Mercy smiled at him. “We thought you might like some plates and cups, dear. I didn’t imagine that your brother left you too many.”
“And I made the cookies!” Lily said.
“And I helped Temple stir the cornbread!” little Grace joined in proudly. “And I reminded them how you’d be wanting honey to drizzle over yours.”
Solace sauntered up to him, carrying a big box that smelled like fried chicken, still warm, from a restaurant in town. “I made sure Asa put lots of cherries in the pies, just like you like ’em, Billy.”
“I hope he made a whole one for me,” Billy teased, “’cause I haven’t seen a spread like this since—well, since I left your place to come here.”
“Sit by me, Billy!”
Gracie plopped down on the edge of the quilt, patting the spot beside her, and the two other girls took places nearby. After a few minutes of shifting themselves and rearranging the food in the center, everyone was seated in the shade and looking up at Michael.
“Let’s pray,” he invited them, and as he removed his dusty hat, the rest of the men did the same. Malloy gazed around them, at the lush trees, and the pasture where the Morgans now grazed, and the white house with its pillared porch, smiling, nodding.
“Lord, we thank you for the beauty of this day, and this land, and this fine occasion, as they’re but small examples of the many gifts You give us all our lives,” he began quietly. “We thank You, as well, for our safe journey here, and for blessing us with so many good crops and horses that we could share what You’ve given us with Billy.”
Billy shifted, the way he always did when Michael prayed for him. Was that a horse and wagon he heard coming down the lane?
“We ask You now for your blessing on this food, and Your guidance as we work today,” he went on more urgently, “and we ask Your very special blessing on Billy Bristol as he starts his new life here. Guide him in the way You’d have him go, and watch over him. Bring the people and gifts he needs to better accomplish Your purpose—”
“Looky there! It’s Eve coming—with Olivia and—”
“Shh! We’re still praying, Gracie!” Lily whispered.
“—as he brings this fine home back to life with Your love. For we ask these things—”
“But who’s that with her?” Grace whispered back. Then she elbowed Billy. “That’s the biggest old Negro lady I’ve ever seen!”
He couldn’t resist sneaking a peek. And then his jaw dropped.
“—in the name of Your son, Jesus. Amen.”
“Beulah Mae!” Billy cried, scrambling off the quilt to run to her. “Lordy, but it’s been too long—and Eve! How’d you know to—”
“It’s the answer to our prayers,” Lily pronounced. But she was grinning, taking in every detail of the way Billy reached for Eve first, held on to her for a moment after her feet found the ground. . . .
“Amen! Let’s eat!” Gracie squealed.
Chapter Thirty-two
Eve held her breath, unable to look away from Billy’s blue, blue eyes. She felt as if he was devouring her with his happy gaze. “I—I hope we’re not intruding on—I had no idea the Malloys were—”
“Yeah, they surprised me, too, Peaches. But you’re just in time to join us!” His head was spinning so fast, he wasn’t sure the words were coming out right. But all of a sudden this day felt complete.
He reached up to assist Beulah Mae, who beamed at him from the wagon seat, shaking her head as though she didn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Billy, Billy, Billy!” she said with a fond cackle. “When they tole me you was back, fixin’ up this house, why—”
She stepped down carefully. Her cocoa eyes widened as Billy caught her full weight and set her down.
“When did you get to be so big and strong? Look at you, all growed up into a fine-lookin’ man!” Her ample bosom shook with laughter. “But don’t you go thinkin’ ole Beulah Mae still cain’t take a broom to ya, if you go sneakin’ pie!”
Fleshy arms pressed him against a girth as warm and full of love as he remembered from being her Billy boy. He squeezed her back, awash in this woman’s familiar sound and scent. To him, Beulah Mae had been the very symbol of comfort and stability during his boyhood.
“I brung you a punkin pie, honey,” she crooned, rocking him side to side. “And I’s here to help you settle this house—’cept it looks like you’s already got plenty of—”
“Never enough help, Beulah Mae,” he murmured against her soft neck. “And don’t you ever go thinkin’ I don’t need you! Even if you hadn’t brought me a pie.”
He took her by the hand, amazed that his fingers were so much longer than hers now—that he stood tall enough to look down into those kind brown eyes—although he would never look down at her.
“You’d better meet all these folks, and help us eat this meal! Can you believe this spread?” he asked, gesturing toward the food and the smiling faces. “They brought supplies and this picnic, for me! And those horses in the pasture? I raised ’em, Beulah Mae! And I trained ’em—and—and Michael here is lettin’ me start up my own ranch with ’em!”
“I’s so happy that God’s been good to you, child,” she murmured, swiping at her eyes. “Weren’t nobody more worried for you than ole Beulah Mae, after your mama took out with you kids!
“But we’s back now!” she said with an emphatic nod. “We’s together again! And I already knows I’m gonna love every person I sees sittin’ under this shade tree!”
Eve wandered over to stand behind the girls, handing Olivia to Mercy when she opened her arms. Her heart hopscotched. As she looked at each familiar face during the introductions Billy made, she realized that yes—he was excited! She’d always admired his quiet strength, and had never doubted his loyalty to the Malloys, but Eve could see a big difference in him now.
His shirt looked dirty and his pants bagged—probably he hadn’t taken time to eat. No doubt he couldn’t cook much, and didn’t spend time in the restaurants uptown because so much here needed fixing. He hadn’t shaved for a while, which gave his face a darker, more alluring edge. Although his auburn hair needed trimming, Billy still had a reputable look about him: his entire being brimmed over with patience and generosity and steadfast faith.
Integrity. That’s what she saw in his open smile, and heard in the voice that couldn’t disguise his real feelings. Even when he’d told Emma Clark the wedding was off—and that he was truly sorry for it—Eve knew Billy Bristol took his promises seriously. He’d suffered for the way he’d hurt his bride-to-be.
Unlike his lawless brother, who’d never shed a tear for anybody. Wesley thought feelings were things only silly females displayed, and couldn’t have cared less about her, except to toy with her. Humiliate her, as the final way to drag her family’s reputation through the mud.
But as she heard the warm greetings everyone had for Beulah Mae, simply because Billy had always loved her, Eve thanked her lucky stars—and God, even—that she’d brought the old cook out here. She walked toward the wagon, thinking it was a good time for the rest of her surprise.
“And this here’s Asa,” Billy said as he came to the end of the family circle. “And I gotta tellya, he makes a pie almost as fine as yours, Beulah Mae.”
“I’s mighty pleased to meet you,” the old man replied. There was a lilt in his voice, and Eve saw a litheness in that bent old body as Asa stood up to reach out his hand.
She grinned. They looked like Mr. and Mrs. Jack Spratt, from the nursery rhyme about the skinny little man and his oversized wife. And wasn’t that an interesting idea!
“Mister Billy tole me early on about your pies, Beulah Mae—”
“We’ve all had to live up to your ways in the kitchen!” Mercy added with a laugh.
“—and I did my very best over the years to take care of ’im, like I knowed you woulda done,” Asa continued. He was still holding her plump hand between his—gawking at her like a puppy begging for a pat on the head.
“You done said it all. And just right, too!” Beulah Mae replied with a chuckle. Then she narrowed those bright brown eyes, still clutching Asa’s hand. “You and me’ll get along just fine, long as you tells me I makes the best pie you’s ever ate—and I tells you the same thing!”
Eve joined in the Malloys’ laughter, lifting the thickest pumpkin pie she’d ever seen from the floor of the wagon. She also picked up a slender package, hoping this was the right time to present it.
“Here, Billy—you’d better take this,” she said. “You should get the first piece, since Beulah Mae made it especially for you.”
His tanned face lit up at the sight of the pumpkin pie: Eve thought he was going to kiss her, he looked so happy! Everyone was shifting so Beulah Mae could sit down beside Asa—making a place for her, as well—but she felt so fluttery, it took a moment before she could speak again.
“This is for you, too,” she murmured. “I—I thought you might like to look at it now and again, and remember, well—you’ll see! Just open it!”
The Malloys were passing the food, watching them covertly while they filled their plates, but Eve didn’t care. Dinner was the last thing on her mind. She noticed that Billy’s fingers shook as he undid the ribbon she’d tied around the tissue paper.
“Don’t think I can recall a day when I got so many—well, would you look at that.” His bronzed face went tight as he stared at the framed canvas. “Eve, this is—why, it’s just—look at this, everybody! Lookit at what Eve’s painted for me!”
She felt like a girl who’d just won first prize at the fair: for a breath-defying moment, she thought he’d grab her up and kiss her. Billy rushed over to show his painting to the Malloys, and his joy—even more than their immediate approval—was the finest gift she’d ever received.
“It’s home!” Gracie cried. “And there’s us, Lily! On the porch with Joel!”
“And me, on Mr. Lincoln—and Billy on Pete!” Solace chimed in. She stood up, her tanned face aglow. “That’s some picture, Miss Eve! Will you paint one like it for us?”
“Yes, please do!” Mercy handed the baby to Temple so she could stand up and take a closer look. “All my children—and the home Michael built for us, right down to those triple M’s on the porch pillars! What a wonderful talent you have, dear.”
Eve’s knees quivered beneath her skirt, as the others echoed Mercy’s praise for her painting. “Thank you so much,” she murmured. “I have a studio now, thanks to Billy’s mother, in the front of their hotel. I—I thought Billy would like to remember all the years he spent with you Malloys.”
“Couldn’t have said that better myself.” Michael, too, was studying the painting with an awed expression that made her giddy. “We cherish that portrait you did of Lily, but if you could paint one similar to this sometime, it would be a way for us to remember our time with you, Eve.”
As he reached into his pocket, his tender smile made her realize how very handsome he was—how lucky Mercy was, to have a fine, steadfast man like Michael as the head of her family.
“This is a just a deposit,” he said, handing her some folded bills. “Don’t short yourself on pay, honey, because I’m proud of the way you’ve pulled yourself together. You’ve been a fine example to my girls, about how a woman can use her God-given talents to make a life for herself. God bless you, Eve.”
Suddenly she was crying. Throwing herself at Mike Malloy. He wasn’t nearly old enough to be her father, but how wise he was! What an inspiration he’d been! Such a comfort, after the shame she’d suffered . . . the way she’d disrupted Billy’s wedding to have her baby, and then abandoned Olivia . . . knowing Michael and Mercy would raise her as part of their patchwork family.
What an ungrateful guest she’d been. What a foolish, spoiled girl, expecting Billy and the Malloys to right all her wrongs.
She wiped her eyes, squeezing the greenbacks . . . thinking how she could buy new brushes—fresh paints—an easel.
“I can’t accept this,” she rasped, thrusting the money at him. “When I walked away from your house—and my daughter—I’d sunk so low I stole money from your kitchen. Yet you welcomed me back. Never a word about my being a thief, let alone an unfit mother.”
The glimmer in Mercy’s eyes made her heart throb. That was empathy she saw; the deepest kind of understanding. “You were confused, dear. Not feeling well after—”
“I was selfish! Only concerned with my own comfort, and vengeance against Wesley.” She curled Michael’s warm hand around the money. “Your home will be the next picture I paint, knowing my work falls far short of repayment. Thank you so much,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “You and your family were so good to me, when you could’ve thrown me out—”
“Oh, that would never happen,” Temple spoke up. She was rocking Olivia on her shoulder, beaming with the conviction she brought to everything she did. “These Malloys, they not only talk about their faith—they live it and share it. Same thing applies to your Billy. He’s the hero, when it comes to accepting the destiny the Lord had waiting for him.”
Your Billy. Had he caught that?
Eve glanced sideways, dabbing at her eyes as she slipped from Mike’s embrace. In the afternoon sunlight, Billy’s hair shone like rich, fiery copper and his blue eyes sparkled—at her! There was an expectant silence, while everyone waited for either her or Billy to respond to Temple’s high praises.
“Well, I can see my Billy’s been in the best of hands,” Beulah Mae remarked. “And I wants y’all to know how I appreciate that. My prayers for this boy has all been answered today, now that I’s seen how good he’s done—and that he’s come back home.”
“Sit down here and eat, Billy! You, too, Eve!” Gracie insisted. “Mama won’t let us have dessert ’til everybody’s finished, and I want a big ole piece of that pumpkin pie!”
It was an invitation she couldn’t refuse. Eve settled herself on the quilt, aware of what a joy it was to be smack in the middle of this family and their food again. The meals weren’t fancy, but she always got her fill—as much from their company as from what came to her plate. That didn’t happen at Mother’s.
Sitting beside Billy filled her, too. The sensations of having him this close again, where she could watch the tendons ripple in his hands and hear the rolling rhythms in his speech, were a welcome change from the somber house she stayed in now. He was warm and strong, taking such enjoyment from this meal—from everything he did.
“How’s your mama?” he asked between mouthfuls of chicken and cornbread. “Everything goin’ all right, havin’ the baby there?”
She sighed before she could catch herself. He was being polite, but there were so many more enthralling subjects to ask about. “Mother’s not one for making a joyful noise, but you were right,” she admitted. “Olivia’s been the key to her heart. Still, it’s very quiet there. The studio will save my sanity, I’m sure.”
He nodded, scraping the last of the honey-drenched cornbread from his plate. Eve sounded awfully pleased about spending her days painting. Had he made a big mistake already, not going to see her? “I figured on droppin’ by the house to visit with you ladies—”
“Oh, I wish you would!”
“—but I wanted to have things squared away here.” He brushed crumbs from his lap. He had to say this next part right, or he’d be stepping in it, for sure.
“This house—comin’ back to this place—was the dream that kept me goin’ after Mama abandoned Christine and me,” he explained softly. “And once I saw what Wesley had done to it—what he was gonna do to me—well, puttin’ things back to rights has been my way of handlin’ how he died.”
Eve reached for his hand. “I still can’t believe he
came at you with that shotgun! I’m so sorry I provoked him—”
“Wasn’t your fault, any more than mine. So let’s leave Wesley out of this, shall we?”
The hand in his felt so fragile, yet so strong. With each stroke of her brushes, Eve was taking charge of her new life—proving herself, in a town where snooty old ladies would whisper behind their hands about what a harlot she was, how she’d led Wesley on, to spite her widowed mother, no doubt. She’d always been a little too bold—
And when she leaned in to kiss him, Billy loved her for that. He was kissing her back, angling his face for the best taste of lips he’d felt in his dreams. She pulled away with a gasp.
“I—forgot myself—in front of every—”
“Well, you’re not gonna forget this.”
His hand slipped around her neck and Billy pressed his mouth to hers, urgently, daring her to answer him back. Eve’s soft moans had nothing to do with modesty, or fear, or his brother this time: She was pouring out her artist’s soul, showing another talent he wanted to explore in the coming weeks. Kissing. This woman liked it a whole lot more than Emma had.
When he finally released her, with a last little peck that made her giggle, he felt he’d made up for some lost time. Billy smiled at the folks who were watching them, and then gazed into Eve’s eyes—eyes a deep, soothing green like this leafy shade they sat in.
“Just wanted you to know how I felt,” he said. His declaration made him jittery—in the best of ways—but he wasn’t going to repeat the mistakes he’d made with Emma Clark. “Everybody here’s been hintin’ about you and me for a long time, so now they know I’ve been listenin’ to them, and to my heart, Peaches. I just had to say it my way, and in my own good time.”
Eve’s smile quivered and she looked ready to cry again. But she seemed happier than he’d ever seen her. Dewy-eyed, with roses in her cheeks.
“Oh, Billy, you do go on so!” Beulah Mae said with a chortle. “Why, your mama and I had you two matched up from the time you’s babies. Just took you twenty years to figger it out, is all!”
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