by Meg Moseley
“Sometimes she’s a little too protective.”
“Mama Bear won’t be happy that Baby Bear is seeing a man?”
“Well . . . I told you she married young and it didn’t last, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
“It was a shotgun wedding. She was barely eighteen and pregnant.”
“With you?”
“Yes, and she’s afraid I’ll follow her bad example.”
“You’re not a teenager, though.” He looked away and then returned his troubled gaze to my face. “You’re one of those women who can’t cut the apron strings.”
“I am not.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Prove it.”
“Fine. I’ll drive over to Wynnville tonight, by myself—”
“Tonight? We’re going out tonight. We are out, right now.”
“It’s barely past five. If you’ll drop me off at my place, I’ll be at Mom’s house in time for supper. I’ll tell her about you tonight, and that leaves tomorrow free so we can go see her together after church.” I stopped to breathe. “And I’ll introduce you.”
He studied me a little too long. “All right. Which church in the morning? Yours or mine?”
I was about to say it didn’t matter, but I reconsidered. “Let’s go to yours.”
Because the services at his church started later and ran longer, our time with Mom would be a merciful tad shorter.
What a contrast. I’d spent the day in a glistening, modern museum with Gray. Now I would spend the evening at my childhood home, a small brick ranch on the outskirts of Wynnville. Birdbaths, birdhouses, and feeders littered the front yard, but they’d soon be keeping company with masses of April flowers.
Mom could coax almost anything into bloom, thanks to an inexhaustible supply of well-aged fertilizer and an ideal microclimate. The L of the house blocked her flowers from the wind, the sun-warmed bricks held their heat throughout the day, and a well-placed drain pipe from the roof kept the plants watered.
A small red barn stood abandoned behind the house, and behind the barn lay the grassy field she’d sold a few years ago. Grandpa’s three gigantic chicken houses used to stand there, reeking to high heaven. He and his chicken houses were long gone, but the guilt trip he’d laid on Mom remained. She’d ignored his lectures about the big bad city and the wicked men therein, and she’d fallen for the first one who’d set his sights on her.
Crossing the yard, I allowed myself a cynical smile. The scenario had possibilities for a country song.
My country mama was a shotgun bride . . . It had a nice rhythm and an easy setup for a rhyme.
A wicked city man came and took her for a ride . . . Maybe even Mom would think it was funny.
“Nah,” I said under my breath. She wouldn’t think it was funny that I was dating a smooth-talking city man either. To Mom, Gray would look all too sophisticated.
Worldly. That was the word she would use. She’d called me worldly too, when I went off to college and dared to grow up.
My stomach was in knots before I’d crossed the yard and climbed the cement steps to the porch. The welcome mat proclaimed God Is in Charge. He tried to be, anyway, but Mom gave him a run for his money.
Alexa opened the door, her dark curls in need of a trim. “Hey, El. Mom’s in the kitchen, cooking up a storm.”
At least Mom and Gray had that in common. They both loved good food.
I sidled into the big country kitchen. Mom stood at the stove, stirring a mess of greens with fatback. She’d set pieces of fried chicken on a wire rack to drain over paper towels, and the aroma of fresh biscuits wafted out of the oven. It was amazing that she could eat like that and still keep her trim figure.
She looked up, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Hey, hon. You’re just in time.”
“How can I help?”
“Set the table for three, baby, and keep me company.”
As I plunked three old Corelle dinner plates around the scarred kitchen table, I eyed her. Evalina Bliss Martin still looked too young and pretty to be the mother of two grown daughters, but when men gathered around her like bees to nectar, she shooed them away. Once her no-good husband had abandoned her with a six-year-old and a toddler, she’d sworn off men.
All through supper, while Mom and Alexa wrangled about appropriate attire for the rehearsal dinner, I tried to drum up the courage to mention Gray. I could only imagine the conversation descending into a nightmarish showdown involving accusations of loose living in the city.
After supper, we moved to the living room, and Alexa and Mom started arguing about the filling for the cake. Mom didn’t like any of the choices. My theory was that she’d been deprived of a nice wedding herself, so she wanted to live vicariously through Alexa’s.
Finally Alexa rubbed her eyes like an exhausted child. “I’m so tired of all the fuss.”
That was funny, considering she was the one who wanted the fancy nuptials. “Skip the fuss and have a guerrilla wedding.” I was only half joking.
Alexa frowned. “What’s that?”
“That’s when you show up somewhere like a park, without reservations, and pull off a quick ceremony before you get kicked out.”
“That’s awful,” Alexa said. “I would never want that.”
“Me either, but I happened to see one once, and it was beautiful.” I described the guerrilla wedding I’d witnessed but left out the part about hiding in the bushes—and meeting Gray. “It was lovely and natural, and . . . relaxed.”
Mom let out a dry laugh. “If you want natural, watch the Nature Channel. That doesn’t even sound like a wedding. People drifting hither and yon with their guitars. La la la la la! Let’s strew some flowers. Let’s pretend we’re fairies.”
Alexa widened her eyes at me to show her solidarity but kept her mouth shut.
I shook my head. How on earth could I bring Gray into the conversation without stirring up more negativity? He’d blown into my life like a spring storm that left me in dazzling sunshine, my lungs filled with rain-washed air and my feet itching to dance. But Mom frowned on dancing, and she frowned on anything that resembled love at first sight.
Alexa cleared her throat. “Anything new in your life, sis?”
As if she didn’t know.
“Actually, yes. I’ve met a very interesting man.”
That got Mom’s attention. “What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?”
Oh, sheesh, Mom and her old-timey expressions that made no sense. “I was only answering Alexa’s question.”
“A man, huh? Is it serious?”
“Um . . . we’re getting there.”
“Out of the blue, you’re serious about some stranger?”
Hoping to look relaxed, I clasped my hands over my knees. “He’s not a stranger to me. He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. Isn’t that a nice, healthy, all-American relationship?”
“Sounds like trouble.”
“He’s a good man. If you’ll give him half a chance, you’ll love him as much as I do.” I hadn’t meant to let that dangerous word slip out.
“Love,” Mom said slowly. “If you just met him, it’s too soon to be talking about love. Lust, maybe.”
“Relax, Mom. I’ve known him for a while. And we’re not doing anything to be ashamed of.”
I might as well have added, Unlike you and Dad.
Stiff silence fell over the room. Alexa picked up her phone and started texting someone, her thumbs flying. Mom took a gardening magazine from the coffee table and pretended to be absorbed in it.
“His name is Graham,” I said. “Gray for short. I’d like to bring him over tomorrow so you can meet him.”
Mom closed the magazine and slapped it onto the table. “Got a picture?”
“Lots.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled through photos from the museum until I found the best one: Gray, standing in front of a gigantic horse sculpture, grinning at the camera. “Here. Isn’t he cute?”
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sp; Mom leaned over to see. “Handsome is as handsome does. Your father the rat was handsome too.”
“That doesn’t make Gray a rat. Please don’t treat him like one.”
“I’ll mind my manners.” She picked up her magazine again. “But it pays to know a man before you get too involved. If I’d known your father a little better, I would have run.”
“Then I wouldn’t exist.”
She laughed. “I’m glad you exist, baby. You and your sister both. But be careful.”
“I am careful, Mom.” I caught Alexa’s eye and sent her a silent plea for help.
My loyal ally set down her phone and leaned forward, twisting her hands together. “Mom,” she said softly. “Remember how you scared Ellie’s last boyfriend away with all those embarrassing questions? You’d better not do that to Gray.”
That wasn’t even enough to make Mom look up from her magazine. “I said I would mind my manners,” she said. “But it’s my responsibility to protect my children when they need protection.”
“We’re not children,” I said. “We’re adults.”
Mom didn’t answer.
Alexa and I sighed in unison. She picked up her phone and resumed texting somebody—Eric, probably.
I picked up my phone too, and scrolled through photos of Gray—always smiling—and imagined him right there in the living room, getting acquainted with my ultraconservative mother. He wouldn’t be smiling long.
I had warned Gray that Mom might treat him like a criminal, but he’d laughed it off. Now that we were sitting in her driveway and he’d killed the engine, I felt obligated to give him one more bit of advice.
“Brace yourself,” I said as he frowned at his phone and started texting somebody. “She doesn’t trust men. Especially good-lookin’ men like you.”
“Mmm,” he said, deaf to the warning and to the compliment.
“Doesn’t your job have an off switch?”
He didn’t seem to hear me quoting his line back to him either. I let out a huff of exasperation. Sometimes he called his phone his “precious.” I wanted to snatch it out of his hand and throw it in the nearest birdbath.
“Excuse me?” he said, his eyes still on his precious.
“Your job. Your phone. Turn it off, please? It’s Sunday.”
“Mmm,” he said again, his thumbs skipping all over the tiny keyboard. He was the fastest texter I’d ever seen. Faster even than Alexa.
“Mom will get your attention soon enough even if I can’t,” I said.
He hit Send, and his eyes finally connected with mine. “Excuse me?”
“This could get interesting, okay? Mom is something else.”
He smiled and leaned over to kiss me. “She can’t be worse than my parents.”
“Wrong,” I whispered as I climbed out of the car.
Mom already stood in the doorway, giving him a squinty-eyed once-over. We climbed the steps and survived the initial introductions without any drama.
“We won’t eat until Alexa and Eric can get here,” Mom said. “Come on back.”
She led us through the house to the screened-in porch out back. She settled into the middle of the wooden porch swing, leaving Gray and me to sit across from her in cushioned chairs separated by a small table. As much as I wanted to hang on to him for reassurance, the table made it impossible.
Actually, Mom’s presence would have made it impossible anyway.
After an awkward silence, Gray dived in. “I’m looking forward to meeting Alexa and her fiancé.”
“Eric’s a nice young man,” Mom said. “A friend of the family. We’ve known him for years. He and Lexie practically grew up together.”
“That’s great,” Gray said. “I appreciate hometown friendships too, but my hometown happens to be Atlanta.”
Mom gave him a skeptical look. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m an internet engineer.”
“You’re doing all right? In this economy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, respectful but uncowed. “I’m doing fine.”
While Mom kept the swing creaking like the hinges of an old door, she asked more questions but didn’t delve into anything too personal. Maybe she’d actually listened to my pleas and to Alexa’s gentle admonition.
Starting to relax, I studied him. How could such a gorgeous guy be so down-to-earth too? So genuine? Sometimes he drove me nuts with his last-minute plans for anything from a concert to a hike, but just as often, he was happy to hang out at my apartment or his, swapping the ordinary news of our ordinary days.
Mom planted her feet firmly on the floor, stopping the swing’s movement. “Is Ellie your first girlfriend?”
“Mom!” I stared at her. “He’s twenty-eight years old. What do you think? He’s not my first boyfriend either.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I suppose—” Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket and had a brief conversation consisting of monosyllables. “That was Alexa. They’re almost here. I’ll go finish up. Y’all stay put.” She went inside.
Gray crooked his finger. “Don’t stay put.”
Quite the rebel when Mom wasn’t looking, I sat in his lap. He made up for lost time, smothering my face in kisses.
I pulled back. “Whoa there, John Wayne. Slow down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He regarded me solemnly, nearly cross-eyed because we were only inches apart. “Thanks for protecting me from Mama Bear. She’s scary.”
“I tried to warn you, but you weren’t listening.”
From out front came a loud rumble that could only be Eric’s truck. Glad that we wouldn’t be Mom’s sole target much longer, I stood up.
“Eric and Alexa are here. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
I led him down the steps into the backyard and around the house to the front. We rounded the corner by the snowball bush and stopped short.
Alexa and Eric stood beside his big silver truck, their lips locked. Unaware of their audience, they clung to each other like lichens to rock.
She was lucky. She’d known him all her life. She knew his flaws as well as his good points. She knew his parents, his siblings, his crazy aunt. There weren’t any unknowns. Chances were very slim that blond, brawny Eric would be anything but a good and loyal husband.
Gray nuzzled my ear. “Should we tell ’em to slow down?” he whispered.
“They’re engaged,” I whispered back. “Mind your own business.”
He laughed, startling Alexa and Eric out of their embrace and into a slightly awkward round of introductions.
The awkwardness lasted right into the meal, starting with Mom’s long-winded prayer. A minute into it, I peeked up at Gray. He was staring at her as she droned on. And on.
“And dear Lord,” she continued, “I just ask you to keep my precious daughters safe from worldly evils. I just ask you to keep them in the old ways, the good ways.”
Gray’s lips started moving as if he’d started his own prayer to counteract hers. A faint giggle slipped out of me.
She paused briefly and continued, louder. “And, Lord, I just pray, Lord, that you’ll help my girls to make good choices and turn away from evil.” She drew a deep breath. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Amid the soft chorus of amens around the table, I caught an almost inaudible “Wow” from Gray. I hoped Mom hadn’t heard it.
Although she didn’t interrogate him further, she didn’t warm up to him either, in stark contrast to her motherly attitude toward Eric. She trusted Eric as much as she would ever trust any man.
After supper, Mom stayed at the table and watched as the rest of us divided the cleanup chores. She kept quiet except to toss me an occasional word of instruction, as if I hadn’t grown up knowing how she ran her kitchen.
“Relax, Mom,” I finally snapped. “I know you don’t use soap on your cast iron.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ll do it my way. You’ve learned some fancy new habits in the city.”
Gray shot me a worried l
ook. I only clamped my mouth shut and handed him another pot to dry.
When the kitchen was spic and span, Alexa hung her dish towel over the handle of the oven door. “We hate to run, but we have to meet with Eric’s mom to go over her guest list again.”
If it was only an excuse to escape, I didn’t blame them. “Have fun.”
“Tell your folks hey for me, Eric,” Mom said.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that.” Eric took Alexa’s hand and tugged her toward freedom. “Thanks again for lunch.”
“Anytime, honey. You’re part of the family now.”
Being part of the family didn’t keep him and Alexa from making a swift exit. They were driving away before I’d dried my hands—and Mom was eyeing Gray like something the cat might have sicked up on the floor.
He gave me a brave smile. “We’d better hit the road too.” He turned toward Mom. “Thank you for the delicious meal, Mrs. Martin, and it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said tonelessly.
I hung my dish towel beside Alexa’s. “Bye, Mom, and thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she repeated.
I started to follow Gray out of the kitchen, but Mom jumped out of her chair and grabbed my elbow.
“You still don’t know him,” she whispered in my ear. “Be careful.”
I hugged her, mostly to cover the way she’d latched onto my arm. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, loud and clear. I wasn’t going to whisper in front of Gray, but I would have a few things to say to her later.
I caught up to him and practically dragged him out to the car. About to open the door for me, he turned to face the house.
“Now I know why you didn’t want me to meet her earlier,” he said. “You were afraid she’d scare me away.”
My laugh was shaky. “You’re so perceptive.”
He didn’t laugh. His frown suggested that my tactic might have backfired.
Gray and I were halfway home, with Atlanta’s elegant skyline already looming ahead of us, and he’d hardly spoken ten words. It was very unlike him.