In Search of Eden (44 page)

“I'd like to take you out for supper on Saturday,” he said. “There's a place a little ways down the road that has the best barbeque north of Atlanta. And once a month the Grange sponsors a barn dance with old-time fiddling. What do you say?”

Her face turned pink. He wasn't sure what that meant, but at least she wasn't breaking out in hives—a bad sign.

“Would you go with me?” he asked, thinking perhaps he hadn't made himself clear.

She nodded and the tightness in his chest eased. “Yes,” she said. “I'd love to. That sounds like a lot of fun.”

He relaxed. Her face stayed pink, but they were both smiling.

“You look relieved,” she said, teasing him.

He smiled. “I'm out of practice.”

“Me too,” she said, her mouth twisting in a funny grin.

They were silent for a minute, sipping their drinks. “Is something on your mind tonight?” he finally asked.

She hesitated, looked at him, then looked away, giving a slight shrug. So. She had decided not to confide. Well, that was all right. Maybe the pump needed to be primed.

“There's something I've been wanting to tell you,” he said. “Something I'd like you to hear from me. I'd like to tell you about . . . about Sarah. About me . . .”

She looked him full in the eye then and set down her soda. “All right,” she said.

He took a deep breath and started at the beginning. “We both grew up here. Knew each other since we were kids. We were high-school sweethearts. Everybody understood that we would be together for good. Some things just seem like they were meant to be, you know? My brother, David, was running wild around then. My pop had died, and David went off the deep end. Things weren't good between us. It seemed like every rivalry we'd had all our lives came up during that time. Poor Ma. I think it about drove her crazy.

“Anyway, I went off to college. David and Sarah had another year of high school. The first year everything was all right. When I came home for Christmas the second year, Sarah and I got engaged. She'd been going to the community college, but she was tired of school, she said. She wanted to settle down and have babies. The plan was that we would marry. I would finish college; then we'd come back to Abingdon and do just that. So after Christmas, I went back to Ferrum. She got a job at the chamber of commerce here in town doing something for the mayor. David had flunked out of the university and didn't go back after Christmas. When I came back the next summer, everybody knew
about them but me. Have you ever had a time when nobody would look you in the eye?”

Miranda nodded. “Oh yes,” she said softly. “I have.”

“I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea. Even now I think back and can almost feel the sucker punch. She wouldn't see me. Wouldn't answer my calls. My ma finally put me on to the truth. ‘Something's going on,' she said. ‘You need to talk to Sarah.'

“But Sarah wouldn't.” He shook his head. “I went to David and asked him if he knew what was going on. And that's when he told me.”

Miranda looked pained as she listened. He could still feel the pain himself. “Anyway, David told me they'd been seeing each other. And that she was pregnant. It was his child. My brother's baby.”

There was silence for a minute. He didn't feel as churned up now when he thought about it, but he didn't know exactly why. It seemed to have just become the event that had disrupted his life, the hinge of before and after. “I finally caught up with her, and I didn't even need to ask. I could see it all over her face. The guilt. I went off to the marines. I heard they got married. They moved up to Fairfax. They would bring the baby and visit Mom from time to time, but I didn't have anything to do with either of them for years.”

“And then one day Eden showed up,” Miranda said with a smile.

He nodded and chuckled. “In all her glory.” He sobered after a second. “I was determined not to love that child, but what could I do?”

Miranda grinned. “She sort of worms her way into your heart, doesn't she?”

He nodded and smiled.

“So how are things now?” Miranda asked. “Between you and David and Sarah?”

“Strained,” he admitted. “We never talked about any of it. I'm afraid now it's too late.”

She shook her head. “I don't think it's too late,” she said. “As long as they're both alive, it's not too late.”

“I feel I shouldn't bring it up to him now. Like it's too much to add to his burdens, and it's petty compared to what he's going through.”

She tipped her head and considered. “If the idea was punishment or simply confrontation, I might agree with you. But if the goal is reconciliation, I would say you're just in time.”

He thought about that for a moment. It raised some uncomfortable questions about his motives and his desires.

“Thank you,” he said.

She shrugged. “It's always easier to see other people's stuff than your own, isn't it?”

He nodded. He thought of all she'd been through recently. What she must be thinking about her mother's life. He wondered then what kind of girlhood she'd had with no father and a mother who had been through so much, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rise up in him.

He leaned toward her, and she leaned toward him. He kissed her softly on the lips. She kissed him back.

He heard heavy breathing. Panting, actually. Followed by a loud splash and cold water as Flick jumped into the creek, turned, and splashed toward them.

“Uncle Joseph! Miranda! Guess what? Guess what?” Eden flew down the hill on her bike and skidded to a stop before them, leaving a gouge in the grass.

“What?” Miranda asked a little breathlessly as they moved apart.

Joseph wiped away the creek water from his face and grinned at Miranda. She smiled back. So much for romance.

“What is it, bug?” he asked his niece. “What's so important?
Did one of your stories get accepted? Did Grady learn to dive?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head with impatience. “It's way better than that. It's my dad,” she said, her face breaking into a brilliant smile. “He's coming home.”

chapter
46

M
iranda was a little nervous about Saturday evening, but she told herself there was nothing to be frightened about. She chose her orange-and-pink tiered skirt and a peasant blouse and her pretty beaded shoes. She didn't know what people wore to barn dances, but the occasion seemed to call for something more festive than jeans, and besides, this skirt was perfect for twirling.

A knock came on her door at exactly six o'clock. She opened it, smiling expectantly. Joseph stood on the tiny stoop, looking handsome in jeans, boots, and a white cotton shirt. He was carrying a little nosegay of violets and lilies of the valley and ferns wrapped in a paper doily and tied with ribbon.

“Oh, they're beautiful,” she said. “Come in.”

He ducked his head, a little embarrassed, and Miranda had to hide a smile.

“The lady at the florist shop suggested them,” he said.

“I guessed something like that. Somehow I couldn't imagine you going in and asking for a nosegay,” she commented with a smile.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

She grinned and put them in a vase.

“You look . . .
very
nice,” Joseph said.

“Thank you,” she said. “I wasn't sure what to wear to a barn dance.”

“This'll do just fine,” he said with an approving grin, and now she was the one blushing.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

She nodded, grateful to get out on the road where a natural conversation might occur.

They walked out the door and were driving past the park when Miranda noticed a morose figure sitting on the bench by the creek, kicking her feet back and forth listlessly. Flick sat beside her, watching her with an anxious expression on his doggie face.

“Is that Eden?” she asked.

Joseph briefly closed his eyes and shook his head by way of answer. He pulled the truck over and stopped. Eden looked up, and her face brightened immediately.

“What are you doing out here in the dark by yourself?” he demanded.

“It's not dark,” she answered, unperturbed. “It's only six o'clock. Hey, Miranda.”

“Hi, Eden.”

“You didn't answer my question,” Joseph said. Miranda thought his sternness seemed a little forced.

Eden breathed a huge sigh. “Grady couldn't play today, and Grandma's busy getting things ready for my dad to come, and there was nothing to do, and Grandma said I couldn't bother you and Miranda, because Miranda was getting ready for your date and you had to work.”

Miranda looked at Joseph. He was trying not to smile.

“Besides that, Pastor Hector had to go to Roanoke today to a conference or something, and I rode my bike over to Mr. Applegate's to see if I could ride Susannah's horse, and he had up and sold it!” Her outrage was palpable.

“Wow,” Miranda said. “You've had a really rotten day.”

“Your mom and dad are coming home tomorrow,” Joseph
reminded her. The look Eden gave them was as much fear as anticipation.

That did it. Miranda looked at Joseph. He looked back. They both sighed as his cell phone rang.

“Williams,” he said. “Hi, Ma. No, she's not missing. She's right here. Uh-huh. I know.”

Eden looked even more pitiful, if possible.

Joseph looked at Miranda. “It's fine with me,” she murmured with a smile.

Joseph put the phone back to his ear. “No, Ma. We'll bring her with us. Yeah. I'm sure it's okay.”

Eden was whooping with joy. She opened the door to the backseat, and she and Flick jumped in.

“He rides in the back,” Joseph said firmly.

Eden seemed to know not to push her luck, and Flick was consigned to the truck bed, where he happily leaned out, getting ready to let the wind blow his ears.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Eden asked, her morose mood gone like a foggy morning. “This is the first time I've ever been on a date.”

The Dixie Barbeque was everything Miranda had expected. It had a screen door that twanged, a loud jukebox, paper-covered tables with baskets of peanuts for appetizers, and the patrons were encouraged to toss the shells on the floor.

The food was delicious. The three of them put on huge bibs and used piles of napkins. Miranda and Joseph ordered rib platters, Eden chose the chicken, and they all had side orders of barbequed beans and corn bread. They shared a hubcap-sized piece of blackberry pie with ice cream and drank sweet iced tea. Eden put money in the jukebox and worked the word puzzles on the placemat while Miranda and Joseph talked. And talked. She told him about her childhood. Her father. Her meteor. Her scrap-book. He told her about his brother and the things they had done when they were boys. They covered high school, sports, jobs,
with Miranda definitely having had the most experience in that area, and finished up with religion and politics. They agreed on most, disagreed on some, but those didn't seem worth fussing about.

It actually didn't inhibit Miranda at all having Eden with them. In fact, there was something about Eden's presence that made her feel more able to be herself. Or at least the person she wanted to be.

“What's a ten-letter word for rice wine?” Eden asked just as Miranda and Joseph were settling the problem of presidential politics.

“It's saké,” Joseph said, barely breaking the thread of his conversation.

“That's not ten letters.”

“Then the crossword's wrong,” he said.

“The crossword is never wrong,” Eden argued.

“Let me see,” Miranda interjected. “Here. You're looking at thirteen across. This is thirteen down.”

“Oh. How do you spell saké?” she asked.

“Let's go dance,” Joseph said.

Eden dropped the puzzle in a flash. “I love to dance,” she enthused. “Is it square dancing or line dancing or the kind where you put your head on each other's shoulders and hug?”

“Did you think we'd have this much fun on our first real date?” Joseph asked Miranda from the corner of his mouth. “Or do you think we'll have to save that title for another event?”

“This counts,” she said, taking his arm impulsively. Eden took the other one, and the three of them headed for the barn dance.

It wasn't far away. They parked the car in a mowed field and walked over the stubble to the real live barn where the music had already started. There were two fiddles, a bass fiddle, a mandolin, a guitar, and people of all ages and shapes. The caller was just getting started. Tall and thin with cowboy boots, he looked the part with a western shirt, a bolo tie, and a ten-gallon hat.

“All of y'all get out on the floor,” he called out. “I'll teach y'all a few simple steps, and then we'll practice with a dance. Those of you who know help those who don't, and let's all have us a good time.” Before he was finished speaking, the fiddles started up, and Miranda and Joseph went and found a place by Eden, who was already learning the grapevine step from an older lady in a square-dancing skirt.

“Vine right and touch,” the caller said. “Step right and touch.”

The uneven line of people giggled and swooped. Some were very good, others not, but it seemed everyone was having a good time. They stepped, they turned, they stomped and slid. Miranda laughed. Joseph laughed. Eden seemed very serious, intent on learning the steps.

After a few dances, they purchased cold drinks for fifty cents apiece and picked cans out of a galvanized washtub filled with ice. Then the caller did some old-time square dancing, and the three of them did the do-si-dos and swung their partners.

They stepped outside for air a time or two, and finally the caller and the band announced the last one. It was “Save the Last Dance for Me,” and Miranda was aware of Eden's eyes on her and Joseph as they danced, her hand on Joseph's neck, his around her waist. She glanced over once, but Eden was not laughing and silly. She held her chin in her hands and watched with a little smile.