Detours (15 page)
Ellis accepted Mary’s kiss, then opened the Xterra’s hatch. Ellis sat down, propelling herself far enough into the cargo compartment that she could lean against the back side of the backseat. She drew her right ankle up to rub it. Mary followed her to the vehicle and sat with her legs hanging down to the ground. “Do you think it will be that soon?” Ellis asked.
“Nathan wants to list the house right away, maybe even next week.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until spring and let Natalie finish the school year?”
“Yes and no. Nat knows these plans are in the works, and you can bet she’ll badger us day and night about when we’re moving. It will be a major distraction for all of us, so the sooner we get settled in our new place, the sooner she can get into a new routine.”
“What about you, Mary?”
“What about me?”
“Are you looking forward to a new routine, too?”
“Yeah, there is a new routine I want in my life—a routine with you.”
“But you’ll be in Clarkesville, and I’ll be in Tucker.”
“You make it sound like it’s Guam and Greenland.”
“Might as well be.” Ellis rubbed her ankle again.
“How bad does it hurt?” Mary wrapped her fingers around Ellis’s ankle.
“Not too bad. Standing on the cold ground made it ache a little.”
Mary gingerly probed the area beneath Ellis’s sock. “Feels like it might be swollen, too. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have made you stand that long.”
Ellis laced her fingers with Mary’s. “Not your fault. I could have suggested we sit down sooner.”
“If I had my way, we’d be lying down somewhere.”
“We could fold the seat down and rock this old Moss mobile.”
Mary scooted next to Ellis. “Don’t tempt me.” They exchanged a deep kiss. “On second thought, tempt me.”
Ellis pulled Mary to her as tightly as she could in the cramped enclosure. As they were about to kiss again, Mary heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and hurriedly withdrew from Ellis’s hug. A shiny Dodge crew cab truck crested the hill behind them.
“I don’t believe this,” Mary said as she boosted herself out of the Xterra. “That’s Naomi and Barry.”
“Who?”
“My sister and brother-in-law. Stay there.”
The Dodge slowed and cruised to a stop at the edge of the road. Mary hurried to the passenger side. “Taking the scenic route to Mother’s?” she asked her sister.
“Sort of,” Naomi said. “She called a little while ago and asked me to bring her a gallon of milk. We didn’t want to chase all the way into town, so we decided to swing by the convenience store at the gas station and pick one up. What are you doing clear over here?”
“My friend Ellis—the one with the bad ankle, remember? Nat told you all about her. She came up from Atlanta with me this morning. I was just showing her a little of the countryside, but her ankle flared up from walking too much, so she’s got her leg up to get the swelling out of it.”
Naomi waved to Ellis in the Xterra. Ellis waved back.
“Mother said you were out looking for a house to buy.”
“As often happens, Mother misstated the case. I told her we were going to drive around to get an idea of where I might want to buy. Things have changed around here in the ten years I’ve been gone. I wanted to get a feel for areas that might be worth looking at.”
“Whatever. The next area you better look at, sister dear, is the front yard of Mother’s place. She told us lunch at noon sharp, and that’s only ten minutes away.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Mary said. “By the way, where’s Matt?”
“Since Kendall stayed at Mom’s so that he could hang out with Amber and Ashley and Natalie, Matt stayed at Gloria and Adam’s house last night. They’re already at Mother’s with all the kids.”
“Okay then. Next stop, Anna Moss’s house of too much lunch. See you there. Bring your own Pepto-Bismol.”
Barry pulled the Dodge onto the road, and Mary plodded back to the SUV. Ellis exited the rear and closed the hatch.
“Did your brother-in-law even say hello?” Ellis went around to the passenger door while Mary got behind the wheel.
“No, but that’s not unusual. If he’s seen me anytime in the past week, he doesn’t feel the need to waste words on silly things like greetings. Just don’t mention anything sports-related to him, though, or he’ll talk your ear off.”
“Seems we nearly got caught with our pants down, if you’ll pardon the expression,” Ellis said as she latched her seatbelt.
“It wouldn’t have helped our cause if they’d caught us in a lip lock. You’re right about that.”
“Maybe their showing up like that was an omen.”
“What kind of omen?”
“An omen about how you and I aren’t supposed to be together. The first car that came down the road was someone we wouldn’t want to see us kissing.”
“Oh, come on, Ellis. I’m related to half the people in a thirty-mile radius and know at least fifty percent of the other half. The odds of my knowing whoever was the first one to come over that hill were at least three to one.”
“Does that mean we’re going to have to hide our relationship from everybody?”
Mary was silent for a moment. “Until I’ve had a chance to explain it, I suppose so.” A couple of quiet miles rolled by. “Clarkesville isn’t as progressive as Atlanta.”
“And no one will accuse Atlanta of being a bastion of forward thinking,” Ellis said.
“I’m sorry we can’t talk more about this right now,” Mary said as she turned into her mother’s driveway. “And the drive home won’t be much better with Natalie in the backseat doing her impersonation of an information sponge.”
“No problem,” Ellis said as she undid her seatbelt. She couldn’t help but think that maybe Guam and Greenland would be a better arrangement after all.
Mary might as well have poured honey on Ellis and flung her in an ant hill as subjected her to lunch with her family. How could twelve people make that much noise? Natalie and her five cousins chattered nonstop through the entire meal. And why wouldn’t they, with Anna, Naomi, and Gloria as role models? Ellis didn’t remember ever being peppered with more questions in such a short span of time. The questions weren’t overly nosey, and it wouldn’t have mattered if they had been. Naomi would ask about some topic—say, Ellis’s family or her line of work or movies she’d seen lately—but before Ellis got half a sentence out in reply, Anna or Gloria would pose a semi-related question, and then the three women would tear off on a tangent, oblivious to Ellis ever having been part of the exchange. A minute later, another question from one of the Moss women, another attempt by Ellis to respond, and another couple of laps around a new topic only vaguely connected to the original query.
By the time Anna hauled out the pies, cookies, cakes, and homemade candy, Ellis felt she’d been tossed in a cement mixer for an hour and then dumped out with a concrete block in her stomach.
By Ellis’s estimation, the pot pies, cornbread, collards, and other side dishes had to have required at least four pounds of butter, never mind the cholesterol quotient of the final course. Ellis wasn’t sure if it was the food or the surroundings that had her feeling as though she’d need an industrial strength antacid to soften the concrete block and an entire bottle of aspirin to soothe her head before the day was done.
It had been a long time since she’d thought about meals with her family or reflected on that time in her life when, on those rare occasions when her sister and brother came home from college, she and Anika and Nicolas would sit at the dining room table with their parents. Those hushed meals where, if anyone spoke at all, it was always only one person at a time and then in soft tones, usually about current world events or about ancient art. She had hated those meals with her family. They were so stifled, so stifling. Sitting at the huge table in Anna Moss’s house, she was stunned to find herself craving that stultified circumstance. She ached for her mother’s paper-thin voice and her father’s measured monotone. She’d have welcomed the familiar raising of her hackles when her siblings talked down to her or tossed an easy question her way. She always assumed their including her wasn’t because they cared to hear her opinions or make her feel included, but rather because it made her siblings look good to their parents.
“Ellis?” Ellis gave a start at hearing her name. “Ellis,” Anna said again, “would you like ice cream or whipped cream on your pie?”
“I’m sorry,” Ellis said as she returned from her backward time travel to the Savannah of her youth. “I’m full. Thanks, but no pie for me.”
For the reaction it elicited from Mary’s sisters, Ellis wondered if “no pie” were really code words for “I worship Satan.” As soon as they recovered from the horror caused by such an unheard of refusal, they set about their crusade to convert her.
“Oh, Ellis, you’ve got to have at least a little piece,” Gloria said. “The crusts are so light and flaky you almost have to hold it down on the plate with your fork.”
Naomi added, “Women have been after Mama for years to get her pie recipes, but she won’t tell anybody how she does it. I hope she’ll leave them for us when she’s gone, not that we want that to be anytime in the next thirty years.” She lifted a slice of apple pie from the pan to a plate and passed it to her husband. “And even if we get the recipes, we’ll never equal her technique. She knows just the right number of times to put a rolling pin to a ball of dough.”
It’s a pie, for God’s sake. Stop acting as though she’s perfected a new surgical procedure for curing brain disorders.
“I’m sure they’re delicious,” Ellis said, “but everything else was so good, I’ve already eaten more than I should have. I really can’t.”
Apparently, she was speaking a foreign language unintelligible to the Moss women. Gloria set a plate with a slab of pecan pie in front of Ellis. Twenty seconds later, Naomi put a second plate with a wedge of pumpkin pie next to it. “Skip the ice cream, if you want,” Naomi said, “but you’ll hate yourself if you miss out on Mother’s pie.”
Between the din of the conversation and the unfamiliarly heavy meal, Ellis felt in danger of tossing her cookies… er, pie… and then some. The crusted layer of pecans atop the gelatinous base of corn syrup and sugar seemed to stare up at her, daring her to put a forkful in her mouth and swallow it down without gagging. Anna hadn’t spared the spices in her pumpkin pie. The aroma of the cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves left Ellis feeling like she was trapped in the hold of a cargo ship on a forced voyage over rough seas from the East Indies. She scrambled to find an acceptable excuse that would let her bolt from the table and rush outside for some quiet and some fresh air.
“Mrs. Moss—” Ellis said, but before she could say another word, young Kendall pushed his chair back from the table.
“I don’t feel so good,” he said.
Naomi leaped to her feet. “Come on, son.” She took him by the arm and started out of the room. “I knew you ate too many cookies this morning.” She picked up the pace as the sounds of the first heave of his stomach escaped Kendall’s lips. “Run, Kendall. I don’t want you throwing up all over Gramma’s hall.”
Barry turned to his mother-in-law. “How many times do we have to tell you not to let the kids eat junk the whole time they’re here?”
“Oh, Barry, don’t start in on me. It’s Christmas. They like my cookies. He didn’t have any more than Natalie or Ashley had this morning.”
“So what? I’ll bet they ate a dozen each. He’s not like the others, Anna. Sweets get to him. You know that. Now he’ll be sick for a week.” Barry’s chair scraped on the hardwood floor as he shoved away from the table. He slapped his napkin down on the seat. “Matthew, go see if your mother needs anything.”
“I don’t want to go back there if Kendall’s sick.”
“You don’t have to go into the bathroom. Just stand outside the door and ask your mother if he’s all right.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes. Now go.”
Matthew turned to Natalie, sitting beside him, and poked her in the arm. “You’re so lucky to be an only child.”
“I’m not an only child. I’ve got Swiffer and Sam and one day, Mom’s going to give me a baby sister. You’ll see.” Natalie set her jaw and glared at Matthew as he left the table.
“That about ruined my appetite,” Adam said as he moved his half-eaten pie away. “Maybe I’ll run over to the dealership for a while.” He turned to his wife. “You and the kids could catch a lift home from Naomi or Mary, couldn’t you?”
“Sure. Go on before you’re sick yourself.” Gloria gave Adam a push. “Big strapping man can’t handle a kid’s upset stomach.” She accepted Adam’s quick kiss. “Who wants Daddy’s pie?” she asked.
“Not me,” Ashley said. “My tummy hurts.”
Gloria put her hand on her daughter’s forehead. “Uh-oh, she’s feverish. I think we might have a flu bug about to make the rounds here.”
Anna shoved her palms flat on the table to help herself rise from her chair. “Happens every Christmas. You’d think the Moss family was cursed.” She smoothed her hair into place. “Take her upstairs and put her to bed, Gloria.” Anna reached for the bowl of collards still in the middle of the table. “I’ll clean up down here.”
“No, if she’s getting sick, Amber and Erin won’t be far behind. We need to get home. Maybe I can catch Adam before he gets gone.” She raced out of the room and was back in a moment. “He’s halfway to Cornelia already. Mary…?”
