Man of His Word

by Cynthia Reese

  That, of course, triggered Taylor’s favorite subject, about how one day she was going to get rich enough to go to Paris and live there and walk in the rain and find her true love under the Eiffel Tower.

  Marissa couldn’t understand it. Who needed Paris when right here was the closest thing to paradise anybody could ask for? Taylor had so much to be thankful for, and she sometimes took it all for granted. She had a mom and a dad, Ma, good friends at school, a place on the cheer squad, family who didn’t freak if she wanted to do normal things, like ride a four-wheeler or climb up into a tree house.

  Taylor, though, thought all this stuff was pretty humdrum and that Paris was her destiny. She went on about it. All. The. Time.

  And her fixation on that subject meant only one thing to Marissa. She’d have to get this deal with Daniel and her mom done pretty much on her own.

  * * *

  “HEY, MOM! IT’S for you!” Marissa hustled Kimberly’s cell phone over to Kimberly as she pored over Marissa’s medical records. Then, just as quickly, her daughter melted away into another part of the house.

  “Hello?” Kimberly said breathlessly into the phone. “Is this Judge Malloy?”

  “Uh, no. This is Daniel, Kimberly.”

  Opposing emotions dueled for dominance: one, that hateful instantaneous jolt of happiness that bubbled through her at the sound of Daniel’s voice...and two, anger that he could continue to sit on information she needed for Marissa.

  “Hello, Daniel,” she replied in as careful a tone as she could muster.

  “You haven’t heard from the judge? It’s been, what, a week?”

  As if you didn’t know. As if you aren’t probably lobbying him hard to rule against me. “Nearly two,” she said. “I can’t wait much longer before we have to head to Indiana. I have to get out there and get back before preplanning starts, and I can’t afford to fly.”

  “That’s an awfully long drive to do alone,” he said.

  Well, I might not have to make it if you’d tell me what you know, she thought uncharitably. Aloud, she observed, “I’m used to doing things by myself. Marissa and I will be fine.”

  Silence filled the line—Kimberly’s thoughts consumed with what a painful wrench it would be for both her and Marissa to leave this town. She could see it every day, the hold it had taken, especially on Marissa. She shouldn’t have allowed it. She should have stuck to her plan to come here for a day or two, three at the most, and then head on to Indiana.

  “Uh, well, the reason I’m calling is that—well, you’ve been avoiding me.”

  He was right on that score. It had been too painful to be around him after she’d found out about the bracelet. He’d led her down a dead end, allowed her to believe, for so many years, a story that wasn’t true.

  And the truth? Well, it made her doubt everything she thought she knew about Marissa’s birth mom. Maybe the girl hadn’t cared about Marissa. Maybe, even if Kimberly could find her, she wouldn’t want to help a daughter she’d tossed away like trash.

  “I’ve been busy.” True enough, but she’d been busy trying to avoid Daniel. “And I guess we’ve missed each other.”

  Daniel’s response was derisive, as if he knew she was lying. “If you hadn’t been avoiding me, I could have asked you this in person. We do share a roof, you know.”

  “Temporarily,” she added primly. “What was it you wanted?”

  “Marissa asked me to do something...and I told her I’d have to get your permission first.”

  Gratitude and surprise flooded Kimberly. There, he’d done it again, snuffed out her anger with such calm and reasoned consideration that she felt like a ninny for being mad in the first place. “Thank you. I really appreciate you telling her that. What does she want you to do?”

  “She wants me to take her fishing—and have a picnic. The picnic was very important to her. And she asked if I minded if you went along.”

  “Huh?” The request floored her. “Marissa hates picnics. She’s carped incessantly every minute of any picnic I’ve ever forced her to go on. You’d think I was forcing the child to do hard labor, and she’s miserable without a router and a Wi-Fi signal.”

  Daniel’s rumble of laughter vibrated through the phone line. “We may be turning her into a country girl after all...or...it could be that this is her way of apologizing to you.”

  Now that made more sense. Marissa did have a big heart, one that strove to make peace and soothe injured feelings. Even as a small child, she’d always drawn ‘I’m Sorry’ cards whenever she’d been disobedient.

  “Where...where would this picnic be? And I’ve never been fishing—for that matter, neither has Marissa. Are you sure she wanted to go fishing?”

  “Hey, she’s a Monroe kid now. All of us love to fish, so maybe she wants to give it a whirl, see what it’s like. We’ve got an old mill house on the edge of our property line. Perfect for fishing because the fish like to swim around the raised piers under the mill house—and it’s safe,” he hastened to add. “Built from heart pine and we make sure it stays in good repair. It’s nothing fancy, now—more like a covered bridge than anything else—but it keeps the sun off you in weather like this.”

  “That’s the place she wanted to see with Taylor...” Kimberly recalled. “When we got into that awful fight over the four-wheeler.”

  “I hope Taylor hasn’t made it out to be more than it really is. Taylor has a talent for spinning tales—not lying, exactly, more like being a hopeless optimist and dreaming big. But it is one of the prettiest spots on our entire tract—big old oak trees in the water, Spanish moss everywhere. It’s where Dad took us to fish.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” she found herself saying. “When did you want to take us?”

  “You’ll go, then?” His voice bubbled with pleasure that he didn’t bother to hide. “I was afraid...after the blowup over the bracelet...”

  The reminder soured her joy, but she made a Herculean effort to banish her anger. “Of course I’ll go. I’m not going to deny Marissa her chance at fishing because...” She didn’t want to say, “I acted like a snit,” or “You did, too,” so instead she trailed off, letting him think what he would.

  “Of course.” His reply was cool, and instantly she realized she’d wounded him without meaning to.

  “Besides,” she heard herself add, “I adore picnics.”

  Mentally she kicked herself. Now, why had she told him that?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SATURDAY MORNING, THE day Daniel had planned to take Marissa and Kimberly on their fishing trip, dawned hot and humid. Ma’s central unit could barely keep up, running constantly even as the breakfast dishes were cleared and Ma supervised the assembly of the picnic basket.

  Kimberly had expected Marissa to be brimming with excitement at the prospect of their trip. She wasn’t, though. She dragged from the refrigerator to the counter, from the counter to the pantry. It put Kimberly in mind of all the previous picnic junkets she’d asked Marissa to go on.

  And for some reason, Marissa kept baiting her. It was as if she wanted to start a fight. Ma had picked up on it, too, casting a knowing glance Kimberly’s way a couple of times. It was as if she was telegraphing, “Don’t worry. All kids are like this. Marissa’s just a normal kid.”

  Oh, how Kimberly wished for that, for Marissa to be just a normal kid.

  “Don’t fill it too full,” Kimberly warned Ma. “We’ll never be able to tote it, and you’ve got so much food in there already, we’ll be lucky to eat even half of it.”

  Ma wrinkled her brow. “But Daniel said—” Abruptly she about-faced and put her hands on her hips, her head turning as she gazed over at Marissa near the screen door and then back to the window over the sink.

  “Oh, wait!” Kimberly snapped her fingers. “I forgot sunblock. Let me go back and get it now.”

  It was as she was coming back down the hall to the kitchen that she heard the buzz of a motorcycle or...maybe a chain saw? This early in the morning? And
in the heat of the summer? Who’d need firewood at this time of year?

  “Kimberly? Daniel’s ready for y’all,” Ma called.

  She froze as she crossed the kitchen’s threshold and saw the big black four-wheel utility vehicle through the window. Daniel stood by it and waved a hand toward it theatrically.

  “What on earth...?”

  Did he honestly expect her to let her child bounce through the woods on that—that monster? If he did, he had another think coming. She stomped out the door, sunscreen still in hand.

  “You like it? I borrowed it from our neighbor up the road. I’ve actually been thinking of trading in one of our four-wheelers and getting one of these babies,” Daniel said as he patted the camouflage-patterned hood.

  He thought she’d be pleased?

  “Daniel—”

  “See? It seats four, and...voilà!” He bent over and pulled up the webbed strap of a seat belt. “Much safer than a regular four-wheeler.”

  Kimberly felt her resolve faltering as he went through all the safety features point by point. As energetically as he hawked the contraption, he could have been a salesperson.

  “You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this.” Her words sounded hollow, even to her.

  “I did. I tried to put myself in your shoes, tried to think, if I was Kimberly, how would I keep my daughter safe?”

  Her heart swelled with emotion. She had to turn away for a moment so that he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. How could he be such two entirely different people? On the one hand, so kind and considerate and thoughtful when it came to the little things...and on the other?

  Obstinate, bullheaded and totally uncooperative about sharing what he knows about Marissa’s birth mom.

  “So?” Daniel laid a hand on her arm. “Does it pass inspection?”

  She gazed up at him and saw...was it fear? Yes, it was fear that she’d reject his attempt. All at once, she could imagine him as a little boy, toting a bouquet of scraggly wildflowers to Ma.

  And knowing Ma, she’d probably take them even if they were all goldenrod and ragweed and made her sneeze her fool head off, Kimberly thought. “Yes. Yes, it definitely passes inspection. You have totally earned the Helicopter Mom’s seal of approval with this particular choice.”

  Daniel whooped with pleasure and pumped his fist, letting a loud “Yeees!” split the quiet morning air.

  Behind her the screen door banged shut. “Mom?”

  Kimberly turned back to see Marissa drooping against the doorjamb. “Yes, honey?”

  “I don’t think I want to go after all. I don’t think I feel...up to it.”

  Disappointment shot through Kimberly and right behind it that familiar black cloud of worry.

  She crossed to the porch steps and laid a hand on Marissa’s forehead. No, not a fever. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

  Daniel stood behind her, and she could feel his concern, too, emanating in waves. “What hurts?” he asked bluntly.

  “Nothing hurts,” Marissa grouched. “I don’t feel good, that’s all.”

  Kimberly turned toward Daniel and bumped him in the shoulder. She attempted a lighthearted tone to disguise the worry still nagging at her. “Now, what was that about her turning into a country girl? I told you she didn’t like picnics or fishing.”

  “It’s not that, either.” Marissa fixed her gaze on her clenched fists. “I’m tired, okay? Maybe another time.”

  “Honey, we may not have another time. Depending on when your appointment in Indiana is, we may have to leave before Daniel has another day off. And here he has gone to the trouble of borrowing a vehicle that’s safe for you—”

  “I know, Mom. I’m a brat and ungrateful and I should be grounded for a month.”

  Kimberly stepped back, dropped her hands by her sides. She was at a complete loss as to what had come over Marissa. “Are you sure you’re not sick? Your stomach’s not hurting? You don’t have an earache or a sore throat? Because you usually only get this grouchy when you’re coming down with something.”

  “I’m not sick,” Marissa insisted. “I just don’t...”

  “Feel good. You said that.” Kimberly threw up her hands. “I give up.” She turned to Daniel again. “I am so sorry, Daniel. I guess we aren’t going after all.”

  Ma spoke from the far side of the screen. “No reason for you folks not to go on. I’ll keep a look out for Marissa. I suspect, young lady—” Ma’s voice turned a bit crisper than usual “—you stayed up late texting Taylor. That right?”

  Marissa dropped her head a fraction of an inch lower. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Marissa!” Kimberly shook her head in disbelief. “When you knew Daniel was planning a special day—that you asked for, mind you. And after I’ve told you no texting after ten o’clock.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve spoiled everything. It was stupid,” Marissa said. “But Ma’s right. Y’all go on.”

  Marissa’s casual use of y’all blew Kimberly away. Her baby was turning into a country girl—and one who could apologize when she knew she was in the wrong.

  Still, Kimberly hesitated. “I don’t know...”

  “Here’s the picnic basket all packed up. Don’t want that food to go to waste, now, do we?” Ma asked. “Marissa, honey, move out of the way, please, so Daniel can load it. It’s a mite heavy for me.”

  Quick as a rabbit, Marissa scooted out of the doorway, and Ma promptly handed the basket to Daniel. “Thank you, son,” she said. “Kimberly might have been right about me packing too much. Shoo-ee, but that basket is heavy.”

  She came out to join them on the deck. With a hand on Kimberly’s shoulder, she said, “Go on, now. Enjoy your day. Bring me some fish for supper. A nap will put Miss Sleepyhead here to rights, and if something goes wrong, well, you’re a few minutes away, and I can call you on your cell phone, now, can’t I?”

  “I’ll bet you Monroes could have made levitation sound like a reasonable thing,” Kimberly marveled. “You could probably sell ice cream to a polar bear. I can’t believe I’m letting myself get talked into this.”

  “I’d listen to Ma, if I were you—and that advice is born of long experience of finding out what happens after not listening,” Daniel quipped. He gestured toward the utility vehicle. “Madam? Your chariot—and all its safety features—awaits.”

  * * *

  AS DANIEL PUT more distance between the house and the utility vehicle, Kimberly’s mood lightened. Maybe Ma was right, and all Marissa needed was a good nap. One late night wouldn’t hurt her. After all, Kimberly had been allowed to stay up as late as she’d wanted to and as often as she’d wanted to as a kid, mostly because her mom had done the same. But still—it proved that one late night was survivable. She’d deal with the texting issue when she got back, but she suspected Marissa having to bail out on this trip was punishment enough.

  “Marissa’s really missing something nice!” she told Daniel over the thrum of the engine and the bounce of the wide tires across the dips and washouts in the rough dirt track. “Bet she’ll be sad she stayed behind when I tell her all about it.”

  He grinned and downshifted as he approached a rise through a thicket of young pines. “We planted these about ten years ago—amazing how fast pines grow, isn’t it?”

  “You plant them in rows? Just like carrots?”

  Daniel chuckled. “They’re more like carrots than you know—pine trees have a great big tap root, just like a carrot. When the big winds come, you’ll see piles of huge oaks and hardwoods crashed down, but the flimsiest of pines will bend whichever way the winds blow.”

  Now they were through the young pines, trundling past larger trees with thicker trunks and gnarled branches, their needles casting a dense shade over the track. “Loblolly pines— Hey, look! A redheaded woodpecker!” Daniel pointed up.

  Sure enough, a huge white bird with a scarlet head was banging away at a tall pine. He didn’t even bother to look around at the noise of the vehicle.

  “Gee, wonder
if that guy’s head hurts at the end of a day?” Kimberly asked. “I feel like him sometimes, banging my head against a wall.”

  “Hey...” Daniel shrugged, his hands gripping the wheel as he rounded a hillock of exposed roots. “That’s how he gets his supper—he goes after juicy bugs and worms. Sometimes the wall gives if you bang on it hard enough and long enough.”

  Kimberly restrained herself from asking how many times she’d have to knock heads with Daniel before, like the insects in that pine tree, he’d surrender.

  On they went through the wooded forest, Daniel pointing out different birds and animals and plants. She saw a deer hightail it through the woods, and once Daniel had to stop and turn off the engine because an opossum had laid itself out in the middle of the track, pretending to be dead.

  He put his finger to his lips. “Shh. Give it a minute, and the old guy will pick himself up and haul out for the woods. Don’t know what he’s doing keeping daylight hours. That’s about the first time I’ve seen one out this late in the morning.”

  Sure enough, once the forest had returned to its customary chirping, creaking noises, the critter toddled off to the cover of the trees.

  Kimberly could see now that oaks and hardwoods had choked out the pines, Spanish moss trailing from every branch. Birds flitted through the dappled canopy the close-knit limbs created. The air felt heavier, slower somehow, and she sensed they were approaching water.

  The track sloped downhill and around a curve, then forked into a wider, smoother road of pale white sand studded with brown pebbles. “This used to be the old access road to the mill,” Daniel explained as he speeded up. “The county closed it, oh, had to be thirty years ago. Now the only way to get here is through our land. The mill house is up ahead.”

  And it was—weathered gray boards on a structure that looked remarkably like the covered bridges she’d seen in magazines, but with a big wooden waterwheel still attached to the side. Daniel slowed to a stop at the edge of the mill house and switched off the vehicle. “See? Told you it wasn’t much.”