Like Sweet Potato Pie (47 page)

A million cars clogged Faye’s driveway on the morning of her wedding. Her relatives had arrived from West Virginia and Kentucky, with several more due in any time, and I stepped over crepe paper streamers, discarded suitcases, and white-wrapped packages on the way through the door. My arms full of daffodils and yellow satin ribbon.

“Oh my lands!” Faye rushed through the house, trying to remember where she’d put the ice or the clear nail polish for Aunt Fanny’s fraying stockings. She’d just had her hair done, and her chic floral dress sparkled. New, I might add. I helped her buy it.

“Shiloh, honey, thank goodness yer here! How do I look?”

“Gorgeous.” I hugged her tight and tried not to think about how our afternoons would change. Our phone calls, our coffee visits. Faye would still love me, with all the tenderness of her great heart, but I’d be a distant second now. All as it should be.

“And you in that yella dress I picked out!” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head at me. “All the single fellas’ll be buggin’ their eyes out! Especially—” She started to say Adam, I figured, but stopped herself. “Well, anyway, you’ll look real pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you. Earl’s probably trying to peek in the window just to catch a glimpse. Now, don’t you dare let him see you in your dress, Faye!”

“Don’t be silly! That’s an old wives’ tale about good luck an’ whatnot. I don’t believe in that mess.”

“Neither do I, but it’s your wedding! You have to make him wait.” I said it so sternly that she laughed again. “Promise me!”

When she did, I pulled out a little wrapped box.

“For me?” Faye’s eyes rounded behind her glasses.

“Well, I’m certainly not getting married.” I held it out. “Please open it.”

“Aw, sugar, ya didn’t need to do that.”

“I want to. And there’s … an explanation.”

“What?”

“Open it.”

Faye graciously took the package then tore off the springy rose-patterned paper and lifted out a velvet box. Opened the lid to reveal a pair of delicate amethyst-drop earrings, just the shade to match her dress and ring.

“Oh, doll, these are jest beautiful! These are …” And then I saw it. The delight in her eyes that shifted swiftly to recognition. “These are Ellen’s, honey.”

“My mom’s. I know.”

“They were her favorites. She used ta tell me …” Faye’s blue eyes started to tear up, and she lifted one of the earrings, turning it in the light.

“That I always loved it when she wore them. I remember.” I swallowed the bulge in my throat. “Please put them on.” My fingers shook as I took off the silver backing.

“Now? Are ya sure? I can’t take yer mama’s special jewelry, sugar.”

“You’re not. I’m giving them. Please. Do it for me.”

Faye sniffled as she took out her pearly studs, replacing them with the amethyst drops. They looked so elegant, dangling by her hair. Just like they used to sparkle by Mom’s so many years ago.

“You’re my second mom now, so I thought they’d suit you just fine. I was right. You’re beautiful.” I squeezed her hand. “Go make Earl proud. And Mom, too.”

Faye put an arm around me, and we just stood there a minute, looking out over the mess that was now her house. Suitcases and bags and wedding presents everywhere. Ribbons and shoes and potted gerbera daisies.

For a moment I could feel in my soul the goodness of God and how special Faye was to me. And somehow I to her. Resurrection again! And what better way to celebrate the resurrection of my life—and Jesus’—than just before Easter, with two people I loved pledging their lives together.

Before I could speak again, a noisy car pulled up, people laughing and shouting and banging doors, and Faye introduced me to funny relatives from Kentucky who didn’t speak any form of English I’d ever heard. And the moment slipped away.

But I stored it in my heart, like the memory of Mom wearing those pretty amethyst drops to an art show, arm-in-arm with me.

I lugged my stuff to an empty bedroom then put on my dress. I smoothed my hair down under a wide, white headband, bangs swept to the side, and sprayed on a fruity shine serum. Put in little daisy earrings I’d bought from an art bazaar. Spritzed on springy perfume and stepped into white-and-linen wedge-type sandals. And then I headed out to put together the daffodils for Faye’s bouquet.

My arms overflowed with yellow when Tim and Becky arrived. Becky in a smashing pale blue-and-white gingham checked dress, and Macy in something mint green and lacy. We all looked like a bunch of pastel Easter Peeps.

“Hold these,” I ordered Tim, handing him the daffodils. “I need to tie on the ribbon.”

He jerked his hands back as if bitten by a snake. “Flowers? I ain’t holdin’ no flowers!” he groused. “They’s gonna make my hands smell all sweet!”

“Heaven forbid.” I rolled my eyes. “Tie the ribbon then.”

For a new dad, Tim had picked up on the ribbon-tying awfully quick. He made nice big loops and left long, yellow, satiny curls hanging down as I instructed him.

“You’re going to be good at hair,” I said, watching his steady hand as he fixed the bow. “Just wait ‘til you get into braids and barrettes.”

“Shoot, Yankee! I don’t know nothin’ about all that! I’m just gonna take ‘er fishin’. Ta heck with hair!”

“You say that now.”

Although Tim did sport a striped Western-style shirt and cowboy boots. Bolo tie. Vic Priestly NASCAR baseball cap. Maybe I was wrong.

“You’re going to wear a baseball cap to Faye’s wedding?” I took back Faye’s bouquet and wrinkled up my nose.

“Shucks, why not? Ain’t no black-tie affair.” He grinned. “I might take it off when she comes down the aisle. Mebbe.”

Adam at least put on a shirt and tie, but when he arrived I found myself so knee-deep in fixing the gift table, setting up chairs, and lining the aisle with white and yellow gerbera daisies that I could barely say a civil “hello.” Instead, to my surprise, he jumped in beside me—tying silky, transparent crepe ribbon along the aisle, looping it from folding chair to folding chair, and then set out more chairs and stacked more gifts while I wrote down the names.

Then Adam disappeared to his truck and returned with mounds of flowers: super-fragrant Easter lilies in creamy white, pink-speckled stargazer lilies, and potted tulips and hyacinths. We stacked them around the simple arbor where Pastor Davis would speak then set to work tying stems of lilies into the arbor.

“The arbor still looks bare,” I said, tilting my head.

“I know.” Adam studied it, chin in hand. “Like it’s got holes in it.”

“Any ideas?”

“Just one.”

“What?”

“Come with me.” He held out his hand a bit hesitantly, and I awkwardly grasped it as we hurried across the grass toward the woods. Me trying not to fall in my sandals and ruin my dress.

We saw them at the same time: redbuds and dogwood trees, blooming pink and white in the riot of new greens. Adam pulled out his pocketknife and sliced off slender twigs full of blooms, handing them down to me.

“Are you sure? This one looks like poison ivy.” I jerked my hands away from a flowerless green vine.

“It’s Virginia creeper. Five leaves, not three.” Adam’s voice sounded distant, almost cold. “It’s a weed, but I think it’ll work to cover the bare spots on the trellis.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I pretended great interest in the wedding party, bright spots in the distance through the trees. A chilly wind blew, scattering fuchsia redbud blossoms across the ground.

“So you heard the news about Rick,” said Adam finally, grunting as he shimmied partway up a small tree to cut a few more stems.

“That he’s going to Georgia? I heard. Congratulations. I would have called, but …” I shifted the branches in my arms, not sure how to explain myself.

Adam didn’t look at me. I watched his knife slice off a branch, and then he dropped to the moist, mossy ground, brushing himself off. “No. He’s not going.”

“What?” I hollered, flinging my arms up in the air. The branches went everywhere, and Adam bent to scoop them up. “What do you mean he’s not going?”

“I mean he’s not going.” Adam clicked his pocketknife and stuck it in his pocket, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “And that’s that.” He lifted his eyes to mine in a split-second ray of blue then looked abruptly down at the branches. Kneeling down to gather them up one-by-one, and shaking off the dirt.

I squatted down awkwardly in my dress, ignoring the scattered blooms. “Why, Adam? Why isn’t Rick going? He won that scholarship! He was supposed to—”

I broke off at Adam’s silence as he smoothed the branches then piled them together and held them out to me. I clumsily stood and put my arms out.

“Rick asked them to give the scholarship to a buddy of his who’s worse than he is.” He stood and sifted through some boughs, struggling with his words. “The guy burned something like seventy-five percent of his body and lost a leg and an arm. He lives in Marietta, Shiloh. That’s less than an hour from the rehab center.” He let the twigs go. “Rick says he can make it. And he’s afraid his friend won’t without help.”

“Rick.” Tears welled up as I arranged the branches in my arms, gently patting the blooms. “He’s really a hero.”

“He is.” Adam turned away, ducking under a thick limb. He held it out for me and I walked under, as if stepping under a wedding arch.

“So you’re going to Atlanta without him? I heard you have some work lined up there.” I smoothed my hair where twigs grabbed at it.

“No.” Adam turned suddenly to face me, hand trembling on a rough tree trunk. “I’d already told Rick I couldn’t go with him.”

“You what?” I cried.

“Don’t drop those again!” Adam scolded, taking the bunch from me. “We’ve got to hurry. The arch isn’t done yet, and …” He checked his watch and marched through the lush spring thicket, leaving me stammering to myself.

I came to my senses and stomped after him, trying not to fall on the roots and twigs. Wondering how in the world Adam and I always ended up in the messy woods with too-nice clothes.

“You’re staying?” I grabbed my head in my hands.

“Yes. And I’ve been accepted at James Madison University in Harrisonburg. I start in the fall.” He kept his eyes on the tree above him, pulling down a creamy white, bloom-laden bough. His voice thin and tight.

I swiveled my head, feeling like two semitrucks on Interstate 81 just hit me at the same time. “School? You’re going back to school?”

“Engineering. Don’t ask me how I got in. It’s a miracle. My scores aren’t that good anymore now that I’ve been out of academics for so long.” He whacked off the stalk of dogwood with more force than necessary.

“Congratulations, but … What am I saying? How could you abandon Rick?” I practically shouted.

“What? I didn’t abandon anybody.” Adam whirled around. “It took me two full weeks to decide, Shiloh. And in the end I realized that I’ve got my own life to lead, and Rick is man enough to understand. He knows I love him more than just about anyone on earth.” He waved a free arm at me. “If anyone did any abandoning, it’s you.”

“Me?” I stepped back angrily. “Just because I applied for a job in Japan?”

“Yes. I’m happy for you. Don’t get me wrong. I know it’s your dream, and I’m … well, proud of your work. You were always too good for this town anyway. I’m not your type. None of us are.”

I clenched my fists, my breath coming fast. “No, you’re not! And I’m not yours. So what?”

Adam barely seemed to have heard me, turning away slightly to shake his head. “All we have here is …” He lifted a lifeless arm and dropped it, gazing out through the trees at the field, which bordered a fenced-in cow pasture. “You know something? Part of why I stayed is to make something of myself. For you. To see if I could change your mind, and if not, at least start living my own life as a man on my own two feet. Go back to school. Start my life over.”

“What did you say about me?” I felt the color drain out of my face.

“Becky said you didn’t seem happy when you talked about moving back to Japan. So did Faye and everybody else. I could see it a mile away, Shiloh—crazy as that sounds, it’s not what you want.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “Except I was wrong. It is. You don’t even speak to me anymore, and you’re packing up. So be it.” He flung an arm in my direction. “You couldn’t wait to leave Staunton anyway.”

“What? I took a writing job here, too!” I put my hands on my hips.

“Until you could leave.”

“No. Not exactly.” Heat rushed to my cheeks, thinking of why I’d signed on with
The Leader.
Hoping to sort out things with Adam. “I had more reasons than that.”

“Why, then?”

“Well, for starters, so I can have a place to live,” I snapped. “Unless I can come up with an absurd amount of money in a week and a half.”

“Why? Why do you keep saying that?”

I spat out a sigh, looking away. “My stupid back taxes, okay? The IRS is going to take the house, and I’ll be homeless. You’ve got your family, Adam. I don’t have anybody.”

“You have more people than you think you do,” his voice shot back, fraying with emotion around the edges.

I flinched, crossing my arms tightly to hide their shaking.

“And that’s not the only reason I took my job at
The Leader.
I knew what I was doing. I took it because …” I swallowed, turning to meet his gaze. “But before all that, I want to know one thing.”