by Terri Osburn
“I admit, it’s early.” Rolling an apple in her hand, she added, “But anytime a guy takes you home to his mother it’s a big deal.”
“If you recall, I’ve had two mothers-in-law already, and neither of them liked me.” Carrie picked up a bunch of bananas and noticed another shopper doing the same. “Spencer’s mother never said anything nice to me, though she was also never sober, so maybe it was the liquor talking.” As the woman beside her reached for another bunch, the sleeve of her sweater rode up, revealing familiar finger-shaped bruises. “Patch’s mother never thought I was good enough for her precious boy and had no problem telling me so.”
“I do not understand that,” Haleigh replied. “It isn’t as if you’re some obnoxious woman assaulting people with cheap perfume and cursing like a trucker with two days to make a three-day haul.”
Staring at her friend, Carrie said, “You’re starting to talk like Cooper.”
“That was something he’d say, huh? The analogy still works.” She ripped a plastic bag off the roll to her left and started filling it with apples. “There is no reason anyone shouldn’t like you.”
“Maybe my luck will change with this one.” Carrie reached for the same bunch as the woman beside her did, and their hands bumped. “I’m so sorry,” she said, turning to see a tiny scab at the corner of the woman’s mouth. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” the stranger said, covering the split lip as she threw a random bunch in her basket and hurried away.
Watching her rush off, Haleigh said, “What spooked her?”
“She must be in a hurry,” Carrie guessed, seeing no need to embarrass the woman by telling the truth. “I’d better go back and pick a dessert. The pies are good here, aren’t they?”
“They aren’t Lorelei’s, but . . .”
“You’re hysterical,” she said, still thinking about the woman at the bananas.
If the shelter were open, Carrie would have slipped her a card. Provided her an alternative. A way out. But Safe Haven wasn’t set to open for another six weeks. By then, this woman could be in the hospital. Or worse. Noah said the renovations to the camp were going well. Maybe he could speed things up and get the doors open sooner. She made a note to ask him on the way to the party.
Chapter 17
Noah’s sweaty palms left damp spots on the steering wheel. For safety reasons, they’d brought Carrie’s car, which he’d had to cram himself into. His truck was an older model and not safe for the car seat. Carrie had offered to drive, but he’d stared at her as if she’d suggested they snip off his balls on the way, and she tossed over the keys.
They were both tense, if the silence on the trip was any indication. He didn’t know what Carrie was worried about, but Noah kept telling himself all the reasons Ma was sure to love her. For one, she was the total opposite of every other woman he’d ever brought home. In high school, he’d gone for brash and mouthy. Hell, after high school hadn’t been much different. Felicia, his short-lived fiancée, had been the epitome of loud, cocky, and hotheaded. But Carrie was none of those things. Something his mother would likely be relieved to see.
Carrie’s reaction to his family was the real concern. They were big. Affectionate. And exhausting. If she decided that being with him wasn’t worth dealing with the gale-force winds of the Winchesters, Noah would lose the best thing he’d ever found. Besides giving him something to live for, she also kept the demons at bay. Without Carrie in his life, he feared the nightmares would return, stronger than before.
“This is it,” he said, breaking the silence as he pulled down the drive of the old Victorian he’d grown up in.
“There are a lot of cars,” Carrie pointed out. “I thought you said a little party?”
Counting eight cars and trucks scattered through the front yard, Noah should have known his mother had skirted the truth. “That’s what she’d called it. We don’t have to stay long.”
“Noah, this is your mother’s birthday party. She’s barely seen you in years. We aren’t leaving early.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, car still running. “I can take you guys home and come back.”
Balancing a pie on her lap, Carrie said, “She isn’t going to like me, is she? That’s why you don’t want me to go in.”
“Don’t be crazy. She’s going to love you.”
“Mothers never love me.”
Now she was messing with him. “What are you talking about?”
She shook her head while holding up two fingers. “I’ve had two husbands, and neither of their mothers liked me, let alone loved me. I’m oh for two. This could be strike three.”
Swinging his arm behind her seat, he turned to face her. “I don’t know anything about your ex’s mom, but Althea was never going to like anyone that Patch brought home. He could have married a doctor with a law degree and she’d have found something wrong with the woman.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” she said. “You’re the only son, aren’t you? I’m never going to be good enough for you, either. I’ve been married twice. I’ve never gone to college. I’m a single mother. Strikes all over the place.”
“Did you sign up for Little League when I wasn’t looking?”
“Don’t make jokes. I’m freaking out here.”
Molly fussed in the back, demanding to know why they were sitting still, but she was still stuck in her contraption.
“If anything,” Noah said, cutting the engine, “it’ll be you not liking my mother. She takes getting used to. And I’m talking several years before adjusting to the volume of her voice alone. But we aren’t going to find out either way if we don’t get out of this car.” He held out his hand. “You with me?”
Carrie blew out a breath and twined her fingers through his. “Let’s do this.”
Noah kissed her knuckles before letting go to climb out. She carried the pie and diaper bag while Noah handled Molly. Halfway to the door, he spotted a burgundy Camaro.
“Shit.”
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, hoping there was more than one burgundy Camaro in Ardent Springs.
Carrie’s head spun with names and faces, and her jacket smelled like roses dipped in lavender thanks to several older women who’d skipped the simple handshake and come right in for a suffocating hug. Noah carrying Molly stirred the female guests into a frenzy, and she feared if one more person pinched her child’s cheek she would snap before ever meeting his mother.
The large dining room to the left of the foyer presented countless offerings, including no fewer than four pies. Carrie added hers to the bunch, realizing right away that she’d brought the only store-bought version. Damn Lorelei and her flipping honeymoon.
“My mom is back in the kitchen,” Noah whispered in her ear. “Smile and nod, but whatever you do, keep walking.”
Happy to follow that order, Carrie locked her teeth and put her feet into motion. A heavyset woman Noah called Aunt Francine waylaid them right as they were set to pass through the doorway to the kitchen, but like a pro, he wedged them past the blockade to reach the bright florescent lights of their destination.
“Hallelujah! There’s my boy!” boomed a voice that scared Molly into leaping for her mother. The woman who threw her arms around Noah’s neck stood barely an inch shorter than him, and she was nearly as wide. Not heavy, but wide. Like a linebacker or a school bus. “When are you going to get rid of this rodent on your face?” she asked, tugging on his beard.
“When I feel like it, Ma.” Taking Carrie’s hand, he gave a squeeze as he said, “This is Carrie and her daughter, Molly. Carrie, this is my mother, Lydia Winchester.”
“Oh,” the older woman said in a much more tolerable tone. “Did I scare her?”
The loud voice could scare anyone, but Noah hadn’t mentioned the sheer force of his mother’s personality. Less destructive than a tornado, or so Carrie hoped, meeting this woman was just as daunting as seeing a funnel approach in the
distance. Thankfully, her caring eyes exuded a genuine warmth that soothed Carrie’s earlier fears.
Patting her daughter’s back, Carrie said, “She’s a little overwhelmed. I’m afraid we aren’t used to this many people.” Which wasn’t true, since more people attended Sunday services than were in this house. But then the weekly congregation rarely tried to talk all at once.
“Let’s go onto the back porch,” Lydia said, leading the way through a side door. “Move, y’all. This child needs room to breathe.”
To Carrie’s relief, they stepped onto an empty screened-in porch with beautiful white wicker furniture and a wind chime in the corner playing a deep, soothing melody.
“There,” Lydia said. “Much better.” She spoke like a normal person while motioning toward a pillow-covered love seat. “Noah, get your girl something to drink while I get to know her.” The quiet loosened Molly’s grip on her mother’s neck enough for her to peek at their hostess. “Oh, baby, you look like your daddy,” Lydia said.
“Yes, she does,” Carrie agreed. There would never be any denying Molly’s parentage. “Your home is beautiful.”
“It’s even better without all these people. You’ll have to come back another day and let me give you a full tour.”
Noah hovered beside them, drawing his mother’s glare. “Didn’t I give you a chore to do?”
“You okay?” he asked Carrie.
She nodded. “We’re fine.” And thankfully, she meant the words.
Without another word, he disappeared into the kitchen.
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I’ve never seen my boy dote on a woman like that.”
“He’s very caring,” she said, unsure if the doting was a good or bad thing in his mother’s eyes. “Molly loves him.”
“I’m not surprised. He was always great with kids.” Lydia tickled Molly’s side, and the baby grabbed her finger. “For a long time I wondered if I’d ever get grandchildren out of him. Sometimes I thought he stayed single just to spite me.”
Jumping to his defense, Carrie said, “I don’t think his military career gave him much time to date.”
Shifting her gaze from Molly’s face to Carrie’s, the older woman smiled. “I like you already.”
“Really?” she said, unable to keep the shock from her voice.
“Why are you so surprised?”
Unable to lie to this woman, she said, “I don’t have a great track record with the mothers of the men I’ve been involved with.”
Lydia waved off her words, revealing perfectly manicured blood-red nails. “Althea always was too hoity-toity for her own good. Thought that boy of hers was the cat’s meow when he was little more than a lazy hound dog collecting fleas under the porch.” Carrie felt no urge whatsoever to defend her deceased husband or his mother, so she held her tongue. “I worried about Noah being out on the farm by himself. He didn’t come back the same, you know.”
“Yes. I know.”
“That’s why I sold you that land. Not because I thought for one minute all this would develop,” she clarified, “but so he wouldn’t be alone. The protective instinct is strong in that boy, and Noah never could have lived next to a pretty young woman and her adorable little girl without wanting to make sure they were okay. That you were a link to Patch, worthless as he may have been, was just a bonus.”
Stunned by the revelation, Carrie said, “You knew more than a year ago that Noah planned to live on the farm?”
“He always loved that place. The quiet. The space. The good memories.”
To think, she’d assumed their close proximity had happened by chance. When all along, a caring mother had been looking out for her son.
“I hope you don’t mind my conniving,” she said. “It seems to have worked out.”
Relaxing for the first time in two days, Carrie said, “I don’t mind at all.”
“Good.” Lydia tapped two fingers on Molly’s knee. “You’re too cute for words, darlin’.”
As if recognizing another potential conquest, the baby reached for the stranger with open arms. The older woman’s eyes moistened with emotion, and Carrie sent up a prayer of thanks that Lydia Winchester loved her son enough to put him in Carrie’s path.
During his mission to get the drinks, Noah made a pass through the dining room to load a plate with anything he thought Carrie and Molly might like to nibble on. With a stuffed mushroom hovering halfway to its destination, Noah spotted the Camaro owner. Why in the hell had his mother invited Kyra? Grabbing two napkins, he tried to duck out before she saw him, but Kyra cut him off at the doorway to the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you brought her,” she hissed, heedless of who overheard.
“Get out of my way, Kyra.”
“I don’t get it. Does the little-miss-innocent thing do it for you?” Stealing an olive from his plate, she added, “Because I can do that. Hell, I’ll put on the schoolgirl uniform and go all out.”
Embarrassed for her, Noah tried to be patient. “Why are you so desperate for attention?”
“I go after what I want,” she said. “Does that intimidate you? Maybe the truth is that you can’t handle me and you know it. That’s why you settle for the meek little mouse when you could have all of this.” Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts against his arm.
“Have a little respect. If not for yourself, then think about Lenny.” Noah stepped around her, but Kyra didn’t give up.
“I told you. Lenny lets me do what I want.”
“Lenny doesn’t let you do anything,” he snapped, dragging her to the back corner of the kitchen. “You married a nice guy with earning potential who would never tell you no. You’re spoiled and you’re selfish, and if you cared about the poor sap at all, you’d stop embarrassing him. Now I’m telling you for the last time, I’m not interested. And if you dare to say one word to Carrie while we’re here, I’ll make sure your scam of a marriage ends quick. You got me?”
Heavily lined eyes narrowed to slits. “She’ll make you miserable just like she made Patch miserable. I hope you both burn in hell.”
Though he’d tried to keep his voice down, they’d still garnered an audience, which Kyra stormed through on her way out of the kitchen. Furious with himself for letting her get to him, Noah snagged two bottles of water from the fridge and returned to the porch. To his utter amazement, he found his tearful mother holding a laughing baby in the air.
“That’s my job,” he said, setting the plate and drinks on the table next to Carrie before reaching for Molly. “What’s all this misty-eyed crap? You didn’t even cry when I left for boot camp.”
“I’m getting sentimental in my old age,” his mother said. “Give me a break.”
Noah tucked Molly against his side, and the smell hit him immediately. “Whoa. Tell Mommy your bottom needs some attention.”
Carrie rose to her feet. “I’d better take her out to the car and change her.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lydia said. “Use the bedroom on the left at the top of the stairs. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll be right back.”
Before she could walk away, Noah placed a hard kiss on her lips.
“What was that for?” Carrie asked.
“Just hadn’t done it for a while,” he replied, gratitude welling in his chest. A bashful smile teased her lips as she walked away.
“Looks like I’m not the only one getting sappy with age,” Ma said once Carrie was out of sight.
Ignoring the comment, he said, “Why is Kyra Persimmon here?”
“Lenny is my accountant,” Lydia answered. “And he’s your friend, so I invited him. Unfortunately, that means the petulant child comes along, too.”
“She was always a brat, but I thought she’d grow out of it.”
Lydia snorted. “She grew into that body and brought the brat with her. Poor Lenny is the laughingstock of Ardent Springs, but I hold out hope that he’ll wake up and send her packing eventually.”
Tapping the seat next to her, she said, “Now, tell me, is this as serious as it looks?”
Noah settled onto the creaking wicker. “We’re still early in, but yeah.”
“You look better than when you first came home,” she observed. “More peaceful.”
“That’s Carrie’s doing,” he said, cutting his eyes to the towering pines outside. “She believes I can get better in time.”
Ma had always been good at reading between the lines. “But you don’t.”
Tapping his leg, he gave her a half smile. “I want to. That’s better than a few months ago.”
“Good. And not that you care, but I like her. She’s a breath of fresh air compared to what you’ve dragged into this house before.”
“They weren’t all bad,” he defended. Eyes similar to his own stared through his skull. “You’re right.” Noah opened a bottle of water. “I don’t know what I was thinking back then.”
“Oh, I know what you were thinking,” she said, lifting a small meatball off the plate. “And what you were thinking with.”
His mother’s booming laughter shattered the serenity of the porch. She always had enjoyed cracking herself up.
Chapter 18
“You did a number on that one, baby,” Carrie said, holding her breath as she closed up the dirty diaper. “Oh no you don’t.” She caught the fleeing child before Molly hurled herself off the side of the bed. “Let’s go back down and see Lydia. I bet they’ll cut the cake soon.”
“She’s getting big,” came a voice from behind her, startling Carrie.
Turning, she found Kyra Farmer—now Persimmon, she reminded herself—standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?”
The younger woman ignored the question. “The squirt looks exactly like Patch. You’ll never be able to deny who her father is. At least that’s something.”
“We should go.” Carrie stepped forward, but Kyra blocked the exit.
“Mama deserves to see her grandbaby.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. Let me by.”
