Like Sweet Potato Pie (39 page)

She jabbed her finger at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s when he looks at ya, all wrinkled an’ old with yer hair in curlers, and says yer more beautiful now than the day ya met and how he’ll never leave ya.

“
That’s
love, Shiloh. Don’t ya ever forget it. Ya might not see it in them books, but that kind a love will fill yer soul fer the rest of yer life.”

The soft lines in her neck quivered slightly as she swallowed, tracing Mack’s face with her finger.

I followed her with my gaze, down to his reddish hair and gigantic smile. Big shoulders and skinny neck.
“My Mack wasn’t a looker,”
she’d said.
“But he loved me.”

He loved me.
That word again, with that same wistful tug.

I could see it in Mack’s face. The lines squinting at the corners of his eyes, his too-thick eyebrows and unphotogenic, gaping mouth. And her upturned face, looking into his with a laugh.

And yet I’d never seen a couple with so much joy in their eyes as Mack and Faye, frozen right there.
Beautiful.
He was beautiful. Beautiful in his unabashed love for Faye, his proud grin. I held my hands from reaching out.

“Why, Faye?” I wept, taking a tissue on the end table to sponge my face. “What changed your mind about Earl?”

“He’s a good man. Life is short, sugar. Sometimes you’ve jest gotta say yes.”

I glanced around the room at the soft peach-colored drapes. The patch of pale sunlight on the carpet, the emerald plants blooming in the brightly lit corner. I imagined Mack peeling off his coat in the doorway, filling the house with his booming presence.

Instead it would soon be Earl standing there, the lines in his face like a weathered barn plank: sturdy, steady, holding up the walls and ceiling with the force of his gentle smile. Surrounding Faye with his simple grace and simple ways.

Not a palace, but a barn. Not a marble slab, but a rough pine board.

The kind that surrounded Jesus when He came to earth, squealing out his first breaths in a manger for animal fodder.

The simple made holy.

Faye said something, and I forced my head in her direction. Tried to focus over my shuddering breath.

“Are you going to move to Earl’s?”

“No. He’s gonna move in here. There’s more space here, an’ his business won’t hurt a lick if he comes across town.”

“But I thought he didn’t want to move! Stella said—” I broke off, not sure how much of my behind-her-back plans I wanted to reveal.

“He loves his house. All his kids grew up there. When I first met him, he was real straightforward about not movin’, but in the end, sometimes ya gotta give somethin’ up, Shiloh. That’s what love’s all about, ya know.”

I pressed my eyes closed, trying to take it all in. The pain and memories that bloomed in a tender corner of my heart, giving way to hope. A new song. Crocuses pushing up tendrils through the snow. Something waking, blinking in a light I’d never seen.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

“Why does love have to give up something, Faye?” I took her hand, suddenly vulnerable as I ran my fingers over her ring.

She closed her hand over mine. “I reckon that’s what makes a sacrifice so precious, sugar. The cost. We all give up somethin’, or we stay the same, set in our ways. God left heaven fer us, doll, and died fer our sins. I guess we jest reflect the Father.”

I sat there awhile without speaking, tracing my empty ring finger until Faye broke the silence.

“I reckon we’ll get married right away. In the spring. March, prob’ly. No fancy weddin’. Jest some relatives an’ friends, an’ Earl’s kids and grandkids. We might even do it here at my place, in the backyard, with Pastor Davis.”

I imagined it suddenly, Faye in a pretty dress and the wind blowing those grasses in the field. All of us gathered under the blue sky. Daffodils poking up where the snow had been, reminders of glory after loss.

“Would ya mind bein’ in my weddin’?”

“Me? You want
me?
” Tears choked me.

“‘Course I do! Jest one little bridesmaid, an’ I cain’t think a nobody else I’d rather have but you.”

My hands shook so much I had to scrub them on the knees of my suit, twist them together. Faye chose
me?
The cheater and copier? The one who’d written her off as backward and ignorant and mocked everybody’s grits and collard greens?

She laughed and hugged me, and I sat there trying to imagine Faye as a wife. Washing Earl’s overalls and kissing him over the pumpkin and tomato vines. I bet her faucets would work better than anyone else’s in town.

“Why, ya ain’t even told me yer news! Why are ya in a suit?” Faye put her hand on her hip. “An’ me blabberin’ on like this!”

She studied me a minute then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Yer good news ain’t about Adam, is it?” she asked in hushed tones, lips curving into a smile.

“Adam?” I dropped the glossy portfolio of my news articles, half-dug from my bag, splatting its expensive pages across the carpet. “Kind of. Yes.”

I hauled the portfolio up and plopped it in my lap, avoiding her eyes. “I’ve been thinking, Faye, that maybe if I stay here in Staunton a little longer I can find out if …”

My cell phone buzzed again, and I reluctantly reached for my purse. “Just let me get this phone call first. Somebody’s called me like five times.” I picked up the phone. “No, six. And it better not be the septic service, or I’ll …”

I put the phone to my ear and listened, nodding. Then blanched, barely able to hold the phone to my ear. “What did you say?” I gasped. “You’re sure he was talking about Adam Carter?”

I listened, open-mouthed, then slid right off the sofa and onto the floor, hand on my forehead.

Y
ou can’t be serious, Stella. You can’t be.” I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“I know. Ain’t it great?” I could almost hear her grinning over the line. “I mean, when I heard they was lookin’ for somebody to give a scholarship to at that new rehab center, best in the country, I jest thought a Rick right off the bat. There’s a heart a gold if I ever seen one, an’ I’d be tickled pink if they chose him. So then I talked to my cousin’s husband, who works there, and he pulled for Rick’s name. And they picked him! He’s gonna get ev’rything paid for, Shiloh! All kinds’a new-fangled stuff. Things they’re experimentin’ with an’ whatnot.”

“In Atlanta,” I repeated, trying to force it into my stunned brain. “With Adam.”

Faye looked up then immediately slipped into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

“Shore! Ain’t that a swell setup? Adam’s a real nice guy from what I seen of him, an’ they’ll pay for somebody to stay with Rick for two years. Room an’ board. ‘Cause Rick’s gonna need a lotta support an’ somebody to drive him to treatments and therapy and stuff. But after that, ol’ Rick’ll prob’ly drive himself!”

Stella giggled, sounding giddy. “An’ guess what? Chris said he’s even got some jobs in Atlanta for Adam—like at the Botanical Gardens and some fancy hotels. It’ll be great for him, Shiloh! An’ he’ll still be close enough he can still check up on his work here every now and then and take some projects. It ain’t more’n nine or ten hours by car.”

“Nine or ten hours!” I sucked in my breath.

“Other’n his business, he ain’t got nothin’ tyin’ him here in Staunton, does he?”

“In Staunton?” My hands shook.

“Yeah, like a girlfriend or nothin’. I mean, I thought for a while maybe y’all was sweet on each other, but I ain’t seen him around in a while, and … I ain’t wrong, am I? Lands, I’d hate ta goof this one up. I know that Harrison gal come home awhile back, from what Shane said, but I never heard any more ‘bout it. Adam got a fiancée?”

“No.” I put my head in my free hand. “He doesn’t.”

“Good thing, ‘cause that’d muck up things somethin’ awful. Lands, Shiloh—this is the opportunity of a lifetime for Rick! Adam’s already given up a college scholarship for the fella, so ain’t nothing he won’t do, I reckon. God bless him.”

I stammered, trying to pull words out of the air and failing.

“So you’re saying that Adam can keep his job?” My heartbeat slowed slightly.

“Reckon so. He’s got people workin’ for him, don’t he? That Gabe Castle fella? He’s real good, too. Trustworthy son of a gun. Adam don’t need to be there personally for everything.”

“And that would free up his parents to just stay and take care of Todd. I know Adam told me he didn’t do very well until Adam gave up college.”

“Exactly what I was thinkin’.”

Time seemed to stop. Frozen. Poised on the edge of something great and terrible, like the stillness before thunder. The sun hid for a moment, its shaft across the carpet paling and then fading to gray.

“Is it … really good treatment, Stella?” Tears started to quiver in my eyes. “I want Rick to have the best. Do you think …?”

“It’s the best. No doubt about it. They had over two hun’erd people biddin’ on the scholarship. And Rick won. It’s like one a them miracles ya talk about. You an’… yer mama.” Her voice choked.

I sniffled, gathering up my high heels and pulling myself back up on the sofa. Brushing off my suit. “Tell me one thing. Do they have horses?”

My question hung there in midair, echoing against the carpets and curtains and painfully smooth walls. “Horses?”

“For equine therapy.” I tried to steady my voice.

“Oh, is that what that means? My cousin’s husband told me ‘bout some equine center they got, top-a-the-line, but I figured that was just some fancy machine or somethin’.”

I couldn’t even laugh, letting the words sink in. “So they have it.”

“Yeah, an’ a bunch a brand-new swimmin’ pools, an’ they even do ski trainin’. Ain’t that funny? For people who don’t got no legs, or arms, some of ‘em?” She chortled. “But they say it works. Reckon they could teach me while they’re at it?”

I sat there in silence so long Stella “hello-ed” into the phone. I answered back, hearing the laugh track of some daytime TV show in the background.

“Do Adam and Rick know?”

“Not yet. They’ll know in about two weeks, I reckon. Why, you wanna tell ‘em?”

“No, no. Of course not. I’ll let the rehab center tell them themselves.” I wiped my face with a sticky tissue. “Thanks for letting me know, Stella. And thanks. Thanks for doing this for Rick.” My sentence quivered in the middle like a too-soft Japanese noodle.

“Aw, it ain’t nothin’. I had ta blab ta somebody, ya know.” She tittered. “Ain’t very often I git ta do somethin’ for somebody else like you done for me with my cookin’ for Jerry. Say, ya’ll gonna come over an’ help me design that stuff? I got two orders for parties this week! Can ya believe it?”

I firmed up our plans then thanked Stella again and hung up. I put my purse over my arm and pushed open the kitchen door, where Faye was brewing a pot of my favorite hazelnut coffee. Its sweetness steaming out, catching me with an unexpected ache in the middle of my stomach.

“You okay, doll?” Faye looked up from getting two coffee mugs out of the cabinet. She paused as she set them on the table.

I forced a smile. “Fine.” I sat down at the table, avoiding any comment about the call. Playing with my empty mug to keep her from noticing my shaking hands. “And I’ve still got that news for you.”

“Tell me.” Faye pulled out a chair and put her hand on my arm. “Is it about Adam? I just have a feelin’ you an’ him … I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. But do ya think there’s any chance you an’ Adam might …?”

The coffee brewed. I turned my head, watching the sun flicker against Faye’s frilly yellow curtains, all trimmed with delicate sunflowers.

“No,” I said in as clear a voice as I could muster, clearing my throat and abruptly scooting my chair. “Not Adam. We’re … over, Faye. And I’m done here in Staunton. I’ve stayed here too long already. The sooner I leave, the better.”

It took all my strength to hold myself in the chair until Faye poured the coffee and we drank, and then I grabbed my purse and fled.

Snow clouds billowed low over the mountains as I turned toward town, misting over the blue curves I’d come to know so well. Flurries peppered my windshield, so thick I flicked on my wipers.

I should have guessed Adam and I would never work out. I pounded the steering wheel with my hand, head spiraling with the irony of it all: I, Shiloh P. Jacobs, had just landed a job in Staunton, Virginia, while Adam Carter would spend the next two years in Georgia.

God, how can You do this to me?

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t sane. Wasn’t …

I laughed out loud and shook my head, pausing at the intersection and waiting for the light to turn. My turn signal clicking out a mournful rhythm.

And then I spotted it: the
Yomiuri Shimbun
that Carlos had brought to Staunton. I’d told myself a hundred times to throw it away, but it still sat there, reminders of a language and world I once knew. I ached to read its pages, trace its kanji characters. But I had no time.

I started to turn my eyes back to the road then suddenly reached over and snatched it up, scouring the column again and again. I blinked.
That can’t be right. Am I seeing what I think …?