by Jamie Begley
“What has you so down today? It’s been a beautiful day, and the food Rachel’s cooking smells delicious. I’ve been looking forward to the deviled eggs all afternoon.”
“She puts too much mustard in them, and her dumplings don’t have enough salt.”
Rachel rocked the chair, listening to her complaints. “The last time you told her she used too much mayonnaise.”
“I’d rather have more mayonnaise than mustard.” Mag’s dentures snapped in irritation as she complained.
“I’ll eat the ones you don’t want.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat them, just that they aren’t as good as the ones I make.”
“Ahh … so you’re upset because you didn’t make them?”
“They never let me do anything fun anymore.”
Jo turned her head, seeing Mag’s unhappiness that she could no longer do the things she enjoyed. Rachel said the last time she had tried to let Mag cook, she had set a dish towel on fire, and was salting food, even the desserts, until they were inedible, or was using enough fat to give herself another heart attack.
“I can’t blame them for the cooking. When I let you make hamburgers, you set the stove on fire.”
“I had it under control.”
“I can’t help you get them to let you cook again. Cash had to buy a new stove. What else do you miss? Maybe I can help with that.”
“I miss going to Rosie’s. Mick doesn’t come and see me anymore.”
“Rachel caught him giving you a pint of whiskey.”
“I want to sit at the bar and have a cold beer and eat a hamburger. You could sneak me out.”
Jo lowered her voice so Rachel couldn’t hear. “I’ll see what I can do. Rachel asked me to stay with you this next weekend. If she and Cash say it’s okay, we can hit the bar, but you have to promise me you’ll behave.”
“Then I don’t want to go. If I didn’t want to have fun, I would get Cash to take me. He’s become a stick in the mud. He watches everything I eat as much as Rachel does.”
“They don’t want to lose you. I can’t blame them,” Jo said softly.
“I’m in my nineties; a loud fart would take me out.”
Laughing, Jo stood, pushing the wheelchair inside when Rachel called out that dinner was done.
Rachel gave her a flustered look when they came through the door.
Jo gave her a questioning glance as she pushed Mag’s wheelchair to the head of the table. Ema was buckled into her chair, eating a deviled egg.
“Something wrong?” Jo took a seat at one of the table settings.
Rachel gave her a worried frown. “Cash called and said that he’s on his way home with Rider. Cash told him what he was having for dinner, and he invited himself.”
“Why should she give a damn that boy is coming to dinner? She eats a lot, but that’s a big pot you have on the stove.”
“Mag, I’ve told you not to use that word in front of Ema.” Rachel brought her hands to her hips as she reprimanded the old woman.
“When Cash stops playing that music he listens to, I’ll stop.” Mag huffily turned toward Jo. “Why don’t you like that boy? He’s not as good-looking as my grandson, but he ain’t married either. If I were five years younger, that boy wouldn’t know what hit him.”
Rachel laughed, giving Mag a glass of iced tea before pouring one for Jo.
“Jo hit him with a bag this morning.”
“What that boy do to get you to hit him?”
Jo concentrated on plucking an egg off a platter and shoving it into her mouth, deciding not to answer.
“Rider joked that Jo had thrown herself at him when she accidentally bumped into him,” Rachel helpfully answered when Jo didn’t.
“It’s what I would have done.”
Mag probably would have done more than that in her younger years, Jo thought, finishing her mouthful.
“I wouldn’t deliberately throw myself at Rider if he were the last man on earth.”
“You’re a lesbian?” Mag gave Jo a pitying pat on her shoulder. “You don’t know what you’re missing. I thought about it once in my twenties. There’s no comparison between dick and—”
“Mag, please behave,” Rachel said, looking out the window. “They’re here. Save your past stories until we’re alone.”
“Why? Nothing happened. She didn’t look as pretty when I sobered up.”
Jo couldn’t help it. The woman was a cross between Joan Rivers’ caustic tongue and Roseanne Barr’s tactlessness. She was wiping her tears of laughter away when Cash and Rider came inside.
Cash gave Rachel a kiss before giving his daughter hers. The toddler pursed her lips, giving her father a kiss before squealing for Rider when he moved closer to the table, wanting a kiss from him, too.
“That child is smarter than you. You need to take a lesson from her,” Mag advised Jo, moving the deviled eggs closer to her to take three, uncaring that she was making her the center of attention.
“Are you going to hit me again if I sit down here?” Rider mockingly hesitated before taking the chair next to her.
Jo gave him a withering glance. “I’ll try to restrain myself,” she said mockingly back.
At her comment, Cash’s mouth opened as he sat down next to Rachel.
“I’ll tell you later.” Rachel forestalled the obvious question about why she had hit Rider. “Let’s eat. The food is getting cold.” Rachel filled a plate with dumplings, giving it to Cash before handing the serving spoon to Jo.
Jo only put a spoonful on her plate before passing the spoon to Mag. She also only took a small serving of the mashed potatoes and the green beans.
“You didn’t take much?” Rachel frowned at the small portions that Rider more than made up for, mounding his plate high when it was his turn.
“According to Mag, I eat too much,” Jo said, picking up her fork.
“She was only jok—”
“No, I wasn’t. She’s already eaten four eggs since she’s gotten here.” Mag cut off Rachel.
Jo laughed, not insulted by the woman. Besides, she had eaten four.
Mag’s bluntness was refreshing. She made no pretenses about what she was thinking or observing.
Jo ate, remaining silent as Rider, Cash, and Rachel talked. Listening, she came to realize that Rider was close to the small family.
During the meal, he had gotten up to make himself coffee, preferring to drink that during his meal. His easy familiarity as he opened cabinets for the coffee and mugs, and a drawer for the spoons had her surprised. She hadn’t known Rider was a frequent visitor. Jo spent a couple of evenings with the couple and had never seen Rider there.
Jo blasted herself for making her opinions known. She had been vocal in her disdain of Rider. Thinking back, she realized Rachel would change the subject or divert her attention.
She had been aware of Cash’s friendship with the club, but hadn’t known it extended to their family circle.
“Would you like a cup?” Rider asked, carrying his own cup to the table.
“No, thank you.” She ate self-consciously, just wanting to eat and make her excuses to leave.
Jo gave Mag a wondering brow when Rider refilled his plate with even larger portions than his previous one.
“He’s a growing boy.” Mag beamed from across the table at the man who had stopped growing long before tonight.
Jo turned her head to the side. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-four,” he answered instantly.
Jo reached for the dumplings, daring Mag to make a snide comment with a sidelong glance.
The old woman shrugged. “It’s your ass.”
“Mag …” Rachel dropped her fork to her plate.
“It’s okay.” Jo reassured Rachel she wasn’t offended by stealing the last egg from the platter that Mag had been hoarding close to her plate.
“I like a woman with a big appetite.” Rider nudged the potatoes closer to her.
Jo nearly grinned back at the am
usement in his eyes. Smothering the smile down, however, she continued to eat, ignoring the potatoes, even though she wanted them. Rachel’s were silky smooth, and she wasn’t stingy with the butter when she made them.
She hadn’t made a dent in her second plate when Rider leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. “What’s for dessert?”
“I didn’t make any.” Rachel’s eyes lowered, but Jo caught the slight quiver of her lips. Her friend couldn’t lie worth a damn.
“No self-respecting woman from the mountains would cook a dinner as fine as this one and not make a dessert to go with it.” Rider sniffed the air, as if he was a hunting dog on the trail of a meal.
Rachel gave him a harassed look before going to the kitchen, where Jo heard her open the oven door then shut it. She returned, carrying a covered dish. After setting it down on a heat pad, she removed the top.
Jo forgot the food on her plate when she saw the cobbler. No one in the county could make cobbler as good as Rachel’s. She had won numerous contests no matter which flavor she made, and unless she was mistaken from the dark blue juice seeping out from underneath the crust, she had made her specialty—blackberry.
Rider was already reaching for the spoon when Rachel brought ice cream and bowls for everyone.
“You’re lucky you never invited me to dinner before you married Rachel, or I would have stolen her from you.” Rider groaned after taking a bite.
“Like you could have caught her.” Mag snorted. “Cash only caught her with my help.”
Cash placed his arm around the back of Rachel’s chair. “You’re not how I caught her. Rachel fell in love with the greenhouse I built her. She loves being able to grow blackberries in the winter while everyone else has to use frozen ones.”
Rachel brushed her fingers over Cash’s lips, removing the sugar from his bottom lip. “That isn’t why I fell in love with you. I fell in love with you when you told my brothers I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t marry you.”
Jo swallowed the lump in her throat when Rachel’s expression went from unashamedly loving to one of extreme sadness. Bending her head over her bowl, she gave Rachel and Cash their privacy as the memory of the child they had lost was revived.
The child would have been their second. It was only during the last couple months that Rachel had resumed her natural vivaciousness. Even her vibrant hair color had been toned down, the curls lacking their healthy sheen.
Jo had been relieved when Rachel had slowly come out of the shell she had withdrawn into. She was sure Cash had been that reason. The happily married couple had worked through their loss, and their marriage had grown stronger through the tragedy they had shared.
Forcing herself not to take another serving, Jo placed her spoon in the empty bowl. Standing, she carried her dishes to the kitchen, then came back to remove the rest of the dishes as Cash and Rider talked about an order they needed to work on tomorrow.
“You don’t have—”
Jo laid a hand on Rachel’s shoulder before she could get up. “Don’t you dare. You cooked dinner; I can do the dishes.” Taking Cash’s and Rachel’s plates, she went back and forth, leaving Rider’s plate since he was still eating.
She was loading the dishwasher when Rider carried his to the sink.
“You can stack them after I rinse them off.” Rider didn’t give her time to protest, taking over the job.
She didn’t want to be in the small kitchen with him, but other than coming off as a bitch, she had no alternative. She had no idea how to make small talk with him, so she remained silent, moving around him to get the dirty pots and pans for him to clean.
It was only when Rider cleared his throat that she realized he might be having trouble talking to her, too.
“I contacted the number on the card you gave me. He’s coming to the factory to take a look at my car and give me an estimate.”
“That’s good,” she said stiltedly. “What kind of car is it?”
“1970 Dodge Charger.”
Surprised, she looked up from the dishwasher. “I expected you to say a Corvette or a Mustang.”
Rider stopped scrubbing the heavy pot that Rachel had used for the dumplings. “You think I’m a Stang man?”
Jo’s lips quirked. “A bright red one.”
Rider laughed, shaking his head. “With the right engine, a Charger can beat a Stang.”
“I’m not going to disagree with that.” She shrugged. “I figured you just wanted to drive it, not race it.”
“I plan to do both.”
“You plan to race around town?”
“Hell yes. When I get it restored, I can shove it up Greer’s ass when he pulls up next to me in his truck.”
“Being friends with the sheriff will come in handy. Lesser mortals like me have to worry about tickets.”
“Knox wouldn’t write me a ticket if he caught me racing. He would kick my ass.”
She expected him to deny her ascertainment that he wouldn’t face the same repercussions as others. It eased her guilty conscience. She seriously doubted Knox would give him a beating for breaking a traffic violation.
“It would be worth it. Greer’s a nut where that truck of his is concerned. The one he bought Holly is almost as big.”
Rider gave her a look of unholy amusement. “How bad do you want to ram his truck with yours when he revs his motor at the stop light in town?”
“It’s everything I can do not to flatten it,” she admitted.
“Your truck could do the job.” His encouragement had her seriously thinking about it. Greer always managed to get behind her at the stop light. He would rev his motor, making his truck jerk forward incrementally until it would be nearly kissing her bumper.
“Knox would haul me off to jail if I tried.”
“I could get you out. Go for it.”
“Nope. I’m not stupid enough to mess with the Porters. They treat their vehicles like family. They can be vindictive.”
“Are you talking about Greer or the Porters as a whole?” Rachel asked, coming into the kitchen carrying Mag’s empty plate.
“Mainly Greer, but you have to admit you, Tate, and Dustin stick together like glue when you get mad at someone.” Jo took the plate away from Rachel, sticking it in the dishwasher.
“Most families from the mountains usually do. Sometimes it’s hard, especially when Greer gets pissed off for no reason. The rest of us have to pick and choose who we’re going to feud with.” Rachel didn’t try to deny the close relationship she shared with her family.
“Make it simple; narrow it down to three,” Jo joked, nudging Rachel with her shoulder, so she could open the lower cabinet door to get the pack of dishwashing detergent.
Straightening back up, she caught Rider’s eyes on the swell of her breasts she had inadvertently exposed. Her lips tightened, and she gave him a dirty look as she started the dishwasher.
“Thanks for dinner, Rachel. I’ll see you at church.” She didn’t say goodbye to Rider, moving around him so she wouldn’t have to touch him as she went into the dining room.
Kissing Ema on her cheek, she then said goodbye to Cash, frowning when she realized Mag must have gone to her room. She regretted not being able to say goodbye to her. However, like a scalded cat, she wanted out of Rider’s vicinity before she ruined the evening by saying something sarcastic to him.
Going out the front door, she was relieved to see Mag was sitting out on the front porch. She hadn’t even bothered to turn the porch light on, sitting in the darkness.
Jo placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling how frail the woman was becoming. “Don’t leave, Mag.” Jo bent down, brushing her cheek with a kiss before rubbing her cheek against hers.
Mag covered Jo’s hand, patting it. “Ain’t going nowhere tonight, but soon. The leaves are almost gone.”
“I hate that old saying.” Jo sat down next to her knees, laying her head on Mag’s arm.
When she was younger, her mother had often repeated the saying when one of h
er older relatives had passed away, explaining in a matter-of-fact voice that leaves fall off so that new ones can take their place. As she grew older, one by one of her relatives had passed during the fall and winter months. She wasn’t as superstitious, but now that all her relatives were gone, it gave her a feeling of foreboding that Mag had seen her last spring.
“You’re a sweet girl to worry about an old woman. I still remember your pa driving up with you sitting on that cushion so you could see over the hood of his truck.”
“I used to be scared of you.” Jo used to be as afraid of her as much as she loved her now.
“You were afraid of your own shadow. You still are.”
She raised her head. “No, I’m not—”
“Then why don’t you give that boy a chance?”
“Who? Rider?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. You know who I’m talking about. You’re not getting any younger. You should be chasing after the boy as if he were on fire.”
“Not everyone wants to get married and have children.”
“You forgetting you always came carrying that pretend diaper bag and the baby doll your pa bought you in that plastic carrier? You treated that doll like it was the real thing. You played with that doll long after most girls in the county were already going on dates. You want to lie about not being interested in men, go ahead. But you’ll never make me believe you don’t want a bunch of youngins.”
“I grew up.”
Mag squeezed her hand tightly. “Yes, you did. I would have handled it differently if I had been your ma. I’m not faulting her, but your pa should have killed those bastards instead of leaving it to God. God helps those who help themselves.”
“Yes, He does.” Jo stood, removing her hand from Mag’s grasp. “Don’t stay out here too long; you’ll take a cold.”
“I’m too mean to take a cold. Think about what I told you.”
“I will, I swear. Night, Mag.”
Jo left the old woman. Mag thought she had promised to think about chasing after Rider, but her mind was on what she had said about God.
Sadness clouded her vision as she walked to her truck. Mag had a better chance of seeing another spring than she did.