by Amber Kelly
“You could have it at the church recreation hall. Lie to her and say it’s a ladies’ meeting or something. Then, she would be expecting a parking lot full of cars,” Sonia offers what sounds like a solid plan.
“We can’t dance or drink at the church, and I want to be able to do both,” Elle mumbles.
“I agree,” Sophie says. “I kind of want to do a fifties theme. You know, like Grease-esque. Poodle skirts and saddle shoes. That sort of thing.”
“Oh, I love that idea,” I agree.
“I bet Momma could make the poodle skirts,” Sonia adds.
“And Dallas’s dad has that old jukebox out on his back porch. I bet it still works if we can gather together a bunch of forty-five vinyl records,” I inform them.
“Doreen and Ria have a ton of them up in the attic. They used to listen to them all the time, but the old record player’s needle broke, and they kept intending to have it fixed but never did,” Elle says.
“The men could all basically dress as themselves. Just add some grease to their hair. Maybe they won’t complain too much,” Sophie adds.
“Right.” I laugh, imagining my brother and his friends adding product to their heads.
“They’ll get over it. It’s for Doreen,” Elle insists.
“So, where do we do it, and how do we get her there, unaware?” Sophie asks us all.
“Maybe we let her know there’s a party. Just don’t let her know it’s for her,” I suggest.
They cut their eyes to me.
“Okay, we’re listening,” Sophie prompts.
“Elle did just get engaged, and we didn’t have a proper celebration because … well, Sonia got married, I had to go back to school, and then you and Dallas had baby showers. Elle’s engagement kind of got lost in the shuffle.” I shrug.
“Oh, goodness, Elle. We did brush your happy announcement under the rug. I’m so sorry,” Sophie cries as her eyes fill with tears and she grasps Elle’s hand.
Elle turns her annoyed eyes to me. “Look what you did. You made a pregnant lady cry.”
“I’m sorry,” I snap.
“I’m not upset, Sophie. I don’t need an engagement party. We don’t really do those here anyway. The only reason you had one is because Vivian had insisted. You guys can gush all over me at my bridal shower.”
“My point is,” I start again, “we can tell Doreen we are throwing Elle and Walker a surprise engagement party. If she’s in on it, we can have it wherever we want, and we can make it her job to get Elle to the party without ruining the surprise. That way, we can all be there, getting things set up, and Doreen can spend the day finding ways to distract Elle. Then, when they arrive, we can all be like, Surprise! We got you, Doreen!”
They all stare at me with their mouths agape.
Then, Sophie finally whispers, “That’s kind of brilliant.”
“I know, right?” I declare proudly. “I can do brilliant occasionally.”
“Okay, so, Sonia, you talk to your mom about making skirts. Elle, you work on the guest list and get the number and sizes to her. I’ll start looking for a venue and get Dallas to ask her dad about the jukebox.”
“Sonia and I will bring it up to Doreen sometime tonight since we are spending the night. We’ll tell her that Walker wants to throw the party for Elle, and we’ll get her input on when and the food, et cetera. So, we’ll know her preferences, and have everything she wants,” I suggest.
“Just make sure it’s about six weeks out. That’s right before her birthday, so she won’t clue in. Plus, I want Dallas to be recovered and be able to be there,” Sophie instructs.
“Got it. When are you due again?” I ask.
“In nine weeks, so I should be good,” she assures.
“That, or we’ll just have another baby at the end of a party. As we do,” Sonia says.
“No. No, no, no. I want the night to be all about Aunt Doe,” Sophie declares as she stands and points at her bump. “So, you just stay put, missy.”
We all stand with her, and she heads to the door before turning back to us.
“I’ll go let Aunt Ria in on the plan now, so she’ll know to play along. I’m so excited. Aunt Doe loves parties, and she deserves to be celebrated.”
After our secret meeting, Sonia, Elle, and I head to the main house to help with dinner.
“It’s so nice to have every one of you girls here under one roof again. I miss all those study sessions and slumber parties when you three were in middle and high school. You all grew up too fast. Moving off and getting married and finding jobs,” Aunt Doreen says as she opens the oven and checks on the chicken roasting inside.
“I miss those days too. I haven’t any idea why we were in such a hurry to grow up and get out on our own. If I could go back, knowing what I know now, I’d want to start at fourteen, do it all over again, and enjoy that time more. Live in the moment instead of missing it by chasing after the future. Honestly, high school is a blur,” Sonia says.
“That’s why they say, Youth is wasted on the young. You’re too immature to appreciate that you have lots of energy and beauty and debt-free, carefree lives. You think everything is a big deal. Every fight with your friends and every boy who breaks your heart. In hindsight, most of your disagreements were over silly things, and you’ll fall in and out of love many times before you find your soul mate,” Doreen muses.
“You believe in soul mates, Doreen?” I ask.
“I do. And I believe you can have more than one in a lifetime too.”
“Isn’t that contradictory?” Sonia asks.
“No, not at all. I believe God leads us to the right people, the ones who enhance our lives and build us up and make us feel whole, but if we in our eagerness make a hasty choice, or that love is lost, be it through circumstance or death, I believe he is merciful and he can bring a second chance back around,” she says.
“But aren’t you supposed to only have one husband?” Sonia asks.
“At a time, yes.”
Elle and I start to giggle.
Doreen stops and turns to face us. All amusement is gone. “The Bible says it is not good for man to be alone. And the marriage vows say until death do us part because the Lord knows that life is fragile and there are many reasons a partner might be taken too soon. God doesn’t want us to walk around, grieving forever. As long as he wakes us up every morning, he wants us to live and to be joyful. So, he can open another door to love,” she explains.
“And sometimes, the last thing you want to do is put up with another man, so God sends you a huge garden and a Netflix subscription to keep you happy,” Aunt Ria interjects, and we all burst into laughter.
“What are you hens cackling about?” Pop Lancaster, Sophie’s grandfather, asks as he enters the kitchen door.
“Ria being an old spinster,” Doreen answers.
“My Maria is no spinster. She’s a smart woman who knows who she is and what she wants but, more importantly, what she doesn’t want.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Ria beams at him.
“What about you, Pop? Do you think you’ll ever find yourself another sweetheart?” Elle asks.
“I ain’t lookin’ for one, but if a pretty lady comes along and wants to bless me with her company for supper, I won’t turn my nose up at her either. I’m still a man, and pretty ladies are my weakness,” he says with a wink before walking out.
“I can’t imagine Pop with anyone other than Gram,” Elle squeals as she covers her eyes.
Gram passed away a couple years ago. She and Pop Lancaster were high school sweethearts who married and raised a family together.
“Gram would be pleased if he found someone to keep him company. You don’t think she’d want him to mope around, missing her constantly, do you?” Doreen asks.
“No, I don’t,” Elle admits. “But another woman? That would be hard to watch.”
“There is nothing wrong with keeping on, moving forward in life. It’s what we are supposed to do as long as we are able,
” Doreen advises.
“Hopefully, I never have to find out. Walker Reid would be a hard act to follow,” Elle says before she stands. “I’ll be right back. Nature calls.”
Aunt Doreen waits until she is out of sight before she adds, “That’s the truth. I don’t think she’d be able to find someone to fill that boy’s boots.”
“Speaking of,” I say in a low voice, “Sonia and I need your and Aunt Ria’s help. Walker wants to throw Elle a surprise party to celebrate their engagement.”
Both of the women grin conspiratorially, and I know we have Aunt Doreen right where we want her.
Game on.
Brandt
I wake with a start. Soaked in sweat and my heart racing.
I look over at the clock beside my bed. Two o’clock. It’s the same thing every time. The same nightmare that haunts me.
I lie back and get my breathing under control as I try desperately to fall asleep, but it’s useless.
Sleep is an elusive fantasy. I’ve been exhausted for years now.
I click on the lamp that sits on the nightstand beside my bed, and I pick up the photo album that rests beside it.
I open it and relive the painful memories it holds once again. Memories that had held so much joy but now just remind me of what a fuckup I am.
This album was a gift from Annie, made for me by hand when I received my doctorate. It’s a scrapbook full of photographs from high school graduation, a twenty-first birthday celebration, getting down on one knee in the sand, cutting a wedding cake, receiving the keys to our dream house and then to my first practice. All the picture-perfect moments that add up to a bunch of emptiness and nothing. A life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.
I toss the book across the room, and it crashes against the wall before landing on the floor with a hollow thud.
I hear the sound of the floor creaking down the hall and am instantly filled with remorse as I see the light flicker on beneath my bedroom door.
“Brandt, are you all right, son?” My mother’s soft, concerned voice drifts into the silence.
“I’m fine, Mom. Go back to sleep,” I bite out, my voice hoarse from screaming in my dream.
“Another nightmare?”
I wish I could tell her no. I wish I could spare her from the worry that plagues her. Sometimes, I wake up before the conclusion of the scene, and I’m able to spend the rest of the night lost in my head without disturbing her, but on nights like tonight, when I have to watch as my heart is being ripped from my chest, there is no hiding. I’m raw and unguarded, and she knows, like a mother does, that I am hurting.
“Yes,” I whisper because even though I wish she hadn’t been awakened, I’m glad she is there.
“I’ll make some warm milk,” she says through the door.
I know she is making her way to the small kitchen to put on a pot, just like she used to when I couldn’t sleep as a child. Just like she’s done many nights in the last three years.
I make my way to the kitchen and sit at the small table while my mother fusses over me.
“Here you go, sweetheart. This should help,” she says as she sets the steaming cup in front of me.
Oh, if only it were that easy.
“I’m sorry for waking you again, Mom,” I whisper as I blow over my milk and take a comforting sip.
She pats my shoulder. “It’s okay, son. It’s been a few days since you had a nightmare. I was hoping that they were starting to subside,” she says. “Maybe I should cancel my trip.”
“No, ma’am,” I cut her off. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m a grown man. I can handle myself. I have to learn to deal with the sleepless nights. I’ll even make my own warm milk,” I assure her.
“I know you can, son. I just hate for you to have to. I’m your mother, and you will always be my baby boy. I will always want to chase the bad dreams away for you,” she argues.
“They aren’t as bad as they used to be,” I lie to her.
She reaches and takes my hand in hers. “One day, you will heal, Brandt. It doesn’t seem like it now, but it will happen. Trust me, I know.”
I squeeze her hand and nod in agreement, but I don’t think I ever will.
I don’t deserve to heal.
Bellamy
“Oh my goodness, she is too perfect,” I coo as I count my niece’s fingers and toes.
“She’s a little diva who thinks every night is party time, and then she sleeps it off all day like a bar-hopping twenty-one-year-old sleeping off a hangover—that’s what she is,” Dallas corrects.
I giggle.
“Do you keep your mommy and daddy up all night? That’s not very nice, Miss Faith,” I tell the baby.
She blinks up at me, and a smile spreads across her face.
“Look, I know it’s probably just gas but …” I move, so Dallas can see the sweet smile on her daughter’s face.
“Nope, that’s definitely a smirky smile. The little stinker knows exactly what she’s doing, and she thinks it’s funny. Don’t ya, Sleeping Beauty?”
One tiny eye pops open, and her smile widens before she snuggles in deeper and falls back into a blissful slumber.
“See!” Dallas declares.
I stopped in to visit with the girls while Myer took Beau out for a ride on his new horse. When they return, Auntie Bells has a fun-filled afternoon planned for Beau, so the new parents can hopefully get a little rest.
I help Dallas give Faith her bath. Afterward, just as I get her diaper on, the front door swings open, and Beau and his chocolate Lab, Cowboy, come barreling in with Myer on their heels.
They run straight for me and the baby on a blanket on the living room floor.
Beau kisses Faith’s head, and Cowboy sniffs her head before lying down next to her.
“Did you miss me, lil baby sister? I missed you,” Beau says, leaning in about an inch from her face.
“Back up, Beau. I told you, you don’t have to get that close. She can hear you,” Dallas scolds.
Beau scoots back a hair and continues to talk to her.
Her eyes open wide, and she starts kicking her legs, watching her brother in rapt fascination. Then, she starts to form an O with her lips, making gurgling sounds.
Dallas walks over and watches them. “She only does that for him. She gets so excited when she hears his voice. She’s too small to be able to turn her neck and look for him, but if he walks into a room and starts babbling, her eyes perk right up, and I can tell she is trying to search for him. When he talked to my tummy while she was cooking, she used to kick up a storm too. It’s the strangest thing.”
“It’s because I’m her favorite person,” Beau says matter-of-factly.
“I thought I was her favorite?” I say and stick my bottom lip out in a faux pout.
Beau shakes his head. “You can be her fifth favorite. I’m first, then Daddy, then Mommy, and then Cowboy,” he whispers.
“I heard that,” Dallas says, “and I’d better be both your and her favorite.”
She pokes a finger into his ribs. Then, she gets down on the floor with us and starts tickling him and kissing him all over his face as he squirms and complains.
“At least you made the list ahead of the dog,” I grumble.
After he catches his breath, Dallas tells Beau to go clean up and grab a bag because he will be staying the night with Momma and Pop and me.
“I am?” he asks excitedly.
“Yep, you and I are going to pick up Elle and then go check on the progress over at Mr. Walker’s house. Then, we are going to try and talk him into taking us all fishing out on the boat.”
“Yay! Pop-Pop bought me my own rod!” He jumps up and races toward the stairs.
“I’ll go help him pack,” Myer says as he follows him up to his room.
“Have you gotten any news on the job front yet?” Dallas asks as she drops one shoulder of her pajama shirt, and I pass Faith off to nurse.
“Not yet. They should be making the decision someti
me this week. I’m going to call the head of the department on Friday if I haven’t heard anything by then. It’s hard. I’m trying not to be pushy and impatient, but I want to know so badly. I put all my eggs in one basket, and I don’t have a backup plan at this point.”
“There’s always Ohio,” she says and gives an exaggerated shiver.
“My thought exactly. Although I’d really like to be in the same city as Derrick, I have zero interest in Ohio. I got enough of the cold muck in Chicago for the last four years. I know it gets cold and snowy here in Poplar Falls, but that weather is a whole different level of miserable.”
“I’m sure it will all work out just like it’s meant to. God has a plan and all. Jeez, I’m starting to sound like Doreen, aren’t I?” She rolls her eyes.
“A little bit,” I agree on a laugh.
We hear tiny feet pounding down the staircase as Beau comes carrying a large duffel bag over his shoulder and a child-sized rod in his hand.
“I’m ready, Auntie Bells,” he says as he heaves the bag onto the floor at the door. He bounces over to kiss his momma and sister good night.
“You be good for Beverly and Winston tonight, okay? Go to bed without whining and make sure you brush your teeth first,” Dallas instructs.
“Yes, ma’am.” He hops up onto the sofa beside them and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “I’m going to miss you,” he tells her, and I see her begin to tear up.
“We’ll miss you too. Who’s Mommy’s favorite boy in the whole wide world?”
“Me!”
“That’s right, baby.”
He releases her and looks to me.
“Are you ready?” he asks impatiently.
Knowing that’s my cue, I stand up. “Dude, I’ve been waiting on you forever. Of course I’m ready!”
Myer walks us out to my car, which already has the top lowered, and he straps Beau’s booster chair into my backseat. Once he has his son secured, we pull out and head to scoop up Elle.
