by Ann McMan
James watched her approach with a look of befuddlement.
“We have to keep an eye on the cat,” Maddie explained. “She swallowed something she shouldn’t have so we’re watching her until she passes it.”
“Oh. I wondered.”
“Hi, James.” Syd smiled at him. “It’s always good to see you.”
Maddie relieved Syd of her burden. “I was just telling James about Rosebud’s . . . condition. How about we all go have a seat on the porch?”
“I second that idea.” Syd linked arms with James and led him toward the steps. “Anybody want something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” James said. “I got a big tea at Aunt Bea’s on my way out here.”
“In that case,” she added, “anybody need to use the bathroom?”
James smiled. “I took care of that, too.”
They reached the porch and James helped Maddie haul a third Adirondack chair over so they could sit together. She carefully positioned Rosebud’s crate between her chair and Syd’s. Pete reclaimed his usual spot at the top of the steps and proceeded to keep a watchful eye on everything transpiring between the house and the pond.
It appeared to be a quiet night.
At least, so far.
Maddie filled Syd in on the reason for James’s visit.
“James said Mom agreed to watch Henry tonight so he could come and talk with us.” Maddie noticed the immediate hitch in Syd’s breathing. She tried to give her a smile of encouragement.
“Is everything okay, James?” Syd was never one to mince words—especially when every needle on every dial seemed to be pointing straight toward something portentous, if not downright catastrophic.
“I hope so.” James dropped his eyes to the porch floor. “At least, I think it will be—with your help.”
“You know we’ll always do anything we can to help you and Henry,” Maddie said.
“I do know that.” James looked at her. “Sometimes, it’s been hard for me to accept it. I felt like I took advantage when I had to ask people for so much support. I think I was too stubborn about that and it ended up hurting Henry more than helping him. I’m sorry about that now.” He looked at Syd. “I want to try and fix it—and that means I need to change some things. So that’s why I came out here tonight—to tell you both what I’ve decided to do.”
Maddie reached over and took hold of Syd’s hand—as much to stop her own from shaking as to offer support for what she felt certain would follow.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Syd asked. The bluntness of her question hung in the air between them like a dense fog.
After a moment or two, James nodded.
“I have to. I just can’t make it here. I’ve known it for some time, but I just kept hoping things would get better.” He shook his head. “They haven’t.”
Syd was squeezing Maddie’s hand like a vice. Maddie was afraid to look at her—afraid to see the hurt and sadness in her eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear that, James.” It took an effort for her to keep her voice steady—but nowhere near the effort it took to keep from standing up and throwing her chair through a window. “Sorrier than I can say. I wish we could do more to change things. You and Henry are family to us, and we care very much—about both of you.”
“I know that,” he said. “I think that’s the only thing that made it possible for me to make this decision.” He looked down at Rosebud, who was batting in frustration at the door of her cat carrier. “Lately, I’ve been a lot like that.” He pointed at the cat. “Trapped. Not able to move forward. Not able to move any way at all.” He shook his head. “And this?” He extended his prosthetic leg. “Out here, it’s a crutch. A handicap. I’m like half a man. And you know what?” He looked back at them. “Buddy is right. Half is not finished.”
Even though her heart was splintering, Maddie couldn’t summon the energy to argue with what James was saying.
He was right.
“What have you decided to do?” Syd’s voice was soft and low.
“I know now that I need to be in a place where I fit—where who I am makes sense and I know what I’m supposed to be doing.” He used a hand to pull his leg back from its extended position. “I’ve only ever had that one other time. Just one. So, last week, I drove over to Wytheville to see an army recruiter. I reenlisted.”
Syd gasped.
“James,” Maddie said. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “That night when I got back home, I sat at the kitchen table watching Henry eat his box of Popeyes chicken, and I knew I’d done the right thing. Living out there in Troutdale over that crummy garage? That’s not what he needs. Nothing about that life is what he needs.”
“Where will you go?” Maddie asked. “Have they told you yet?”
“Oh, yeah. I made sure of that. I’m going to be part of the transportation corps—a coordinator. I already passed the physical. I was lucky that there were MOS positions in that area. All the long-distance work I’ve been doing for Cougar’s was a big help. I’ll be doing the same kind of thing—just for the army. They’re sending me back to Fort Hood. It’s not my favorite place to be stationed, but I don’t think I’ll be there very long. With this kind of assignment, they keep you moving around.”
“When do you leave?” Syd asked. Maddie could sense her unasked question: When will you take Henry away?
“Three weeks,” James said.
“Three weeks?” Syd repeated. She looked at Maddie with desperation.
“Well,” he added. “That’s if I meet one condition.”
“What’s that?” Maddie asked.
“I can’t take Henry. I can’t reenlist as a single parent—and I wouldn’t want to, even if the army allowed it.”
Maddie and Syd exchanged glances.
“What does that mean, James?” Syd leaned forward on her chair. “Are you asking us to take care of him for you?”
“No. I’m asking you to do what I haven’t been able to do—what I can’t do.” He looked back and forth between them. “I’m asking you to be his parents. Permanently.”
Permanently? Maddie was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Do you know what you’re asking?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I do. I’m not sure about very many things, but I’m sure about one thing.” He paused. “Well. I’m sure about two things, really. I’m sure about how much you love Henry—and I’m damn sure about how much he loves the two of you. You make him happy—happier than I could ever make him. You give him a safe and beautiful place to live—a place that’s full of love and happiness. This dog? His cow? The fish? His bedroom with the airplane pictures? Everything he loves—is here. With you.” James wiped at his eyes with impatience. “I love my son—and I always will. But with you, he’d have a life that’s full of possibilities—and the chance to do things I can’t even imagine, much less know how to make happen for him.” He leaned toward them. “If you agree to make him yours, I know I’ll never have to worry about him again. And I’ll know I finally got it right.”
Syd had tears running down her face, and Maddie knew she wasn’t far from it herself.
But she owed it to all of them to be sure James understood what he was asking.
She extended a hand toward him. He took it without hesitation.
“James. We need to be very clear about something. If Syd and I agree to do this—to adopt your son and raise him as our own—it must be done legally. No halfway measures. No trial basis. No going back if you change your mind. We couldn’t put Henry through that—and we couldn’t put ourselves through it, either.” She looked at him with great intent. “We wouldn’t survive it.”
“I understand that. Believe me, I won’t change my mind.” He looked at Syd. “This is right. He belongs with you.”
Syd reached out and took James’s other hand. He stopped trying to fight his tears.
“I’d just ask one more thing, if I can,” he said.
“Of co
urse.” Maddie squeezed his hand. “Anything.”
“I want to stay a part of his life. If that’s okay with you? Just so he grows up knowing I didn’t abandon him.”
“Oh, James.” Syd got up and hugged him. “Henry would never think that. You’ll always be his father. And you’ll always have a place here with us. Always.”
“Thanks.” His voice was muffled. Syd just wrapped him up tighter.
Maddie saw his shoulders shake as he fought to control his sobs. That did it. She gave up trying to corral her own emotions. She stood up, wrapped her long arms around two of the best people she’d ever been blessed to know—and commenced crying like a baby.
If she’d thought about it, she’d have realized how ridiculous they all looked—sobbing into each other like crazed extras from the last act of Hamlet.
But she didn’t think about it—and she didn’t care.
Just for tonight—just for a few perfect moments—God was in his heaven, and all was right with the world.
Chapter 10
No Place for H8.
David’s campaign slogan, resplendent in twenty-four-inch-high Rust-Oleum Old Forge Blue letters, proclaimed to anyone interested in dessert that there would be a mayoral debate right after the picnic ended, but plenty of time before the start of the fireworks.
That was because his banners were well-positioned behind the food tables.
He knew people.
This year, Nadine and Michael were doing all the catering for the annual Independence Day celebration.
When Nadine saw the big, blue and white banners, she clucked her tongue and told David they looked like signs hawking a Greek Festival. He responded by making a flamboyantly rude gesture and chastising her for the limited color palette.
“Listen, Paloma Picasso—don’t blame me. Next time you decide to make one of your midnight graffiti runs, stop by the tire store first and spring for a broader assortment of colors.”
He managed to dodge the cheese biscuit she hurled at him. It landed on the ground near Django’s feet. He sniffed at it before taking a cautious bite. Astrid looked on with indifference. She only ate imported cheeses . . .
Dogs were welcome at the annual celebration, too.
It looked like a record turnout this year. This was only Syd’s third time attending the town gala, but it was already one of her favorite things about life in the small mountain community. Everyone came out. On this one day a year, all differences were set aside. That was because, in Southwest Virginia, patriotism and a good piece of fried chicken trumped any kind of disagreement.
Any kind.
Although, Syd did notice that Azalea Freemantle kept off to herself to avoid any accidental encounters with Yankees. But she did look especially festive today, decked out in a rakish black cap with “RockStar” emblazoned across the front, and wearing a pair of blinding white Nike Cortez sneakers.
“Hey, Blondie?” David dropped a quick kiss on Syd’s cheek as he danced by on his way to . . . something. “Nice bling.”
Syd held out her left hand and smiled. Rosebud had finally delivered the ring a little before midnight—about six hours after swallowing it. What a night that had turned out to be. Her head was still reeling from Maddie’s proposal—and the bombshell James Lawrence had dropped on them.
They were going to adopt Henry . . .
James had said he wanted them to tell Henry about the change together—as a family. So, they did—the very next day—seated around the big kitchen table at the center of their home, surrounded by dozens of late-season tulips in every imaginable color.
Henry was sad to learn that his daddy was going back in the army—but he brightened up considerably when James promised his son that he’d never go back to “Afistan”—and that he’d always be a part of his life. Maddie had explained to Henry that the big upstairs bedroom next to his would now be known as James’s room—and that whenever his daddy could come back to visit, he would stay there with them.
Syd looked beyond the crush of people lined up at the beverage station to where Henry, James and Maddie were playing catch with a battered old Frisbee of Pete’s. Each time one of them threw it, reflected sunlight would flash off the strips of shiny silver tape Buddy had used to repair several splits along its rim.
The three of them made a happy tableau, laughing and tossing the worn-out toy back and forth. Pete raced around between them, not quite understanding why they were so obsessed with such an annoying game of keep-away.
Syd smiled as she watched them. She wished she could stop time—freeze everything just where it was. Right at that very second. She closed her eyes tight and savored the image, committing it forever to a place among the most hallowed moments of her life.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Dorothy Gale?” Byron didn’t believe it. “That’s not possible. Nobody is really named Dorothy Gale.”
“It’s true,” the girl insisted. She looked up at Celine for help. “Tell him.”
“You’re on your own with this one.” Celine shook her head. “You can’t change his mind about anything once he has it made up.” She looked over at Byron. “I learned that one the hard way.”
He laughed.
They were just finishing their dinners, and Dorothy was sitting on the ground, petting Django. “Can I give Django another cookie?”
“Sure.” Byron handed her a Ziploc bag containing an odd assortment of dog biscuits. “But not too many. He’s already been stuffing his face with hot dogs and anything else that lands on the ground.”
Dorothy took an oblong, peanut-shaped biscuit out of the bag. Django brightened up at once. He flopped over on his side and sat back up in one spastic motion, then sat staring at her with an expectant look in his big brown eyes.
Dorothy giggled. “What was that supposed to be?”
“That’s his uptown version of rolling over.” Byron nudged Celine. “He agrees with me, and believes it’s the thought that counts.”
Celine rolled her eyes. “I’m not certain I endorse the wisdom of rewarding an inferior performance.”
“Oh, really?” Byron asked. “How many inferior performances have you had to endure lately?”
“None yet.” Celine plucked a cherry tomato off her plate and plopped it into Byron’s mouth. “I’ll be sure to let you know if it becomes a problem.”
Dorothy was holding the dog biscuit up to her nose. “This smells like bananas.”
“That’s right,” Byron explained. “They’re peanut butter and banana. Django’s favorite.”
Dorothy gave the nearly apoplectic dog his treat.
“Do you have a dog at home, Dorothy Gale?” Byron asked.
She shook her head.
“Not even a little one?” He held up a thumb and forefinger. “Dorothy Gale doesn’t have a Toto?”
“No. Papa doesn’t like dogs.”
Byron exchanged glances with Celine. “We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” he said.
“Maybe Django can spend some time at my house,” Celine suggested. “and you can play with him there?”
“Really?” Dorothy looked up at her with excitement. “Would that be okay with you, Sheriff Martin?”
He smiled at her. “I think we might be able to work something out.”
His words made her feel warm inside—and special. Just like when Dr. Heller said the same thing to her about learning to play the piano.
Django had finished his biscuit, and now had his head resting on her leg.
Yes. She’d like to have a dog.
That was because dogs were nicer than most people.
She looked back up at Sheriff Martin and Dr. Heller, who were arguing about who would get the last deviled egg on the plate of food they were sharing.
She patted Django’s head.
But, sometimes, people were just as nice as dogs . . .
◊ ◊ ◊
“Girl, you keep blowing through them Camels at this rate, and we’re gonna have to go open another carton
.” Jocelyn waved a hand back and forth to try and clear away the fog of smoke that hung in the air between them.
“I can’t help it.” Rita took a deep drag and blew out another chest full of sweetly scented smoke. “Ever since I got started up again, I can’t seem to get tapered off.”
“It’s always like that,” Natalie chimed in. “Like the Good Book says, ‘The dog returns to its vomit.’ You can’t never control an obsession once you give back into it. It pretty much takes over your life.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Jocelyn tilted her tightly coiffed head toward a nearby table where the mayor was making nice with the crew from Buford’s Mortuary. “Look at that slimy rat bastard over there drummin’ up votes.”
“Hell.” Natalie waved a hand that was ablaze with her brand-new, stars-n-stripes manicure. “That man don’t have a lick of sense. And if them dumb coffin-wranglers don’t know better’n to listen to his line of empty promises, then they’ve got about as much goin’ on as their customers—the ones that arrive at their establishment as freight, if you know what I’m talkin’ about.”
Rita did not disagree. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Watson. She’d been all het-up about him ever since their encounter at Freemantle’s Market last week.
Prick . . .
Truth be told, he was the reason she’d started smoking again.
She had more than one reason to be “obsessed,” as Natalie called it.
It didn’t help her ability to resist temptation when James Lawrence told her about his plans to reenlist in the army. They’d really become friends, and she was gonna miss his company on those long overnight hauls. His announcement pretty much blew a Freightliner-sized hole in the expansion plans for Cougar’s Quality Logistics, too. They’d be SOL until Jocelyn and Deb could hire another driver who could fill in on the cross-country runs.
She’d miss James for more personal reasons, too. He was really the first person in years who’d given her the time of day—in any way that went beyond the normal “Hey, howdy” kind of way that was typical of most of her relationships in Jericho. It wasn’t that he ever said all that much. But there was something different about the way he was quiet. They could be driving along for three to four hours at a stretch and not say anything—but Rita still had a sense that James was understanding everything—even the things that were left unsaid.