“I know.” Taryn stood up. “It’s like fate, or God, or the universe stepped in to avenge Jorja, and to make sure that all three of us will stay in this area. Speaking of that, am I going to live with you or Jorja?”
“Whichever one you want to live with will be fine. The houses are just alike, from what Ora Mae says. Three bedrooms and a bath and a half in each, and the layout is the same,” Anna Rose answered. “It sounds like neither place has had a makeover in years.”
“I’ll take the coffee cups into the house if you want to be with your cousins,” Clinton offered.
“Thanks,” Taryn said and then turned to Anna Rose. “Are we going to give Amos’s place a big face-lift before we move in?”
“Maybe not,” Anna Rose answered. “When we walked into this house, I felt peaceful.”
“Kind of like coming home to Nana Irene’s, isn’t it?” Taryn commented.
“Right, and I like that feeling,” Anna Rose said as she went up the steps to the second house, opened the door, and went inside ahead of Taryn. “I think that Jorja might be friends with Forrest—and maybe on down the road, it could be more.”
“Don’t be pushing her too fast,” Taryn scolded. “She’s making progress, but it’s in baby steps.”
“I’ll give you the tour,” Ora Mae said. “The furniture is seventies style, but it’s in good shape—all except for that recliner in the corner with a stack of books on the end table beside it. I always expected Amos would die because the chair collapsed on him. Of course, he wouldn’t hear to getting a new one.”
Taryn checked out the titles on the well-worn books for a moment while Ora Mae told the other two cousins more about when the two houses were built. “We had the bathroom remodeled twenty years ago, and I had the walls all painted white about five years ago. Got to whereI couldn’t see as well as when I was a kid, and brightening up the walls seemed to help.”
Most of the books were old Westerns and had been read time and time again, from the look of them. Taryn sat down carefully in the recliner and caught a whiff of Old Spice, the same shaving lotion that her maternal grandfather used. Was Amos’s spirit still in the house, making sure that the girls were going to be happy? She took a deep breath, but the scent had disappeared.
“We’ll take care of things for you, Amos,” she whispered.
She could have sworn that she heard a faint chuckle.
“You girls are not going to like these beds,” Ora Mae said when they reached a bedroom. “They don’t even have box springs, and not a one of them is a queen or king size—he was such an old bachelor. You really should buy new ones, for sure.”
“We can shop for those sometime this week,” Taryn answered, “but let’s keep this old recliner. It looks like crap, but it’s very comfortable.”
The past meets the future,the voice in Taryn’s head whispered.
Chapter Eighteen
Clinton closed the door behind Rebecca with a rush of light-headedness. He had just taken on the biggest responsibility of his life. Even though he knew in his heart and soul it was the right thing to do, he felt so sorry for the baby in his arms, sucking her thumb.
Rebecca had called the night before, miserable about her time in Arkansas. She’d said that she couldn’t handle it and wanted to move to California. She was bringing the baby back to him and needed, in her words, “a permanent reset.” He hadn’t believed it, especially not with all the drama she’d revealed, until she had knocked on his door an hour before. She only intended to stop by and drop Zoe off on her way to her new spot with her former foster sister.
Clinton had gotten in touch with his grandfather the minute Rebecca hung up. Legal papers had been faxed over to him—just in case she really went through with the idea of giving her child to him. Then he’d used his Veterans Affairs contacts to talk to a different lawyer, just in case there would be a fuss stirred up later about her signing away her rights under duress.
“Are you sure about this?” he had asked. “I want you to think about it long and hard before you sign the papers, and you need to read every single word, Rebecca.”
“Absolutely.” She’d flashed a dirty look his way and hadn’t even hesitated when she picked up the pen and signed all the documents.Her hair had hung in limp strands, and her eyes had looked tired, but there’d been no signs that she was on anything.
“I want you to promise me that you aren’t high or drunk,” he had said.
“Neither one.” Rebecca had shoved the papers across the table. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ve tried to be a mother, but that’s not who I am now.”
He had wondered how the cousins would adapt to a brand-new lifestyle of having a lot more money than they’d been accustomed to. Now he knew how shocked they had to have been when it had all happened so fast. He was holding a baby in his arms who needed a bath soon—and food sooner—and all that Rebecca had brought back with her was the diaper bag. His shock still hadn’t worn off several minutes after she’d walked out the door without telling her baby goodbye or even looking back.
“Okay, little girl, let’s get you cleaned up and go to work,” he whispered and kissed Zoe on the forehead. “I’ll do my best to be a good daddy to you, darlin’.”
A whirlwind of emotions and thoughts had been tumbling in Taryn’s mind for two solid days. She and her cousins had talked about when they might move to the country. Anna Rose was all gung ho to move into Amos’s house and begin learning about watermelons. Jorja was ready for her own space and said that she would make the ten-minute drive back and forth to Shamrock to the shop. Taryn could usually make up her mind on the spur of the moment, but not lately. Thoughts of that one kiss from Clinton, and a little hand holding, seemed to circle back around to her mind every few hours—and then, to top it all off, she dreamed about him almost every night.
Clinton had business to attend to that morning, so just the three cousins were at the Lucky Shamrock, making pew bows for still yet another wedding coming up soon.
“I’m so sick of bows that I want y’all to promise to never let me have them on every pew when I get married,” Jorja declared.
“I, being as sick of them as you are, hereby vow to refuse to be your maid of honor if you want bows on the pews—but only if you’ll do the same for me,” Taryn agreed.
