He got the details from her, and they agreed he’d pick her up before the service. Reluctantly he said goodnight, but he walked to his truck, fully content and happy for the first time in a year.
Chapter Seven
On afterthought, Maegan decided she should have told her parents in advance that she’d have a friend with her at church. At twenty-nine years old, she didn’t think she had to tell them about every aspect of her life. They attended the same church, they were going to see anyway.
Giving them a heads-up, however, would have avoided that awkward invitation for Judah to join the family for lunch. She could have told her mother they were only friends- or very newly in a relationship and didn’t want to do the “meet the parents” thing yet.
Instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out, and currently stood outside Dogwood Creek Community Church with the breeze blowing through her olive knit cardigan, frozen in place as she tried to quickly think of a way to get Judah off the hook.
“I’d love to join you for lunch,” she heard him answer, with full confidence in his tone.
She jerked her gaze to see him smiling, appearing pleased to score the invite.
All right then. She’d mentally overreacted for nothing. Not exactly. They still had the entire afternoon ahead of them with no idea what her parents had in store. The first time she’d brought Jess home tomeetthem had been different. Jess had grown up in Dogwood Creek, and they knew him peripherally.
They’d never met Judah and knew nothing about him. For goodness’ sake, she hardly knew him. She paused on that thought. True, they’d only met three days ago, but they’d connected on a deep level, sharing conversations she hadn’t hadwith lifelong friends. She felt safe calling him a friend, despite their short acquaintance.
“Perfect.” Maegan’s mother, Suzanne, turned to address her. “I have to run by the nursing home and drop off those new pajamas to Aunt Linda. Can you be at the house around one o’clock?”
Maegan looked at Judah, who nodded his approval, before answering, “We’ll be there.”
“If we aren’t back, let yourself in.” Suzanne turned to her husband, Noel. “Did you give the kids a new set of keys when you changed the locks last month?”
“Yes. Do you have yours with you, sweetheart?” Noel asked.
“I put them on my keyring.” Maegan jingled them for emphasis.
“Perfect.” Her mom kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Her parents left, and Judah burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“The look of horror on your face when your mom extended the invitation.”
“That obvious, huh? You didn’t have to accept.”
He frowned and creases formed on his forehead. “If you don’t want me to go, I can go home. I thought you were only embarrassed for being put on the spot.”
His crestfallen expression made her sad. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated, and yes, I was embarrassed at their over-enthusiasm. They are fantastic parents and I love them dearly, but subtlety is not one of their strengths. At least not mom’s.”
“I can see that, but they’re cute. They seem to really love each other. How many years have they been married?”
“They celebrated thirty-eight years in November.”
“Quite the achievement. I’m in awe of couples that make it that long.” A shadow passed over him. “My parents celebrated their thirty-fifth anniversary the year mom passed, but I know they would have hit more milestones if she hadn’t gotten sick.”
“You miss her a lot.” She made it a statement, not a question.
“I do. She had this perfume she wore for years. Every Christmas Dad would get her a new bottle for us to give her, but she always acted surprised.” He stared out in the distance, mentally in another time. “It smelled like jasmine and lilies with a hint of sandalwood. Someone in church today had on a perfume that smelled identical. When I got that first whiff, it nearly knocked the air out of me. Grief is weird like that.”
“My grandmother’s favorite hymn wasIn the Garden. To this day, I tear up when I hear the words or music,” she confessed.
“Our senses are intrinsically tied to our memories. When I was eight, my dad ordered an entire pallet of candy for his officers to hand out in the community for Easter. There was a mix-up and the candy got delivered to our house instead of the station.” His chuckle lifted the mood. “There were boxes upon boxes of gummy bunnies, my favorite candy at the time. Temptation got the better of me, and I snuck in the garage that night and ate until I was sick. Literally. My parents found me on the sofa the next morning, curled in the fetal position. To this day, I can’t eat gummy candies.”
“How much did you eat?”
His nose wrinkled. “Dad said he found twenty-five empty wrappers.”
