“I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She kisses me really quickly. The tiny little bits of affection she shows at random times are one of the things I enjoy most about her. They make me feel loved. She nudges me when I lose my train of thought.
“I want to ask you to marry me,” I rush to say, all in one breath.
She raises her brows. “You do?”
I nod as a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “I do.”
She shakes her head. “So what are you waiting for?” Then she grins at me.
“You’re already married. And in North Carolina it takes quite a while to get unmarried, from what I understand.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I’m not finished yet. “And I’m just not completely sure if you want me to do it now or if you want me to wait until after your divorce is final.”
She shrugs. “Do whatever you want.” She turns and opens the door of the truck, like she’s going to get out.
“That doesn’t help!” I say. She grins, rolls her eyes, and gets out. She slams the door behind her.
I get out on my side and follow her into the store. Shy grins when he sees us. “Two of my favorite customers,” he says. “Can I help you find something?”
“We’re frying fish,” Abigail announces.
“Aisle seven,” he says with a wink.
She winks back and heads in that direction, grabbing a little red basket that she hooks over her arm.
She starts to throw things into the basket. She gets hush puppy mix, some fish fry meal, some onions, and she even gets mayonnaise and cabbage. “You can’t have a fish fry without slaw. And Gran’s slaw is good enough to make you slap your mama.” She makes a kissing motion with her fingertips. She picks up a large jug of cooking oil and holds it out to me. I take it so I can carry it for her because it’s too big and heavy for the basket.
She walks around the corner and disappears out of my sight. I wander around, looking at nothing. Then I see, on a low shelf, a bucket full of soft rubber bracelets. I pick up two, making sure they match, and I carry them to the front of the store. I grab Shy’s pen and write my name in big block letters on the inside of one and her name on the inside of the other. I slide the one with her name inside onto my wrist.
“This is like déjà vu,” Shy says with a laugh. He leans toward me. “Go get one more for your boy,” he suggests.
Great idea. I dash back and get one more in the same color, and then I come back to the register and I find Abigail is already there. She’s shooting the shit with Shy, and he’s laughing at her.
“Did you get everything you need?” I ask her.
She nods, and then she sees the bracelet I’m holding. “Is that for me?” she asks quietly.
“Nope,” I say, as I make sure Shy rang it up, and then I shove it in my pocket.
“Oh,” she replies, and she visibly deflates a little. I grab the one that I wrote my name in and hold it out. She looks inside and sees the big block letters. “This one’s mine,” she says with a grin. She buries her face against my upper arm. “Thank you,” she says softly.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Shy announces.
Abigail blushes fiercely.
Shy rings us up as Abigail stands close to me. I feel her hand slide into my back pocket, and she leaves it there.
“Are you grabbing my butt?” I whisper.
“Maybe,” she whispers back.
“You two are so sweet you’re making my back teeth ache,” Shy says.
He bags everything up and Abigail invites him to come by for some fish, but he already has other plans.
“Thanks,” I say to him. Abigail walks out in front of me. I turn back. “I need a couple of boxes,” I whisper to him. I check to be sure Abigail’s not looking, and I look back at Shy with a raised eyebrow, hoping he catches my drift.
He grins at me. “Couple of boxes of what?” he asks. He slouches like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I could wring his neck right now. “Couple of boxes of condoms,” I whisper. There’s no one else in the store, so I don’t know why I’m whispering.
“Oh!” He reaches behind the counter and retrieves a bag he has already packed. “I already added them to your tab,” he says with a wink.
“I still owe you for the last box.”
He sticks out his fist and waits for me to bump my knuckles against his. “I’m glad to see you so happy,” he says quietly. “And Abigail too.”
“I’m going to marry that girl as soon as I can,” I tell him.
He nods and grins. “You should get right on that,” he says in agreement. “Although the bracelet was a sweet touch.”
When I get in the truck, Abigail is sitting in the seat with her seatbelt on, running her thumb under the bracelet, back and forth. “What took you so long?” she asks.
I grin at her. “We were out of condoms.”
She points toward the door. “You just bought condoms from Shy?” She covers her face with her hands. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”
“You’ll be fine.” I put the truck in reverse and back out. “It was his idea.”
“Oh my God,” she breathes. After a few moments of silence, she fingers her bracelet again. “Does this mean we’re going steady?”
I nod. “This means you can’t go steady with anyone else.”
She stares hard at me. “I wouldn’t.”
I grin. “I know.”
She raises one brow. “Pretty confident, huh?”
“I know you love me because what’s not to love?” But I’m not nearly as confident as I’m acting. Deep inside, I’m terrified. I’m terrified she’s going to find someone better. Terrified she’ll find someone she likes a little more. Someone who doesn’t have quite such a checkered past.
“Have you ever taken Mitchell to visit his mother’s grave?” she suddenly asks.
I shake my head. “I have not.”
She plays with her bracelet. “Has your mom?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Do you have pictures of her around?”
“No.”
“You should think about that a little. He needs to know who his mother was.”
“He sees my in-laws regularly,” I tell her.
“Not the same. She was his mother. She deserves to have that place in his life. Be sure he knows who she was.”
I nod. It’s a good idea. And not one I’d ever thought of. “My mom has his baby books. I’ll see if I can get them so I can show him some pictures.”
“You really loved her, didn’t you? Melanie, I mean.”
“Yeah.” I reach for her hand. “I did.”
She stares silently out the window for a moment. “Do you know why I like the rain so much? Walking in it? Standing in it?”
I always just assumed there was no discernible reason for her to stand in the rain. “No. Why do you like the rain?”
“When I was a little girl, it’s one of the very few memories I have with my parents. One time they came up here for a weekend when I was about seven years old.” She sucks in a breath. “Anyway, we spent the whole weekend together, which was something we didn’t do very often. But it rained the whole weekend. I sat and stared out the front door, and it was absolutely pouring rain.” She grins. “My dad grabbed me and picked me up and we walked outside in the rain, and he spread his arms and said, ‘The rain’s not so bad, Abigail.’ And we stood there in the rain so long that my mom came to check on us, and she stood in the rain with us. We jumped in puddles and walked down to the dock, and we just sat there and got soaked.”
“And that’s why you like the rain?” I ask, not able to fully understand.
“No, not so much the rain, but I like the memory of that day. My parents were always busy, and they sent me to Gran’s every summer, every school holiday. Every day I wasn’t in school, they took me to Gran’s house. So I don’t have a lot of good memories of them, since I was never with them much. Even now our relat
ionship is strained because I never knew who they were. I didn’t know them. And they were my parents. All children deserve to know their parents, to be told they are desperately loved. And I’m pretty sure that your late wife desperately loved that boy.” She stops and sniffs. “Sorry, didn’t know I would get all emotional.”
“I’ll go get his photo albums and be sure he knows how much she loved him.” I swear it. I promise it. I will do it.
“Just so you know, I think I love him already,” she says, her voice loud and proud.
“Good.” I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it again. “Because he totally wants you to be his mom even though he didn’t come out of your hoo-ha.”
She laughs until she snorts. Then we get back to the cabin and she unloads all the stuff on the kitchen counter. She hides the condoms behind her back when her grandmother looks over, and then rushes to take them into the bedroom.
Rachel, Gran, and Mitchell have already cleaned the fish, so I set up the cooker outside and we all stand around and talk while the food cooks. Mrs. Marshall does, indeed, make some kick-ass slaw.
Mitchell notices the bracelets we’re wearing and asks about them. I take the one I got for him from my pocket and he slides it onto his wrist with a grin. “We all match,” he says proudly.
After we eat and enjoy a quick batch of s’mores, Mitchell falls asleep in a chair next to the fire and I let him stay there for a little while as I listen to Abigail joke around with her friends.
Mrs. Marshall suddenly stands up. “I’m going to bed.”
“You’re sleeping in my bed, Gran,” Abigail announces. “I changed my sheets.” She grins at her Gran.
“Where are you going to sleep?” she asks. She glances toward me, but I stay silent and wait.
“On the couch,” she answers. “Camille and Rachel can have the spare room.”
“Mm-hmm,” Mrs. Marshall hums. “Abigail Marshall,” she says, pointing her finger toward the house, “you better get in there and get those boxes you thought you were hiding earlier and you take them with you when you sneak out to go have your sleepover with Ethan.”
Abigail jumps up and rushes toward the house, but she winks and grins at me as she walks by. She comes back a minute later, carrying her pajamas, a toothbrush, and the package that Shy gave me earlier.
“Bow-chicka-wow-wow,” Camille sings out.
“I’m going to sleep on Ethan’s couch,” Abigail announces loudly.
Camille snorts this time.
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” She stands up taller and stares at me.
I pick Mitchell up so I can carry him inside. She tells the others good night and follows me.
“I really can sleep on the couch,” she says.
“I’ll wake you up so you can pretend to have slept on the couch, if that will make you feel better, but I don’t think it’s necessary. Mitchell already knows I plan to marry you.”
She smiles at me. “I’m keeping my pajamas on.”
I let my eyes run up and down her body. “I can work around them.”
I watch as a shiver runs up her spine.
I put Mitchell to bed, and he doesn’t even wake up.
Then Abigail and I go into the bedroom and close the door. She does eventually put the pajamas back on, but not until much, much later.
I wake up to find Mitchell staring down at me.
“Did you have a sleepover?” he asks quietly.
I scrub my face, trying to wake up. Abigail is pressed against my side.
“Abigail’s grandmother slept in her bed, so I let her come here.”
He tilts his head to look at me. “She could have slept on my bottom bunk.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” I mutter.
Abigail blinks her eyes open. She’s startled when she finds Mitchell staring at her. “Hey,” she says, her voice groggy from sleep.
“You slept with my dad,” he says.
Her eyes open wide. “I did.”
His brow furrows.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. I’m new to this parenting thing.
“Are we going to be a family now?” he asks.
I look at Abigail. “I’m pretty sure we already are.”
Abigail moves over a little and then she pats the spot between us. “Come here,” she says. He climbs up between us and lies down, and Abigail wraps her arm over him, and reaches over to take my hand at the same time.
Mitchell leans close to my ear and says, “I think she might be a good stepmom.”
“You think so?” I whisper back.
Abigail squeezes my hand ever so gently.
“She smells nice, too.”
I nod. “True.”
He leans close and sniffs Abigail. “Kind of like lemons.” He snuggles a little deeper against her side. “I like lemons,” he whispers.
I do too. I like them a lot.
35
Abigail
“I love him, Gran,” I say quietly as we sit on the side of the dock, our feet swinging back and forth over the water. I watch as Ethan and Mitchell walk down the shore together. They stop every now and then and pick up rocks. Ethan is teaching him how to make them skip over the surface of the water, leaving little pin pricks of waves in their wakes.
“I suspected as much,” Gran says. She leans back on her hands and stares at nothing. “I can’t help but think that Charles doing what he did was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“I know, right?” I say dramatically, but she scolds me with a look. “You’re right, Gran,” I say on a heavy sigh. “I guess I should send Sandra a thank-you card.”
Gran snorts out a laugh. “That would be pushing it a little too far.”
It’s Sunday night, and Camille and Rachel left this afternoon so they could beat the storm back to the city. Gran didn’t want to drive back all by herself, even if she would be a few hours ahead of the storm, so she’s staying until after the rain they’re calling for passes.
She hugs her arms around herself. “It feels like rain,” she says. “My old bones are aching.”
“I told him why I love the rain so much,” I say quietly. I’ve never needed to be loud with Gran. She can hear my heart, even if I only share it in a whisper.
“Hmm,” she hums.
“How are Mom and Dad?” I ask her. I haven’t spoken to them in a few months. Usually, I get an obligatory birthday card, a Christmas gift, and a few random calls a year from them. They both still work all the time, and they still don’t have time for children, even now that I’m grown.
“They’re fine,” she says. She lifts her nose in the air and stares down it. “I’m sorry they were so good at disappointing you.”
“They did have a flair for it, didn’t they?”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t love you,” she tosses out. I’ve heard all this before, though.
“I didn’t lack for anything, Gran. Nothing at all.” I smile at her. Gran was all I ever needed. She still is. I can talk to her about anything. “They gave me what they could” —which was remarkably nothing— “and you gave me the rest.” I shrug. “I’m okay with that.”
The lake looks like a sheet of glass, smooth as silk, as the sun sets over the water. The muted oranges and pinks that shine off the water’s surface make it seem even more beautiful. The leaves have started to change colors. The bite of fall is definitely in the air.
“Where’s the duck?” Gran asks suddenly.
I smile. “Wilbur is somewhere over Georgia, as of this morning.” Ethan was surprised when he checked the app to find that his duck had gone south. “Probably trying to get out ahead of the storm.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I have no idea.” I hope he does, for Ethan’s sake. “At least we can see him moving around. That helps.”
“You can’t raise something, watch it grow, love it with all your heart, and then not feel a little bereft when it leaves.”
“Gran,” I say g
ently, “I’m not going to abandon you.”
She stares up at the darkening clouds. “I didn’t worry about you leaving me when you met Charles,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Because you didn’t love him. Not really. You liked him, and he might have liked you back for a while, but you didn’t love him.” She tilts her head toward Ethan. “Not like you love him.” She sucks in a surprised breath and covers her heart. “And that little one, he’s just the icing on the cake.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to be a mom. It just didn’t call to me the way it does to some people.”
“And now?”
I grin. “I adore Mitchell. And I hope that one day he’ll look back and see me in all his mom memories.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Kind of the same way that I see you.”
She blinks hard, her eyes welling up with tears. “Motherhood is a crazy mix of being someone who loves them and someone who turns them into good people. The two are not always synonymous. And the last part can sometimes be a job. The former comes naturally.”
“This morning, he climbed into bed between us, trying not to wake us up. He was the cutest thing.” I grin at the memory. He had grabbed my hand, then Ethan’s, and lined them up with his own so that all our bracelets were touching. I’d leaned over and pressed my lips to his forehead, while Ethan had kissed the back of his head at the same time, and Mitchell had dozed off there between us for about an hour. His warm little body had smelled like wood smoke and lavender shampoo, and he’d smacked his lips in his sleep.
“If you weren’t you, and Ethan wasn’t Ethan, I would have warned you to go a little slower,” she says. “But since you’re you, and Ethan is Ethan, I didn’t see any need.”
“You couldn’t have slowed me down.” I grin at her. “I’ve never felt like this before.” I shake my head. “Never, ever.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
I look up to find Mr. Jacobson walking down the dock toward us. He’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a button-down shirt.
“Oh, my heavens,” Gran breathes out quietly, so only I can hear. “That man is still as fine-looking as he was when we were kids.” She lays a fluttering hand on her chest, presumably to quiet her breathing. “Is he walking over here?”
Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher Book 3) Page 24