A Year of Extraordinary Moments (A Magnolia Grove Novel) Page 4

  Her last postcard had come almost fifteen years ago. Days had turned into weeks, and weeks into years, and now there was no way of knowing if Dorothy was dead or alive. That was perhaps the most painful part; the sleepless nights of imagining her sick with no one to care for her or, worse yet, facedown in a ditch along some godforsaken road.

  Suddenly the coffee tasted too bitter. She poured the remainder down the sink, then headed for the back door. Stopping in the mudroom long enough to pull on a pair of rubber boots, she moved across the yard to the chicken coop. Five chickens and Henry, the rooster, were all that was left of the farm. At one time there’d been two cows and a vegetable garden on this side of the pond; beyond that, acres of leafy, green peanut fields. Now it was mostly all scrub brush and tangles of vines that had lived and died with no one to tend them.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to see the place as it would be once Dominic took over. Everything would grow again, and hopefully one day Dorothy would return to find her son and his family thriving in the house that she herself had grown up in.

  With that vision fixed in her mind, Alice filled the water pan. Then she poured a generous amount of seed into the feed trough and started back to the house, knowing she’d come up with the best possible course of action.

  By the time Dominic woke, Alice had gone through the plastic bag he’d carried in and laundered most of his clothes. She’d intended to simply fold and stack them so they wouldn’t wrinkle, but when she caught the odor of bourbon and stale smoke in his jeans and T-shirts, she turned the washer’s setting to “heavy-duty.” Afterward, she hung everything on the line outside to dry.

  Dominic thumped down the stairs wearing sweatpants, his chest bare and face not yet washed.

  “Have you seen my bag of clothes?” he asked.

  “I washed them.” She pulled out Granddaddy’s chair and gestured for him to sit. “They’ll be dry by the time you have breakfast.”

  “I’m not really hungry, but if you’ve got coffee . . .” He edged past Granddaddy’s spot and sat in the straight-backed chair.

  Alice handed him a mug of coffee, then cracked two eggs and dropped them into the frying pan.

  “You don’t have to be hungry to enjoy these. They’re fresh today.” She set the griddle atop the stove and laid out several slices of bacon.

  “You don’t have to go to all this trouble, Grandma. I said—”

  “I heard what you said,” she replied. “But obviously you’ve forgotten how good a farm-fresh breakfast tastes. Why, when your granddaddy was alive, he put away four eggs and a stack of pancakes every morning, along with whatever bacon or ham there was to be had.”

  She flipped the eggs over, then a few seconds later lifted them from the pan and set the plate in front of him.

  Once Dominic began to eat, she slid into the chair across from him. “Now, don’t those taste good?”

  He gave an acquiescing nod, then reached into the basket she’d placed on the table, helped himself to a piece of toast, and dipped it into the runny yolk.

  “A good breakfast gives you strength to do your day’s work. During planting season, your great-granddaddy, Grandpa Joe’s daddy, used to start out with six or eight eggs. Of course, back then, the henhouse was full, and every chicken was a good layer. These five I’ve got are well past their prime, and they don’t lay but two or three eggs a week.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to give them to me, Grandma.”

  “I wanted to. Besides, my stomach doesn’t take kindly to eggs anymore. I give most of them to Charlie Barnes to thank him for helping me out around here. Ever since your granddaddy died . . .” She let the words trail off, because there was no simple way to explain her relationship with Charlie.

  “He’s Granddaddy’s friend, right?” Dominic continued to eat. “I’m surprised he’s still coming around.”

  “Charlie’s always been a friend to both of us.”

  Alice could have said more. She could have told him how Joe and Charlie had grown up together, each one looking out for the other, but she didn’t. She’d planned this talk carefully and needed to get back to telling the story that would help Dominic see the importance of her plan.

  Without lingering on thoughts of Charlie, she continued. “Did you know your great-granddaddy built this house?”

  “Yeah, you told me that years ago.”

  “Well, having a house like this is something to be proud of. Daddy DeLuca used to say there wasn’t a sturdier house in all of Georgia. He built it that way, knowing it would be passed from one generation to the next.”

  She looked across and studied Dominic’s expression. It was as blank as a white bedsheet hanging on the line. She was going to tell how Daddy DeLuca set the windows in place with his own two hands and how the oak for the mantel came from trees that had grown right here on the land, but after seeing Dominic wasn’t the least bit impressed with the history of such thoughts she jumped to the end.

  “With your mama missing, you’re the last of our family,” she said. “When I pass on, this farm will go to you.”

  Dominic looked up, wide-eyed. “Me? What am I supposed to do with a farm?”

  “I was hoping you’d live here. Raise a family.”

  “Grandma, there are no good jobs here. I make twice as much money tending bar in Philadelphia. More than I could ever make here.”

  “You wouldn’t need a job. You could work the land like your granddaddy did. Peanuts are an easy enough crop to grow, and they bring in good money.”

  Dominic groaned. “I don’t know a thing about farming.”

  “You’ll learn. It’s not all that hard.” She gave a small chuckle. “When it comes to growing things, the sun and rain do most of the heavy lifting.”

  Dominic gave an impatient huff and rolled his eyeballs. “Grandma . . .”

  “Hear me out,” she said. “There’s more than just yourself to think about. You have a son, and one day he’ll be the one to inherit this house.”

  “I told you, that kid ain’t mine, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

  “Well, we’re going to, whether you want to or not. You have a responsibility to the boy and his mama. It’s time you got married and settled down. You can live here on the farm.”

  “Hold on a minute! First off, I’m not ready to get married. Second, Tracy Briggs doesn’t want me any more than I want her, so you can just forget about her and the kid.”

  Alice gasped as a sudden pain hammered her. She lowered her face and leaned forward, clutching her chest.

  Dominic stood so quickly that his chair toppled over. In two long strides he was by her side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Grandma, are you okay?”

  She gave a feeble nod. “Get me a glass of water, and hand me that bottle of pills on the counter.”

  Dominic kept his eyes on her as he grabbed the prescription bottle and then held a glass beneath the tap.

  “How many?” he asked.

  She held up one finger.

  As he handed her the pill he stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder. He remembered her being sturdy. Now she seemed to be all bones with a tissue-thin layer of skin covering them.

  “Should I call the doctor?” he asked.

  She shook her head slowly, almost as if the effort were more than she could handle.

  “There’s nothing he can do. Help me into the parlor, and I’ll rest in your granddaddy’s chair for a while.”

  He all but lifted her from the chair, and they walked toward the front room, his arm braced against her back, her shoulder leaning into his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  As he eased her into the oversize recliner, she rubbed her fingers along his arm the way she’d done when he was a boy.

  “Dominic, I love you the same as I loved your mama, but I don’t want you to make the same mistakes.” She looked up, her eyes on his face as she spoke. “
Please promise me you’ll do the right thing.”

  Dominic felt the weight of her request settle on him and waited for a long moment. “Grandma, I swear that kid isn’t mine. Tracy Briggs has no interest in me, so why would you ask me to—”

  Another pain shot through her chest, and she cringed as she folded into it.

  “Grandma, are you all right?”

  She lifted her eyes and nodded ever so slightly. “This pain is nothing compared to the heartache of knowing you’re following in your mama’s footsteps. Please promise me that you’ll do right by that boy; then I’ll be able to rest in peace when I leave this earth.”

  Dominic turned away and buried his face in his hands. “Don’t—”

  “Please . . . ,” she repeated.

  He hesitated for a moment, then turned back. “Okay . . . I promise.”

  “Thank you.” She gave a heavy sigh and lowered her gaze.

  10

  Alice DeLuca

  I suspect Dominic is lying, just as I suspected it the hundreds of times Dorothy stood in front of me and told tales to my face. Lies can slide out of a person’s mouth silky-smooth and sounding sweet, but look closely and, more often than not, you can see the truth in their eyes.

  After Dominic went out yesterday, I sat in Joe’s recliner, thinking about Daddy DeLuca building this house with all those great hopes and dreams and how nobody but him saw the same vision. He thought we’d raise a family here, but even though we were living in this nice house, Joe was always itching to be somewhere else. I used to hope and pray one day he’d get to be more like his daddy, but it never happened.

  Now I’ve moved on to hoping there’s a bit of Daddy DeLuca in Dominic. I can’t say for sure there is, but it’s what I want to believe. Sometimes the right path is smack in front of a man, and he can’t see it because he’s busy looking at other things. I think that’s the problem with Dominic. All he needs is someone to show him the right path, and if I don’t do it, who will?

  Living here on the farm is something to be appreciated, not pushed off. When you’re young and the only thoughts in your head are of running wild and partying, it can be hard to see that. I’ll admit, I might be overly opinionated about the evils of drinking, but a man losing himself in a bottle of whiskey is the same as giving up on life, and I don’t want that to happen to Dominic.

  Joe and I weren’t always happy with one another, but that’s true of most any married couple. One way or another, we always worked it out. Daddy DeLuca saw to it that we had a good life. We never went hungry, and we had a warm bed to sleep in. Those things are blessings to be counted.

  Yes, I’m Dominic’s blood kin, but the truth is, I can feel for the Briggs girl. I’ve stood in those same shoes and know the heartache it brings. Opinions about what’s socially acceptable may have changed, but the feelings inside a woman’s heart are the same as they were the day Eve landed on this earth. No woman wants her baby to be without a daddy.

  Both my daddy and Daddy DeLuca saw to it that I didn’t have to go through such a thing; now it’s up to me to make sure Tracy Briggs doesn’t have to, either.

  I made the mistake of being too easy with Dorothy. I never got in her face and stood firm about what was right and what was wrong, and look what happened. This time will be different, God willing.

  Regardless of what Dominic says, I believe that boy is my great-grandson, and if he is, I want to hug him to my chest and tell him I love him before I leave this earth. The boy deserves to know he’s got family. If the Good Lord grants me enough time, I’ll make sure Dominic does the right thing.

  11

  Back to Barrington

  On the following Wednesday, Tracy drove back to Barrington for Lucas’s speech therapy class. By then she’d forgotten about her discussion with Meghan. The thought of comparing Gabriel to Dominic was preposterous anyway. It was like comparing an apple to an orange; they were that different.

  Gabriel was a good friend; Dominic was a bad memory.

  On the forty-minute drive, Tracy played the sing-along CDs Lucas enjoyed. They were practice therapy, disguised as fun.

  “Ten wittle monkeys jumping on the bed . . .”

  Listening carefully, Tracy heard his wispy w in the word little.

  “It’s little monkeys,” she said, emphasizing the l. “Touch the tip of your tongue to your top teeth, then let it come down as you say ‘lit.’”

  “Wit,” Lucas replied, then went back to singing, “Nine wittle monkeys . . .”

  Tracy gave a wistful sigh. “We’ll ask Miss Margaret to help you with that sound in class today; how’s that?”

  Lucas nodded happily. “I wuv Miss Marwhet.”

  Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the Hawke School for Deaf Children. She unbuckled Lucas’s safety belt, and he scampered toward the walkway. Just inside the lobby, they ran into Gabriel.

  “I was hoping to see you this morning,” he said. “Are you free for lunch?”

  “Sure. I’ll stop by your office when Lucas finishes class.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They walked across the lobby together; then he turned toward his office, and she headed down the hallway toward the classroom.

  Having lunch together was nothing out of the ordinary. They’d been doing it off and on since Meghan had all but dragged Tracy into the school to meet Gabriel.

  Almost a decade earlier, Gabriel had lived in Magnolia Grove; that’s where Meghan had first met him. On a summer evening that was too hot for anything but walking around the neighborhood, Meghan came home and told Tracy how she’d heard the sweet strains of a guitar and followed the sound. Back then, the Hawke family had attended the same church as the Briggses, and most everyone had known Gabriel was born deaf. But there he was, sitting on his front porch, strumming one melody after another. He and Meghan had chatted for a few moments; then he’d invited her to sit with him, and she had.

  She’d been only fifteen, and he not yet twenty, but even so, she’d realized that a deaf man capable of making such beautiful music was someone special. That evening as she’d walked home, the memory of Gabriel Hawke had settled in her heart and stayed. When the family first learned Lucas was deaf, Meghan had remembered Gabriel and had known he was the one person who’d be able to help them.

  “If anyone can understand Lucas’s problem, it’ll be Gabriel Hawke,” she’d told Tracy, and it had turned out to be true.

  It was here, in the Hawke School audiologist’s office, that Lucas had heard his first sounds. When the world was a scarier place and Tracy couldn’t say for certain whether Lucas would ever hear or speak, Gabriel had stood beside her. He’d guided her through the maze of decisions to be made and held her steady when she’d felt like toppling from the weight of it all.

  Now, over three years later, there was no question he was Tracy’s most treasured friend.

  Gabriel was waiting when Tracy tapped on his office door. They went in her car so they wouldn’t have to switch Lucas’s car seat. As they settled into a booth at the Bluebird Café, the waitress handed Lucas crayons and a placemat to color.

  For a while the conversation was nothing more than the usual small talk. He asked about the class, and she told of how they were working on the differentiation of words starting with the letter T. But as one thing led to another, Tracy noticed Gabriel seemed distracted. She’d watched him slide the saltshaker from one side of the table to the other three times, which was strangely out of character.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No, nothing.” He replaced the saltshaker alongside the pepper, then looked square into her face. “I’ve been named the county’s humanitarian of the year.”

  Tracy gave a wide-eyed grin. “Wow, what an honor! You must be so proud.”

  “I am.” He stared at the saltshaker with that distracted look still on his face. “The thing is, the awards dinner is this Saturday evening, and it’s black tie.” He glanced up with a hopeful expression. “I’d li
ke you to be my date.”

  Tracy’s grin stretched wider. “I’d be thrilled! Wow, a black-tie dinner.”

  The delight that shivered along her spine surprised her. She had thought she wasn’t ready to date; she’d told Meghan as much, that Gabriel was a friend, nothing more, and she’d meant it. But now, here she was, as giddy as a high school girl being invited to the senior prom.

  When she began to ask questions about both the award and the event, a look of satisfaction settled on Gabriel’s face. He finally picked up his grilled cheese sandwich and started to eat.

  On the drive home Tracy called Meghan.

  “I’ve got some exciting news, but I’m not telling you unless you promise not to say ‘I told you so.’”

  Meghan laughed. “But you know I love saying that.”

  “Fine, then I’m not telling you.”

  “Okay, okay, I promise. Now what’s the news?”

  “Gabriel has asked me out on a date. A real date, not just lunch or us taking Lucas to the movies. It’s a formal dinner where he’s the guest of honor!”

  “I knew this was going to happen!”

  “You knew the county was going to name him humanitarian of the year?”

  “No, but I knew that sooner or later you two would get together.”

  “You promised not to say—”

  “I didn’t. I just said that given the way he looks at you, any fool could see . . .”

  As Tracy rounded the corner of Washington Street, her mouth was curled into a gigantic smile.

  “I’m going to need some help finding a dress.”

  “And shoes,” Meghan added.

  Before Tracy turned into the driveway, she and Meghan had planned a sisters’ day of shopping.

  12

  Getting Ready

  On Friday, Meghan arrived early at her mother’s house. She’d brought Sox with her, and the moment she opened the front door, he bolted in. Sniffing out Lucas, the dog ran from room to room until he found him, then the romp and play began. In the blink of an eye, boy and dog became one squiggling, laughing, impossible-not-to-smile-at ball of fun.