I don’t say anything right away. I know I’ve been talking big about wanting to learn to be adventurous, but that was pretty much just talk. Being faced with actually doing it scares the ever-loving heck out of me. Huck seems to recognize this, because he reaches under the table to take my hand, while he tells his daughter, “I think we should let Amelia think about it for a day or two.”
A day or two? I might need a month or two, or a year or two … Either way, I’ve totally lost my appetite, and before the banana pudding, too.
Shuckie comes out to the table at that moment to greet us. He says, “Why, Miss Amelia, you look like you seen yerself a ghost.”
I take a deep breath and smile brightly at the man who makes the best fish I’ve ever eaten. I tease, “I just devoured so much, I’m full.” Then I introduce, “Shuckie, I’d like you to meet my friends Huck and Maggie.” To them I say, “This is Shuckie, the man who’s responsible for my love of fish.”
Shuckie laughs so hard his sizable belly performs a little jig. “Girl, you know it. You tell yer family hello fer me.”
Before he leaves, our waitress comes over and asks if we want anything else. Shuckie says to her, “This here is Ashley. Her mama done worked fer me on and off when you gals were little. She’s a friend of yer little brother, Davis.” To Ashley, he says, “Ain’t that right, honey?”
Ashley’s face turns so white she looks like she’s going to keel over. “Davis and I were in the same grade is all. We were never friends.”
I think there’s more to the story than what she’s saying, but there’s no point in pushing and making her uncomfortable. I tell her, “I’ll tell him you said hello. How’s that?”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says nervously.
Yup, something’s going on here, but I leave it alone. Davis has been mysterious since he was little, so there’s no telling what happened between those two. I smile kindly. “We’re ready for our take-out order and we’ll just take the check.”
Ashley hurries away and I share a look with Shuckie. He holds up his hands, “I don’t know nuthin’.” Then he pats me on the head like he’s done since I was a kid. “I’m happy t’ meetcha all.”
While I’m glad to have had a few moments away from thinking about Huck’s invitation to go to Chicago with them, I quickly feel the anxiety return. While I’d never admit it out loud, it doesn’t feel as bad as I’d have expected it to. That’s not to say I’m going anywhere, but maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider it.
Chapter 45
At two o’clock the next afternoon, Huck, Maggie, and I walk into the club for tea. I called ahead to make sure Cootie would be there without telling anyone why I wanted to know. It would be true to form for that old battle-axe not to show up if she knew a Frothingham was looking for her.
Huck is properly dressed this time, as per Cootie’s orders from their last encounter. He’s wearing tan pants, a white dress shirt, and even a sports jacket. While nothing like his rocker persona, he still looks heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
When Mandy Lynn sees him, she says, “It must have been the jeans that made you look like Huck Wiley.” Not that she seems any less interested as her eyes run over him a little too appreciatively for my taste.
Maggie laughs when she hears this, but quickly covers her reaction by saying, “I wish you were Huck Wiley, Dad. I mean how cool would that be?”
Huck squeezes our hands while we enjoy our inside joke. “Is Cootie around today, Mandy Lynn?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s somewhere. I saw her a while ago. She was busy helping Bitsy Twittle work on the seating chart for her anniversary party. You looking to talk to her?” she asks disbelievingly. Everyone in town knows that Cootie and my family are always at odds about something. We do not purposely search each other out.
I look at Huck for his reaction and he nods imperceptibly. “I am.”
“Okay,” she says before taking us to our table.
She leads us to the center of the room, which I can’t imagine being a good spot for what’s about to take place. “Would it be possible to sit in the corner over there?” I point to the table we sat at the last time we were here.”
“Whatever you want.”
Once we’re situated, Maggie announces, “The butterflies in my stomach are so big they feel like bats.”
“We don’t have to say a word to her today.” Huck pats her hand reassuringly.
“Oh, I want to tell her,” his daughter declares. “She doesn’t have to like us or even be happy to meet us, but I want her to know who we are.”
I know Maggie’s determination is fed by the fact that she never had a chance to meet her own mother. And while I appreciate the loss she feels, I can’t help but think they might want to reconsider their approach with Cootie.
We’re halfway through the watercress and tomato sandwiches when Cootie strides up to the table like a general heading into battle. “What do you want, Amelia?”
“Mrs. Wilcox, hello.” I hurry to stand up. “Would you join us for minute?” I’m so nervous I can feel the sweat soak through my blouse.
“Why?” she demands.
“I was just, um … well, I … uh … I’m trying to plan a shower for Emmie’s wedding, and I wanted to bounce some thoughts off you.”
“Why don’t you ask your mama and aunt? I’m sure they have plenty of ideas.” If eye rolling were an Olympic event, Cootie would win the gold medal.
“They’re so busy with the reception,” I tell her. “I don’t want to bother them with this too. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Cootie drawls, “I expect your cousin has another bun in the oven and that’s why they need to hurry.”
This woman is nastier than a rattlesnake in a bear trap. “I think they’re just excited to get married.” I want to defend Emmie and give Cootie the tongue lashing she so richly deserves, but she’s Huck’s mother and we’re here for him so I restrain myself.
“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t comment further on the subject, but she does sit down. Lucky us. “When are you thinking about having the shower?”
“Sometime after Valentine’s Day,” I tell her.
Maggie interrupts to tell Cootie, “I like your hair.” I stare at the child like she’s just had an eye stroke. There is nothing in this world to like about the teased up, straw-colored mess that Cootie calls hair. Maggie sees my surprise and shrugs as though to ask, what else could I say?
Cootie looks at her suspiciously before revealing, “I had it done just this morning.” Then she points between me and Huck. “I hope you two don’t follow the family tradition and get knocked up before you say your vows.”
I venture a glance at Huck and watch as his face turns red in anger. “I wasn’t married to Maggie’s mom. I guess I’m just following my family tradition.”
“What kind of family are you from?” Cooties gasps like a Victorian lady with a whopping case of the vapors. “Around these parts it’s considered proper to have the ring before the baby.”
Huck announces, “I was put up for adoption. My birth mom was no more than a kid herself when she had me.”
The look of distaste on Cootie’s face is priceless. “You’re lucky she gave you up then. No sense in trash breeding more trash.” Her eyes move to Maggie as though she’s suggesting the child is genetically lacking.
“I like to think my birth mother was just young and scared and that’s why she didn’t keep me. I don’t think she was trash,” Huck informs her.
“If you say so.” Cootie clearly doesn’t share his sentiment. She gets back to business and asks me, “How many people are you planning on inviting to this shower?”
“Maybe thirty or so.”
“Well, then, you’ll want have either five tables of six or six tables of five,” she advises. “I think the ballroom will work best. You can put the gift table by the grand piano and set up a cake table in the far corner. You planning on having any games?”
“Just lunch and cake.”
Huck interrupts, “According to the records, my birth mother named me before giving me up. She wanted me to have a piece of her heritage to carry with me.”
Cootie looks at him like she’s wondering why he’s telling her this. “That’s nice,” she says not only insincerely but dismissively.
Maggie says, “It is nice. It makes me think she’s not the horrible person everyone says she is.”
“If you say so,” Cootie replies.
Before she can say anything else, Huck announces, “Huckleberry is an odd name, but I like it.”
Cootie turns so white you’d think she’s fallen into a sack full of flour. “I’m sorry,” she finally says. “Did you say Huckleberry, like Huckleberry Finn?”
He nods.
Long moments pass as raw emotion runs across Cootie’s face. I almost feel sorry for her. She finally asks, “How can you know that? Those records were sealed.”
“It turns out there are ways to get information if you’re willing to pay for it.”
For the first time in my whole life I feel sorry for Cootie Wilcox. Tears spring to her eyes as she looks between Huck and Maggie like they’re ghosts. Then her eyes dart around the room looking for an escape. She stands up abruptly, knocking over a water glass in her haste. Her voice cracks as she says, “If y’all will excuse me.” Then she sprints out of the dining room without looking back.
Huck takes a slow sip of his tea. “That went better than I expected.”
“That was just the beginning,” I tell him. “Wait until she processes the information.” I involuntarily shudder at the thought of what comes next.”
Huck merely answers, “I’m looking forward to it.”
Chapter 46
“You okay, Maggie?” I ask Huck’s daughter.
“I wish we were able to pick our families. I mean, we get to choose our friends, but we don’t have any say in who our families are.”
“I like to think that you picked me before you were born,” Huck tells her.
She smiles at him with such love in her eyes, it almost hurts to witness. “If that’s how it goes, then I’m sure I did. But why would I have picked the mom I got? That doesn’t make any sense.” I can tell Maggie’s heart is broken straight through. First her mother gave her up, then her grandmother walks away from her like she’s no more special than a stranger on the street.
“I’m kind of in the same boat, baby,” Huck says. “Maybe there are bigger reasons at play that we don’t understand.”
“Maybe,” she tells him dejectedly. Then she lightens the mood by saying, “I think I feel a song coming on. How about you?”
“You want me to write a song about how we picked each other?”
“We could write it together. I think it should be a country song.”
“A country song?” he asks. “How would it go?”
She thinks for a minute before singing in a twangy voice:
I picked you and you picked me,
We’re as happy as two can be.
When it comes to mamas though,
We must have been picking our nose.
Huck bursts out laughing. “Sweetheart, we’re not too far from Nashville here; I think we might need to take another field trip and record that.”
He smiles at me. “You feel like taking another road trip with us, Amelia?”
“I don’t think we could do Nashville in a day.”
“I was thinking more about Chicago.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” I tell him. “I just don’t think I’m ready to fly anywhere yet.”
Huck picks up his phone and recites, “The distance is four hundred and fifty-three miles. In current traffic conditions it would take ten hours to drive.”
“Ten hours?” I ask. “That might be too far outside of my comfort zone.”
“You drove to St. Louis,” Maggie tells me.
“That was only three hours.” And while I felt like I could have probably gone a little bit farther, there isn’t a ladybug’s chance in a tornado I could make it all the way to Chicago.
Maggie looks like she’s about to start crying, so I tell her, “You and your daddy should definitely go.”
“I can’t take Maggie unless there’s someone I trust to stay backstage with her,” Huck says.
Unfair! Turns out Huck Wiley is just as manipulative as his daughter.
Maggie’s eyes plead with me. “I haven’t seen Uncle Gizzy in over a year. Pleeeeeease, Amelia. Please go with us.”
“I have to work.”
“Just think about it, will you?” Maggie asks, “When would we have to be there, Dad?”
“He wants me to play with him on Saturday.”
“This Saturday?” I demand. “As in the day after tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
“I thought you said next week?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t want you to panic.”
“We’d have to leave tomorrow, Huck. There’s no way, I’m sorry.” Suddenly, Nashville doesn’t look so bad. Of course, Swampback isn’t playing there. “Why don’t you take Shelby? It’s the perfect solution and it gives you more family time to boot.”
“She wants to spend time with her mother to see if she can be any help now that she knows about me and Maggie.”
Drat! That’s extremely nice of her given that Cootie has not treated Shelby at all well. I’m guessing she’s doing it more for Huck and Maggie’s benefit than her mama’s.
“Lexi and Mrs. P said they could cover for you at the store,” Huck announces.
“You asked other people before you got my answer?” I feel real anger pump through my veins. How dare he?
“I didn’t want to give you a reason to say no.”
“I’m sorry, have we met?” I nearly yell. “I am not a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants traveler, Huck. In fact, I’m not a traveler at all. You know that.”
“You went to St. Louis with us,” Maggie repeats like a broken record.
“Again, that was only three hours away,” I tell her. “And I’ve been there before.”
Huck pulls out his phone and starts showing me pictures of Illinois. “It looks a lot like Missouri, doesn’t it?”
“So?”
“So, if you’ve seen one corn field, you’ve seen them all, right?”
“No,” I say, shooting down his overly simplistic logic. “Plus, Chicago looks nothing like St. Louis.”
“The concert is outside of Chicago in Rosemont. We could stay at a hotel there if you prefer.”
“Huck Wiley, I am not going to Chicago with you,” I tell him as firmly as possible.
“That’s too bad.” Then he looks at Maggie and says, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess you’ll have to see Uncle Gizzy another time.”
Maggie does not react like I expect her to. I thought she’d be disappointed but would ultimately let it go. Instead, she bursts into tears and practically shouts, “But I got to pick Uncle Gizzy as my family. I picked him. I decided to call him uncle and I want to see him!” It seems the overstimulation of the day is affecting her negatively.
Huck looks surprised by her outburst. “You and I can fly up and see him. I just won’t play with him.”
“No!” Maggie is full-on yelling now. “I picked him, and I’m picking Amelia and I want all of us to be there together. I want some say in my life. I may only be ten years old, but I matter!”
“Maggie,” Huck starts, but his daughter cuts him off.
“I don’t have a mother and I don’t even have grandparents anymore. I don’t get to choose anything, and I want to choose this.”
Huck looks beyond shocked. “Amelia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t plan on this, I promise.”
“You didn’t think at all,” I say, even though I know he’s speaking the truth. He was clearly trying to push me into going, but I think he was planning on giving me an out. Maggie’s having other thoughts.
Crap on a cracker. I don’t know how to say no to her. I sure as heck don’t
want to go to Chicago, but it seems there are forces at work greater than me, so I say, “If I go with you, I get to pick the next field trip. And just so you know, it’s going to be right here in town.”
Maggie jumps up and throws her arms around me. She squeezes so tight it’s like she’s afraid to let go. “Thank you, Amelia. Thank you sosososoosososo much!”
I look over at the rock star who appears as shell shocked as I feel. “Thank you,” he says. “And again, I’m really sorry about this.”
“Just you wait,” I tell him. “I plan on getting even.”
Chapter 47
Mrs. P performs an impromptu jig when I tell her that I’m taking her up on her offer to mind the shop while I go to Chicago. She gushes, “Girlie, you’re gonna get some.” I pretend that I don’t hear her because I have no idea how to respond to an octogenarian whose mind is in the gutter.
When I call Emmie to tell her, she nearly screams in my ear, “You’re going to Chicago with Huck Wiley? Oh. My. GOD!!! I know you went to St. Louis together, but are you dating? Are you kissing? Are you doing more than kissing? Tell me everything!”
“You sound like you’re twelve,” I tell her. Then I answer her questions. “We just started to date and yes, we’re kissing, but we’re not doing anything else.” Yet.
“Does your mama know? I’m guessing not because there’s no way she could keep the news from my mama and Gracie hasn’t said boo to me about it.”
“They don’t know,” I tell her. “But I assume they’ll work it out eventually.” More’s the pity.
“Are you going to tell them about Chicago?” she wants to know.
“I think I’ll say I’m tagging along as Maggie’s companion. That ought to keep them from getting too excited.”
“Yeah, right,” she laughs. “You tell yourself whatever you have to, but you know our mamas. There’s no way they’re going to buy that.”
“They will if you say the same thing.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Yes, they will.”
“No, they won’t.”
This could go on forever, so I say, “Who cares what they believe or don’t believe. I have to go pack, water my plants, and freak out about leaving tomorrow.”
The Plan: A Sweet and Sexy Rock Star Romantic Comedy (The Creek Water Series Book 3) Page 19