Like Sweet Potato Pie (41 page)

“Can I take Christie?” He cradled her carefully in the crook of his elbow, his face bouncing from Becky to Adam to me. I gave a thumbs-up.

“Deal.” Becky winked at me and waggled her eyebrows, elbowing Adam. “I reckon we’ll take the looooong way over. With plenty of time, if ya know what I mean. Ya won’t get lost, will ya, bro?”

Adam laughed and shook his head as he opened the truck door for me. I scooted my snowy self into the truck, which smelled different than Mom’s car—a combination of aftershave and musty interior and potting soil, from bags tucked behind the seat. Business flyers and a ledger sat on the dash.

I moved a jacket and clipboard and buckled up, knees shivering, until Adam jumped in next to me and turned on the truck. I plastered my hands to the vents as Adam reached over and turned up the heat.

“You know where we’re going?” I felt nervous suddenly inside closed doors, not sure what to say. My voice sounded squeaky in my ears.

“Yeah. There’s this one little place they love. The coffee’s pretty terrible if you ask me, but don’t tell Becky that.”

As he glanced over his shoulder, hand on my seat back to check before backing out, I flipped down his visor and scrubbed the mirror clean. Pulled off my hat and tried to tame my hair, which stuck in all angles like I’d gone through a car wash without a car. The little makeup I’d slapped on this morning had fled with the geese for warmer climes.

Adam turned the wheel and started to move then abruptly shifted back into P
ARK,
truck idling.

“What?” I looked up from the mirror and flipped the visor closed. I couldn’t do anything short of a week-long shower and emergency call to Trixie.

“Shiloh, you’re … you’re beautiful.”

Something electric tingled in my stomach, like when I went over a bump on the sled. Weightless. Floating. For a split second. I felt my mouth open, wobbly, and closed it.

“Oh no. Not now.” I let my face sink into my hands.

“Yes, now.” He colored a little and fumbled with his keys, which dangled from the ignition. “I think you’re most beautiful when you’re like this.”

“No, I meant … Wait a second. You think I’m beautiful when I’m a mess?” I lifted a clump of hair in horror. Not sure how to undo the word tangle we’d both stepped into.

“Yes.” Adam pulled a glove off and smoothed my hair with his hand. I felt the tip of his warm palm rest on my cheek.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes, actually. It’s just that I love seeing you this way—happy, free, not caring how you look. You’re a pretty girl, Shiloh, but your heart is what shines the best.”

“Thanks.” I fumbled shyly with my gloves, remembering how not so long ago I’d bought thousand-dollar scarves and jackets and highlights to create some image I hoped would make me worth something. Make me forget my past.

“I mean it. You’re not plastic. You’re real and alive.” Adam touched a strand of my hair and let his hand rest on my shoulder. “Not trying to impress or be someone you’re not.”

Oh the irony of his comment in light of my years of lies and debt! My hands trembled so much I knotted them together.

For crying out loud. Adam Carter certainly wasn’t making my dilemma any easier.

“Adam.” I forced my mouth to move. “I told you I needed to talk to you.” I sucked in my quivering chest.

“About what?”

“About us.”

“What about us?” I thought I heard the soft catch of his breath over the drone of the air vent.

I opened my mouth to speak, fingers cold, and then—my evil nemesis—the cell phone. Adam’s. Beeping from his pocket in irritation.

I mentally banged my fist on the dashboard while he answered, eyes drifting away from me and coming to instant attention. Widening in shock.

“What? In Charlottesville? Today?”

He glanced at me with open jaw then hollered into the phone. “Go! Go! I’ll take care of Todd. Just come back to Mary Baldwin! We’re still here.”

“What’s wrong? Is Becky okay?” My hands flew to my mouth.

Adam pressed the phone off and turned to me with a dazed expression. “Tim just called,” he said, running a hand through his hair. It stood up in a messy wad, damp with melted snow.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe it!” He reached for the gearshift, jerking it into R
EVERSE.
“Shiloh, you just won’t believe it!”

And he backed out into the snowy street.

W
hat?” I shouted, throwing my hands forward into the dash and knocking Adam’s stuff off. I scrambled to pick it up, mouth gaping. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah! I can’t believe it myself!” Adam rubbed his hand across his jaw, eyes wide, and then laughed out loud. “That’s fantastic, Shiloh! Oh, we have to pray!”

His hand found mine as he reached for the gearshift, and we awkwardly squeezed them together. “Pray hard! They’ve been waiting for this for years, and it’s never panned out.”

My eyes fluttered shut as I remembered Becky and her baby-name book. Her hand curving over her pregnant belly as if trying vainly to protect it.

“They’re going to Charlottesville today? In this snow?” I craned to see out the window. A snowplow squeaked by in a patch of sun, lights flashing. Dumping piles of snow into fat, vertical drifts on either side of the road.

Adam glanced at his rearview mirror and edged out into the street, tires dropping down into glossy, hard-pressed tracks. “Right now. The interstate’s supposed to be clear.”

I waited, heart pounding, for Tim’s truck to pull up—and when it did, I leaned forward to memorize the look of dead shock on their faces. Becky’s mouth hung open, fingers clasped loosely across it.

“It probably ain’t nothin’!” she finally managed, waving away some snowflakes that blew in the open window. “Don’t wanna get our hopes up! We’re jest gonna check it out.”

“G’won!” I shouted to her, Jerry-style, waving my arm. “Git! Call us when you get back!”

I pulled open the door for Todd to climb in with wiggly Christie, letting in a blast of cold air, and scooted the seat forward so he could squeeze behind.

“So much for coffee,” I joked, slamming the door and adjusting the seat back. “Not that I’m complaining.”

My fingers, which wrapped around the edge of the seat, brushed Adam’s as he shifted gears, and I pulled my hand away, suddenly self-conscious in front of Todd.

“Says who?” Adam glanced over at me. “Come over. We’ll fix some at home while we wait.”

And he grabbed his cell phone, punching in numbers at the stoplight and putting it excitedly up to his ear.

The afternoon stretched endless. Not from boredom, but from waiting. And guessing. And speculating.

And so we mixed butter and sugar for cookies and preheated the oven, recounting everything to Vanna, who sat down in shock, the unopened bag of chocolate chips still in her hand.

When she finally got the scissors, her face had a hopeful look.

“I really hope it works this time,” she said carefully, wedding ring glinting in the overhead light. It matched her blond hair, shoulder length, a shade or two lighter than Adam’s.

“This time? Was there … another time?” My head swiveled between the two of them.

“About a year and a half ago. The birth mother changed her mind and decided to keep her. I think it was a her.” Adam washed a measuring cup, flour on his shirtsleeve. “They’d gone to the hospital and bought baby stuff and everything.”

“Oh no.” My heart sank.

“Of course it’s always good when a mother can keep and love her child,” said Vanna gracefully, passing the bag to Todd to measure out. “But I know Tim and Becky had a rough time with the whole process.”

I could see Tim’s cowboy boots walking sadly away from the waiting room at the hospital, empty-handed. The sympathy flowers. Becky’s teary eyes. It still felt so raw, even for me.
Oh, Lord … make this their first miracle of the year!

And I fixed my eyes on the silent phone, praying for it to ring.

It felt like we’d done nothing but wait all day when finally, just as we sat down at the dinner table, Tim’s truck rumbled up the driveway. We ran to the door and pulled them inside, and the hot bread just sat there getting cold while they talked.

“Ain’t so much ta tell jest yet,” said Tim, obviously shaken. He sat down at the table, forgetting even to take his coat off. “They just told us the heartbreakin’ story of this li’l newborn baby girl, how her mom’s goin’ through some hard times and can’t provide fer another baby.”

“Does she have a name?” I interrupted.

“Courtney.” Becky twisted a napkin in her shaking fingers. “The nurses named her. That’s all we know. But she was born four weeks early—jest a tiny little thing. They all thought she wouldn’t make it, but she’s a champ, and she did. Ain’t got no problems that they know of, ‘cept she needs somebody ta love her.”

Her eyes watered, and Vanna reached over and squeezed her hand.

Nobody touched the lasagna. I stared into my quivering water glass, willing myself not to cry.

“So you’re going back Monday? To see her for the first time?”

“That’s right. They didn’t have a pitcher of her ‘cause of all the snow. Lady who has the pitchers on her digital camera couldn’t come in.”

Becky dropped the fork she was playing with, fingers quivering. I got up and poured her a cup of hot coffee, and she sipped it. “‘Course if ya’ll can come with us on Mondee, I’d be honored.”

“You mean to the hospital?” I gasped, the coffeepot tipping in my hand. I jerked it upright. “In Charlottesville?”

“Yep.”

“You wouldn’t … mind if we came?” Adam leaned forward.

“Mind?” She punched him playfully in the arm. “Lands, it’s gonna take ev’ry ounce a strength I got jest ta walk into that place, thinkin’ I might be seein’ my own little daughter fer the very first time!” She paused to regain her composure. “‘Course it might not work out. But we gotta try, right Tim?”

“That’s right, sugar.” He put his arm around her. Then he seemed to remember he still had his coat on, and he shrugged it off. He ran his hand through his wild hair, eyes faraway and glazed.

“It would be so much easier if y’all’d come along. Yer family, ya know. All a ya.” Becky’s coffee cup clattered against the teacup, and I mopped up the spill with a napkin.

“Won’t you want some privacy?” asked Vanna. “It’s an important moment, Becky. Think about it.”

“Privacy? What do I need privacy fer? It ain’t like I’m gonna be givin’ birth or nothin’,” said Becky, making us all titter. “Best thing y’all ken do is make sure I don’t do nothin’ stupid to make ‘em think I’m unfit!”

I chuckled to myself and thought fast. “Monday, Monday …” I doubted Kevin would give me another day off after my snow day, but maybe I could … “Hey, how close is University of Virginia to the hospital?”

“Shucks, I don’t know. Ought not to be too far.”

“Kevin wanted me to do an interview there. Maybe I could schedule it for Monday afternoon and then—”

Becky’s eyes brightened, and she wiped them with the back of her hand. “Really? Ya think ya could?” She wiped her nose and pulled out her cell phone to call Faye. “How ‘bout you, brother a mine?”

Becky turned to Adam, and Vanna smiled, a warm smile that glimmered over the top of her coffee cup. Becky set her cup down and squeezed Adam’s shoulder, and he patted her hand.

I pretended not to notice. Instead I shook the melting ice in my glass, refracting against the clear sides like little rainbows. Vanna obviously loved Becky as much as Becky loved the Carters. Their friendship went way back—much further than mine.

I wondered, in a split-second thought, if Vanna and Cliff could ever love me the same way. Could ever think of me as a daughter, or at least a close friend—or give me that same fond smile they gave Becky.

But no. Like everybody else, Vanna would probably hate me, too, when I packed up my suitcases and left Virginia.