“Why do I feel like we’re having a Steel Magnolias moment?”
“Because you act like Shirley MacLaine’s character, Ouiser,” Beverly retorts.
“Who would that make you?” I ask.
“I’m more like M’Lynn hovering over her daughter, I guess,” Beverly admits, a smile crossing her lips.
“That makes me that one who didn’t know anything about sex,” Naomi adds. “But I do now,” she proudly states, and Beverly and I can’t help but laugh.
She has no idea how much I can relate to that.
Chapter 34
A New Year
[Scotia]
January
It took six weeks to obtain legal guardianship and have the boys awarded to me for residential living. I called Ms. Mason every day until she was so sick of me that she rushed through my requests. It also helped that I was willing to be a kinship placement—with the legal guardianship status—while we waited for my official foster parent license to come in. My criminal background checks and references had been processed quickly thanks to my volunteer work at Harper House, so all we were waiting on was a few training classes to be completed. I wasn’t interested in the money the state would provide me for support, so it worked out best for all of us.
While it might have seemed soon, I moved in with Chet after Christmas to give Malik and Omari familiarity with a place they’d already been. Chet is already licensed to foster, and I’ve almost got mine, plus I have guardianship of the boys, so there isn’t much of a ‘legal’ issue with all of us living together. I also just wanted to live with him. We wanted to be together as much as we could with our newly hectic lives.
Maura and I had a long talk and she told me some horror stories and heartbreak of being a foster parent, although not all tales were such. Her heart is so large but she’s also only human, and she could only take so much. Her last ‘child’ had been a teen and his history nearly broke her. When Chet asked her for help, and eventually Hunter arrived on their doorstep, she took it as a sign. Not only that her time as a foster mother wasn’t done, but a chance to become a mother to her own child had arrived.
She was ready for a family that belonged only to her.
“You’re our family as well,” Chet reminded her, telling her our door was always open to the Hawes family.
With Campbell and Hunter, she moved into my house. “Take it as a gift,” Chet told her as he handed her the keys and Maura sobbed, assuring us it wasn’t tears of regret that she was leaving the house on the mountain but gratitude at Chet being her friend. I’m glad she considers me a friend as well.
Savannah was offered a position at The Fugitive, but she declined.
When Malik and Omari finally arrive, there’s a bit of excitement. We have gifts and a party, celebrating as if it’s a birthday. A new day. A new start. It’s eventually overwhelming for the new boys, and I see Malik shutting down. That’s when I ask him and Omari to follow me.
We climb the stairs of the large home, which has four bedrooms on the upper level. Hugh has his own room now. Dewey and Louie share. Chet and I have a room, and there’s a final space.
“This is your bedroom,” I say, opening the door to reveal a set of twin beds and a newly decorated room in a variety of blues with a splash of red. Originally one of the guest rooms, now it is permanently theirs.
Omari is more verbal and enthusiastic, and he rushes for a bed, bouncing on it. Malik remains quiet, slowly taking in the space around him.
“Do you like it?” I whisper, lowering to a squat next to him. “We can change it if you don’t.”
Malik turns to look at me, his eyes wide and cautious. We have a ways to go to get him to fully open up, and I accept this permanent move to Harper House as one more change for him. But this is the final stop on the craziness of his life over the past year.
If there’s one thing I sense with Malik, it’s that he trusts me, and it’s made such a difference to me. His blind faith that I’m here for him speaks volumes even when he’s quiet.
I point at the bookshelf. “I’ve bought a few things, but we can go to the bookstore for more. I have a library card, so we can go to the library and get as many books as you’d like. My sister Naomi works there, remember? She can’t wait to see you again.”
Malik and Omari were introduced to my sisters in stages so as not to overwhelm them. Naomi was an instant hit with her quirky style and Harry Potter knowledge. Malik hadn’t read the books yet and we are working through them together. Naomi assured him he’d love the library as its newly reconstructed and improved with multiple departments. The children’s section is still a hit.
Beverly and Jedd met Malik and Omari together. Despite Jedd’s loud voice, he has a way of soothing souls, like his horses, and Omari took an instant interest in the mechanics of Jedd’s ‘bionic’ arm as he calls his prosthetic. Beverly recognizes the closed off demeanor of Malik, and she tells me it might take time for him to open up, but he’ll get there. She eventually let people back into her life. She’s promised both boys Jedd will teach them how to ride horses. When she offered to teach them how to make soap, Omari worried he’d have to bathe more often.
“We can design one specifically called Omari Odor and make it smell like dirt,” Beverly told him. He might have instantly fallen in love with her.
Omari has moved off the bed he’s been jumping on and rustles around in a bin of Legos.
“Feel free to build whatever you’d like. A tower to the moon or a bridge between beds,” I tell him. He doesn’t look up at me, but Malik slips his hand to my shoulder. His hesitant touch startles me, and I turn back to him.
“You’re going to be safe here, Malik. We’ll get through this. All of it. Together.” I place my hand on his lower back. I’ve been told not to expect affection from the children and to be cautious with my own. I’d ignored the rules already—offering my hand at will and allowing him to lean into me—long before this moment. So when he leans against my arm, the position doesn’t surprise me. What does is, he slips his arm around my shoulders, and I gently tug him to my side.
“I’m so glad you’re here, my precious boy. We belong to each other now.” I bite my lip when a tear trickles from his eye.
We’re going to be okay. All of us.
Epilogue
Tennessee Entrepreneur Convention
[Chet]
March
We’ve just entered the bar when I hear Scotia speak.
“Oh no, she didn’t,” she mutters and releases my arm, making a beeline for a group of women. They could be the same women from last year she told me about . . . or not. I have no idea, as my sight was only set on one woman a year ago. And now, she is the same woman on my arm.
We’re back at the Omni Hotel for the annual entrepreneurial conference. Scotia Simmons was nominated once again for her female-led small business. She didn’t win again, but she politely cheered on the winner.
“I’ve already won everything I need to win,” she’d said earlier when I turned to her, trying to gauge her reaction.
That’s my girl.
I slowly follow her rapid steps to the gathered group of women.
“I wonder who he’ll go home with tonight,” mutters one of the three ladies seated at a low table.
“He does look fine in a tuxedo, but something’s different about him this year. I can’t place my finger on it,” a second woman states.
“Hi, y'all,” Scotia drawls in her sugar-sweet killer voice. Uh-oh.
“Oh, Scotia, honey. I hadn’t seen you there. We were just discussing Mr. Chesterfield. Too bad you’re out of the running this year as I heard you had him last year,” the last remarks.
What the fuck?
“Had him?” Scotia defends, tsking as she shakes her head from side to side. Her eyes meet mine as I stand close enough to hear this interaction but just out of sight of two ladies. The other looks up to face me.
“I’m not interested in sharing him, ladies. That’s the issue.
That’s my man you’re speaking about.” Her smile grows, and I softly chuckle.
Well, look at my Scotia, being all cavewoman.
“And yes, he does look fine in a tuxedo. He looks even finer out of it, but y'all will never know that detail.” Her smile ratchets up to something so forced it must hurt her cheeks, but she’s defending me, so I let it go that she just told these ladies how fine I look naked. “And the difference in him is he’s in love. With me.” She points at herself, and I see her chest rise. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s ready to throwdown with these women right in the middle of their seats. But I know my girl, and she’d never physically hurt someone. Verbally, maybe, but not with her hands. Her hands are reserved for tender touches and teasing caresses, which reminds me I want to get upstairs instead of working this bar.
With five boys between us, we hardly have alone time. Our lives are filled with chaotic activity. MMA classes and horse-riding lessons. Schoolwork and discipline. Hugh and his girlfriends, and Dewey and his science projects. And the only thing I’d change, if I could, is my best friend seeing his boys thrive.
“Darlin’,” I say, tipping my head to the door, and Scotia gives a finger wave to the women.
“See ya’ll next year,” she states. “You ladies have a good night.” She circles the group and slips her arm back into mine. I chuckle as she does.
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that,” I state.
“I’m just defending what’s mine,” she says, and a wave of pride rolls over me. I’m hers.
“Might have been a bit much, especially that part about me looking fine without my tux.”
“I’m just being honest,” she flirts, leaning into my arm. We’ve talked about her honesty, and she admits she’s been trying to rein it in, especially when it comes to less than positive remarks about others. She’s definitely been a work in progress, and I hope the job is never complete.
“I was one breath away from telling them how good you are in bed, but I thought that would be a bit much.”
“You can show me how good I am once we get to the room,” I growl, pulling her into the elevator. We’re returning to the scene of our first night. Only this time, Scotia won’t be spending a portion in the bathroom. Not unless it involves both of us in the shower or me taking her against the sink. Either sounds like a fine option.
We enter the room and tumble onto the bed.
“Tell me three things,” she whispers under me.
“You. Me. Love,” I whisper, and her eyes turn dreamy. There’s no more sadness hidden behind those silver orbs. No more shutters or shield to protect her heart.
“I love you, too, honey.” Her voice is a breathy whisper when she says them back to me as though each word has its own deeper meaning. She. Loves. Me. I lower for one more kiss before I say what’s been on my mind lately.
“I have three other words for you,” I state and rush out the rest. “Let’s get married.”
“What?” Scotia whispers, pulling back from me a bit. It’s not exactly the reaction I was expecting from her, but then again, I didn’t know what she’d think. We already live together but I want something that marks us as permanent in every way. She belongs with me, and I belong to her.
“I’d like to marry you, Scotia.” Her fingers cover my lips, as if she can trace the words from my mouth and imprint them on her fingertips. Quickly, her mouth follows, meeting mine. The kiss is abrupt. She pulls back, and I wonder if we should forget the past few minutes and what I said. She’s going to refuse me.
“I’d like to marry you, too.” Her eyes shimmer.
My shoulders relax, and I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” However, everything with his woman has been fast. Our first morning. Our second chance together. Our falling in love.
“Are you trying to talk me out of it less than five seconds after asking me?” She chides, stroking her fingertips against the scruff on my jaw.
“No, darlin’. I want you to belong to me.”
“I do belong to you,” she whispers. “And if you’ll have me, I’d love to marry you, Chet Chester Chesterfield Big Poppy.”
“You know I’m really only one man.”
“I might have a crush on all three, though.” Her mouth slowly curls into a smile.
“Which one do you like best?” I tease, lowering to rub my nose against hers, and she gently pushes my face back to meet my eyes.
“This one,” she says, holding my gaze. “I like this one best. The one who looks at me like you do. The one who holds my hand and my heart. The one giving me new perspective and taming my tongue.”
“I like that tongue.”
Her smile grows, splitting her face into a large grin. “I like best the man who loves me, and I love him.” She pauses a beat. “I relish him.” A small giggle escapes her.
“Did you just make a pickle pun when I’m trying to propose to you?” I laugh as well while I partially blanket her body, and she swings a leg over my hips.
“That I did. Now show me your pickle.”
“Darlin’, you know it’s more than a pickle down there.”
“Eggplant?” She scrunches up her nose, recalling our discussion once about phallic symbols.
“I thought you said that’d hurt,” I tease.
“The only shape I want is the shape of you and your giant . . . heart.” She breaks into laughter at her teasing, and that’s my cue to kiss her senseless. Because if there’s one thing I know about Scotia Simmons, it’s that she loves to kiss me and she easily comes undone under me.
“I love you like this,” she says against my mouth as I work my hands under her skirt.
“I love you,” I remind her. “Sweet and vinegar.”
“Mmm,” she purrs when my hand drags up her inner thigh and I reach her sweet spot. “I like to hear that.” Her breath hitches as my fingers brush aside the pretty panties she loves to wear and enter her. “And I love you too, honey. All of you.
That she does. She loves each part of me, and I love each part of her, even when she gets a little mouthy. As she continues kissing me, I realize her mouth might be one of my favorite parts about her.
Did you enjoy this story? Have you read Naomi’s story yet? Love in Due Time.
If you like small-town, sexy silver foxes and their feisty vixen love match, you might also enjoy: Silver Brewer
Acknowledgments
(L)ittle (B)its of Gratitude
And a few bits of explanation.
This book is a work of fiction, and in such, I’ve taken liberty with The Tail of the Dragon, a beautiful and dangerous stretch of road linking Tennessee and North Carolina in the Smoky Mountains. As an eleven-mile portion of US129 with 318 curves, it’s quite a destination, especially for motorcycle enthusiasts, and I drove it in March 2019 in my Jeep. I’m afraid of heights, and let me tell you, I was shaking by the time I finished. White knuckled. Sweaty armpits. Heart thumping. The drive taught me that this road is no joke and takes a lot longer to travel than I’ve portrayed in this book.
Please remember, this is fiction.
What isn’t fictional—and I tried my best to have correct—is the foster care system. I have great respect for those willing to take on children in need. Parenting anyone is never easy. Parenting children with special circumstances can seem daunting, but people do it. People like the Maura Haweses in the world. People like M. E. Carter, author and friend, who helped me extensively with information about foster parenting: the roles, the rules, the process, and the emotions. I am so very, very grateful for her extra eyes on this work, and if fault is found with anything, I take full responsibility.
This work, along with Love in Due Time and Love in Deed, concludes the Winters Sisters chronicles, the lives of three sisters created by the wonderfully talented and generous author Penny Reid. It has been an extreme honor to take her characters, make them my own, and give them a story. It was a bit challenging to take on Scotia Si
mmons, a character readers love to hate. Giving Scotia a reason for her meanness, I’m hopeful she has a second chance in Reiders’ hearts. I adore her (now). Remember: we never know the silent sufferings of others. Be kind. Penny Reid and her Smartypants Romance imprint embodies this philosophy.
On that note, I want to thank the other authors in the Smartypants Romance sisterhood. The collection of talented, sensitive, and creative writers in the group is incredible, and again, I’m so honored to be among them on this journey.
Thank you to Brooke Nowiski and Fiona Fischer for administration at SPRU, and your time and energy in corralling us authors. And additional gratitude to SPRU editors Judy and especially Rebecca who made me rethink much of the story.
And for those in the know: Shabnam, Erica, Stacey, Lois, Shannon, and Anne Marie – thank you for your generosity to do yet another read when panic set in and I freaked out. Your quick responses and attention to detail where a huge help.
Thank you, generous reader (or Reider), for allowing me to enter Green Valley, help build the world of a beloved fictional community, and make my own small mark among book-family and book-friends we love dearly.
On my individual writing team, I want to thank Melissa Shank for her endless support and patience, and Jenny Simms for edits (She edited 13 books of mine in 2020!). Thank you to Karen Fischer for her finishing-touch proofreading skills.
To all the readers in Loving L.B., who enjoy a shared love of things sexy and silver and over 40, thank you for taking this detour into Green Valley with me. It takes a village – or rather a valley – and you are my people, who keep me grounded, laughing and sane.
And finally, gratitude to my family: Mr. Dunbar, MD, MK, JR and A, for indulging Mom’s fantasy and allowing me to make my dreams come true as a wife, a mother . . . and a writer.
Love in a Pickle: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 9) Page 31