“Come on, you three heartbreakers,” I say cheerfully. “Let’s go check out this shindig.”
William rolls his eyes, softening it with a smile. “Ew, Mom, don’t ever say that again.”
“What,” I ask innocently, “shindig?”
“Any of it.”
“Wow, muzzling me.” I put my arm around his shoulders for a quick squeeze. He’s so much taller than me, I have to stand on my tiptoes, and even then, it’s an awkward angle.
William glances down at me, his expression full of affectionate bemusement. “Shortie.”
I roll my eyes. “Looby,” I fire back, which is a Scrabble word my mom and dad used to use for a tall, awkward person.
William grins, shaking his head. He’ll be seventeen soon, and he seems like a man. It’s scary and heartening all at once.
Inside the house, Jack melts away with some boys he knows from church, and William saunters off with Peter Wilson, Alice’s younger brother. Rose goes to find her Grandpa, who’s always good company. I eye the makeshift bar with its many bottles of wine longingly, then settle for a seltzer.
There are lots of people here I know from church and the neighborhood, but also lots of people I don’t. Wildflower Valley and its environs seem to have more aging hippies than I ever realized. Not that Miss Barbara is an aging hippy, despite her yoga and her herbs. She’s pretty mainstream now, with herLululemon separates and elegant silver bob, but she seems to know a few of them, at any rate.
“Miss Abby!” Hooch comes up to me with a big grin, his ever-present hip flask evident in his pocket. His fiancée, Jessie Mae, is by his side, her bright red hair in its usual sticking-out braids, her expression smiling but stubborn. It’s already become abundantly clear who is going to call the shots in their marriage.
“Hey, Hooch. Jessie Mae,” I greet them both warmly. “How’s the wedding planning going?” They’re getting married in July, but Hooch is moving to Buckholt by the end of the month, something that saddens me. I’ll miss him dropping in whenever he had the notion, usually bearing some homegrown gift and offering his well-meaning advice.
“We’re getting there,” Jessie Mae says with a swift glance for her beloved. “I’ve picked out my dress. Hooch still needs to get his tuxedo.”
“A tuxedo! Fancy,” I remark, impressed.
“We’re doing things proper, Miss Abby, we surely are,” Hooch assures me as he rocks back on his heels. “I’m all moved out of my house now—and I even got a buyer for the place!”
“You did?” I didn’t expect all that to happen so quickly, even though Hooch basically told me it would. Still, I think some part of me hoped Hooch might change his mind about moving, or maybe that Jessie Mae would. Why live in Buckholt when you can live in Wildflower Valley?
“I surely did.” Hooch nods solemnly. “It’s a single lady all the way from Chicago. Comin’ here for a new start.”
“Really?” I can’t hide my surprise. Hooch’s house is just about as ramshackle as they get, homey enough, but… also pretty dilapidated. It used to belong to his mother and his grandmother before that, back after the coal miner uprising at Blair Mountain, when her husband was arrested for his part in the affair. Hoochtold us all about it, with plenty of gory details, when we first moved in.
I’m surprised someone is moving all the way from Chicago to live in that house, although maybe I shouldn’t be, considering we moved all the way from New Jersey, and when we bought our place, it wasn’t all that much better.
“She’s arriving at the end of April,” Hooch says, then wags a finger at me. “Make sure to welcome her!”
“Of course, I will, Hooch,” I assure him. Another new neighbor! There have been quite a few recently for such a small place.
“And visit us in Buckholt!” Hooch insists. “Y’all can’t be strangers now.”
I glance at Jessie Mae, who smiles and nods. “Yes, you’ll have to visit after the wedding, once we’ve set up housekeeping. We’d love to have you over for dinner.”
“And we’d love to come,” I reply, even though I’m still saddened by the thought of Hooch living so far away.
“And now it’s time to kick up our heels!” Hooch hoots before pulling Jessie Mae away to the makeshift dance floor in the dining room, the table and chairs cleared away so they can get a Virginia reel going. I nurse my seltzer, my feet already starting to ache. Being pregnant at a party? Not my favorite thing.
As I move through the room, I say hello to various friends and neighbors—first, Lily and Robbie Pepper with their sweet baby, Anna, who I helped to deliver. Well, actually, Bethany did the delivery. I just tried not to pass out. For someone who has birthed four children and is going to birth another before too long, my response to that situation was not encouraging, to say the least.
Robbie is scowling a lot less than he used to, now that he has an armful of smiling baby, and Lily looks tired but radiant. They had a rough start to their married life here in the valley, justa couple of kids in a one-room cabin, but they’re doing much better, and I’m pleased for them both.
Next, I say hi to Joelle, a friend from my Bible study, who I’m just getting to know. She and her husband run a poultry farm nearby, and they very kindly gave us a free turkey last Thanksgiving when money was tight. I really appreciated her kindness, and I’ve hoped that we could get to know each other better, although we haven’t yet, at least not that much.
Now, however, Joelle’s smile falters, and her eyes widen as she catches sight of my pregnant belly. Admittedly, the dress I’m wearing is pretty clingy and shows off my burgeoning bump to its advantage.
“Abby…” Her voice is faint. “You’re…pregnant?” Her face is pale, and belatedly I remember that she and her husband don’t have any children, even though they’re in their forties, and although she’s never said as much, it’s seemed like something of a heartache.
