“It’s not as grand as our home,” Elijah said.
“I can still feel the rich history here,” I told him. “Has this home been in your family for a long time?” I asked, following him up the steps leading to a wraparound porch. “This porch is amazing.”
“It’s been in the family for several generations. The porch is my mom’s favorite place, so I bet she’ll invite you to pull up a rocking chair later.”
Just then, the front door opened to reveal a short, graying woman grinning at her son. “Elijah!” she said in a tearful voice. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Elijah said, scooping his mother up into a hug that left her feet dangling off the ground. Then he set her down and placed his big hands on her dainty shoulders. “Mama, I’ve brought home someone very special to meet you.”
Chin up. Shoulders back. Smile.
“Is this your Freckles?” she asked then turned to look at me with wide, hopeful eyes. Was she worried I would judge her for the past and find her lacking?
“This is Maegan Miracle,” Elijah said proudly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer. “My Freckles.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Markham.”
“I’ve waited for you for ten years, Maegan. Even longer if I’m being honest. It’s so nice to meet you.” She pulled me into a warm hug, and I knew I had at least one ally in the Markham homestead.
“CALL MEBRENDA,”MOM SAIDto Maegan when they pulled out of the embrace. “You’re every bit as beautiful as Elijah described.”
Maegan’s face turned a delicate pink shade, and she glanced at me briefly. “Thank you, Brenda.”
“I wasn’t just referring to your outer beauty either,” Mom told her warmly. “You’re a strong, confident woman. I can tell that by your posture and the way you carry yourself when you walk.” It was true. Maegan might think she had to do that thing with her chin and shoulders, but there was never a need for her to fake anything. She was spectacular all the time. “I can see how much you love my boy when you look at him. That makes a mother very happy.” My mom released a quick sigh and placed a hand over her heart. “Forgive my silliness. I’m just so overjoyed to have both of you here.”
“Do I smell pot roast?” I asked, sniffing the air.
“Well, it is your favorite,” Mom replied. “I don’t usually cook something so heavy when it’s this hot out, but this day calls for a celebration.”
“Mom…” I let my words trail off because I wasn’t sure what to say next. This wasn’t necessarily a start to something special and meaningful.
“I know, Elijah. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you; I’m just so grateful to see you and meet your special lady.” Mom pulled open the door and gestured for us all to go inside. “There’s no need to melt out here while the house is nice and cool.”
“When did you get central air?” I asked once we entered the house.
“Um, I’d say it was five or six years ago. We resisted for so long, but this old woman can’t take these humid summers. Hot flashes are the devil’s work.”
“I bet it was a big undertaking and a huge expense,” I remarked. I was surprised she never told me about it, but I guess she didn’t want to waste our infrequent phone calls to discuss something like that. Honestly, I missed the old house and would’ve loved to hear updates about the remodeling progress. “That’s not the only thing that changed.”
“Oh, we took down some old wallpaper and repainted the walls. It wasn’t a lot.”
Maybe not to her, but she lived through the renovations and saw the changes over time. For me, it was like walking into a totally different home which was both good and bad. I wasn’t flooded with nostalgic and painful memories, because it didn’t seem like the same house where they occurred. On the other hand, I feel like I lost my childhood home and no one told me about it.
“Furniture is new,” I said cataloging other changes I saw. “You painted over Jack’s and my growth charts.”
“You both are in your thirties now, Elijah. Surely you didn’t expect me to keep those up forever.”
Maegan slipped her tiny hand in mine and squeezed my fingers to comfort me. “You have a lovely home, Brenda. Elijah told me it’s been in the family for generations.”
“Yes, this farm has been inmyfamily for four generations dating back to the civil war,” she said.
“Mom likes it known that the house came with her bloodline,” I told Maegan. “Dad calls her Scarlett and the homestead Tara.”
Mom smiled when she heard me slip and say Dad instead of Jack. “Your father sure as hell isn’t Rhett Butler.”
“I heard that, woman,” a weak, gravelly voice said from the dark corner of the living room situated to the right of the foyer. I hardly recognized my dad’s voice. “Rhett gave up too easily.”
“Gave up too easily? Did we watch the same movie?” my mom said into the room. “Besides, everyone knows Rhett wasn’t truly done with Scarlett.”
