Still, his gut bothered him. Something, no matter how wild and wooly it seemed, according to Pastor Foster’s warnings, was bugging him. If he could just figure out what it was, he’d rest a lot easier and his stomach would thank him for the rest of its days.
My gut’s never let me down, though. Something’s in the wind.
Sadie Simms sat at the small table in her spotless kitchen, scribbled a few words, ripped the page from the lined, yellow legal pad, balled it up, and tossed it into the wastebasket. Her pen followed the paper ball and ricocheted off the wall. She made a mental note to wipe away that ink stain. Sadie Simms was nothing if not meticulous about the condition of her kitchen.
Disgusted, she took a sip of her herbal tea, a bite of chocolate chip cookie, and sighed. The President of the United States of America was coming to town in two days, and she’d promised Mackerel Boy she’d have an amendment to the Constitution drafted for STR’s review. The huge guy seemed flabbergasted that anyone, let alone a woman her age, would consider speaking directly to the president or have the audacity to present him with an amendment. She snickered at the memory of MacElroy’s discomfort. The fool even offered to find an aide to help her with her questions!
Sadie’s reaction had been swift and deadly, and she had a feeling the Secret Service agent wouldn’t soon forget it. An aide? Probably some eighteen-year-old pimply-faced, college freshman with White House aspirations. She shook her head and pounded the antique table with her fist, rattling her cup and sloshing tea on to the saucer. She ignored it.
Not gonna happen, Fish Boy. Someone had to stand up for what was right and if not her … well, who would it be? Certainly, not that airhead, Winnie Wyandotte, or that stuffy Martha Washington. Harriet Parry was afraid of her own cat. Emma River was still getting used to living as a part of the community and wouldn’t want to rock the boat. Melanie Foster was just too darned nice, and Ruby Mae Headley was just plain nuts. That didn’t leave a lot of choices. The men were so wrapped up in putting the finishing touches on the church and preparing their Road’s End Inaugural Presidential Motorcade and Honor Guard Parade … “Stupid name.” … that they wouldn’t have the time, even if they had the brains. “Which they don’t.”
No, if this was going to get done, it would have to be done by her.
“Well, I’ve never let anything stop me before,” Sadie said as she leaned on the table and stood up to take the next batch of cookies out of the oven. “And this won’t stop me neither.”
I don’t know who was more nervous—me or Mandy. Jonathan Sterling, the man who would marry my daughter the day after tomorrow was on his way into town. I prayed for wisdom. “Please, Lord, don’t let me hate him on the spot.” That didn’t sound quite right, so I tried again. “Sorry about that, Lord. Please don’t let me make any hasty judgments. Let me see the good in him that Mandy sees. Let him be the one who will bring my little girl happiness all the rest of her life.”
Mandy, Mel, and I sat in the living room. Well, Mel and I sat; Mandy paced between the fireplace in the living room and the dining room table.
“Honey, relax,” Mel said. “He’ll be here in no time.”
“I know, Mom.” Pace, pace, pace.
Time to be direct. “Mandy, you’re driving me nuts. Now sit down before we have to have the floors sanded and refinished.”
Mandy stopped in her tracks and turned to face us. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit nervous about all this. You know, getting married, the weather, the president coming, all that regular stuff brides worry about.”
I snickered. “Yeah, right. Listen to yourself. How many brides have to worry about her uncle-by-marriage being the President of the United States?”
She gave me an anemic smile. “I know, Dad. But you still haven’t met Jonathan …”
“We’ll love him, honey,” Mel said. She patted the wing chair beside her. “Come here and sit down. We’ll know when he gets here. The men probably have a guard posted five miles outside of town. They’ll be flashing mirrors at one another or some other silly thing to spread the news.”
That got a genuine smile from Mandy, and she sat on the edge of the chair. “I know, Mom. It’s not Jonathan that I’m worried about. It’s …”
“Woo-hoo! Anybody home?”
A collective groan went up in the living room. If we hadn’t been so unhappy to hear that particular voice, it would have been funny. As it was, having Ruby Mae Headley with us at that moment was the last thing we wanted or needed. Okay, maybe we needed a rat infestation or a stray missile taking out the town a bit less than we did Ruby Mae, but only slightly. In a strange way, she rather resembled both of those scenarios, only in a good-natured, loud-mouthed, wild-hatted sort of way. At any rate, she was here, and there wasn’t a thing we could do about it.
She rounded the corner of the kitchen and sashayed into the dining room with a swish of her poufy skirt and a near-upset of the hat she wore, which was strangely subdued by Ruby’s standards. There were several species of flowers planted atop it, but no trailing ivy or tree limbs or whatever it was she usually had hanging from the edges. I thought I remembered seeing this one a few months before, probably before she “branched out” in her hat-making. I smiled at my little joke, and Ruby Mae immediately interpreted that as a Come on in, have a seat, and don’t you dare leave us alone with our son-in-law-to-be during our first ever visit with him smile.
“Hello there, dear ones,” she said as she swept into the living room. “How’re y’all doin’ on this perfectly delightful day?”
“Hello, Ruby Mae. We’re all fine,” Mel said. “What brings you here? We didn’t have an appointment for a fitting, did we?”
Ruby Mae waved her hand to dismiss the thought. “Land sakes, no, Miss Melanie. I just thought I’d drop by to help you welcome that handsome man of Miss Mandy’s.” She looked around the room. “I didn’t miss his arrival, did I?”
I glanced at Mel, who was peeking at Mandy, who was glaring at me. We all looked like we were in varying stages of a ruptured appendix.
I spoke first. “Well, Ruby Mae, that’s very nice of you, but …”
“But nothing, Pastor Foster,” she said, with another wave of her hand. “It’s the least I can do being the head presidential dressmaker and all. That boy must be scared silly to meet all of us, and I thought to myself this mornin’ as I was gettin’ my dress out of the closet … what do you think, ladies? Does this make me look too scrawny? That’s a problem with me on occasion, you know. Men like a full-figured woman. ’Course I’m a married woman, but I can’t stop the men from takin’ a peek, and once in a while, I put on a dress that makes me look skinny as a flagpole.”
Mel tore her gaze from Mandy and smiled up at Ruby Mae. The transformation from agonized abdominal pain to the cheerful smile she flashed at our uninvited guest was remarkable. “Why, Ruby Mae,” she said. “I don’t think that dress makes you look scrawny in the least.” She bobbed her head to accentuate her words. “Honestly. Not at all.”
Ruby Mae beamed. “Thank you, Miss Melanie. Now scoot over, Pastor, and let a lady rest herself.” I moved over as far as I dared without falling over the edge of the loveseat; Ruby Mae plopped her scrawny self down with a who-o-o-m-p-h. The eighteenth century, and expensive, I might add, legs held, and I relaxed my grip.
God is good.
The next five hours … excuse me, minutes, were some of the longest of my life. I’ve had trouble waiting in the past—on orders for deployment to war-torn countries, for news from home during those deployments, anticipating the birth of my children, or the eternal consequences of a decision of one of my parishioners or airmen to accept salvation from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Those were difficult, yes, but while I’m not the most patient of men, I do try to accept the timelines set by God.
However, listening to Ruby Mae talk about her scrawny, non-existent waistline, while simultaneously awaiting the imminent arrival of Jonathan, was pure, unadulterated torture.
Mel
did her best to drop hints that this was an intimate, once-in-a-lifetime family moment and perhaps Ruby Mae would be more comfortable waiting to meet Mandy’s fiancé with the other Road’s End residents at the rehearsal dinner.
Ruby Mae’s reply was a huge sigh, a slap on my thigh, and a raucous laugh. “Ain’t that the Lord’s own truth, Miss Melanie?” Slap, slap. “Moments like these are meant for family only, and I count it a true blessing from our Heavenly Father above that you folks think enough of me to invite me here today. Yes, Miss Melanie, I shore-ly do. Why, I consider myself a true member of the Foster family. Guess that kinda makes me your ‘Foster child,’ huh? Git it? Foster child? You bein’ Fosters ’n all …”
Mel whipped her head in my direction. I’ve seen fastballs from professional baseball players move slower. Her hazel eyes had turned to flamethrowers, and I cringed, expecting to spontaneously combust at any moment. I held up both hands, palms-out, in my best don’t kill me. I didn’t do it. Do you think I’m absolutely crazy, for crying out loud? gesture and opened my eyes so wide she could probably see my quivering brain somewhere in the back of my head.
Then I lowered my hands, closed up my brain, and looked over to our guest. “Uh, Ruby Mae, I didn’t realize anyone even knew when Jonathan was arriving.”
Raucous laughter. Knee slap. “You forgit who your secretary is, Pastor? My Grace tells me ever’thing, and what she don’t tell me, I find for myself in her planner. She wouldn’t keep anything from her mama, you know, so I figure if she’s forgot to tell me somethin’ as ’portant as Miss Mandy’s Jonathan arrivin’ here in Road’s End, why, it’s my duty as her mama to go through her desk until I find out what she forgot to tell me.” Knee slap. Giggle, giggle.
When I get to Heaven, the first thing I’m going to do is beg God’s forgiveness for what went through my mind at that moment. Grace may have her own quirks, but telling her mother anything—anything at all—is not one of them. Pawing through her daughter’s—and my secretary’s—desk is just the latest in a long string of faux pas committed by Ruby Mae, and Lord help me, this one might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
And don’t get me started on camels; my experience with them hasn’t been all that great either.
Just as I was about to ignore Mel’s pleading eyes—What? I get the flamethrowers and Ruby Mae gets the pity—and wreak revenge on the flower-bedecked head of Ruby Mae Headley, I heard something that chilled me to the bone.
“Hi, Gwampa! Hi, Gwamma!”
Chapter 20
Have you ever had one of those moments when you instinctively knew your life would change irrevocably—for better or for sheer misery—depending on what you uttered at that exact moment? Yes? Me, too.
And then, by divine mercy, you miraculously said precisely what you should have and saved the day and made everybody sigh with relief and not ruin their lives or your own?
Me, neither.
I turned my attention from slaying Ruby Mae to the task of ruining the biggest moment of my daughter’s life, aside from her wedding day, which I had no doubt I would find a way to also ruin. It’s odd how quickly I can change direction from committing murder to commencing mayhem. Just one of my many useless abilities.
Mandy jumped up and ran to The Voice, who was standing under the archway that separates the dining room from the living room. Strange, but The Voice looked a lot like a blond-haired three or four-year-old boy with blue eyes and a huge smile, wearing a tiny pair of jeans and a Cars T-shirt. As I was straightening that out in my mind, a strange man skidded to a halt right behind The Voice, leaned down and said, “Not now, Tanner.”
Apparently, The Voice was named Tanner. And it quickly became apparent that Strange Man’s name was Jonathan Sterling, unless Mandy hugs and kisses every man who comes her way. Strange Man was dark-haired, tall, fit, and wearing cargo shorts and a blue polo shirt that matched his blue eyes—not that I normally notice that kind of thing, but when my daughter’s kissing a guy, I sit up and take notice.
So, that made The Voice … what? Strange Man’s sidekick? Pet? Please, please, please have him be a tiny little hitchhiker Jonathan picked up on the way here.
Tiny Hitchhiker broke away from Stranger’s, I mean, Jonathan’s grasp and ran straight for me. “Gwampa!”
Tiny Hitchhiker barreled into my knees, and I staggered backward a step. He craned his neck upward, grinned, and squeezed my legs tightly in what I assumed was his version of a hug. Then he turned to Mel. I stole a guilty glance at her as if somehow this were my doing. If her face had been any whiter, I could have used her as a spotlight. She stared back at me then down to Tiny Hitchhiker and held open her arms. “Tanner? Is that your name, honey?”
He ran straight to her. “Gwamma!”
That’s when I opened my mouth and committed father of the bride suicide. “Well, isn’t this gweat.”
Chapter 21
Oddly enough, considering how wonderfully my day was going thus far, things did not go well after that. Between the glares directed my way from Mandy and Mel, the awkward introductions—Hi there, Jonathan. I’m Hugh Foster, father of the bride, and the one you forgot to mention several things to, including, but not limited to the fact that your stepfather is a United States senator, your uncle is the President of the United States, and you have a child. So, you’ve either been married before or simply picked up a short, blond one at I Wanna Have a Kids’R’Us to bring along as a guest.
Of course, the introductions, while a bit awkward, were nothing like that. We shook hands. Jonathan gave Mandy that I can’t believe you didn’t tell them about Tanner look, and we all had a good chuckle that Mel and I were instant grandparents. Ha ha. Yeah.
In my state of grandparental rapture, I forgot all about Ruby Mae. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to remind us of her presence. Silly me.
“Well, hello there, little Tanner,” she said, wrapping him in a hug that by any normal oxygen requirement standard should have smothered him instantly. Fortunately, as I was to find out time and again in the next few days, Tanner was an exceptional little guy, not to mention a champion breath-holder and survived Ruby Mae’s mauling just fine. Jonathan didn’t fare so well. Before Mandy could open her mouth to explain who this friendly, quivering mass of poufy skirt and flower patch was, Ruby Mae was upon him and had all but gobbled him up.
When he was able to extricate himself and take a few deep breaths, he took her hand in both of his and smiled. “Ruby Mae Headley. I’ve heard so much about you and your legendary dressmaking abilities. I can’t wait to see Mandy on our wedding day. She tells me your skills are astounding and that only you could do justice to the dress she’s been dreaming of wearing her entire life.” Angling for your uncle’s job, Jonathan?
Ruby Mae beamed so brightly I was afraid she’d set spontaneous fires all over the living room. For the first time since I’d met her, and for all I know, the first time in her entire life, she was speechless. For that alone, I knew I’d be everlastingly grateful to this strange man despite his proclivity for keeping life-altering facts from me, stealing my little girl away forever, and handing me a freshly minted grandson.
And then he cemented his place in my heart forever. He turned to me and winked. He was on to Ruby Mae.
Ruby Mae was so aflutter she wafted from the room as if on a hover pad, straight out the back door. I followed her as far as the back steps, and the last I saw of her, she was fanning herself, primping, and wafting across the yard to Rivermanse Lane. Good thing the river was behind the hill; she’d have tried to walk on water. Nobody wants that.
I returned to the living room and found everyone in a huddle. Mel noticed me and motioned me over. I didn’t know if they were having a group hug or making plans to kill me with another surprise, so I shook my head and sat down in a chair instead.
“Daddy,” Mandy said, taking a step toward me while hanging on to Tiny H. with one hand and Jonathan with the other. “We have some confessions to make.”
> “More? You have more confessions?”
“No, I guess I mean we have apologies to make for the confessions we didn’t make. Does that make any sense?”
Oddly enough, it did. I stood and took her in my arms. Tiny H. and Jonathan dangled from her hands, and I knew I should include them in my fatherly embrace, but darn it, I wasn’t ready. I released her and took a step backward.
“Well, let’s sit down and hash all this out, okay?” I motioned toward the couch.
Mandy and Jonathan sat down, and Mel scurried toward the kitchen saying something about being on a coffee, milk, and cookie mission. Tiny Hitchhiker looked up at me then slowly raised his arms.
“Gwampa?”
“Yes, Tiny… uh, Tanner?”
“Do you yuv me yet?”
Chapter 22
While things careened out of control inside the Inn at Road’s End, the hale and hearty menfolk of Road’s End were busy making sure the same thing happened outdoors. They were putting the final touches on the Road’s End Inaugural Presidential Motorcade and Honor Guard Parade. I know this because I could hear them arguing about it through the closed windows in the living room.
I shifted my position and roused a drowsy Tanner, who had fallen asleep in my arms after his plaintive question of whether or not I loved him yet. If those milk-chocolaty eyes hadn’t already turned my innards to mush, his tiny voice so full of an odd combination of fear and optimism and his skinny arms reaching toward me certainly would have. I didn’t have to say a thing. I just reached down, scooped him up, and accepted the disk-disintegrating hug around my neck. We sat—new grandfather and new grandson getting to know one another—and before long, while Mandy and Jonathan spilled their guts and apologized all over the place, he nodded off. Now, though, the merry men of Road’s End threatened to bring that cozy interlude to a screeching halt.
Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2) Page 11