“That’s my granddaughter, boys. Read ’em and weep.” Daddy’s voice cut through Gemma’s.
At the kitchen table, Imani sat cocooned in the affection of the same folks who’d raised and helped raise Gemma. Daddy, Mama, and all the honorary aunts and uncles. Imani and Daddy just won a game of Hearts.
How could she tell everyone to leave when they loved on that girl so well? When they loved on her. When Nancy bustled about to cut Imani another brownie and scoop out vanilla ice cream.
The girl had no idea about B. A. Carpenter, the Samson Development Corp, and the great fraud, or that she now traveled with Gemma on her road of bad decisions. She had no idea her life was about to change. Again. Gemma envied her innocence. Envied that she believed the nightly crowd at the kitchen table just meant they’d suddenly become the party house.
About then Justin arrived. He melded into the glorious chaos, saying yes to a brownie and ice cream. Then Penny popped in.
Forget her announcement. Gemma needed to escape. Leaving the crowd behind, she headed for the barn.
Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, she’d express her appreciation then ask everyone to pray for and support her from their own homes.
Never mind Betty’s lasagna bubbling up in Gemma’s rickety old oven, filling the house with aromas powerful enough to make a girl change her mind. But no.No. They had to go and she had to face a new future.
In the barn, the dogs napped on the stone aisle, cooling under the high ceiling fans, free from the inside chaos.
“Gemma.” She turned as Imani called her name. “Do we have more soda out here?”
“Check the fridge.” Gemma pointed to the old appliance in the far corner. The paint was chipped and faded, and the door had a dent the size of a horse hoof, but the sweet thing hummed with life.
“Did you see Memaw brought more groceries? There’s food everywhere.” The light of the fridge illuminated Imani’s athletic form as she collected bottles of Orange Crush. “Isn’t it fun to be the party house? Justin’s parents always have people over. Can we do this more?”
“More? We have people here every night.”
“True, we do.” Imani grinned as she headed back to the house, her arms loaded with cold soda bottles. After a few steps she stopped and turned around. “Gemma, why is everyone here? Be honest.”
Gemma shrugged, lacking the energy and heart to confess the truth. At least not yet. “I guess they thought it was time.”
But Imani was a smart girl. Her mother’s daughter. “Is everything okay?”
“Right as rain. Go on now before those sodas get warm.”
On the other side of the barn, the goats stirred and bleated. “You’ve been fed. Miss Frances. You all right?” Gemma patted the mama goat’s head. “Y’all go to sleep,” she said.
At the puppy nursery, she stepped over the gate Daddy had recently installed and sat in the hay. The little rascals were milling about, playing, chewing on each other, and climbing on Blue and Tweedy.
“Clearly these puppies are more fun than we are.” Gemma glanced up to see Daddy at the stall opening. Should’ve known he’d come after her.
Clearing the gate, he sat next to her with anumph. “How’s little Chandler?” He searched for the runt of the litter who’d just collapsed after a wrestling match with Joey.
“Growing. I think I’m going to keep them all.”
“Six puppies and five dogs? Quite a handful. I’m sure we can find good homes.” Daddy cradled Ross against his neck, laughing when his tiny tongue kissed his skin.
“The truth is I have to find good homes forallof them. The dogs, the cats, the rabbits, the goats, Herc, Whinny, and Silver.”
“If I could, I’d make this go away. Your mama got on me the other night for wasting so much of our money on schemes. Said we’d have had a nice nest egg by now. We could help you out.”
“Not enough to redeem this place. Besides, I couldn’t take your money. This is my mess.” Gemma toppled sideways and wept softly against her father’s broad shoulder.
“Life doesn’t seem to be going your way, does it?” He kissed her forehead. “What about the prince? What does he say?”
“I’ve not told him, nor Imani, so don’t tell her.” She sat up and wiped her cheeks. “Daddy, don’t get ideas about John and me. We were friends for a few weeks. Maybe what we both needed but he’s off living his life, following his calling. Which is a very different life than mine.”
But oh his kiss…
One day, when she was old and gray, with menopause whiskers on her chin, she’d sit in the back booth at Ella’s Diner, smoke curling from her cigarette (even though Tina told her a hundred times to take “that thing” outside), ashes scattered over the table and into her coffee cup, and regale anyone who caught her eye with her story of the prince.
