“Daddy?” Patricia erupted from the landing. “Daddy!” Laden with shoulder bags, her hair haphazardly caught up in a bright pink scrunchie, she ran down the stairs so fast Elizabeth was afraid she’d trip over her forty-dollar flip-flops. Though she was a woman full-grown, Patricia launched herself into her father’s arms. “At last! I’ve missed you so much!”
“There’s my girl,” Howe managed through a fresh spate of tears. “There’s my Patti-pie.”
Elizabeth might as well not have existed, but she was accustomed to being ignored by her daughter.
“I can’t believe I’m nineteen and going to Disney World for the first time,” Patricia told Howe.
He swung her back and forth. “How do you think I feel? I’m fifty-nine.” His voice broke. “Better late than never.” He set her down. “First class, all the way. The works. We are gonna have us some good old-fashioned fun.”
Patricia reared back. “But I thought you were so sick,” she said, grasping his arms to study him. “Too sick for me to come home.” Her beautiful features set in a pout. “You don’t look sick to me. You look great. Why didn’t you want me at home?”
“Patricia, remember yourself,” Augusta chided. “Your father almost died and was in a coma for six months. His injuries aren’t visible. It’s rude to question his decisions.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Patricia told him.
He kissed her forehead, regret in his expression. “That’s okay, sweetie. I had a lot of adjustments to make, but I’m okay now, and we’re all going to be together at last.”
She giggled. “I can’t wait to ride the teacups with you.” Pulling her father, Patricia started for the door, oblivious to the two large suitcases they passed. “What made you decide on Disney World?”
“Patricia, honey,” Elizabeth said. “Please take one of your suitcases. I’ll get the other.”
Howe extracted himself from their daughter’s grasp. “No way,” he said. “I’ll get them both.”
“Do you think that’s wise, Howell?” his mother asked, her tone leaving no doubt that she thought it wasn’t. “I can call Thomas.”
“Mama, Thomas is eighty-three,” Howe retorted. “I can handle these.”
Augusta let out a disapproving sigh. “If you insist.”
“No, Daddy, let me. Really.” Patricia extended the handle on the larger one and pulled it toward the threshold. “It’s on wheels.” With a flash and a rumble, she was out the door and bumping down the brick stairway.
Howe picked up the smaller one up by its regular handle. “Well, I guess we’re off.” He walked over to give his mother a peck on the cheek. “Sorry we couldn’t talk you into coming with us, Mama. You never know. You might have liked it.”
Not a chance in hell, Elizabeth thought.
“Amusement parks are for children, Howell,” his mother said as they exited onto the brick front porch. “And simpleminded ones, at that.”
Howe looked at her with a sad smile. “So you said, Mama. See you in a week.” He took Elizabeth’s arm with his free hand. “Come on, Lillibet. Let’s make up for lost time with the kids.”
Augusta lifted her eyes heavenward with a sharp exhale. “Try to act your age, Howell.”
His smile broadened. “Are you kidding? I’ve been old since I came back to this town. I’m ready to be young. Why do you think we’re going to Disney World?”
Augusta shot Elizabeth a look of sympathy. “Do the best you can with him.” Then she closed the door.
“Come on, Daddy,” Patricia called from the front seat of their eco-pig Infiniti SUV. “Charles is already packed and sitting on his front porch downtown, waiting for us.”
“On our way,” Howe said with forced joviality.
Elizabeth had warned Howe that he couldn’t undo a lifetime of distance with a trip to Disney World, but he hadn’t listened. He’d just started crying and said he had to start somewhere with their children.
He opened the front passenger door. “Okay, Tinkerbell,” he told a surprised Patricia. “Climb in back. I’d like to ride with your mama.”
That was new. Usually, Patricia rode up front with her father, and Elizabeth rode in back with Charles. Elizabeth regarded Howe in mild amazement, and was rewarded with a sidelong hug.
“C’mon, Patti-pie,” he urged their daughter.
“But Daddy,” Patricia wheedled. “Mama’s had you to herself for months and months.” She frowned up at Elizabeth in challenge. “I always get to sit with Daddy. You don’t mind, do you?”
Boy, was Patricia in for a surprise. For once, Elizabeth stuck up for herself. “Yes, honey, I do. Please do as your father asks.”
In a snit, Patricia popped loose her seat belt. “Great.” She stormed past Elizabeth to get into the rear seat, then slammed the door. “You must have brainwashed him.”
Howe held the door for Elizabeth to get in front, then leaned over Elizabeth’s shoulder to say to their daughter, “Patricia, I don’t ever want to hear you use that tone with your mother again. You have no idea what I’ve put her through in the past seven months,” he said sternly. “But even if I hadn’t, you shouldn’t ever be so rude to her. Is that clear?”
Patricia shot him a rebellious look. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he pushed, confirming his parental stance.
“Yes, sir,” she begrudged, smart enough not to push him further.
Surprised at how good it felt to have her husband stick up for her, Elizabeth sent Howe a grateful glance before he closed the door and put the luggage in the trunk.
Then, resolutely cheerful despite their sulking child, he got behind the wheel and leaned over to give Elizabeth an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Okay. We are off.”
Elizabeth looked into the rearview mirror and saw Patricia’s sullen expression change to one of wonder. “Mama, Daddy just kissed you,” she said.
Elizabeth smiled. “That he did.” Maybe this might not be such a bad idea, after all.
If Howe could keep their secrets to himself.
When they reached Charles’s place, Howe waved to their son and told them, “You two wait here. I’ll get him.”
That earned a minor pout from Patricia, but Elizabeth watched with great interest as Howe walked up and hugged their son. “The place looks great, Charlie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Great. Who did you get to do the landscaping?”
Charles lit up like a lantern under his father’s approval. “Nobody. Just me and Home Depot. And a lot of elbow grease.” He moved awkwardly from his father’s embrace to scan the lush plantings. “Amazing what you can get done when you don’t have a social life.”
Howe frowned in concern. “What happened to . . . ?”
“Celeste,” Charles provided. “She dumped me three months ago, while you were in the hospital.”
Howe looked abashed. “Sorry.”
Charles shrugged. “It’s okay. She was way too high-maintenance, anyway.”
Howe nodded, scanning the yard. “Well, good riddance, then.” He clapped Charles’s back. “Her loss is the yard’s gain. Looks professional. Everything’s growing so well.”
Charles beamed. “I used drought-tolerant native plantings, mostly, and put in drip irrigation.”
“You must have inherited your mother’s green thumb,” Howe said.
Elizabeth watched the two of them stand there till the moment weighed too heavily with unspoken emotion and Howe reached for Charles’s suitcase. “Here. Let me get this.”
Charles whisked it from him. “No. I’ll get it.”
They headed for the car.
“Hey, Mama,” Charles called on his way to the rear storage. “Hiya, Patti.”
“Hi, yourself,” she retorted, clearly not appreciating the shift of her constellation to son-centered.
Howe shot Elizabeth a pointed glance as he got in, then focused on the traffic while she settled back to see how things would shake out in the backseat. It felt odd, having both the kids in back.
So much for fun and togetherness.
Patricia didn’t improve between there and Orlando, but Charles blossomed under his father’s attention. The two sat together on the plane and talked law all the way to the hotel. Once they were in their suite at the Grand Floridian, Elizabeth wanted to take a rest, but Howe was far too excited.
The first shock came when he emerged from their bedroom in something so out character that Patricia forgot to sulk. “Daddy,” she exclaimed, “you’re wearing shorts!”
Khakis were as casual as the old Howe had ever worn. And his legs were tanned! When had he managed that?
Howe followed her line of sight, then grinned. “Jany’s Tanning Parlor.”
Oh, Lord. Jany was one of the biggest gossips in town. When had he managed that?
Charles was more impressed with the garish Hawaiian shirt his father had on. “Cool shirt, Dad.” He looked at the stylishly clunky sandals on Howe’s feet. “Your wingtips must be rollin’ in their grave. Are those Skechers?”
Howe cocked his finger like a gun. “You got it. All from the Internet.”
Patricia was not impressed by the new, hip Howe. “It looks weird, on you.”
Elizabeth agreed, but Howe wasn’t intimidated. “Well, then, we’re even,” he said with a grin, prompting a startled chuckle from Charles. “ ’Cause I think all that retro hippie stuff you wear looks even weirder. Whose idea was it to resurrect that, I’d like to know?”
Placing a hand to her chest just like Howe’s mother, Patricia stared at him, appalled. “Daddy. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”
“Nope.” Howe stuck out his chin with a smile. “Nope. Just calling it like I see it. And anyway, you started it.”
Lord. “I think I’ll just lie down for a few minutes,” Elizabeth suggested.
Howe’s humor crumpled in dismay. “Aw, Lizzie, don’t do that.”
Charles and Patricia looked to each other in surprise, mouthing, Lizzie?
“This late in the day, the lines will be really short,” Howe coaxed like a disappointed kid. “I want to go to the Magic Kingdom and ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. I’ve got us all Fast Passes.”
Whatever they were. “You want to ride the kiddie train?” Elizabeth asked him.
“It’s not a train,” Charles corrected. “It’s a roller coaster.”
Pack her bags, the Lord was coming again. Howe Whittington on a roller coaster. In shorts.
Patricia looked at her father as if he had just sprouted a tail. “Daddy?” She shot Elizabeth a worried glance.
“I’ll go with you, Dad,” Charles volunteered.
“Thanks, Charlie,” Howe deferred, “but it wouldn’t be the same without all of us.” He reached over and swept Elizabeth into his arms. “Come on, Lillibet. Get your glad rags on and let’s get out there and have us some all-American, A-one fun. The family that plays together stays together. Git a move on, girl.” He swished her toward their room. “I’ll buy you a margarita on the way to help you loosen up. How ’bout that?” He laughed like some bizarre sitcom character.
Charles appeared to find the whole situation highly amusing, but Patricia didn’t. She shook her head in disbelief. “How long has he been like this?”
Elizabeth let out a brief sigh. “Oh, he’s lots better than he was at first. We wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”
“No wonder you didn’t want him to see anybody,” she said to Elizabeth.
“Hello,” Howe said, gesturing between them. “I’m just brain damaged, not deaf. I can hear you.”
Elizabeth nodded to her daughter. “Better get dressed. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it.”
Patricia rolled her eyes on her way to her room. “I just hope we don’t run into anybody I know.”
For once, Elizabeth agreed wholeheartedly with her daughter. On her way to change, Elizabeth heard Charles say behind her, “Well, Dad, I don’t care who we see. I like you a lot better this way than the way you were before.”
“Thanks, son,” Howe said with gratitude. “For what it’s worth, I do, too. And so does God.”
Oh, boy. There he went with the God thing again.
If that was the way things were going to go, Elizabeth would need two margaritas. At least.
Forty minutes and a jumbo premium margarita later, the four of them stood in line for the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride in Frontierland. Howe had tipped the attendant twenty dollars when they got to the head of the line to let them have the first two cars on the next run.
“Howe, really,” Elizabeth murmured. “Why are you tipping these people to do their jobs? You already paid for the Fast Passes.”
He gave her an exuberant side hug. “There you go again, being rational. We went over that in the bar. This trip isn’t about being sensible. It’s about having fun, and everybody knows that the best way to ride a roller coaster is in the first car, hands up.”
“Aha,” she said. “Since you’re such an expert.” The man had never been to an amusement park in his life.
“That’s why I’m here,” he said, undaunted. “By the end of this week, I want to have ridden every single ride and seen every exhibit in this whole place, and you with me.” Then he pinched her slacks-clad fanny, right out where everybody behind them could see.
Mortified, Elizabeth swatted his hand away, but he just put his arm around her and drew her back to his side, then turned to the people lined up behind them. “We’re taking a poll, here,” he shouted, causing Patricia to cringe. “How many of you have heard that the best way to ride a roller coaster is in the first car, hands up? Could we see a show of hands, please?”
Most of the kids and half the adults laughed and raised their hands.
Howe grinned. “Thank you!” He turned to Elizabeth. “See?”
Charles chuckled. “What’s your favorite roller coaster, Dad?”
“This one.”
“But you’ve never been here,” Charles the lawyer argued.
“Never ridden a roller coaster, either,” Howe told him.
Charles assessed him with a fresh eye. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Not even Six Flags?” It was right outside Atlanta.
“Your grandparents didn’t believe in amusement parks,” Howe clarified. “Dad thought they were embarrassing and ridiculous, and Mama thought they were too germy and dangerous.” A faraway look claimed him. “I used to resent that, but now I realize why Mama was so overprotective. I was all she had.” He cocked a wry smile at Charles. “Dad was present, but not present, if you get my drift,” he confessed. “A lesson I learned all too well. But that’s over now. This week, I’m going to be in the moment, if it kills me.”
“Just as long as it doesn’t kill us,” Elizabeth observed dryly.
“Here we go, Mr. Whittington,” the attendant said as the roller coaster barreled in. “Front car for you and Mrs. Whittington.” He returned the twenty. “We don’t accept tips, but thanks, anyway.”
Elizabeth sighed and got in. What happened next became legend in their family.
Grinning like a ten-year-old as they rode up to the first big drop, Howe waited till they started down to raise his hands, then screamed his way through the entire ride like a maniac, hands up, all the way.
“Oh, my God,” he said, breathless, as they came to a stop. “That was amazing. Amazing.”
Windblown and spattered, Elizabeth wiped some of the water off her face, trying not to think of the chemicals and germs that were in it. “And wet.”
Howe shook his head at her in disbelief. “How can you be so calm?” His fingers clawed. “All that fear and all that fun exploding inside you. My God. It’s overwhelming. And fabulous.”
Patricia tried to act like she didn’t know them, but Howe turned around and stopped her from getting out. “No, wait. We’ve got to do this
again.” He waved to the boy who was helping people out. “Hey!”
The boy came over. “Yes, sir. Is there a problem?”
Howe dug for his wallet. “Fifty bucks if we don’t have to get off.”
“Daddy,” Patricia complained, sheltering her face from view with her hand.
Howe ignored her, telling the attendant, “That was my very first roller-coaster ride, and it was the next best thing to sex.” Patricia slunk lower in the seat, and Charles shot an anxious glance toward the retreating tourists. “Now I understand why scream therapy was so popular,” Howe rattled on, oblivious. “I want to go again. Right away.”
The attendant laughed. “Sorry, sir, but we don’t take tips.” He gestured to the other people. “We’d love to have you ride as much as you want, but everybody gets to take their turn at Disney World. It’s only fair.”
Abashed, Howe put away his money. “Sorry. You have a point.” He stood and took Elizabeth’s arm. “Come on, honey”—it was the first time she could ever remember his calling her that—“let’s get back in line.”
Elizabeth smoothed her damp, ruffled hair. “Once is quite enough for me. You go on. I’ll just wait.”
“We’ll just wait,” Patricia added.
“No. That won’t work,” Howe protested. “We all need to be together.”
“I’ll go with you,” Charles volunteered.
Howe bent his knees in a dip worthy of a toddler. “C’mon, Lizzie.” Elizabeth cringed. “You need to go again. You didn’t do it right the first time.” He aimed a pointed glance at Patricia. “And neither did you.”
“Oh, really,” Elizabeth said. “And how would you know?”
Howe grinned. “ ’Cause you’re not laughing. You should be laughing.” He bracketed their shoulders to draw them in. “I can’t remember either of you laughing in a long, long time,” he said, suddenly wistful. “I had a lot to do with that, I’m sure, and I’m sorry. But I’d really, really like to see you laugh.”
Something in the way he said it caught at Elizabeth’s heart.
Waking Up in Dixie Page 14