The Promise of Rainbows (9 page)

Susannah’s moss-green eyes met his, and for a moment, he didn’t feel his feet. His clumsy fingers almost let the rose fall.

“Careful, Jake!” Annabelle shouted beside him.

Tammy immediately shushed her.

“But Mama,” she protested. “He almost dropped it. He wasn’t paying attention.”

Not only were his ears burning now, but his cheeks had to be bright red too. Imagine a little mite like her calling him out for not paying attention. Even though it was true. Smiling just a bit, Susannah took the rose from him.

Moments later, Rye appeared by his side and pulled him toward the door to the family room. “We’re going down to the recording studio. Y’all holler if you need anything.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before,” Tory called out, going back to stuffing large mushrooms with a mixture made out of what looked like butter and herbs.

“Can I come, Uncle Rye?” Annabelle asked, rushing over.

“Not right now, half-pint,” Rye said, which put an instant frown on her face. “Jake and I are going to write a song with your daddy.”

Tammy looked over her shoulder. “I can hear your hints from a mile away, Rye.”

“Marry the man, Tammy, for the love of God,” Rye said in an aggrieved voice.

J.P. leaned down to kiss Tammy’s cheek. “Don’t let anyone pressure you, sweetheart. I know you’ll marry me when you’re ready.”

“But
when?”
Annabelle called out in a half wail. “I want to go back and live at his house.”

“Enough of that,” Tammy said, hugging her daughter. “It’ll all happen in good time. Now, why don’t you help your aunts peel potatoes?”

“But I hate peeling potatoes,” Annabelle said with a wider frown.

“Then run on outside and play,” Tammy said in a crisp tone, a little shorter than usual.

Annabelle raced out of the room. “See you later, Jake. I’m going to find Rory.”

Jake met Susannah’s eyes as he left the kitchen with J.P. and Rye. She was still holding her rose pressed against her chest. The moment stayed with him as he followed his friends downstairs to Rye’s recording studio.

His contribution to their song was a string of lyrics involving giving the woman you love a passel of roses. Rye got a bit misty-eyed when he offered up a couple of lyrics about giving red roses to his wife when she gave him a baby. J.P. gazed at him thoughtfully before suggesting they write a song about all the times a man is supposed to give a woman flowers, which they agreed would be a powerful message.

Clayton joined them for a time, and they broke out a single batch bourbon that warmed his belly. Some time later, Tory called out that dinner was ready, and they all headed back upstairs.

Jake greeted Amelia Ann, who was now helping the others in the kitchen. Then he shook hands with Rye’s parents, who had arrived while they were downstairs. In the few times Jake had met Rye’s mama, she’d seemed like a harsh, bitter woman. But tonight she was holding hands with the husband who’d separated from her months ago, and she glowed with a renewed radiance he recognized as love.

Rye pulled him aside and led him into the dining room. “My parents seem to have reconciled for the moment. It came after Christmastime. They’re not back to living with each other yet, and if that’s not the weirdest thing you’ll ever hear, I don’t know what is. But they seem to be happy, so I’m happy for them.”

Jake knew Rye had been estranged from his family for many years after becoming a country singer. His reconciliation with them was recent, fostered in many ways by his Yankee wife. Jake doubted he would ever reconcile with his own family. Sometimes estrangement was sadly for the best.

“I appreciate you letting me know about your folks,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

Rye snorted. “Shoot. I sound more like a greeting card than a man should these days, and it’s only going to get worse. Excuse me for a sec.”

He walked over to his wife, whom he hugged like a gentle bear. She patted him on the chest and nodded.

“Everyone,” Rye called out. “Grab a seat, please.”

Annabelle appeared beside Jake like a homing pigeon and took his hand. “You’re sitting beside me and Aunt Susannah.”

The little girl led him to the other side of the table, and sure enough, there was one lone seat open for him. Reverend Louisa was sitting way too close to him for comfort, but he forced himself to give her a weak smile.

Rye put his arm around Tory as they stood at the head of the table. “Usually we buffet the meal, but today demanded something special. These family dinners have come to mean a lot to all of us, and I’m happy Jake could join us today since he’s a good friend to many of us here.”

Jake coughed to dislodge the emotion clogging his throat, and Annabelle reached for his hand again. Susannah patted his arm, and suddenly he felt like he
was
a part of this family—the sort of family he’d always longed to have.

“Tory and I have some special news, and because she’s going to have to do more of the work, I think she should be the one to tell you.”

A huge smile stretched across Tory’s face as she looked at the rest of the family. “Rye and I are having a baby.”

The entire table erupted with whoops and exclamations. Chairs scraped the floor as people lurched to their feet and ran up to the happy couple. Jake watched as Annabelle ran off and wiggled her way through the crowd.

“Yay!” the little girl shouted. “I’m going to have a cousin.”

“You sure are,” Rye exclaimed, throwing her up in the air.

Jake hung back to let the family have its moment. When everyone started to take their seats again, he finally headed over to give his well wishes.

“I wondered if this was your news, given the lyrics you suggested downstairs,” Jake said, grabbing his friend in a hug and pounding his back.

“You’re writing a song about the baby?” Tory asked, tears popping into her eyes.

Rye wiped at his own eyes. “Don’t I write songs about you? I have to include our baby, right?”

“Oh, Rye,” she said, and they embraced again.

Jake made tracks to give them privacy and took his seat between Annabelle and Susannah. The little girl was bouncing in her seat from the news, but it was Susannah who drew his gaze. She was brushing aside the tears streaming down her face. Her eyes met his, and she shrugged.

“I’m so happy for them,” she said as more tears rolled down her face.

Without thinking, Jake picked up his cloth napkin and blotted a few of those tears before he had the presence of mind to stop. When he looked away from her, her mama and sisters were all staring at him. He grabbed his water glass and chugged the contents. Good Lord. Could he be any more obvious?

When Rye and Tory finally found their seats, Louisa—there, he’d remembered not to call her Reverend like she’d asked—led them in grace. Of course, all it did was remind Jake of her sermon again. While he feasted with the others on the beef and pork roasts and the heap of sides, he made sure to keep his mouth full so no one would say much to him.

Well, no one save sweet little Annabelle. She talked to him throughout the meal, never needing him to reply. For a small thing, she sure did have a lot of words inside her. Susannah’s mouth curved often, so Jake could tell she was amused by the situation. Beyond that, she said little, except to Shelby, who sat on her other side. But he couldn’t get comfortable because he’d caught Louisa watching him more than once. She was stewing something fierce, was all he could think. He made a vow he would leave as soon as dinner ended.

After the platters and bowls were scraped clean from the men’s second and third helpings, Rye carried in the biggest chocolate cake on the planet. Atop it was a plastic Elvis, which made everyone laugh.

“Uncle Rye dressed up as Elvis once,” Annabelle told him. “He’s so silly sometimes.”

And Rye was in fine form—laughing as he ate cake, talking about all the changes he was going to have to make to be a good daddy. For some reason, Rye thought he was going to have to wear jeans that weren’t so form fitting, and this made everyone, including his wife, break into laughter.

“Your career will tank for sure if you can’t show off your assets,” Tory teased him.

“What’s assets?” Rory asked seriously.

Tammy wiped her mouth to hide her smile. “It’s like the gifts God gives you. Eat your cake.”

Annabelle rose onto her knees and said, “Uncle Rye! Now you’re really going to have to start talking to flowers. Especially if you have a baby girl.”

The man visibly shuddered. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Tory rubbed his back.
“Breathe.
You’re going to be just fine.”

And so the famous country singer took deep breaths as everyone around the table polished off their cake and offered parenting suggestions, serious and otherwise.

“Susannah,” Rye called out finally when his color returned to normal. “Why don’t you show Jake my patch of Dare River? I would, but I’d like to stay with my lovely wife here and finish my cake.”

Jake could smell a stink bomb when it was dropped. Anyone could have shown Jake the river. As a suggestion, it was plumb crazy. Besides, didn’t he live upriver as well? But that didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful for the excuse to spend time with her.

“I’d like that,” he said, rising from his chair. “I don’t think we’ll even need a coat it’s so pleasant out.”

“Mama made me wear a coat earlier, but I was hot,” Annabelle said.

Tammy put her hand on the little girl’s leg and gave her a look when she started to scoot out of her chair to follow them. Was
everyone
intent on setting them up? When he caught Clayton’s gaze, the man was biting his lip. Yeah, it pretty much seemed to be a group conspiracy. Shucks.

Susannah gave Rye a knowing look, but even so, she let Jake help her out of her chair. As they walked out, all conversation in the room seemed to cease until Annabelle called out,
“Ah,
don’t they look sweet together.”

Someone shushed her, and Jake increased his pace to the French doors at the back of the house.

“Goodness me,” Susannah said, fanning herself like she was a mite warm. “That was terribly awkward.”

“You think?” he asked with a laugh. “I’ve never known a room to grow so quiet.”

“We don’t need to walk to the river, you know,” she told him as they walked down the path through the garden. “We can hang out here for a while and then head back inside. Maybe they’ll stop pushing. Rye just wants everyone to be as happy as he is.”

Jake suspected it was more than that, but he refrained from commenting. “I wouldn’t mind a walk to the river after that meal.” He wished he could say he would do anything to walk to the river with her every night.

She turned to look at him, and he saw the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. “Okay then. We’ll walk.”

They meandered through the garden, past a well-used tree swing, and then angled over to the river’s edge. The sun was bright, and the weather was mild for January. Still, Jake took off his denim jacket and put it around Susannah’s shoulders because he…well, he wanted to make this moment into something…more.

“I’m not cold,” she protested even as she wrapped the jacket around her. “But I like this jacket. You gave it to me before.”

“I did,” he said, heartened she remembered.

Her soft sigh warmed his heart, and he gestured to the bench beside the river. He sat down next to her when she took a seat, but still maintained the distance he’d imposed earlier at services.

A heron took flight from the trees across the river and circled the water, its mighty gray wingspan awe-inspiring. A white egret struck at something on the shore across the way. Jake settled his back against the bench, relaxing for the first time all day.

“I’m glad you came,” Susannah said softly, scooting over a fraction.

Her hand was so close to his on the bench. He wanted so badly to reach for it and wrap it around his own.

“I’m glad I did too.”

The sunlight caught her hair, highlighting the reds and golds wrapped in the brown of her curls. The urge to ask her to dinner swelled in him again. Instead, he made himself bite his tongue. Hard.

“I’m sorry if my family was…implying things,” she said, wringing her hands in her lap.

He didn’t ask her to clarify what she meant. They both knew. “They’re looking out for you. Don’t concern yourself. In fact, I’m honored they would think I was good enough to walk out with you.”

Her body shifted on the bench, enough that her shoulder brushed his. He turned his head to look at her. The moss-green eyes he found so enchanting were luminous. The air around them seemed to suddenly still.

To bring them both back to earth, he said, “I was ah…serious about you painting a mural in my house. I would love something in the dining room.”

She immediately broke eye contact, fussing with her dress. “I don’t usually paint for clients. I could commission someone much more talented.”

This time he had to touch her hand. She jumped at the connection, her gaze flying to his.

“You
are
talented,” he said roughly. “Don’t sell yourself short. Ever.”