Moonlight Road (18 page)

From where she sat, she saw Art and Netta at the picnic table farthest from the crowd. They sat opposite each other and ate their hamburgers and potato salad, apparently completely content, though it didn’t appear they talked much at all. It was as though they each realized comfort in the mere presence of the other, and Shelby found herself thinking,
If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is
.

Brenda Carpenter’s fourteen-year-old sister, Leslie, had a group of little kids gathered in a circle, holding hands and playing ring-around-the-rosy; she made sure she held the hand of the littlest one. Shelby made a mental note to get to know Leslie just a little better; the moms around here had tipped her—you had to get your babysitters before they discovered boys and were allowed to date. Fourteen- to sixteen-year-old girls were perfect. Leslie had control of both the Sheridan kids, both the Haggerty kids, Rosie Riordan and Christopher Middleton, and held one of Abby Michaels’s twins on her hip. The moms occupied a picnic table not far away, enjoying a moment of peace without the kids climbing all over them.

Shelby’s brother-in-law Aiden moved silently up behind Erin Foley, put his hands on her shoulders and when she turned her head to smile up at him, he pulled her backward behind the church where they were out of sight. She laughed to herself. Aiden was trying to play it cool around his brothers, but really, who did he think he was kidding?

She heard Mel shout from the backyard. “Jack!” And then Jack turned away from the grill he was manning with Preacher and young Rick Sudder in time to see little David had wandered away from the ring-around-the-rosy game to go pee on a tree. Jack approached his small son and towered above him, hands on his hips, glaring down at him. Finally, David turned, yanked up his pants and grinned up at his dad, who was shaking his head in frustration or disappointment or maybe even pride. Jack crouched for a stern talk and a finger shake that promised one more of those moments would get David a good talking-to.

Tom Booth sat on the ground, leaning up against a tree, Brenda sitting between his long legs and leaning back against him. Nearby, Ricky’s fiancée, Liz, sat cross-legged on the ground visiting with them. The general and Muriel were sharing a picnic table and conversation with Maureen and George, Ellie and Noah. Kids and dogs ran everywhere; people sat in lawn chairs, on the ground, at tables, or just gathered in clumps to joke and laugh and catch up on the latest gossip. Preacher and Rick kept putting out food on the tables brought from inside; several coolers held iced beer, wine, sodas, water and juice. A donation jar was filling up—no one was ever charged for party food and drink, but tips were gratefully accepted.

Shelby felt the baby moving; the movements now were so powerful they could almost make her wince. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes and rocked. She might’ve even dozed for a moment or two. When she opened her eyes, Mel was standing in front of her, leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed over her chest. “Get plenty of rest now,” Mel advised. “It won’t be long before you have one peeing on a tree at the town picnic.”

“I saw that,” Shelby said with a chuckle.

“That’s Jack’s doing,” she said. “You’re going to want to watch out for Luke.”

“I caught a break there,” Shelby said. “He’s real careful about things like that—he doesn’t want Art dropping his drawers around the cabin guests.”

“Speaking of Art—there’s something new.”

“Netta. Luke and Art ran into her when they were shopping and it turned out Art and Netta had been in the same group home before and consider themselves boyfriend and girlfriend. She’s very sweet. I think it gave Luke quite a few new gray hairs….”

“Oh?” Mel asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“Luke does so well with Art, but he doesn’t always understand Art’s ways. He panicked—thought they’d have sex or something, get pregnant and move in with us. Look at them—how sweet is that? They’re obviously very dear to each other, but they aren’t going to rock Luke’s boat to the degree he feared when he realized Art had a girlfriend.” Shelby laughed and added, “You should’ve seen Luke’s face when Art asked if he should get married. I thought we’d have to revive him.”

“What did he say?”

“He pretty much choked and went white. I told Art no, he shouldn’t, because it would be hard to be married to someone who lives in Fortuna since he doesn’t drive a car and that settled it. For now. As I suspected, Art isn’t real clear on what marriage really means. I think Art is perfectly happy with us.”

“The baby will be exciting for him.”

“Big brother Art,” Shelby said. “Don’t get Luke all stirred up, but I’m having contractions. Not serious ones, but I might be warming up.”

“Good,” Mel said. “Maybe you’ll get your wish and the baby will come before Sean and Franci leave for his next assignment. Entirely possible—last time we checked you were headed in that direction.”

“Believe me, if I could go a little early, I wouldn’t be doing it for Franci and Sean.”

“Getting a little uncomfortable, huh?” Mel asked.

Shelby nodded. Then her eyes clouded and a tear spilled down her cheek. “I know this is just silly and emotional and I know it is completely impossible, but I wish my mother could have been around for this….”

Mel reached out and smoothed back some of Shelby’s hair, pushing it off her cheek. “I know, sweetheart. But I have a feeling she’s watching over you. And you certainly don’t lack for family!”

“Tell me about it. Some of them could just get lost for a while and I’d be fine.” She sniffed.

“Family getting on your nerves?” Mel asked.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong—they’re fantastic to the last one. All seven hundred of them.” Mel laughed at her. “Pregnant tears,” Shelby said, wiping off her cheek. “I never get any warning….”

Mel just chuckled. “I remember,” she said. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

“Brett Lucas Riordan,” she answered. Then she winced and said, “Ugh,” as a large bulge protruded from the left side of her belly. “Do you think he knows that’s not the way out?”

“My girl, you need to unload,” Mel said, shaking her head.

“Soon,” Shelby said. “And not a moment too soon!”

“I thought you weren’t going to make it today!”

“We had family stuff going on at my sister’s house,” Darla said. “But we still wanted to stop by and say hello. Mel, things are a little better. I wanted to thank you for being so sweet and kind.”

“Oh, I didn’t do anything that any friend wouldn’t do. Did you get some counseling?”

“More than I bargained for. We saw a therapist recommended by the fertility clinic and then spent a little time with Pastor Noah Kincaid. A good friend of mine goes to your church and said he was a wonderful counselor. He helped us a lot. We might have to give your church a try sometime.”

Mel smiled. “We love Noah. As I understand it, he was a counselor before he attended seminary. Very experienced. We’re lucky to have him. And I’m so glad you’re feeling a little better.” She shook her head. “There’s just no way I can express how sad it makes me that you and Phil haven’t had better luck, nor how sorry I am for your loss.”

“Time will heal,” Darla said.

“Where is Phil?” she asked, looking around.

“Over there.” Darla pointed. “Probably telling lies with Jack, Preacher and anyone who will listen.”

Mel saw Phil standing in a clot of men including Noah and Luke, holding a beer, talking and laughing. “Is he doing all right?” Mel asked.

“I know he grieves as much as I do,” Darla said. “But he’s so wonderful—he puts all his attention on making sure I’m all right. I don’t know if you can even understand this—probably the hardest part is that Phil should be a father. He’d be the best father in the world. He’s strong and patient and kind and has more love in him than any man I’ve ever known. I’m so lucky to have him.”

Mel smiled and gave Darla a hug. “Well, he’s pretty darn lucky, too.”

“Thanks for being there for us, Mel. You’ve been such a comfort.”

Mel wasn’t often moved to prayer—but in her heart she was saying,
God, can you cut these folks some slack here? They’re so ready for a break!

Once they were gone, she wondered why she hadn’t formulated a plan with Aiden, finding out just how soon they could next be together. She wanted to call him, but something from way back in junior high about not calling boys you liked prevented her from doing so. She might have been far braver if it hadn’t meant calling Luke’s house to get a message to him.

It was a very long morning until Aiden called her at noon. “Have you looked outside your front door yet?”

“Why?” she asked. “And why aren’t you
here?”

“Just look,” he said with a laugh. “And for once in your life, follow instructions.”

And he hung up on her. Just hung up!

She opened the front door and found a large white dress box outside the door. She brought it in and opened it. Right on top of piles of green chiffon was a note.
Dress up for me and be ready at seven—I’m picking you up. A.

She lifted the dress out of the box and actually winced. My God, it was obnoxious. All that fluffy emerald-green, flowing chiffon—she’d never buy something like that. Erin, five-nine and trim, was pretty much a little-black-dress woman. She strove for elegance and simplicity while this was entirely too froufrou for her. Did he just instinctively know she hadn’t brought any kind of evening or cocktail dress along to the cabin? Was he taking her to the best excuse for a fancy restaurant he knew and didn’t want her going in capris and flip-flops?

And as she examined the dress further, she realized that—ew—it wasn’t new! It did have dry-cleaning tags, but good Lord, it was a used dress! And with it came a pair of silver slip-on sandals.

She just frowned her confusion. Would he be terribly insulted if she took a quick run over to Eureka and found something a bit more to her tastes? Something she considered appropriate? She couldn’t even remember a time she might’ve bought a dress like this. It looked suspiciously like a bridesmaid’s or prom dress, but even when she was seventeen…

Prom.

She started to laugh to herself. Oh, he wouldn’t. Would he?

She had complained about missing the prom, and what appeared on her doorstep but a prom dress.

Perhaps it was premature and naive, but she trusted him. Completely and totally, she trusted Aiden. A woman of her age and experience didn’t put her body in the hands of a man without believing in him very strongly. So she shrugged and took the secondhand dress off to the bedroom.

She still remembered the things she’d jealously listened to the girls in gym class say about the long day of primping, going to the beauty salon, having manicures and pedicures, about the series of picture taking at her house then at his parents’ house—all things she’d never experienced. Well, she wouldn’t be experiencing them now, either, though it did cross her mind to drive into Fortuna or Eureka to find a beauty shop that would give her one of those old-fashioned updos, all piled ringlets and curls.

Instead, she tended her vegetable garden (soup pot and metal spoon nearby), showered, painted her toenails and fingernails pale pink and whiled away the time. Seven couldn’t get there fast enough.

When she tried on the dress, it was a bit too large and in a strapless, that wasn’t a good thing—one wrong move and it would be around her ankles. She had to tighten it up with safety pins. And of course she hadn’t brought a strapless bra to the mountains; she sagged a little bit, but he would just have to live with that. After all, he’d seen her naked and knew the thirty-six-year-old girls were starting to drop a bit.

She fussed over her hair, pinning it up and curling little dangling ends with her curling iron. By God, if she didn’t look exactly like a thirty-six-year-old senior in high school! At last there was a knock at the door.

She opened it with a smile and there he stood—wearing a tux and holding a plastic box of flowers! “Oh my God, I guessed right!” she said with a laugh. “We’re playing prom!”

He stepped inside and his free hand slipped around her waist to pull her close. He whispered against her lips, “When I’m done with you, you won’t feel like there’s anything you missed.”

She pulled back just slightly. “Are you planning to be done with me soon?”

He shook his head. “It will be a very, very long time, honey. Very.” Then he handed her a wrist corsage.

She opened it and sighed—an orchid. When she was in high school, the boys that put out for an orchid were
really
trying. She put it on her wrist and said, “This is fun, but I’m not sure I’m willing to be seen in public like this. Everyone will think we’re dressed for a costume party.”

“Well, if I remember right, first you go to dinner, then you go to the dance. Right?”

“I guess,” she said, nodding.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out four CDs—all late ’80s and early ’90s. Wilson Phillips, Billy Joel, Michael Bolton, the “new” Mariah Carey. “I picked only the slow ones. We have reservations at Jack’s. We’ll come back here to dance.”

“Ohhh, Aiden. You are the sweetest man…”

“And we’re going to do things we’d have gotten detention for. While we dance, I’m going to be all over you—kissing your neck, touching your breasts, begging…”

“You probably won’t have to beg….”

His lips were on her neck. “Of course, we have to do it in the backseat of the car….”

“I might draw the line there,” she told him.

“I bet I can talk you into it,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s go.” And he put out his arm to escort her.