“That’s nice of you.” Meg crossed her arms. “What branch of service is he in?”
“Marines. His name is Dave and he drives one of those huge tanks. He’s sent me all kinds of pictures of himself and his buddies. He seems like a great guy. A hero.” She glanced down at her sandaled foot. “But, I don’t think his computer works too well over there because I’ve sent him photos of me and he still e-mails back.”
Meg didn’t get it. “What do you mean?”
“My figure. I’m so thin. Hardly a curve on me. I fight to keep every last pound on my bony hips.”
“Oh, please, spare me.” Meg held up a hand. “Since I’ve moved in with my grandmother a couple of weeks ago, I’ve packed on almost ten pounds.”
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but it looks like it’s going to all the right places.”
“Thanks, and I’m not embarrassed.” She could tell the other woman was friendly, but not in a dubious way. “But the truth is, I can barely squeeze into my blue jeans.”
“I can hardly keep my jeans from falling down.”
They shared a laugh, and in that moment, Meg had a hunch she’d found a friend in Leah Lawton.
Labor Day arrived and Meg dressed for the picnic to which she’d been invited. According to Grams, every year the Owenses invited their “church family,” neighbors, and friends to a large outdoor picnic on their sprawling farm near Cedar Creek Lake.
“They roast a hog and everyone else brings food to share. It’s a fun time with games and whatnot,” Grams had added.
Yesterday Meg had learned that Leah would be there, and Leah asked the new gym teacher, Kent Baldwin, to come along. Meg was glad she wouldn’t be the only newcomer at the picnic.
She wiped her fingertips over her perspiring brow. Already the day was hot and muggy, and Grams didn’t have air conditioning. There wasn’t much of a breeze coming through the second story windows either. Unfortunately it wasn’t much cooler downstairs.
Meg dressed, keeping the balmy weather in mind. She pulled a white tank top over her head and slipped into a lightweight, multi-colored, crinkled cotton skirt. Completing the outfit, she stepped into her favorite white leather flip-flops.
“Do I look okay, Grams? Like a respectable school teacher, albeit a comfortable one?” Making her way into the kitchen, Meg noticed her grandmother wore a sleeveless blue and white seersucker dress.
Grams pivoted around from where she stood at the sink, grabbed a towel, and dried her hands while giving Meg a once-over inspection. “You look real pretty. But some of the girls your age join in the softball game. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wear something else? And take your swimsuit in case you want to go out on the lake.”
Meg shook her head. “I don’t own a swimsuit. And it’s too hot for sports today. I’m thinking I’ll be doing the Southern belle thing—sit at a picnic table in the shade with a glass of iced tea or lemonade.” She stepped farther into the room. “If I still lived in Chicago, I’d probably find an air-conditioned place with a view of the lakefront and enjoy a good book and a wine cooler on a day like today.”
“We can offer you the lake view and a book.” Grams grinned. “But the Owenses never serve alcoholic beverages at their picnics, and a person can’t legally purchase beer or wine or any liquor at all in Lincoln County. That includes Miracle.”
“Wow, I never knew that.”
“Yep, we’re a dry county.”
“Feels awfully wet today.”
Grams had the good grace to smile at Meg’s well-intentioned pun.
“So now I’m curious.” Meg leaned against the kitchen table and folded her arms. “Is Prohibition still alive and well down here? I’ve never heard of a ‘dry county.’”
“Not Prohibition. It’s not a government mandate. It’s the people’s choice. You see, there have been so many tragic drunk driving accidents in years past, including the one that injured little Cammy Bayer, and, well, everyone in the county just voted to be dry.”
“Interesting.”
“That won’t be a problem for you, will it? I mean, it is an easy drive into Danville. That’s in Boyle County, and they’re not dry.”
“I think I’ll make do as long as chocolate’s not banned.” Meg had never been a habitual drinker.
Suddenly the clocks in Grams’ home began to chime, ching, and gong, and Meg jerked from her ponderings.
“You all right, hon? You seem a bit jumpy.”
“I’m fine.” Meg laughed at herself for reacting to her grandmother’s noisy collection. She thought she’d be accustomed to it by now.
“Maybe you’re nervous about the picnic today. If so, don’t be.” Grams gave her a warm smile. “Everyone who’ll be there adores you almost as much as I do.”
Meg grinned at the compliment. “I appreciate your saying so and bolstering my confidence. But I think they like me because of you. Everyone I’ve met respects you, Grams.”
“Oh, not everyone.”
Meg raised her brows, her curiosity piqued, and she made a mental note to pry the details out of Grams sometime soon. It was becoming a regular hobby to learn more about her family and increase this newfound sense of belonging.
“Look at me just sitting here watching you work.” Meg wagged her head at her thoughtlessness. What can I do to help you, Grams?”
“Want to make the fruit salad?”
“Sure.” Meg plucked a knife from the butcher block holder on the counter and began cutting into the watermelon.
“Ellie Owens said there’s another new teacher at Fairview Academy. Apparently he’ll be at the picnic today.”
“She must be referring to Kent Baldwin, the new phys ed teacher. He’s the only other new teacher I’m aware of.”
“Phys ed? Is that like physics?”
“No, physical education. As in gym class.”
“Ah. Well, does he seem like a nice man?”
“Nice enough, I guess. I met him at the teachers’ luncheon last week.” Meg didn’t add that something about the guy troubled her. Perhaps it was his savoir-faire around women that kicked up her defenses. She abhorred those Don Juan types. Still, she was determined to be polite and friendly. After all, he hadn’t actually said or done anything offensive; it was just his attitude. “Kent’s got an impressive resume—for a phys ed teacher.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. He was in physical therapy before earning a master’s and going into education. I mentioned Cammy’s disabilities at our luncheon, and he promised to develop a program suited to her needs.”
“How very thoughtful of him.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.”
“Ellie said he’s quite handsome.”
Meg sported a grin and placed a portion of the watermelon she’d finished cutting into a stainless bowl. “I s’pose some would say he’s a head-turner, all right.”
“Hmm…”
“And he knows it, too.”
“I gather he’s not very humble.”
“Not in the least, but—” Meg gave it a moment’s thought “—he doesn’t seem like an outright jerk.”
“Well, there’s something to be thankful for.”
Meg continued to smile. Grams always found “something to be thankful for.” Most likely due to her strong religious beliefs.
And, speaking of religion…
“Grams, tell me more about the Bayers.”
For the third Sunday in a row, Cammy begged to sit beside Meg in church. Yesterday Vance finally allowed it, although he sat in the pew behind them. Odd, but throughout the service Meg could practically feel his gaze boring holes through the back of her brand-new linen blouse. “What do you want to know about them?”
“Well, I guess I’m curious about Vance.”
“Oh?” Grams arched a brow.
“I’m just wondering, that’s all.”
“Okay.” Grams still wore a bit of a smirk. “What particularly are you wondering about?”
“Well, for star
ters, is Vance a nice person?”
“Very nice. I knew his dad better, of course. He went to school with my boys.” Grams finished peeling a sink full of potatoes and now began chopping them into small pieces for the potato salad. “But I do know that Vance was something of a hellion in high school. Always in trouble. The whole church prayed for him and prayed often. And then—” Grams chuckled. “Why, it was beyond our wildest dreams. God used all that time Vance spent with those Lincoln County sheriff’s deputies, and one day he straightened up and decided to go into law enforcement. He graduated from high school and started college, and that’s where he met his wife, Angie. She really was a lovely person. So you can imagine how sad we all were when—”
Grams paused. At Meg’s questioning look, she continued.
“About three years back, Angie was killed in the terrible wreck that left Cammy paralyzed. She’d been on her way home from visiting friends when a drunk driver crossed the center line and plowed right into her car.”
“How horrible.”
“It truly was.”
Meg cleaned up the mess from the watermelon. Next she began slicing the peaches.
“But back to Vance. He had still been taking a class here and there after Cammy was born, but after the wreck…well, needless to say, he never finished college. Instead of law enforcement, he works at Hank’s, a small engine repair shop, and does a little fixin’ on the side.”
Meg, personally, wasn’t so much impressed by someone’s higher educational background—or lack thereof. Not anymore. Not after living with Dillon and experiencing firsthand what a knob a guy with a master’s degree could be. “Who takes care of Cammy?”
“Vance’s sister Debbie helps out, but from what I understand, Debbie has her own personal issues.”
“Like what?”
“Like a brute of an ex-husband and a little boy with ADD.”
Meg winced. Sounded like a handful, and watching a physically challenged niece on top of it had to be rough.
“And I guess this isn’t gossip exactly—I suppose you should know, being Cammy’s teacher and all, but Vance has been seeing a lot of Nicole Foster this summer. I heard from Myrna Westphal, who’s Cammy’s Sunday school teacher, that the little dear doesn’t like Nicole. Unfortunately, from what I understand, the feeling is mutual on Nicole’s side.”
“Maybe she’s just uncomfortable around a physically challenged child. Some people are, you know”
“Maybe.”
Meg recalled meeting the woman that first Friday night she went out to eat with Grams and Tom. She remembered Cammy’s expression of hurt and resentment and knew just how that little girl felt. “I’ve been on one end of those triangular relationships more than once. It’s not fun.”
“I’m sure it’s not. But, come to think about it, I haven’t seen Vance and Nicole together for some time now.”
“Hmm.” Meg realized she hadn’t seen the couple together, either.
“Well, needless to say, losing his wife in such a tragic way changed Vance forever.”
“How could it not?”
“Exactly. Everyone in town helps out when we can. The congregation at Calvary Hill even raised the money Vance needed for Cammy’s wheelchair.”
“That was nice,” Meg said. “I’m sure Vance appreciated that.”
“We do try to help out when we can. We team together and clean his house and prepare occasional meals—the poor man can barely cook. Lending a hand is what the church body is for. Though, as a rule, we stay clear of people’s personal lives.”
“Ri-ight.” Meg attempted to stifle a laugh but failed. “Now try to convince me it never rains in Kentucky, either.”
Grams sucked in a breath, stopped her chopping, and stared into Meg’s face. “Why, Meggie Jorgenson, just what are you implying?”
She watched Grams wrestle with a grin, which only widened her own smile. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’ve heard more than God’s Word at your church.” She batted her lashes for full effect. “At this rate, I’ll get to know everything about everybody in Miracle in no time.”
Grams looked away and resumed slicing the vegetable, held fast in her capable grip. “Tom’s right,”she muttered on a facetious note. “You are a sassy one.”
Chapter Eight
“She’s here! She’s here!”
Cammy spotted Miss Jorgenson the minute Daddy’s van rolled to a stop on the Owens’ farm. Lots of people were here, and lots of kids, too, but Cammy saw Miss Jorgenson first. “Do you see her? She’s wearing a flowery skirt.”
Daddy turned off the van. “I see her.” He twisted around and stared at Cammy through the two front seats. “Remember what we talked about this morning?”
“Yes.” Cammy tried to hold in all her excitement. She felt like a shaken soda can ready to bubble over the top.
“It’s not nice for a little girl to make a pest of herself around her new teacher. You need to give Miss Jorgenson a chance to make friends her own age.”
“I know.” Cammy thought Miss Jorgenson had lots of time to make friends her own age. “Miss Lawton is one of Miss Jorgenson’s new friends. She sat with us in church yesterday.”
Daddy sucked in some air in a way that let Cammy know he was growing short with her. She didn’t want him to get mad. That would make her even more late to join the picnic and see Miss Jorgenson.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise.”
The almost-mad look on his face disappeared like magic. “I know you will, punkin.” He smiled.
Then he climbed out of the van and opened Cammy’s door, lowering her wheelchair down to the gravelly ground. She could hardly wait. This would be so much fun. Cammy loved picnics and birthday parties and Thanksgiving and Christmas and school.
Her gaze zeroed in on her new third-grade teacher. She looked hard but couldn’t tell if Miss Jorgenson was wearing high heels today. Cammy hoped she was.
Placing her palms around the wheels of her chair, she attempted to push it over the light brown dirt and all the small rocks, but it was hard, and she soon felt tired. She felt mad, too, that this dumb thing wouldn’t take her where she wanted to go. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
“Dad-dy, help me!”
“I’ll be right along, Cammy. Have some patience.”
She puffed out her lower lip. Sometimes it was hard to have patience. Like now. She just hoped Miss Jorgenson wouldn’t walk away and then Cammy would have to find her again. But wheelchairs didn’t ride over bumpy ground too good. She wished she could just get up and run over to the picnic area.
“Hurry, Daddy!”
It felt like hours later that he pushed her chair across the yard. Cammy’s teeth clacked together during the rough ride, but soon they reached the smooth walkway that led to the wide tent and the tables and chairs.
“Vance! Good to see you!”
Cammy watched Mr. Lattimer walk up to them. He was Bethany’s dad and he had a fat nose that almost always had yucky hairs inside of it. Gross. Gross. Gross.
“I was going to give you a call this week,” he told Daddy. “My tractor engine quit working. Didn’t gimme a warning or nothing. Just quit.”
“Does it make any kind of sound at all?”
“Kind of a grinding noise.”
While Daddy and Mr. Lattimer talked motors, Cammy’s gaze roamed around, taking in the boys playing baseball, the red and yellow inflated bouncy house, the dancing sprinkler, and the waterslide. Next she saw Sasha, Rosie, Lindsay, and—”
“Hi, Cammy.”
She turned real quick to see Miss Jorgenson right beside her. She had crouched down so her face was real close. A humungous balloon of happiness filled Cammy’s insides. Miss Jorgenson actually came over to talk with her! Cammy didn’t have to be a pest after all!
“I’m real glad you came to the picnic.”
“Me, too.”
Cammy looked hard into Miss Jorgenson’s face. She had blue eyes—just like hers. And freckles on her cheeks, shoulders, and splattere
d all across the top of her chest.
Cammy’s gaze slid down to Miss Jorgenson’s skirt that was wrinkly on purpose, and it had every one of Cammy’s favorite colors in it.
And then she saw them. Miss Jorgenson’s toes peeking out from under her skirt. She didn’t wear high heels today, but she had happy-red polish on her toenails.
Cammy suddenly wished her toenails were polished, too.
“Did you eat yet?” Miss Jorgenson asked.
Cammy shook her head. She was still thinking about nail polish and wondering if Daddy would let her have a bottle. Aunt Debbie would put it on for her, but Cammy’d probably have to say she’d wash the dishes first. Aunt Debbie always said one favor deserved another.
“Would you like me to fix a plate of food for you? Tell me what you like to eat.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Cammy’s gaze swung over to Daddy, who stood on the other side of her wheelchair.
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
Miss Jorgenson stood. “It’s no trouble, Vance. In fact, I can fix a plate for you also.”
“Um…”
Cammy frowned, wondering why Daddy’s face looked sunburned all of a sudden. Was he going to turn away Miss Jorgenson’s offer?
“Daddy, let her go to the trouble. Please? I’m hungry.”
“Well…”
“Listen, Vance. I’m happy to do it. I’ve been fixing up plates all afternoon and having a great time of it. Tom said I inherited a love of feeding people from my grandmother. It’s the first time in my life that I didn’t mind being compared to my grandmother.”
Miss Jorgenson gave a little laugh, and Cammy thought it left a nice sound in her ears. It wasn’t at all like Mrs. Foster’s laugh. Hers sounded like she wanted Daddy to fix her lawnmower for free.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Cammy and I both do.” Daddy cleared a sudden frog from his throat and glanced around the picnic area. “Guess we’ll find a place to sit.”
Love Finds You in Miracle, Kentucky Page 7