“Oo!” Mom shouted and shot upright, smacking her hand on her cheek. “Keeping that one forever.”
“Oh God,” I whispered and Mom turned to me.
“Neither of you girls gave me grandkids, I’m claiming Tate’s,” she declared.
“Jeannie, you might wanna tone it down before you scare the kid silly,” Dad cautioned.
“Boloney, he’s not scared,” Mom said to Dad and then looked down at Jonas. “Are you, hon?”
“Um…” Jonas mumbled which meant yes.
“Let’s get coffee,” I suggested in an effort to save Jonas.
“Great idea, I’m three quarts low,” Mack put in and walked to Tate, taking his hand, giving it a firm shake at the same time clapping him on the shoulder. “Tate, man, shit reason but still good to see you.”
“Same here, Mack,” Tate replied and Carrie moved in for a hug from Tate.
“Hey there, honey,” she whispered, giving him a good squeeze then leaning back, leaving her hands on his shoulders. “You doing okay?”
“We’re hangin’ in there, Carrie,” Tate murmured.
“Well, I’m not, we flew in late last night, stayed at a hotel by the airport, been on the road all mornin’. Then Gavin got lost –” Mom stated, forging toward the house.
“I did not get lost,” Dad declared.
“Hon,” Mom stopped at the sliding glass door and turned to him, “you… did.” She looked at Tate. “Sat nav who? Sat nav what? I don’t need a sat nav. Acting like he drove through the Colorado mountains for a living!” Then she threw open the door and disappeared into the house but we heard her shout, “Good God, look at that cat!” Then we heard her coo, “Who’s a pretty kitty? Come to Gramma, pretty kitty.”
“I’m feeling nostalgic for my hospital bed,” Dad muttered to Tate and moved to follow Mom, tousling Jonas’s hair as he went by.
I got close to Jonas, bent down and whispered, “My family’s a little goofy.”
“I can tell,” he whispered back, I winked at him and straightened.
Then I introduced, “Jonas, baby, this is my sister, Carrie and her partner, Mack.”
“Hey,” he said on a barely there wave.
“Hey, big man,” Mack said back, Carrie smiled at him and Jonas looked at me.
“Your sister is as hot as you,” he announced, Carrie let out a startled giggle and Mack straight out laughed.
“He thinks I’m a milf,” I whispered to Mack.
“Darlin’, you are,” Mack whispered back.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“Let’s get inside,” Tate said brusquely, I looked at him, Mack and Carrie looked at me but Jonas led the way and Mack and Carrie followed.
I hung back, caught Tate’s hand and spoke when he looked down at me.
“Is it okay they’re here?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah,” he answered then started to move away but I tugged his hand and he looked back at me.
“They just want to –”
He cut me off. “I know.”
“This is what families do, or, it’s what my family does,” I told him and he turned to me, his hand coming to my neck, his head dipping toward mine.
“Babe, I know,” he repeated firmly.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked, searching his features.
He closed his eyes and his forehead came to mine before he whispered, “I’ll be better once she’s in the ground.”
I nodded my head, my forehead rolling against his and watched his eyes open as he lifted his head from mine. My hand went to his neck too and my thumb swept his clean-shaven jaw as my eyes watched.
“You miss the beard,” he muttered.
“I fell in love with you when you had a beard,” I replied.
Suddenly his arms closed around me tight and, lips at my temple, he said, “Fuck, I love you.”
I gave him a squeeze and whispered, “Me too. Well, I mean, I love you, I don’t mean I love me too,” I blathered stupidly and felt his arms give me a squeeze back as I heard his soft chuckle.
I held him, he held me and then he let me go, took my hand and led me inside.
Mom had clearly taken control for everyone but Jonas had coffee and Mom was at the island, squirting chocolate syrup into a glass at the same time she was stirring it into milk that was so far from the color of milk and so close to the color of chocolate that the milk was in danger of becoming chocolate.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked as I hit the island.
“Making Jonas chocolate milk,” Mom answered.
“You can quit putting in chocolate now,” I informed her.
“It’s not quite there,” Mom informed me back.
“It’s there,” I stated.
“Not quite,” she returned.
“Mom,” I warned.
She splodged in a thick, last squirt and announced, “There!”
I rolled my eyes, pulled in breath and when I rolled them back I looked at Jonas. He was grinning at Mom.
“Shit, Laurie!” Mack exclaimed sounding like his mouth was full and I looked at him to see he was eating one of the fudge filled, chocolate cupcakes with chocolate fudge icing I’d made for Jonas the day before.
“Mack!” Carrie snapped. “Don’t help yourself!” But Mack was ignoring Carrie and looking at Jonas.
“Big man, she made you Grandma Grahame’s chocolate fudge cupcakes, awesome,” Mack stated.
“She makes me chocolate chip cookies too,” Jonas shared.
“Awe… some,” Mack reiterated.
“And chocolate pecan pie,” Jonas went on.
“Did I say awesome?” Mack asked.
“And this red cake stuff that’s chocolate too but it’s red,” Jonas continued.
“She must love you, big man,” Mack proclaimed, throwing an arm around Carrie with the hand not holding his cupcake and yanking her close to his side. “Trust me, those are heavy artillery in a Grahame woman’s arsenal.”
Mack had been trying to take Jonas’s mind off the day’s events but his words had an effect even I wouldn’t have guessed and I pretty much knew Jonas liked me. I watched, heck we all watched his body stiffen then it turned to me and his head tilted back so his eyes could lock on mine.
But he didn’t speak, he just stared at me and the look on his face made my heart skip.
“Bub,” Tate called, seeing the look.
“Mom never made me pie,” Jonas told me, I heard Mack mutter an expletive under his breath but I crouched down and lifted an arm to Jonas.
“Come here, baby,” I urged.
“She never made me cookies,” Jonas said.
“That’s all right, come here,” I repeated.
“She never made me a cake, not once, even on my birthday. She’d buy ‘em,” Jonas went on.
“Honey,” I whispered, “please, come here.”
“You make me that stuff,” he told me something I already knew.
“I know,” I replied.
“You make me that stuff because you love me?” he asked.
“Yes, Bub, of course,” I answered.
“You love me,” he whispered.
“Yes, Bub,” I whispered back.
“Does that mean she didn’t love me?” he asked and tears instantly filled my eyes.
“No,” I answered firmly.
“Do you…” he swallowed. “Do you know I love you?”
I swallowed too and lied, “Yes,” because I didn’t know until just then.
“Do you think she knew I loved her?” he asked.
“Absolutely, baby,” I whispered. “She knew. She definitely knew.”
He didn’t move, but his throat did and I knew he was fighting back tears.
“Baby –” I was still whispering but before I could move or Tate could, Dad did.
“All right, son, you don’t know me and I don’t know you but I’m thinkin’ it’s time we changed that.” Dad put his hand on Jonas’s shoulder, Jonas looked up at him and Dad handed h
im the glass of brown milk. “Take that, we’ll walk, you’ll drink and we’ll get to know one another. You all right with that?”
Dad didn’t wait for Jonas to answer, he just guided him to the door, slid it open and pushed him through. His eyes went to Tate before he closed it. They communicated something I didn’t get since they were using male telepathy; Dad slid the door to and put his hand back to Jonas’s shoulder to lead him away.
“Sorry, Tate,” Mack muttered.
“Not a problem,” Tate replied. “This shit’s bound to come out.”
“Yeah, but not by me actin’ like a jackass,” Mack murmured, clearly kicking himself.
“He didn’t have a good Mom, Mack,” Tate shared and this so surprised me my eyes swiftly went to him. “She was a drunk and she didn’t give much of a shit about him. She’s dead but he’s in a better place with a woman who sits up at night and watches TV with him until he gets to sleep and makes him cupcakes. He’s strugglin’ with that, knowin’ his life is better without her in it, feelin’ guilt that that’s how he felt when it became permanent. He’s gonna struggle with it for awhile. It’s good you made it come out, he’s gotta let it come out and it’s best it comes out when people are around who’ll handle him with care.”
Mom, Carrie, Mack and me all stared at Tate. Then I moved to him, pressed my front to his side and wrapped my arms around him.
“Dad’ll handle him with care, Captain,” I whispered, my head tipped back to look at his profile and he twisted his neck to look down at me.
“I know that,” he whispered back and then his eyes went to Mom. “I’m pleased you’re here, Jeannie.”
“Family looks after family,” Mom replied softly, her eyes came to me and then went back to Tate. “But you already know that, don’t you, Tate?”
“Yeah,” Tate answered.
“You want coffee?” Mom asked, wisely changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Tate repeated.
“You take it black,” she muttered and walked to the cupboard.
I pressed into Tate, my body relaxing.
“Wow!” Carrie exclaimed and my body got tense again as I looked at my sister. “That is a pretty kitty.”
“Her name’s Princess Fancy Pants,” I blurted, Tate’s arm gave me a warning squeeze, I ignored it and finished. “She’s Tate’s.”
Carrie’s eyes flew to Tate and she giggled. “You named your cat Princess Fancy Pants?”
“Holy fuck,” Mack muttered.
“Her name is Buster,” Tate declared.
“Her name is Buster?” Mom asked, handing Tate a coffee.
“I like Princess Fancy Pants better,” Carrie decided.
“Tell your sister, she calls my cat that, she’s ejected,” Tate said to me as he took the coffee from Mom and I tried not to laugh.
“Um… Carrie, I was just joking,” I clarified. “Tate and Buster are tight. He’s protective and he really doesn’t like Princess Fancy Pants.”
Carrie watched Buster wind her way through Tate and my ankles and her lips were twitching when her eyes went to Tate then came to me and she murmured, “Right.”
“It’s going to be a long day,” Mom noted, her eyes on Mack. “Mack, pass me a cupcake.”
Mack grabbed a cupcake and handed it to Mom and I slid away from Tate and went to the sliding glass door. I looked until I found them, Dad and Jonas standing out in Tate’s drive, Jonas’s arm lifted to point at something.
I felt Tate move in behind me then I felt his arm around my chest pulling me into his body. I knew he was watching too and I knew he saw it when Dad said something to Jonas which made Jonas tip his head back and grin at Dad like he was exceptionally funny something my Dad could be. I knew this because Tate’s arm tightened reflexively.
Tate’s lips came to my ear.
“Special,” he muttered, I lifted my hand to curl my fingers around his forearm and I held on as I fought back tears.
* * * * *
Tate parked the Explorer in the parking lot of the funeral home, my family following us in their rental and parking on Tate’s side.
I undid my seatbelt, opened the door and jumped down then stilled when I saw Jonas had also jumped down and was instantly accosted by an older woman with lots of blonde hair. She was wearing a brightly colored gypsy skirt with sequins stitched in a pattern around the hem and little bells jingling at the bottom; a hot pink gypsy top that had flowing sleeves gathered at the wrists and a tie that gathered at the neckline; scuffed, fawn suede cowboy boots and lots and lots of silver and turquoise jewelry at ears, neck, fingers and wrists.
“Bubby baby,” she whispered, latched onto Jonas so that Jonas’s face was stuffed into her ample cleavage. His hands were at her waist in a way I couldn’t tell if he was trying to push away or hold on and she was rocking him roughly back and forth.
I got close. “Um, can I help you?”
She lifted her head to look at me with dark brown eyes flecked with tawny, eyes I knew very well.
Tate’s mother.
Wow.
Something washed over her face as she stared at me and I didn’t know her but I knew that something was not good.
I felt Tate round the hood of the SUV as I saw my family round the back.
“Mom?” Tate asked and she tore her eyes from me to look at Tate.
She unceremoniously let Jonas go so swiftly he listed to the side and she said, “Buck, baby.” Then she threw herself in Tate’s arms.
I moved to Jonas, pulling him carefully to my side with an arm around his shoulders, his arm slid along my waist and I looked at Tate to see he was holding his mother but his eyes were aimed over her head at me.
“I can’t believe it, baby, I can’t. I heard and I couldn’t believe it.” Her voice was heavy with tears, she tipped her head back and Tate looked down at her when she finished. “You must be devastated.”
“Mom –” Tate started.
“I mean Neeta,” she went on.
“Mom –”
“Your Neeta,” she continued.
“Mom, you wanna –”
“I never thought I’d see it, it’s like the end of an era. You were born two halves of a whole,” Tate’s Mom proclaimed then wailed, “Buck, baby, how’re you gonna live without your other half?” And she collapsed in Tate’s arms, her sobs clearly audible because they were loud.
I watched Tate’s jaw get tight as his eyes went over his mother’s head to find mine.
“Babe, take Jonas inside,” he ordered.
I nodded because he looked pissed. And because of that, I tried not to let it show that his mother’s words affected me, I glanced at my family and then led Jonas toward the building.
We’d taken five steps when I heard her say in a loud whisper, “Buck, darlin’, who on earth is she?”
Jonas’s arm convulsed at my waist, I avoided my family’s eyes and I hurried him forward.
* * * * *
Jonas didn’t stay glued to me during the run up to the memorial service because Tate’s Mom, Shania, (Stella shared her name with me, she also shared that wasn’t her real name, her real name was Bernadette, but it was the name she changed it to when she was forty and having her first (Stella reported there were three that she knew of) mid-life crisis) commandeered him, acting like she was a staple in his life even though he looked confused and uncomfortable as she pulled him this way and that, keeping her hands on him nearly all the time.
Shania also spent a great deal of time sobbing, exclaiming about what a loss wild, crazy, full of life Neeta was to the world and generally sucking all of the attention she could get.
I hung back with my family, who stayed close and quiet. What made matters worse was the fact that Tate was clearly incensed by his mother’s behavior and he wasn’t the only one. Pop, Wood, Stella, Krystal, Jim-Billy, Betty, Ned and practically everyone else glared at her openly but her shields were solid and these glares glanced off her with no visible effect. Tate stayed close to Shania but I figured thi
s was because of Jonas rather than any need to be near his mother. In fact, he seemed to be struggling with his desire to say something. But the events of the day forced him to behave with decorum and I knew this was taking a lot out of him because my man pretty much let it rip whenever the mood came over him and I could tell the mood was most definitely over him.
It was when the service was about to start and I’d shifted with my family and sat in the back when it happened.
Shania led Tate and Jonas to the front row and made a show of declaring the seating arrangements, herself between “my two boys” (her loud words). Tate nor Jonas sat, however, even when she pushed at the both of them. The Jackson boys’ eyes searched the large congregation and found me. When they did, I shook my head and smiled that it was okay and it was. It wasn’t for me to sit with them in the front row at Neeta’s funeral.
I was looking at my boys therefore I was startled when I heard Pop say from beside me, “Sweetheart.”
I looked to the side and up to see he had his arm extended in front of my Dad, his hand toward me.
“Pop, it’s okay,” I whispered.
“Family sits in front,” Pop stated.
“It’s okay, I think –”
“Family sits in front, Laurie.”
“Pop, you should –”
“Front,” he rumbled.
“Go, hon,” Dad whispered, I looked at him, he nodded to me, I bit my lip, looked at Pop and took his hand.
He led me to the front.
“Move along, Shania,” Stella demanded quietly when Pop and I got there.
“What?” Shania asked Stella but her eyes were on me.
“Down the row,” Stella stated.
Shania twisted her neck to look at Stella. “I’m sittin’ with my boys.”
“Fine, you can do that but down the row,” Stella returned.
“But –” Shania started and Tate moved.
He leaned in, grabbed my hand and looked down at Jonas. “Sit, Bub.”
Instantly, Jonas sat, Tate used my hand to pull me in front of Shania and he pushed me in the seat beside Jonas then he sat down beside me.
He looked up at his mother and jerked his head down the row. “Sit, Mom.”
Quickly, Stella sat at the end of the aisle. Wood sat by her, Wood’s pretty, dark-haired six year old daughter crawling into his lap. Pop sat between Wood and Jonas, Tate sat by me and Shania had no choice but to sit at the end.
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