Mom's the Word (14 page)

Singh crumpled against the wall, hands covering his face. “No, dearest. It was me. All me. I can lay no blame…”

More was said, but Karol couldn't hear, because Rob had her hand and was pulling her from the room. A quick survey of the kitchen served up the keys to their friends' van, which they'd driven many times before. Karol and Rob ushered the children quickly into it and asked the older children what park they usually went to.

“We don't go to the park really. Not since we moved here.”

No park? That was strange. Rob wouldn't be deterred. “Okay, library then.”

“We've been a few times, but I don't remember where it is,” said one of the younger girls.

Whoa. Weird. If it was just their own family, Karol would have suggested a movie, but since their friends rarely watched movies or TV…

“If you take two lights down and a right, there's a dollar movie.”

“And the mall!” someone said.

Rob and Karol glanced at each other uneasily at the prospect of movies and the mall. It would have been one of their first choices, but these were things Hope frowned upon. However, the situation was desperate. They started in that direction.

“Where's your church?” Ryan asked as they drove.

“We don't have one,” one of the smallest children said. “Daddy is always on the computer and Mommy is always on the phone. We keep going different places. I wanna go home with you guys!”

With that, the car went quiet except for a sob or two. As they pulled into the movie theater parking lot, Karol reached for Rob's hand just as he was reaching for hers. Everyone in the van did the same without being told.

As he and Singh had prayed together so many times for other men, Rob now led his friend's family in prayer for their parents, their new life and their new home. His words were few but his voice was steady. When he and Karol lifted their heads there was something new and unexpected—a look of love from his wife.

• Push Fallon on book deadline
  
• Talk to doctor about headaches
  
• Stay up with Neal on Bible Study
  
• Call Dad until I reach him. Have to!
  
• Go to church. Really this time.
  

—Dyanne, Day 13, missing the kids like crazy

“T
o what do I owe the honor?”

Even though he drove her more than a little crazy, Dyanne had to admit that she always got a happy tickle in her stomach when she heard her father's voice. Then she'd remind herself that she wasn't a little girl anymore. She never really had been.

“You know me well, huh, Dad?” Though her father called their home often, he usually talked to Neal. Dyanne was most likely out of town, unavailable or simply not very interested. All their conversations ended the same way, with some religious or ethical debate and both of them even more entrenched in their opinions. Sometimes it just seemed easier to bypass it altogether. Now there could be no escape.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do know you well. If you were going for subtle, you pretty much struck out with the call. Start with an e-mail and work your way up. And calling me Dad instead of Father? What's with the big guns? It must be serious. Don't tell me. Are you pregnant?”

No matter what she did, that nonexistent baby remained the center of most of Dyanne's conversations. She couldn't imagine what it'd be like with a real child. Her life would be eaten alive. “No. I'm not pregnant. Nor do I plan to be anytime soon. Since your lie detector is on full power today, I'll cut to the chase. Or should I say Chaise.”

“As in Steven J. Chaise? Your publisher?”

“The same.”

“I met him once. Years ago. Seemed decent enough. Definitely loves books. That's hard to find anymore. Are you getting along well over there?”

Maybe not, if you don't do what I'm asking,
Dyanne thought.

“Things are going well. In fact, starting a new imprint called GracePages. It's all Christian books.”

A snort sounded on the line. “So I've heard.”

All of a sudden Dyanne understood what her boss was talking about. Though her company knew marketing very well, some markets were best viewed with the eyes of those who live inside them. “That sound you just made is exactly why we need you, for legitimacy.”

That made her father laugh. “You don't need me for legitimacy, sweetheart. You need Jesus for that. Tell Neal to call me soon. Do you still have company?”

“Wait. You know about that?”

“I do talk to Neal quite frequently. I think I've even talked to your guest a few times. I'd like to talk to you more, too, if you'd let me. I'm flying down that way for a conference soon—”

“Maybe, but can we talk more about this first? Mr. Chaise wants you to work with us—me. I'm not sure about the position. I know you're still preaching when people ask. Maybe we can work out a consultant position. The bottom line is that I need you, Daddy. Please. I know I can be less than kind but—”

“Okay.”

She stared at the phone. “Okay? Just like that?”

“You asked. Nicely. I know what it's like to need something. Just pray that we won't regret it.”

“You won't. I promise.”

“Even you can't make those kinds of promises, Queen D. Talked to your mother lately?”

Dyanne took a deep breath. She talked to her mother even less than her father. Though she'd been an adult when her mother remarried, something about it just didn't seem right. Her times with her mother and her new husband were always polite, though. Painfully so. “No, I haven't talked to Mom. You?”

“I had lunch with her and Norman other day. They're doing well. They both asked about you. Give them a call.”

Right, lunching with your ex-wife and her new husband. One big happy family. “Things are really busy, but I probably do need to call her. I'd better go. Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

“Thank you, Dyanne. For calling I mean. I know that you needed something from me but it still means a lot. You mean a lot.”

Wow. This was much further than she'd planned to go. “Ditto.”

She pressed the button and put her head down on the desk, overcome with tears.

 

“I'm really proud of you,” Dyanne said as she watched the final page of Fallon's daily pages curl out of the printer. She'd been more than skeptical about being able to finish the book in such a short amount of time, especially without the usual outline to go by, but somehow Fallon had managed to make things flow.

“Well, thank you. I'm trying. I struggled a bit when the children were away, but I wanted to get back in the groove so that Judah and I can try out some new recipes for Ryan's birthday party.”

Dyanne tapped the stack of pages on the edge of the desk. She'd missed Ryan's company, too, but it'd forced her to think about her own life and make some connections of her own. She'd talked to both her parents in the past two days, something that rarely, if ever, happened. “So they are having a party for Ryan? I'm glad. I was hoping to do something for him.”

“You still can. If you mean Karol and Rob, I don't think they're doing anything. At least not that they know of. Ryan would probably be the one to ask and since it's his birthday, he really can't. So Judah and I are planning a party!”

Blinking rapidly didn't help Fallon's words sink in. “While I'm glad that you're making progress, we're nowhere near ready to present this book to Steve Chaise. It's wonderful that you've been helping us with the Simon kids but the reality is work has to come first. We may have to let them know that we, you and I at least, won't be able to go on much longer.”

“Dee Dee. It'll get done. Now relax. You're going to drive yourself—and me—crazy. What I want to know is if there's any news yet.”

“Last I heard, sales were slowing but steady. About four or five hundred copies a week this past week. It'll pick back up once the tour starts.”

Fallon's earrings jingled as she shook her head. “Oh, girl, you are so dense sometimes. I wasn't asking you about news on book sales. I'm asking you about news about you. You know, woman news?”

Dyanne pushed her glasses off her eyes and into her hair. Her mother had asked the same question a few hours before. “Do I have some kind of biological clock tied around my neck or what? Am I ticking that loud? There is no news, Fallon. I told you before, we've decided to wait.”

“The question is, has God decided to wait?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Fallon's eyes narrowed as she peered out the window overlooking the front yard.

The look on her friend's face said it all. Someone or something in the front yard did not belong. Fallon didn't seem upset about it, whatever it was. Dyanne turned in time to see a Mercury sedan pulling into the drive with Ohio tags. Forest-green. “What in the world?”

In her haste to get downstairs, Dyanne knocked a few pages off Fallon's stack. Fallon toppled the remaining pages when she tried to keep up, forgetting the sleeves of her caftan. She ran on, not slowing down a bit as she called out to Dyanne from behind.

“Who is that? He's gorgeous. And not young boy hot, either. Gray-headed Ed Bradley kind of fine. The kind of fine that I don't see often.”

As she opened the door, Dyanne rolled her eyes at Fallon, and then smiled at the man on the other side of the door, which must have become revolving without her knowledge there were so many people coming and going. Still, she couldn't help but reach out and give her guest a hug.

“Hey, Daddy. Come on in.”

 

Neal set a personal record for his four mile run. He'd seen the green Mercury from a long way off and though his iPod had quit a mile back and his legs felt like cement, the thought of seeing his father-in-law kicked something into overdrive. By the time he dashed to the porch and pushed the Stop button on his heart rate monitor, he'd made it home in record time. He hated to greet Reverend Kelvin Stokes in a sweaty running suit and muddy shoes, but he forgot all that when the faint scent of licorice and lime caught him in the doorway. Fallon and the reverend. He smiled at the former and ran toward the latter.

“Dad!” Neal said, running straight to the older man, who looked even better than the last time they'd seen each other. He held out a fist and his father-in-law did the same. They pounded hands in greeting but the reverend pulled him close.

“You'd better hug your old man, boy. You know you're as much my son as anything. I told your father that on the phone the other day.”

Fallon's hand reached between them with a towel and a cold bottle of water for Neal. Both men paused to look at her, and then look at each other. What he saw in his father-in-law's eyes made Neal shake his head: first, wonder and then, awe. That Fallon. There wasn't a man alive she didn't have some effect on, but this was a first.

“I see you've met our guest.”

Dyanne's father, who was never without a ready word, failed to make a coherent response. “I—uh—yes, Dee introduced Dr. Gray and I—”

“Just call me Fallon. For now anyway. I have a feeling that you might be one of the few people who calls me by my real name. Do you like Ferris wheels?”

The reverend swallowed hard. “Yes, well. It'd be an honor to know you better and yes, I love Ferris wheels.”

Just as it seemed Fallon would pounce on the man, she swept a sleeve in Neal's direction and headed toward the kitchen. “Well, you two have fun. I'm going off to start dinner. Again, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Dyanne, who sat on the couch, silent and stunned, paused to join the two men watch as Fallon walked into the kitchen with the grace of a much younger—and smaller—woman. Spinach, mangoes and Southern sun was a combination to be reckoned with, evidently. Dyanne looked as though she could use a cup of one of Fallon's juice drinks.

She held up her hands when Neal, still smiling, gave her the what's-going-on look. “He's here to work on the Christian line. Evidently Steve Chaise told him to come on down, too. This is the South's newest bed-and-breakfast, I guess. Not that I'm not glad to see you, Dad. I am.”

“Obviously.” Her father, who still hadn't quite recovered from Fallon, raked a hand through his almost-white hair. Though usually in control of any situation or conversation, the man couldn't seem to understand what had just happened.

Neal sipped the water he'd been given and peeled off his shirt and headed for the laundry room. His father-in-law had been single for a very long time and had totally lost touch with his effect on women. Neal's own mother had caught her breath the first time she'd seen Dyanne's dad. The gasp hadn't been lost on his father, who, though he laughed and joked with Reverend Stokes, wasn't as fond of him as he let on. Probably because Dyanne's father made it so obvious how fond he was of Neal. The feeling was mutual.

“Dad, I'm going to clean up. Then I'll be right down. We're glad to have you in any capacity, but I'm really excited about your working on the line. I've read several of the titles ready for the fall lineup and to be honest, I have questions. A lot of them.”

That shook the man out of his confusion. “Questions? Wonderful. Take all the time you need. I'll go up and get settled into the guest room. That's where your guest—I mean Fallon—said to put my things.”

A worried look passed between Neal and Dyanne, but she said nothing. She was definitely out of it, but Fallon seemed to have taken up her slack quite nicely.

Knowing how modest the reverend was and how, well, not-so-modest Fallon could be, Neal felt compelled to say something. “I think you'd be more than comfortable upstairs, Dad, but with so many ladies up there, you might like it better down here,” Neal said, pointing out the larger downstairs bedroom.

Reverend Stokes forced a finger into the collar of his guay-abera shirt, one Dyanne had bought him on her last trip to Miami. He seemed to be making room for his answer, which shocked everyone.

“Upstairs is fine. See you in a few minutes.” With that, he turned and went upstairs, pausing only to take a whiff of the magical scents coming from the kitchen.

Neal pulled his wife against his bare chest and began to pray. He'd thought moving to Tallahassee would slow things down. He couldn't have been more wrong.