Bea (16 page)

Russ dipped his finger into the bowl and came up with a glob of white sugary candy. He poked it into his mouth and grinned.

“Hmm, no wonder it’s called divinity.” He ran his finger around the edge of the bowl and came up with another generous dollop. ‘‘Here, Bea. Try this.”

He stood in front of her, offering his finger. She bent over and slowly took his finger into her mouth. It was heaven. Not the candy, but the taste of the man. His finger pads were slightly calloused and felt rough against her tongue. There were crisp little hairs along the tops of his fingers that tickled the inside of her mouth. His skin had an overall salty taste that set all her nerve endings tingling.

“There’s more in the bowl,” Aunt Rachel said.

Bea suddenly realized she was still holding on to Russ’s finger. To make matters worse, he was staring down at her as if he’d invented her and planned to gloat over his invention until sometime next Tuesday.

She opened her mouth slowly, like a baby bird, and he withdrew his finger.

“Wasn’t that good?” he asked.

She didn’t think he was talking about the candy.

“Wonderful.”

They stared at each other, their eyes wide and aware, until Aunt Rachel plucked Russ’s sleeve, pulling him back across the kitchen to another cooking project of hers.

Bea decided she’d better rescue him or else Aunt Rachel would keep him there the rest of the morning. The funny thing was, he didn’t look as if he wanted rescuing. He was having the time of his life.

The kitchen door banged open and five of the rowdiest children in the clan catapulted into the kitchen, making the question of rescue moot. Eight-year-old Sim was tossing a football into the air, and two-year-old Ralph was tagging along behind, sucking his thumb and dragging his blanket.

“Goodness gracious, children,” Aunt Rachel said, ducking out of the way of the ball. “Take that ball outside.”

Sim, the leader, puffed out his chest and craned his neck up at Russ.

“Them’s neat boots, mister.”

“Thanks,” Russ said.

“You sure are big.”

“I guess I am.”

“I’ll betcha played ball.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Russ bent over the small boys, gathering three of them in his arms. “Why don’t you fellows take me outside and we’ll have a game or two?”

“Aw
right!”
Sim turned proudly to his cousins. “See, I told you he was a nice dude.” Then he marched toward the door, his cowlick flopping as he led the pack outside.

When Russ passed Bea’s stool, he picked her up, then set her on her feet. “How about it, Bea? Want to play with me?”

Dang, did she want to play with him? Yes, yes, yes!

“No,” she said, to be on the safe side. “I suppose I’d better stay and help Aunt Rachel.”

“Shoo. Scoot. Scat.” Aunt Rachel swished her apron at them. “Get on out of the kitchen and let me finish up in here. Go on now, before I have to take a broom and sweep you out.”

Russ’s smile was as gleeful as a child’s.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” He draped his arm around her shoulders as if it belonged there and led her out into the backyard.

Little children romped in the sunshine, their laughter high and spiraling, their sturdy legs pumping up and down as they tried to catch a bird and put salt on his tail. Russ felt the tug of home on his heartstrings. With Bea tucked safely under his arm and the laughter of children ringing in his ears and the smell of home cooking wafting through the screen door, he longed for home. Not just any home, but
his
home. A home he could call his own, a home with children and laughter and a wife who welcomed him with a kiss, a home with a dog curled in front of the fireplace and lots of books scattered on the bookshelves and tables, a home with a front porch and rocking chairs so he could sit outside in June and watch the fireflies.

It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he’d been running scared for too long. Perhaps some things were worth taking risks for.

“Catch, mister.” Sim tossed the ball Russ’s way, and Russ became tangled in a group of squirming, screaming children.

Bea sat on a swing under a magnolia tree, marveling at his ease with children, until he swooped by and tugged her into the game. She hadn’t romped that way since she was a child. In Dallas she’d never have considered tumbling on the ground and getting grass in her hair, but in Florence, with Russ at her side, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. And besides that, it was fun.

They were both breathless when the children finally tired of the game and moved on to bigger and better things—trying to dig a crawdad hole to China.

Russ and Bea sat side by side in the swing.

“I’m glad I stayed, Bea.”

“So am I.”

He reached out and covered her hand with his. “A man could get addicted to all this.”

“So could a woman.”

“How did you end up in Dallas, Bea?”

“Like most small-town girls, I longed for bright lights and big cities. I suppose I thought life would be better there, happier, fuller, richer.” She paused, looking out across the yard. “Funny how we don’t really appreciate the things we have until we’re far away from them.”

“Have you ever thought of coming back?”

She swiveled her head to look at him.

“Coming back?”

“Here. To Florence.”

“From time to time, I suppose. But my mother is happily married now, and so is Samuel. There doesn’t seem to be much point in coming back.”

They sat on the swing, holding hands and thinking of life and its many winding roads, and both of them wondered at their choices. Had they taken the right roads? Or had they turned left when they should have gone straight?

Russ was full of longings and needs that he couldn’t quite comprehend. And Bea was wishing for things she thought she couldn’t have.

And so the minutes passed by, and soon it was time to go inside for lunch.

o0o

Glory Ethel gathered the clan together in what she called her ballroom. Flushed and smiling, she rang a small silver bell. The noise in the room gradually died down.

“Every year,” she said, “the Adams clan gathers in Florence to celebrate the unity of family. And every year it seems our family grows. This year my husband, Jedidiah Rakestraw, joins us for the first time. Jed.” Smiling, she held her hand toward her husband. He came forward and linked his arm through hers.

“I’m also proud to announce that Jed’s beautiful daughter Molly won the heart of Florence’s die-hard bachelor—my son, Samuel Adams.”

There was a general hubbub of comments and laughter. Glory Ethel rang her little silver bell once more.

“The Adams family continues to grow. Rachel and Mack’s granddaughter has her fiancé with her this year, and Howard and Lucille are going to be grandparents for the fifth time.”

“Sixth,” Howard Adams corrected his sister-in-law.

“I must be getting old.” Glory Ethel laughed.

“Never.” Jed leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek. “You’ll never grow old, Glory Ethel.”

“On that fine note, let’s eat.... No. Wait.” Glory Ethel held up her hand. “My daughter’s friend, Russ Hammond, is with us this year. We welcome him.”

“Daddy,” a child in the back of the room said, “can’t we ever eat?”

With much laughter and good-natured teasing, the Adams clan began their meal. Glory Ethel loved parties and had outdone herself for this one. Folding tables had been set up, and each one sported a lace-edged white cloth and a bouquet of flowers. The long buffet table along the south wall was fairly groaning with food—ham and biscuits and fried chicken and sawmill gravy and beans, snapped fresh from Aunt Sukie’s garden and kept frozen till the reunion; cakes and cookies and tarts and pies, made from the apples straight from Uncle Howard’s backyard tree.

Bea and Russ sat at the table with Samuel and Molly. The meal was lively with lots of laughter and plenty of good conversation. Russ had almost forgotten what it was like to be in a crowd. And he couldn’t remember what it was like to be part of a family. He had no living relatives, and neither had Lurlene. So even their brief marriage had not provided him with a sense of belonging to some larger clan, of being a part of a family.

Suddenly all the conversation in the room stopped. Two women at the table behind Russ gasped, and Bea’s face turned white. He reached for her hand.

“Bea. What’s the matter?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway. Russ turned and saw a man standing there, a tall handsome man who bore a striking resemblance to both Bea and Samuel Adams.

“At ease, folks. I’m not a ghost.” The man’s dark eyes darted around the gathering, taking in everything. When he found Bea and Samuel, he strode forward.

“It’s Taylor Adams. Mack, it’s your nephew, Taylor.” Aunt Rachel’s voice carried around the room. “He has his gall.”

Bea watched in astonishment as her father came toward her table. He’d said he was not a ghost, but he might as well have been. In her heart, he’d been dead since he’d walked out on her mother all those years ago.

She gripped the edge of the table, hoping she was in the middle of a nightmare, hoping she’d wake up and discover she’d been dreaming. But he was real; she heard his voice, saw his black eyes. And he kept on coming.

When he was at their table, Taylor Adams stopped and leaned down to kiss Molly’s cheek. “My dear, you look lovely.” Then he reached out and gripped his son’s hand. “Samuel. Good to see you.”

Bea was frozen, speechless. Her brother was sitting across the table acting as if he’d seen Taylor yesterday, acting as if the man had done nothing more than leave them for a Sunday stroll.

“Bea.” Taylor’s voice was deep and rich as it had always been. She used to love for him to read bedtime stories to her. “You’re more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”

He came around the table toward her. She suddenly found the strength to move. Without saying a word, she left the table.

“Bea.” It was Taylor, calling after her. She kept on going.
Let him call. Let him see what it felt like to be left behind.
She maintained her dignity all the way to the door. Once she was out of sight of the relatives, she bolted. There was only one place she could go. She made her way down the hall and through the kitchen, intensely aware of the smell of fried chicken and the man she was running from.

The back door shut behind her, and she ran out so fast she lost one of her shoes. The thick grove of trees loomed ahead and she plunged in then sank to her knees. Pine needles and fallen leaves made a thick brown cushion. A squirrel, angry at her intrusion, chattered at her then scurried up a water oak tree and sat scolding on a branch.

She was sick to her stomach. Leaning over, she heaved, but nothing came up. She bowed her head and clutched at the earth.

“Bea.”

She didn’t even look up.

“Go away, Samuel.”

“No, Bea.” He sat down beside her.

She turned accusing eyes toward him. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew he’d be coming.”

“Yes.”

“How? Why?”

“How is a long story. After I married Molly, I realized that I couldn’t keep hiding my head in the sand. Taylor Adams left us. That’s true. But he’s still our father.”

“Maybe he’s yours. He’s not mine.”

“Yes, he is, Bea. What he did doesn’t change that.”

“A father takes care of his children. He picks them up and carries them to bed every night. He reads them stories and teaches them to play ball and cheers at their school plays and cries at their graduation. Taylor didn’t do any of that.”

“That wasn’t entirely his fault, Bea.”

“Are you saying it was Mother’s fault? How dare you!”

“Bea, I’m not saying Taylor didn’t make a terrible mistake. I’m not saying he was a good father. He wasn’t there to talk to us or to bandage our wounds or to cheer us on. But he
did
make some provisions for us.”

“What provisions?”

“Through Uncle Howard. I only found out about it two years ago.” Samuel smoothed his sister’s hair as he talked. He knew the healing power of touch. Molly had taught him that. “He set aside trust funds for our education. Mother was too proud to use them. She was determined to make it on her own.”

“She did, too. She didn’t need Taylor Adams.
I
don’t need Taylor Adams.”

“You do. You need him and you just don’t know it.”

“What can he do for me now? Watch while I drive off in my fancy used car? Take credit when I cash my salary check?” Fury made her eyes black. “What I am is due to my own ability and the love of my mother and my brother. I don’t owe him a damned thing, not even a decent hello.”

“You owe yourself, Bea.”

“It’s not like you to pussyfoot around, Samuel. Tell it to me straight. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“Then I’ll tell you straight out. We invited Taylor here.”