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Authors: Annie Jones

Deep Dixie (32 page)

BOOK: Deep Dixie
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Did you make this sofa, Miss Dixie?

Wendy bounced on the edge of the sofa in the front sitting room.


Honey, I told you I don

t actually make the sofas, I just...

Dixie followed the child

s movements, her own head bobbing. The hairbrush in her hand waved up and down, never so much as grazing the dark brown hair she was attempting to smooth into some semblance of neatness.

Honestly, sweetheart, trying to brush your hair today is like trying to put one of Peachie Too

s hats on Aunt Sis at the supper table.


You couldn

t do that!

Wendy pointed an accusing finger.

As Dixie had hoped, the flaw in her thinking got the six-year-old to stay in one place long enough for Dixie to get the brush through her hair and a barrette at the ready to hold it in place.

You can

t put anything on Aunt Sis during supper, not a hat nor nothing,

cause Aunt Sis don

t sit still for a minute then.


Doesn

t
sit still.

Dixie swept the child

s hair back from her face and snapped the gold clasp in place.


Doesn

t sit still. Not for one minute.


There! Now you

re all set for when your grandmother comes to move in with us today

Dixie sighed, but that did not alleviate an ounce of her anxiety over Verdi Walker

s imminent arrival.

For the past two weeks, Riley

s mother had stayed in Deepwoods with a family friend, using that time to recover from her surgery and establish her physical therapy routine. It had taken some bold reassurances on Riley

s part, but he had finally convinced his mother that the Fulton family descendants lived a peaceful existence and were, in the bigger scheme of things, not so peculiar as some people had said.

Every other day Riley had made the three-hour round-trip drive to visit his mother, check her progress, and get things in order. He brought over only what they would need and packed the rest up to go into temporary storage. He

d always made a day trip of it, planning his leave of absence to coincide with the time Wendy was in her first-grade class at her new school, which she loved. Last night was the first time he had been gone overnight, leaving Dixie in charge of his precious daughter.

They

d had a wonderful time, playing with Baby Belle and Peachie Too. Wendy had made quite an adventure of going through Dixie

s closet, dressing up in the fanciest clothes, shoes, and costume jewelry and even smearing on a little lipstick when Dixie had turned her back for one moment.

Dixie made a quick inspection of the child

s face to make sure she hadn

t missed a spot of that during last night

s bath. After all, Wendy had gotten the stuff everywhere—on her hands, in her hair, and even a little on her lips. When Riley and Verdi walked in that door in a few minutes, Dixie wanted everything to be perfect. She wanted to show Mrs. Walker and Riley that Wendy was in good hands. Dixie looked at the little girl and her heart swelled. She touched the child

s cheek then leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of her head.


Aunt Sis would look funny in one of Peachie Too

s hats.


You think so? Funnier than usual?

Miss Lettie

s furrowed face expressed teasing
thoughtfulness.

Wendy giggled, both hands over her mouth.


Sure is good to hear the sound of children

s laughter in this house again!

The old rocker went to creaking out a slow, methodical tempo.

Dixie nudged Wendy off the sofa and seized the opportunity to work in the subject of Lettie

s greatgrandchild.

You know, Miss Lettie, Wendy doesn

t have to be the only child laughing in this house—


Oh, I know it, lamb. I pray for that all the time, and now Mr. Walker has come to stay with us.

She patted her gnarled hands together just above her lap.

I hope you two has a whole house full of children and that I

ll be alive to see every last one of them born.

Dixie stared at her, her well-planned comments vanishing in the face of this startling comment.

Miss Lettie! Riley and I aren

t... We never...

She put her hand to her suddenly aching head. How did you tell a frail, elderly woman who

d just wished to live long enough to see you have children that she should forget it without sounding like she might as well just give up and die now because it was never going to happen?


Miss Lettie, Riley and I aren

t even married.


I know, not yet you

re not, but—


Dixie and my daddy are getting married?

Wendy leapt in the air.

Hooray! Hooray!


No, honey, we

re not. Miss Lettie is just a little confused about—


Can I be in the wedding? I know just what I

ll wear.

Wendy whirled around and darted up the stairs.


Don

t change your clothes, Wendy, I

ve got you dressed just right for greeting your grandmother!


C

mon, Aunt Sis, help me get ready,

was her only reply.


No lipstick!

Dixie demanded.


I have to wear lipstick,

came Aunt Sis

s protest.

Dixie turned to find Miss Lettie humming happily and rocking.


Now just look at all the mischief you

ve started!

Dixie shook her head.

Miss Lettie tapped her foot and hummed a little louder.

Dixie shut her eyes. She wasn

t angry or panicked, not yet, but she certainly didn

t possess Miss Lettie

s abiding calm about the situation. Any minute now Verdi Walker would come into this house and get her first impression of them.


Here comes the bride...

Sis was belting out the words to the tune Dixie now recognized Lettie had been humming. Dixie

s aunt descended the staircase in grand fashion, Peachie Too snarling in her arms. Looking a bit like a slightly deranged Southern belle reliving the triumph of her debutante ball, the woman drifted downward slowly, singing
la-la-la
in place of the lyrics.

Sis caused such a racket, the Judge popped out of his office—the sitting room just to the right of the staircase—and hollered.

Can

t anyone get any work done around this place?

Wendy appeared at the top of the stairs in one of Dixie

s old formals, a half slip on her head like a bridal veil, and carrying the bowl of potpourri from the bathroom as a flower girl might carry delicate rose petals.

The sight set Lettie laughing like a hen cackling on the nest.


Quiet, ya

ll, please!

Grandpa flung his arms out and stomped his foot as if making a call to an invisible little leaguer.

I am trying to practice my umpiring technique for heaven

s sake!

Above the chaos of Lettie cackling, Sis la-la-ing, Peachie Too barking, and Grandpa stomping, waving his arms and calling out

Safe!

, Wendy tossed back her satiny white
headcovering and announced to the world,

I am practicing for Dixie and Daddy

s wedding.


If this is your idea of a peaceful, ordinary family, son, then I don

t think I raised you right!

Dixie spun around to see the look of stunned horror on the face of an older woman standing next to Riley in the open doorway.

Welcome, Mrs. Walker!

 

* * *

 


Every time this phone rings, I almost jump out of my skin.

Riley clicked off the cell phone and pitched the thing gently onto a crumpled-up canvas tarp in the middle of the floor.


Who was it this time?

Dixie glanced up from where she was rolling a length of pale blue wallpaper out on their makeshift workable. Riley took in her overalls, gray work shirt and her hair pulled back into a ponytail underneath a red baseball cap, and held back a grin.


Just Mavis going over some rough spots in last week

s paperwork.

He pushed up the sleeves of his faded maroon sweatshirt.

Almost a month of seeing my writing on the forms and she still can

t tell my fours from my sixes.


Guess you

re thankful that

s all it was.

She measured the long strip of thick paper once, stood back and scrunched up that adorable face of hers, then measured again.


Yeah, ever since Fulton ran those ads, I

ve lived in dread that Marcia would call. Or worse, just show up.

In a show of good faith, and to meet certain legal requirements, Fulton had placed a notice in the newspaper of any town where they knew Marcia had lived or worked. In theory, this would give her one last chance to come forward and either defend or resign her rights to Wendy. In reality, Riley felt it was asking for trouble.


Funny, that

s one of the things I used to pray would happen, that Marcia would call or one day just come home. That she

d pull herself together and want to make amends for all the grief she

d caused Momma. I thought she might realize what a terrific kid she

d left behind and grow up enough to be a part of Wendy

s life again, not to take her from me, but to lend another layer of love and support.


I don

t doubt for a minute that you always truly longed for that to happen.

Dixie flopped the paper down, practically sprawling her upper body over it to get it to lie smooth then shot him as serious a look as her position allowed.

If there

s one thing I

ve learned sitting across from you over a couple of meals a day and in session with you at a few never-ending meetings at work, you put the people you care about first. Even before your own wants and desires.

He

d kept his vow to stay away from her, even though every day he spent in her company—especially days like today when she looked at him that way—made him long for something more with her. Still, their present conversation only reinforced to him how much was at stake. So many people were counting on them for so many things that he didn

t dare risk being distracted... not even by Dixie. He would be content with the friendship that had grown strong between them.

BOOK: Deep Dixie
13.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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