The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek (27 page)

“You can’t ignore me,” Mac said from a few feet away.

“Yes, I can.” Adam grabbed Janey’s tube and kicked hard. “We’re going to float around and see how everyone’s doing.” Could he escape from Mac? Probably not.

After he’d maneuvered the two tubes across half the river, he could hear Mac behind him.

“Don’t forget. I’m a runner. Strong legs,” she shouted. “Slow down. I need to ask you something and you don’t want me to shout it across the water.”

With that threat, he paddled back toward the pillar’s granddaughter, pulling Janey along with him. Genes ran true. She’d never give up.

“Why aren’t you and Gussie floating down the river together?” she asked once they were within two feet of each other. “Making goo-goo eyes?”

“In answer to the second question, I’ve never made goo-goo eyes at anyone in my entire life.” He ignored the first point. Make Mac ask again.

“Why aren’t you and Gussie together?”

The kid never gave up. A true MacDowell.

“We adults have to watch all of you from different places, to keep you safe.” To show how seriously he accepted that responsibility, he paddled his tube around to scan the group. “I’d hate to get home and have to explain to your grandmother why only Bree made it back to Butternut Creek.”

He could feel Mac’s eyes on the back of his head but didn’t want to actually face her. He bet she could have read his expression even if he covered it with an iron mask.

“The water’s pretty low. Hope no one gets stuck under the bridge,” he stated.

“You’re not going to answer,” she stated right back.

He kept his hold on Janey’s tube and kicked away with legs that had played basketball for years. She’d never catch up.

“I’m going to tell Grandma,” she threatened as he retreated.

“Go ahead,” he said. Might as well get it over with. Miss Birdie and the Widows should know they’d failed and would have to start all over again. He could only hope that humiliation would make them stop looking for a wife for him.

Oh, sure. As if the Widows didn’t enjoy humiliation, especially that of their minister.

A few hours later, the flotilla had nearly arrived at the dock where they’d get out of the river, give up their tubes, and get in a bus to shuttle back to the departure point.

Gussie gave a deep sigh of relief. She’d survived. They’d get back to the cars and vans and head out and she wouldn’t have to see Adam for months. Surely by that time, she wouldn’t lust after him.

Except, of course, everyone—except Gussie and, she imagined, Adam—wanted to gather at the barbecue place on the frontage road for a last meal together, as if they hadn’t spent nearly four hours in a river together. She couldn’t get out of it without making a fuss, because tradition demanded that meal.

Fortunately, Adam and a bunch of kids had found a booth on the far side of the restaurant and Gussie had shoved her bunch toward the other side, where she sat with her back to him.

Once they’d settled, Gussie discovered that Mac had joined their group. No surprise. The kids pretty much intermingled.

Between ordering and the arrival of their meals, Mac leaned toward Gussie. “Have you heard,” the junior matchmaker said, “about the new single woman in town who Grandma wants to fix up with Pastor Adam?”

“How interesting,” Gussie said.

“Blond, professional woman. Smart, pretty.”

“None of my business.”

It wasn’t, Gussie reiterated once she arrived back in Roundville and dropped the kids off at their homes. It had been a week since Adam had demanded more from her than she could give. Now he’d moved on.

No, Mac had said the Widows had found a new match for him. Not his fault. The Widows never gave up. Indefatigable in their efforts, unrelenting in their actions, unflagging in devotion to their cause, and inexorable. The Widows would find Adam a mate if they had to import her from Maine. It wouldn’t be Gussie.

She felt implausibly sad. Why should she feel sad when she’d turned down what he’d offered? Of course, she still had her parents and the church and her business. They’d made her happy for years. Why wasn’t that enough?

Maybe because she hadn’t been happy all those years? Merely content or comfortable or only okay but not really happy?

Click
went her brain as that idea slipped into place. She’d been treading water all these years. Yes, she’d accomplished stuff. A university diploma and a successful business. But she hadn’t moved on. Stuck in the same place for thirteen years and fooling herself into believing she’d achieved her goals and dreams.

M
ac tells me you and Gussie Milton are no longer…” Miss Birdie paused to search for the word. “An item,” she finished.

Adam wondered why it had taken so long for the Widows to descend on him. He figured they’d have ambushed him after church last week or the previous day. He guessed Mac hadn’t squealed on him until the end of the week. Yesterday the pillar had glared at him when she filed out of the sanctuary but hadn’t said a word. Probably had needed a powwow.

He could only be thankful he’d had all this time to prepare.

“Come in, ladies.” He stood and waved toward the four chairs in front of his desk. He’d warned Maggie when she got in that they’d show up. He’d known they wouldn’t arrive until after ten with the work schedules of Mercedes and Miss Birdie, but he knew they’d come.

Once they’d settled in their usual places, Adam sat down and asked, “How are you doing today? Busy at the diner, Miss Birdie?”

“Pfutt,” she said, a sound he hadn’t discovered the exact meaning for. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I didn’t realize we’d chosen a subject of the conversation yet,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“You and Gussie Milton.”

“Now, now, Bird.” Mercedes patted her friend’s arm. “We can certainly take time for pleasantries.”

“Good morning, Pastor,” Blossom said, then sat forward in the chair and leaned toward him with a sweet sympathetic expression. “How are you doing?”

Darn, he could stand Miss Birdie’s pushiness but Blossom’s sympathy about killed him.

“Fine, thank you.” He turned toward Winnie. “How are you and the general?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Miss Birdie said. “You know when you mention the general, she’ll talk about him forever. Crazy about the man. Hardly thinks about anything else. Maudlin.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word you want,” Mercedes said. She stopped speaking when Miss Birdie glared at her and substituted, “Yes, Pastor, Mac mentioned that you and Gussie were no longer seeing each other.”

“We have never seen a great deal of each other,” he said. “She and I met for coffee or for a movie but there was no great romance.”

“You two went to Austin with Sam and Willow,” Winnie said.

“Yes, a very nice evening spent with friends.”

After that statement, he folded his hands and watched them calmly. Miss Birdie blanched. Winnie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him. Mercedes tilted her head as if wondering what to do next. Blossom, as usual, didn’t seem quite sure what had happened.

“With friends?” Blossom asked him, then turned toward the pillar. “Weren’t they supposed to be more than friends? Didn’t we hope they’d get married?”

“Yes, we did,” Miss Birdie snapped. “I for one am very disappointed.”

“I am, too,” Blossom agreed.

The remaining Widows didn’t seem to have anything to add but nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

Still Adam sat at the desk, hands folded and mouth closed, until the cluster of disappointed Widows stood, nodded, and left.

For a moment he felt flush with victory. The Widows had come but they hadn’t conquered him. He’d learned to handle them and felt strong and certain. For a moment.

Then he felt a sense of loss. Conquering the Widows didn’t give him nearly the elation he’d always thought it would. In fact, victory felt a little flat. Playing with them was more fun. Having them attempt to find his wife, well, when the choice had been Gussie, he’d really rooted for them.

Besides, he had no idea what they might do next, and he didn’t feel nearly as confident about facing the unknown.

“What do we do next?” Mercedes asked as they stood in the parking lot.

“A disappointing development,” Winnie said.

“Very disappointing,” Blossom agreed.

“We’re going to have to start all over.” Birdie sighed. “And I don’t know how.” She shook her head. “I thought they were perfect for each other.”

“Perfect.” Blossom shook her head in time with Birdie.

“Maybe Gussie doesn’t want to get married,” Mercedes added. “She’s over thirty and still single. Could be she wasn’t as perfect as we’d hoped. Could have baggage.”

“Could be her parents,” Blossom said. “I cared for my in-laws for years.”

The four considered that.

“Did anyone see that blond woman with her son in church Sunday?” Winnie broke in on the contemplation. “Let’s check on her. I can get her name from Maggie if the woman signed the friendship register. I’ll visit her and see what I can find out, welcome her to the community and ask her to come back to church.”

Bossiest woman Birdie had ever met, but a good plan nonetheless. They all agreed and put Winnie in charge of that investigation before they left.

“Reverend Jordan, this is Mariah Wilson calling from the elementary school. I’m the counselor here.”

What had happened? “Is Janey all right?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, although we do have a concern.”

He waited.

“Her teacher has noted that Janey struggles with her work although she seems like a bright little girl.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“I wanted to make sure everything was okay at home.”

“Yes, Janey seems to be settling in well, but it is an adjustment. I’ll talk to her,” he said.

The kids’ schedule made life and discussions difficult. Janey always arrived home by four and started homework at the kitchen table. They ate late, after Hector got home from practice, then she took everything up to her room to work at her desk. She had no time to watch even thirty minutes of a television show. When the season started, they’d go to all Hector’s games together, but for the most part Janey studied.

After dinner, as they cleaned up the dishes, Adam said, “I need to talk to you guys.”

“Pops, I’ve got a big American history test tomorrow and I’m on KP tonight.”

“I know.” He’d listed all their tests on a calendar in the kitchen. “But this is important. Sit down. I’ll take care of the dishes when we’re through.”

Once they’d cleared and wiped the table, they sat down.

“Janey, I received a call from Mrs. Wilson at your school today.” He paused to consider how to phrase this without upsetting her. “How are your studies going?”

“Okay.” She dropped her eyes.

“Are you having any difficulties?”

When she didn’t answer, Hector took over. “Janey, you’ve always had to work really hard in school. I’ve noticed you study all the time but your grades still aren’t good.”

Tears rolled down Janey’s cheeks. “I try.”

Adam handed her a Kleenex. “You aren’t in trouble. We know you’re smart. We know how hard you work.”

“B-b-but, no matter how hard I try.” She stopped and wiped her eyes. “No matter how I try, I can’t do as well as my friends. I don’t know why. I feel stupid.”

“Janey.” Adam took her hand. “You aren’t stupid. Your brother and I know that.”

“But Amy and Cassandra always get perfect spelling papers and their tests are put on the bulletin board. Mine never are.”

Adam had seen her spelling tests, the letters uneven and red marks all over.

She looked at both men. “I don’t want to be different. I don’t want to have special classes in a special room.”

Hector said, “Janey, you’re smart. I know that.” He pointed back at Adam. “Pops knows that. But you spend so much time studying, hours longer than I do. Do you like to spend every minute studying?”

“No-o-o.” Her voice quivered. “I’m tired of studying all the time.”

Adam watched the Firestones and felt guilty. He should have noticed this. He should have gone to the school about Janey’s grades and her efforts.

“Hey.” Adam knelt next to her, balancing on one knee, to look into her eyes. “It’s going to be okay, really. We’ll talk to your teacher and the counselor and see how we can help you. Hector and I and all the people at church will make sure you’re fine.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We love you and want the best for you. Do you understand that?”

Janey nodded, then slid out of the chair and onto Adam’s knee. She put her arms around his neck and leaned against him. She felt warm and trusting. A wave of emotion and gratitude nearly overwhelmed him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier. I don’t know much about little girls.”

Janey hugged him more tightly, and Hector put his hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Most loving God,” Adam prayed. “Thank you for the Firestone children. They have blessed my life so richly.”

“Hey, Pops, stop or you’re going to make me cry, and players don’t cry.”

As she walked home from the diner, Birdie glanced at the sky. Getting cloudy. Forecast said rain, not good weather for homecoming. She got to the front of her house and stared at it. She’d have to paint it soon but where would the money come from? Maybe she could hire Hector. And the Adirondack chairs, the ones Elmer had made so they could sit on the porch and wave to their neighbors, needed a coat of stain.

After Elmer passed when the girls were young, Birdie’d spent a lot of time out here, praying for strength to get through the next day. With the girls’ activities, she didn’t have time now.

Two chairs. No one to sit in Elmer’s and she never sat in the other. Maybe she should give one away. Could be she should find someone to sit in the other.

Should she encourage Farley a little?

Ptsh. She was too old for romance.

But a little companionship, that would be nice.

In Kentucky, the rain usually pattered down. Sometimes it pelted but usually it pattered gently for hours or days or, in February, weeks.

Texas rain also pattered and pelted, but many times it came down in one huge mass. At times, it seemed as if the clouds gave up on sending the drops down one by one and, as if worn out, they dropped the whole cloudful of water at once. It looked and felt as if a pail had been turned over on the Hill Country, over land too hard and dry to absorb it all.

Not that this fit any scientific explanation of rain, but it worked for Adam.

“Surely they aren’t going to play in this weather, are they?” Adam asked Miss Birdie. The high school football game—the homecoming game followed by the dance—was scheduled for that night. He’d ducked into the diner when the storm started and decided to stay for lunch.

“Not if there’s lightning in the area, but this doesn’t look like a thunderstorm.” She placed his order in front of him: a chicken salad sandwich and Coke. Then she surrounded that with a basket of more fries than he could consume in a week, a huge dish of fried apples, and a piece of cherry pie with two dips of ice cream.

“Now that you’re putting on some weight, we can’t let you get skinny again,” she explained. Then she stood back. “A little rain never hurt anyone. The players wear special cleats and such.”

“But the band doesn’t march in this weather, does it?” He took a bite of the sandwich.

She stared back at him as if he were speaking classical Greek. “Why wouldn’t they?” she asked, her tone scathing.

He finished chewing. “Because the field will be muddy?”

“So?” She put her fists on her hips. “We aren’t some namby-pamby Kentuckians. We’re Texans. What would have happened at the Alamo if Jim Bowie had decided the weather was too cold or rough or rainy to defend liberty?”

Adam thought he remembered that the siege of the Alamo hadn’t been about defending liberty but stealing land, but he didn’t respond. Nor did he mention that Jim Bowie had a lot of Mexicans shooting at him and had little choice whereas the students didn’t really
have
to march down a slippery field. The pillar probably thought they, as Texans, did have to.

“And the area band contest is next week. Our kids placed in the top group in the region and will move on to state if they do well. They need the practice.” She turned and strode away, still angry, Adam thought, that he’d questioned the fortitude of Texas youth.

If anyone was more fanatic than a football coach, it was the band director and the grandmother of one of the band members.

“And,” she proclaimed from halfway across the restaurant. “If you want fields of bluebonnets in the spring, you’d better welcome rain in the fall and winter.”

With that, the other diners turned to glare at him, which made Adam feel as if the whole town would blame him for a drought and the death of wildflowers should the rain stop.

That evening, he watched the players sliding and falling on the field. Adam settled in to watch a game of mud ball, glad he’d worn a sweatshirt and jacket under the waterproof poncho. “Are you all right?” he asked Janey. She had demanded to come because Bobby played on defense.

She nodded.

“Tell me if you get cold.” Before they’d left, Hector had bundled his sister in several layers, then turned to Adam and said, “Pops, I’ll be home from the dance late. Don’t wait up for me. Makes me feel like a kid to have to check in.”

“I don’t wait up because I don’t trust you,” Adam said. “I wait up because I want to make sure you’re home. Can’t sleep if I don’t know that.”

“Aah, that’s nice.” With a grin, Hector had loped off to watch Bree play volleyball.

At halftime, the band slipped all over the field, tripping on the ruts dug out during the first half, but they kept playing the program. That impressed Adam. He had no idea how one controlled a trombone or tuba while falling down, but the musicians did with only a few missed notes.

The members of the dance team, wearing their cowgirl outfits, finished the performance covered with splattered mud but with huge smiles.

Despite the slips and falls and pitchy notes, the crowd cheered every second of the performance. These kids belonged to Butternut Creek. As the students marched off the field, everyone on the home side of the stadium stood and pulled their arms from their plastic coverings to clap and cheer proudly.

That night, to keep Hector from feeling like a kid, Adam pretended to be asleep when he came home.