Chapter Twenty
Some folks can’t define the very moment that their life changed. To those people, the exact second of clarity, when they knew beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt what they needed to do, didn’t come in a flash, but it crept in slowly. For me, it was the total opposite.
I was sitting on a church pew for the first time in over twenty years. Scarlett was to my left, with Grady beside her. Jackson held my hand to my right. The little black dress I wore with a dark green cardigan was too warm, but the heat flooding my body had more to do with his touch than the temperature of the building.
A young couple with kids arrived and sat right in front of us. The mother led the way like a mama duck with four little ducklings behind her, only this was four little blond-haired girls, and then the father took his place at the end next to the aisle. The youngest of the children stood up, put her hands on the back of the pew, and smiled at me.
In that very instant, I knew that the Tumbleweed and Dell City was my forever home. What was more, I wanted a chance to give Jackson a permanent place in my heart, and I wanted kids—lots of them. I might not have had the background to know how to raise children, but I would give them the same kind of love that my mother gave me. That should be enough to start, and the rest could be learned along the way.
The preacher seemed to appear out of nowhere, but then, I hadn’t been paying attention to anything except that adorable little girl and my own revelation.
“I’m glad that the roads are finally open enough that we can have services,” he said.
“Amen!” someone said from the back.
“Hallelujah!” another person shouted.
I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to say something or not. Jackson gave my hand a gentle squeeze and smiled. If he could read my thoughts, then my poker-playing days must have come to an end.
“Yes, amen and hallelujah!” the preacher said. “While you are opening your hymn books to page 189, I’d like to take a moment to welcome our newcomers,” he said. “We would be happy to have you make our little church your spiritual home. We are a right friendly and informal bunch who will gladly make you a part of our family. Now, let’s sing loud enough that the angels in heaven can hear our praise.”
There was that word again—family. This time it didn’t scare me like before.
Jackson reached for a hymnal from the pocket on the back of the pew in front of us. Scarlett winked when he shared the book with me.
“What?” I whispered.
“I’ll tell you later,” she answered in a low voice.
I should have paid more attention to the sermon, but my mind drifted back to that moment of clarity. I didn’t want to change it, and I did not have any second thoughts. I would have loved to have a real relationship with Jackson, and children with him someday—a year came to mind when I thought of how long Scarlett had been dating Grady.
The preacher jerked me back to the present when he said we would close the services with a moment of prayer. I could hardly believe that thirty minutes had passed so quickly, or that I hadn’t heard a word of the sermon. Yet sitting there in that small church had changed my whole perspective on life, and I truly felt at peace.
“Have I paid my dues?” I whispered to Scarlett.
“Did you listen to the message?” she asked.
“I got a message loud and clear, but I’m not sure who it was from,” I answered.
“Then you get to break bread with the Mendoza family.” She grinned when she stood up. “And just so you know, when you share a hymn book with a guy, that means he’s off-limits to the other women. Some floozies might make a play for him, but you faced off with his mama, so you can take care of them.”
“Sometimes I feel like a sixteen-year-old who is just learning the ropes,” I whispered.
“If I had lived in your world, I would, too,” she said. “Oh, and we usually leave our vehicles here and walk to the Mendoza home. It’s only a block away, and there’s very little parking.”
We shook hands with the preacher, and then Jackson slipped an arm around my waist. When we were outside, he removed his arm and laced his gloved hands with mine. Scarlett and Grady walked beside us. A dozen people were ahead of us, including the couple with the four little girls, who ran and slid when they found an icy patch. Several more folks trailed along behind us.
“Do you think we are all headed to the same place?” I asked.
“Yes, and this isn’t all of us,” Scarlett answered. “Rosie’s Mass is over, so I’m sure she’s already there, along with the relatives and friends that go to the Catholic church. She brought along that extra peach cobbler that we had left over from the café today.”
“Mama always makes enough tamales and enchiladas to feed an army for Sunday supper, and all the relatives bring food of some kind,” Grady added.
“Do you do this for Sunday dinner, too?” I asked.
“No, that’s just for the immediate family,” he answered.
One look at the house told me that all those people would never fit into the place. I was hungry enough that I would have claimed a couple of square feet on the floor and held my plate on my lap. But when we arrived, everyone went through the living room and kitchen and into the garage, where several tables lined the walls, and two over to my right were covered with food.
