Glory Road Page 18

“Well now, who’s this?” His eyes lifted just past my left shoulder.

  I followed his gaze to see Sumner coming around the side of the shop. I introduced the two men and they shook hands.

  “It won’t take me long to unload this.” Mr. Rainwater patted the side of his truck bed. “I’ll be out of your hair in a jiff.”

  He retrieved his wheelbarrow from the back of the truck and set the plastic tub of manure inside it. When he grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow, he winced and let go, shaking his right hand. “Old Arthur gets my hands all worked up sometimes.”

  “Here, let me,” Sumner said.

  “Son, I don’t think you’re quite dressed—”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Sumner easily lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow. “Just point me in the right direction.”

  I pointed around the side of the shop, then fell in step beside him. Mr. Rainwater followed behind, massaging his right hand with the thumb of his left hand.

  “This isn’t . . . ?” Sumner sniffed and nodded to the small mound he was dutifully pushing.

  “Yes. It’s exactly what you’re thinking.” I shrugged. “What can I say? It makes for healthy plants.”

  After dumping the load in my plastic pool and smoothing it out with a shovel, Sumner pushed the wheelbarrow back around front and loaded it into Mr. Rainwater’s truck for him. I watched from Twig’s porch as they chatted a moment, then Mr. Rainwater waved good-bye.

  Sumner’s crisp white shirt was streaked with dirt from the handles of the wheelbarrow, and the rest of him was covered in a smattering of soil.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “A little dirt never hurt anyone, right?” He smiled. “I like it out here. It’s . . . I don’t know, it’s nice. It’s like an escape from real life.”

  “For you, maybe. For us, this is as real as it gets. Although it doesn’t always smell this bad.” He laughed. “Let me lock up. You can wash up at the sink in the back.”

  While he washed his hands, I grabbed my phone off the counter. Ben had sent another text while Sumner and I were outside.

  Also wanted to check on your mom. Is she doing okay?

  I sighed. I’d done the research—I searched for things like “memory loss” and “age-related forgetfulness” months ago when I first sensed something with Mama wasn’t quite right—but all Google did was scare me. What loomed ahead of us had the potential to be life changing, and to be honest, I wanted to hide from it. But of all people, Ben would probably be a good person to talk to about it. Not much fazed him, whereas my mind could tie itself into knots if I let it.

  Back in high school, during our junior year, we’d had precalculus together. Better with words than numbers, I had no business being in the class, and I had a meltdown one night over parabolas and hyperbolas. He sat at our kitchen table with me that night long after Mama and Daddy had gone to bed, painstakingly reteaching me everything the teacher had gone over, but with Ben’s slow, methodical approach, I understood it far better. His temperament—his whole way of life, really—had been like a steady hand at my back. Calm and comforting.

  In the back room Sumner turned off the water and I heard him pull a paper towel off the roll. I quickly sent Ben my reply.

  She has an appointment with a doctor in Mobile, but I couldn’t get her in for a few weeks. Thanks for checking. I’ll try to fill you in at some point.

  Anytime.

  Sumner entered the room, his hands and forearms fresh and clean, and all traces of dirt gone from his clothes. He held up his hands. “Spick-and-span.”

  I returned the smile, but it faltered on my face.

  “Everything okay?” His gaze dropped to the phone in my hand.

  What about Sumner? Ben’s parents were strolling through a retirement resort, probably with a fruity drink in their hands, but Sumner’s parents had to be a good bit older than Gus. Maybe he had experience with these sorts of changes and fears. Maybe he’d done the late-night research too.

  But talking about it—to anyone—made it real, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Instead, I dropped the phone in my pocket and grabbed my keys to lock up. “Yep. Everything’s fine. Let’s head next door.” I led him across the yard to my house. Through the window I could see Mama flitting around the dining room. “Right. I forgot to mention something to you.”

  “Something other than me spending the evening shoveling manure?”

  “Well, this may be a little more appetizing, depending on how hungry you are. My mother has made dinner.”

  “Perfect. I’m starving.”

  Inside, the dining room appeared normal at first glance. Then I noticed the extra touches. Instead of the usual paper napkin, a cream linen napkin sat next to each plate. Each tea glass had a small lemon wedge on the lip, and a pair of silver candle holders—where she’d dug them up, I had no idea—held slim tapers.

  Evan rolled her eyes at me when I came through the door. “Gus is on a rampage,” she whispered.

  “Evan, this is Mr. Tate,” I said pointedly.

  She gave a polite smile and he said hello.

  We washed up and Mama ushered us to the table. In the center she had set out the chicken, mac and cheese, and green beans. Cornbread biscuits sat in a basket lined with a checked dish towel.

  “This looks wonderful. Do you eat like this every night?” Sumner asked.

  I passed the basket of cornbread to him. “It’s Mama’s payment for all the plants she lets her friends walk away with.” I winked at Evan.

  “It’s what you do for friends,” Mama said, unapologetic. “I’d cook them a meal if I could, but I can’t feed them all. Instead, I give them a small token—a petunia here, a snapdragon there. You can’t blame me, can you?” She smiled sweetly at Sumner, then glanced at his plate. “Sugar, you didn’t get near enough mac and cheese. Here, have some more. It’s considered a vegetable, you know.”

  By the time we brought out Mama’s apple pie, Sumner was mining her for information about me. Mama told him everything, from how old I was when I lost my first tooth, to how I broke my arm leaping from the top of a ladder thinking I could fly, to the time I jumped off the front of a boat and ended up hanging from the back of my shorts.

  “Why were you jumping off the front of a boat?” Sumner asked. “Was it moving?”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t a big deal. It was just—”

  “No, no.” Mama pushed her hair back from her face and leaned forward on her elbows. “Tom had beached the boat on an island down near Gulf Shores. When we stopped, Jessie hopped down off the front, intending to land in the shallow water. Unbeknownst to her, her shorts got hung up on that little rope cleat right at the edge of the boat, so when she jumped, she just sort of hung there, suspended from the back of her shorts until Tom noticed and unhooked her.”

  “Mom!” Evan gasped. “That’s terrible. Did you just want to die?”

  “I did, in fact, but I couldn’t do anything, hanging there like that. But, Mama, you left out an important detail. If you saw the whole thing, why couldn’t you come rescue me yourself?”

  “Well, I may have been laughing a bit. Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I can’t honestly say what I would have done in that situation.” Sumner turned to me. “Of course I would have helped you. But I do see the humor.”

  “Thank you,” Mama said.

  I enjoyed watching Sumner and my mother banter back and forth, even if it was about my most embarrassing moments. In a strange way he fit right in—from asking for second helpings of everything on the table to listening intently to Mama talking about Johnny and June as if they were old friends. Evan seemed to enjoy herself too, and that was before Sumner commented on the T-shirt she was wearing.

  “Laser’s Edge.” He gestured to the logo on her shirt. “That was a great old music store. I went there once when I was in Birmingham on business.”

  “Are you serious? That’s incredible. They used to have all these bands play there in the store when they we
re in town for concerts.”

  “You’re right, they did. The day I was there, a band was setting up for an in-store show later that evening. This was before you were born though. How’d you even know about it?”

  “I read about it in a Rainbow Rowell book.”

  “Rainbow what?”

  Evan shook her head. “It’s . . . nothing. What kind of music do you listen to?”

  “Well, let’s see. Probably no one that’ll make you happy.” He tipped his head toward Mama. “Not much country music, I’m sorry to say.”

  Mama pursed her lips and cleared her throat.

  “I’d have to say my favorite is probably Neil Diamond. I know he’s a bit of a throwback, but ‘Sweet Caroline’? ‘Forever in Blue Jeans’?” His grin faded when he noticed the silence around the table.

  I let out one laugh, then covered my mouth with my hand. Evan raised one skeptical eyebrow.

  “I’m guessing that was the wrong answer,” he said.

  “Have some more tea, why don’t you?” Mama’s smile was tight as she reached over and filled his empty glass.

  After dessert, Sumner all but ordered Mama to go relax in the den so the three of us could clean up.

  “I always clean up,” Mama said, “and I’m perfectly relaxed.”

  Sumner laughed. “I can see that. I’d just like to do the honors in your place tonight.”

  “If you insist.” She settled on the couch with the remote. “I’ll see if I can find Chip and Joanna.”

  As Sumner washed the skillets and pots, I dried and Evan wiped off the table and counters.

  “You know, I do like more than just Neil Diamond,” Sumner said to Evan when she brought our stack of plates to the sink. “I’ve always been a big Rolling Stones fan.”

  Evan nodded. “Most people are. Let me guess—your favorite Stones song is ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want.’”

  Sumner looked at me with raised eyebrows. “That one’s a no-brainer,” he said. “I think I prefer ‘Wild Horses’ though. Maybe ‘Moonlight Mile.’”

  Evan watched him a moment, then wiped her hands on the dish towel hanging from the stove. She paused on her way out of the kitchen. “‘Wild Horses’ is all right. Did you know it was recorded in Alabama?”

  “Sure. Up in Muscle Shoals.”

  She flashed him a quick smile, then left and joined Mama on the couch.

  “She’s smart,” Sumner said when she was out of earshot. “And funny, although I was a little afraid to laugh.”

  “You’ll have to excuse the sass. She’s actually not like that very much.”

  “Oh, I’m not offended. I know what teenagers are like. And I hate to break it to you, but the sass will probably only increase.” He turned the water off and grabbed the dry skillet.

  “That’s what I hear.” I pointed to the pot rack above the counter, and Sumner hung the skillet by the end of the handle. “But right now she’s . . . well, she’s pretty great.” It made me happy to see Mama and Evan watching TV together, even though I could only see the backs of their heads from where I stood in the kitchen. How many fourteen-year-olds actually wanted to spend that much time with their grandmother?

  Sumner leaned against the counter and placed his hands on the edge behind him. “You know . . .” He stopped and gave a small laugh. “It’s kind of weird that I’m here in your house, having just eaten dinner with your family. I wasn’t even sure I’d see you again after I shoved my business card in your hand.”

  I laughed. “I wouldn’t say you shoved it.”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t that aggressive. I just . . .”

  “I know. You wanted the flowers. I’m ‘off the beaten path,’ like Olivia wants.”

  His face was thoughtful. “That’s part of it.”

  “And the other part?”

  He shrugged, then gazed at me full in the face. “I didn’t want to leave without the chance to see you again.”

  I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. The only light in the kitchen was the one on the hood above the stove and the glow that trickled in from the den. On the table by the back door, my phone dinged with another text, but his gaze didn’t leave my face. He reached over and smoothed down the hem of my shirt where it had folded up. The skin at my hip tingled even though his fingers never touched me.

  “You’re smart and funny and hardworking.” One corner of his mouth pulled up, smooth and slow. “You intrigue me.”

  Neither of us moved, but the space between us—at least a couple of feet—seemed much smaller than it had a moment before. I swallowed hard. Then from the den, a toothpaste commercial came on the TV, the volume several notches higher than it had been. I blinked as if a light had blinded me.

  “I should get back home.” He called good-bye to Evan and Mama, who didn’t let him escape without an extra slice of pie on a paper plate, and I walked him outside to his car.

  “I appreciate the dinner.” He opened his door and faced me, one hand on top of the doorframe. “And the pie.”

  “Don’t thank me. It was all my mother.”

  “Ah. That is true, isn’t it?”

  “No, I don’t—I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s okay. I totally crashed your evening.” He laughed. “And I’m overstaying my welcome. After all, I only came for the pie.”

  “Really?” I raised an eyebrow. All of a sudden I felt bold. I was intriguing.

  “Well, no, that’s not true at all.”

  “Tonight was . . . nice. Very nice, actually.”

  “I’m glad. Would you like to have a nice time with me again? Because I’d love to take you out to a real dinner. Not that this wasn’t real, and not to slight your mother or daughter at all, but I’d love to have you to myself for an evening. Get to know you more.”

  I found myself nodding before I even had a chance to think it through. But sometimes not thinking was a whole lot easier. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” He sat and closed the door behind him, then rolled down the window. “I like that answer.”

  I was still standing in the driveway when he disappeared around the curve in the road.

  CHAPTER 21

  Some people consider creeping jenny to be a plant-strangling nuisance. If you find yourself in this category, by all means, keep it out of your garden. However, if you want a quick shot of electric color, this lime-green ground cover may be for you. You can contain it or, if you don’t have other plants nearby, let it grow freely for a bright swath of beauty.

  —SUSAN K. SEALE, WEEDS FOR LIFE

  EVAN

  I didn’t know what was going on with Gus. One minute she was fine, then the next she’d be patting the table and her hair, fumbling around her chair like she was feeling for her glasses or sewing scissors or something.

  “Gus,” I’d say. “What are you looking for? What do you need?”

  When she got like that, she could never tell me what was wrong. It was like she didn’t even hear me. But then she’d just snap out of it. Her eyes would lose the glassy stare, she’d focus, smooth her hair back, and go right on with whatever she was doing.

  Sometimes it happened two days in a row, or even twice in one day, but then she might be fine for a week or more. It was nuts. Sometimes it made me want to laugh, but most of the time it just made me sad. Nothing could happen to Gus. She was a constant—like the water that always flowed through the Icebox. Or like the huge pecan tree standing in the fork of the driveway. Always there, never changing. I liked that.

  I had to admit this though: the only good thing about Gus freaking out the other day in the car was that I got to drive. I’d never even driven down the driveway before, but somehow I knew just what to do. It was a little jerky maybe. A lot jerky, actually. But still. I was in the driver’s seat and it felt good.

  Later that night before Mom went to bed, she came in my room and asked for all the details. Again. I’d already explained everything in the driveway when Mr. Bradley was still there, then a seco
nd time after she made it back into the house. But I guess she needed to hear it again.

  “Mom. The story isn’t going to change. I’m not hiding anything from you. She got confused, stopped in the middle of the road, and I drove home. End of story.”

  She rubbed her hand over her face. She’d pulled her hair up in a bun and was wearing the tortoiseshell glasses she wore at night after she took her contacts out. Sometimes I thought she looked like a model. But not the usual kind, all pouty lips and hip bones.

  “Is Gus going to be okay?” I shifted my legs on the bed and she put her hand on my knee.

  She nodded slowly. “I think she’ll be fine. I just need to find out from a doctor how I can best help her.” She stood. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Wait, Mom?” I asked just before she closed my bedroom door. “About the driving . . .”

  “Honey, you’re fourteen.”

  “I know, I know. But if you’re in the car with me?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “So . . . that’s not a no?”

  She smiled. “Not a yes either.”

  So maybe she didn’t say yes, but she didn’t exactly say no. I told myself that any careful, licensed driver would work if she wasn’t available. I did this because when Nick asked if I wanted a driving lesson, I said yes.

  He didn’t tell me a driving lesson would be involved when he stopped by on Sunday afternoon. All he did was ask if I wanted to go with him to get a slushie at the Gas-N-Go.

  “Now?”

  “You doing anything else?” He peered past me into the house. Gus was at her own house, and Mom was taking a nap. Sunday was the only day Twig was closed, and she was good at relaxing on her day off.

  “Not a thing. Let me just . . .” I was going to say I’d tell Mom where I was going, but wouldn’t a note be better? No chance to ask questions.

  Nick raised his eyebrows and tossed his keys up in the air, then caught them in his other hand.

  “Be right back.” I scribbled out a quick note on a Post-it and left it on the kitchen counter, then grabbed my phone just in case she missed the note. I hated the phone, but if she couldn’t find me, she’d call. I didn’t want her worrying about me too.