-emerged from wherever he’d been hiding. He didn’t say a word to her, and a new fear spread in her belly. What if he shut her out? He’d done that to Rye when he and Tory had broken up at one point.
Amelia Ann slipped inside the house, and it was as if she sensed the tension, because she immediately defused it by turning on the radio and dancing and singing with Rory and Annabelle. She and her sister had spoken on the phone a couple of times since her trip to Meade, but she hadn’t said anything to her about John Parker yet—or to anyone else. And since her sister had acted weird, not wanting to talk about Mama or the leak, saying it was best to just let sleeping dogs lie, she hadn’t pressed.
Rye and Tory’s homecoming was filled with laughter and celebration. But inside she felt like one of the streamers hanging limply from the doorway. Pasting on a smile took effort, and since both Tory and Rye watched her and John Parker like a hawk, she suspected they knew something was amiss.
It seemed even Annabelle did because she starting sucking on her thumb when Tammy announced it was time for baths.
“No! I don’t want one, and I don’t want to stay here,” Rory yelled and stomped off.
His flagrant disrespect left her speechless.
Promising she’d talk him down, Tory ran off in pursuit. Recognizing her sister-in-law had a much better chance of getting through to him ju
st now, Tammy nodded.
Amelia Ann took Annabelle in her arms. “Let’s go take a bath, sugar.”
“I don’t want to stay here either, Mama,” Annabelle cried. “Our chocolate fairy family is at John Parker’s house, not at Uncle Rye’s. They won’t give me any more chocolate.”
Her whole plan lay in tatters at her feet.
“I expect your mama can plant you a chocolate garden here too. Then they’ll come take care of y’all just like they did at my house,” John Parker said, saving her from replying.
She could only imagine how much that suggestion cost him.
Annabelle’s brow wrinkled, trying to figure out that one, and Amelia Ann headed off with her daughter for a bath now that she wasn’t protesting.
John Parker shook Rye’s hand and said, “I’m going to tell the kids goodnight and head on home.”
Rye turned to Tammy. “Let’s take a walk.”
They hadn’t spoken much since the call she’d given him after leaving Meade. She hadn’t wanted to deal with his volatile emotions, his quest for revenge against Sterling and even Mama.
John Parker was yet another thing she didn’t want to talk about, but she had to face this like she’d been facing everything else she feared.
They were no sooner outside and in her rose garden than she said, “Rye, I know you and John Parker are friends, and I’m not putting you in the middle of anything, but we’ve broken up.”
“What happened?” Rye asked, as direct as ever.
“He told me he wants to get married, and since I’m not sure I ever want to get married again, I told him it would be best just to end things.”
But she’d never imagined the pain that would come from that decision. It had only been a few days, and being apart from him hurt more than any one of the days she’d spent living with Sterling.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she added then because her chest hurt, and she knew she was going to start crying.
The sprinklers had just finished watering the yard, so her sandals grew wet as she raced away from her brother. Running, she realized, something she’d sworn never to do again. Rye cried out to her, and she looked behind to see him running after her, waving off the two guards in the back who must have thought something was wrong.
Please leave me alone. Just this once. Don’t make me talk about this again.
The river called out to her, and she increased her speed, hoping to outrun Rye. And outrun the pain inside her.
The unkempt plants along the river were obscured in the evening twilight, but she could make out their shapes. Somehow, the wildness of it drew her in. Inside her, there was still a wild side she was discovering, and she wanted to run free just like these plants along the river.
Marriage wouldn’t allow that.
She needed to choose herself or John Parker, and she couldn’t have both. Choosing herself was the only way she could continue to become the person she wanted to be, the mama her children deserved.
Sensing Rye’s presence, she sat on the bench by the river, breathing hard. “I told you. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” he muttered and sat beside her.
His easy acquiescence made her immediately suspicious, and it was difficult to ignore his quiet presence as she watched the rising moonlight ripple across the river. Seeing it made her think of how that same light had covered her and John Parker in its magical arms as they’d raced to the tree house, hungry for each other, eager to explore the love blooming between them.
And now those nights were gone forever…at her choice.
Soon she couldn’t hold back the tears. “You’d best leave me be,” she informed him, sniffing to punctuate her impending loss of control. “I’m about to make a mess of myself.”
He slid closer on the bench and put his arm around her. “Well, I expect I can handle it. Do your worst.”
And she did. Like the river, she let the waters of sadness stream from her. They flowed and surged with her cries. Her tears were hot like the night air, and they soaked his shirt where she lay snug against him. She clutched at the fabric, wanting to hold onto something tangible, something to keep her from feeling like everything she’d just discovered was slipping away.
When she finally quieted, the buzzing in her ears was as uncomfortable as the pressure in her head. Everything in her was limp now, and she sagged against her brother.
“Well,” he finally said, “now that you have that bottle uncorked, why don’t you tell me what really happened?”
With no more resistance now, the words slid out of her mouth as easily as her earlier tears had slid from her eyes. He simply held her, an anchor in the hot night as the cicadas and frogs sang to each other along the riverbed.
When she finished, her throat was raw, and more tears were flowing down her face.
“When you look at Tory and me, how do you see our marriage?” he finally asked her.
His question surprised her, and she dashed at the tears on her face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you think I take care of her?” he asked quietly.
She thought about it a moment. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Does she take care of me?”
This time she didn’t have to give it a moment’s thought. “Most definitely.”
His chuckle was soft. “Indeed, honey. I love how you don’t mince words anymore. Does Tory speak her mind?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do I tell her what to do?” he asked, and she felt like it was a trick question.
“Ah…not really.”
“Does she tell me what to do?” he followed up.
A cricket erupted into song right under their bench, a shrill cry in the night. “Frequently.”
Another chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Yes, probably because I need some talking to as we like to say.”
She used part of her shirt to dry her face, and she caught the healing bruise at her collarbone with the movement. It shot pain all the way to her heart. “I don’t see what you’re trying to say. You and Tory are different people.”
“Hmm…now that’s funny,” he mused. “When I heard your story, I thought you were telling me what marriage was like for everyone, not what marriage would be like between you and J.P.”
Now she saw the reason for his questions. “Rye, I’m not like Tory.”
“I know you’re not, but it seems to me there’s one thing you’ve discounted. What you’re saying to me is that you don’t think you can stand up to J.P. if the time calls for it.”
That was true, and John Parker had put that fear of hers right between them when they’d fought in the tree house.
“Now, I’ve known that boy for a long spell now,” her brother continued, “and I can’t say he’s ever told anyone what to do—except for a few times when I was either in dire straits, under the allure of too much liquor, or when I flat-out needed some serious advice. Have you been seeing something different than me? Has J.P. become some sort of harpy since y’all moved in with him?”
Her breath rushed out as she pushed away from him, knowing he was making fun of her. “No, he hasn’t.” And she was starting to feel silly. “But marriage changes people.”
“Sterling was as much an asshole when you married him as when you left Meade,” her brother said, and this time they could agree, even if she hadn’t seen Sterling for what he was at first.
“But I can see your point about marriage changing people. If you marry the right person, hopefully you change for the better. Honestly, I think a marriage based on love only tempers a person’s bad qualities. It’s like butter on bread.”
Leave it to Rye to come up with a food analogy. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that one.”
“So, I can get pretty aggressive,” he told her like it was news.
“Hmm…” was the nicest way she could reply.
“Nice of you to hold back on that one, honey, but we both know it’s true. My aggre
ssive tendencies are the bread, and my love for Tory and the…well, softer side she brings out in me are the butter. Put them together, and I’m toast in her hands.”
A laugh sputtered out before she could stop it, causing a frog to jump and plop into the river. “That is the craziest notion I have ever heard.”
“Am I not a nicer person now?” he pushed.
“Well, yes, of course.”
“Let’s take a look at you.”
All she wanted to do right then was jump into the river just like the frog had and let the current carry her away. “Let’s not.”
“Now your bread is you thinking you can’t stand up for yourself, since you never did until this past year.”
Heavens, her brother could read right through her, even if he was equating her to food.
“You’re afraid J.P.’s going to call the shots,” he continued, “and you’re just gonna stand there like the good little ol’ woman you were raised to be, letting him run roughshod over you. I know it’s not because you think he’d ever lay a hand on you.”
No, that thought had never crossed her mind.
“Still with me?” he asked, tucking her close again, ignoring any distance she’d tried to put between them.
“Yes.”
“Okay, as I was saying, the butter on your bread is how you feel about John Parker, and from what I can see, honey, it’s made you realize there can be a lot more between a man and a woman than all the shit you experienced with Sterling. Pardon my language. Got me?”
Unfortunately, yes, she was seeing what he was saying all too well now. “Sort of,” she said to be contrary.
“But here’s the special part I didn’t mention about me and Tory. On top of the butter is jam because what’s toast without jam?”
Now she really had no idea what he was saying. “Oh, heavens.”
“Stay with me here. My jam is Tory loving me enough to call me on my bullshit, which I need, and your jam is J.P. loving you so much that he’s going to listen to everything you say and do his best to support you in making what you want happen.”
