Something Old, Something New (10 page)

Trent was still basking in Amari's approval of the move when his phone rang. It was Barrett Payne, and he wanted to call an emergency meeting of the Dads. He wouldn't tell Trent why over the phone, but Trent agreed to make the calls to alert the others. They set the meet for noon at his garage, and after Trent hung up, he wondered, Now what?

The
what
turned out to be Preston's search for his biological parents.

“I don't like it,” Barrett declared once they were all seated around Trent's garage.

“Why not?” Trent could see the other men watching Barrett closely.

“Because.”

Reg sighed aloud. “Because why?”

“It's just going to blow up in his face, and I told him that.”

Jack saluted him with the bottle of water he was sipping from. “That's real supportive, Dad.”

Barrett glared.

Reg shook his head. “I'm with Jack. What were you thinking?”

Apparently offended, Barrett stood and declared, “If you're just going to criticize, I may as well leave.”

Mal waved him off. “Oh, sit down. You're not going anywhere.”

Barrett sat.

Trent hid his smile behind the draw he took from his can of soda.

Reg asked, “If you were adopted, wouldn't you want to know where you came from?”

“Not if I had a good adoptive family.”

Jack shook his head as if he couldn't believe Barrett's stance.

“So in other words, you're taking Preston's quest personal?” Mal asked.

“No, of course not.”

“Sounds like it to me,” Jack countered.

“Me, too,” Mal agreed sagely. “Let the kid do his thing. Whoever his folks turn out to be, I don't see Preston wanting to leave.”

“Legally he can't anyway,” Trent pointed out. “The biological parents have given up their rights.”

“Then why even look?” Barrett countered. “Sheila and I provide him with everything he needs.”

It was Trent's turn to shake his head. “Barrett, I hate to pile on, but sounds like you're taking this personal to me, too.”

Barrett sat back against the old leather couch and firmly folded his arms across his chest. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Try seeing things from Preston's perspective,” Jack suggested. “He's a brilliant kid. Of course he's going to want to know about his biological past. Not everything's about you, Barrett.”

That earned Jack a glare, which he shrugged off.

“How's your wife handling all this?” Mal said, bringing the conversation back.

“She's all for it, of course.”

Reg raised his bottle. “To Sheila.”

The look on Barrett's face said he didn't agree with the tribute, but no one in the garage called him on it.

Trent asked instead, “Would you rather Preston not know who he is?”

Barrett didn't respond.

Mal gave him a disgusted look. “Grow up, man. Like Jack said, this isn't about you. It's about your son. Whatever insecurities you have, deal with them.”

“I'm not insecure. I'm a marine.”

Jack said, “Which is probably the problem.”

Barrett looked him up and down. “What do you know about the Corps, schoolteacher?” The sneer was plain.

“Oh, that's real mature,” Jack tossed back. “But to answer your question. I don't know a damn thing about being a marine, but you don't know a damn thing about being a parent, so that makes us even.”

Barrett got up and walked out.

Trent said, “Looks like the meeting's adjourned.”

“Hallelujah,” Mal declared sarcastically. “In the meantime, I vote we give Preston as much support as we can. Mr. Hard-Ass will get it together, but if we wait for him to come around, Preston'll be thirty-five.”

They all agreed.

“One last thing before we break up,” Trent said. “We're getting a new member. Name's Gary Clark.” He went on to tell them a bit about Gary's situation, and about restoring the Clark homestead.

Jack said, “Hammers aren't my strong suit, but I'm in.”

Reg was, too. “I'm not good at the hardware stuff either, but when somebody falls off the roof, I'm your man.”

“Okay,” Trent said. “Meet me out there tomorrow around one. Jack and Reg, I'll give you directions.” He turned to Mal. “Dad, if you could talk to Clay and your crew and see if they'd be willing to pitch in, we should have enough manpower to put up new walls and a roof before the snow falls. We can finish the interior over the winter.”

“Sounds good,” Mal replied.

With that, the meeting adjourned.

Jack and Reg departed to enjoy the rest of the sunny afternoon, but Trent and his dad lingered in the garage.

“Amari and I'll be moving into Lily's place after the wedding,” Trent informed Mal.

“Amari okay with that?”

”Yeah, just as long as he can put his posters up and not have to eat Lily's yogurt.”

Mal chuckled.

“He also asked if he could call Lily Mom.”

Mal nodded appreciatively. “Beneath all that street is a great young man. I'll bet Lily'll be honored.”

“I think so, too. Oh, and listen to this. Devon and Zoey had a falling-out last night, and Devon came home looking like he'd gone ten rounds with Ali.”

Mal looked up from his soda. “What?”

“Black eye. Busted lip.”

“Zoey did that?”

Trent nodded.

Mal chuckled. “That girl's got a whole lot of layers under that little button nose.”

Trent agreed. “We probably don't know the half of it.”

“So what started it?”

Trent told him.

Mal sipped. “Lot of layers to the preacher man, too. He's been hiding it well, though.”

Trent then related the tale of Devon's afternoon at the garage and his refusal to try new things.

“Zoey liked working on the cars?” Mal smiled. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Devon just didn't want to get his suit dirty.”

“Gotta toughen that boy up.”

“I think so, too, but what do two country boys from Kansas like us know about child psychology?”

Mal shrugged. “True.”

Trent scanned the tarp covering the old T-Bird. He really wanted to work on the car, but spending time with Lily held more power. “I'm heading over to Lily's. Where are you off to?”

“Back to the Dog to get ready for the Saturday-night rush.”

“See you later.”

They walked to their trucks and parted with a wave.

Chapter 9

O
n the drive back home, Trent mused on all the goings-on. Barrett. Preston. Zoey. Devon. The wedding. Gary. Gary's house. He had no idea when he'd become such a master multitasker, but figured it came from hanging around Bernadine and Fontaine. Lily's face floated across his mind. Lord, she was gorgeous. Focusing on her made all the rest of the stuff he was juggling fade away. Their upcoming marriage would be his third try at the brass ring. Although he'd considered himself in love when he tied the knot before, what he felt inside for her seemed to soar above and beyond. He knew her by heart, if he could call it that, just as she did him. And them being apart for so many years hadn't seemed to matter. At first, he'd been angered by her return to Henry Adams two summers ago, but once he got over himself and accepted her apology for hurting him so badly, they'd picked up seemingly right where they'd left off. Gary had been right to tease them about acting like teens again; they did have a tendency to get into it, but he and Lily had grown up. They'd been molded by their separated lives, and their present relationship was the better for it. Unlike Devon, Trent was more than happy to embrace the new, because the new had brought his Lily Flower back into his arms.

When he pulled into the garage, he checked his phone before going inside. A text message from Amari was waiting to inform him that he and Preston had ridden their bikes out to see Tamar and would be back in plenty of time for dinner. Trent smiled. In the face of all the other things swirling around town, none of it involved Amari for once, and he was happy about that as well.

Trent called Lily to make sure she was home, and as he came out of the house, he noticed Sheila on her knees in her front yard, planting bulbs. He wondered if Barrett was still pouting, but seeing Sheila reminded him that there was something he wanted to speak with her about.

She met his approach with a sunny smile. “Hey, Trent. Gorgeous day isn't it?”

“Sure is. What are you planting?”

“Apparently, deer food—the more tulips I plant, the more they eat. Last spring they ate everything.”

“Tamar plants daffodils. Deer don't eat those.”

She appeared surprised. “Really?”

“Yep. Call her. No sense in feeding the deer unless you want to fatten them up for hunting season.”

She made an ugly face and cringed. “I despise venison.”

He grinned. “Just wanted to come over and say thanks for taking on the wedding.”

“You're welcome. I enjoy the planning. Since Lily has appointed me VP of social affairs, my first official event will be a dinner for the new priest when she arrives. As the mayor, your attendance is mandatory.”

He replied with a skeptical-sounding “Okay. VP of social affairs. Congratulations.”

“And I get an office, a budget, and a salary. Barrett's either going to be happy about my new job, or—” She paused and whispered, “I almost said ‘shit bricks,' but that's not very ladylike, is it?”

Trent's stunned laughter broke the silence. “Who are you?” he asked. “And what have you done with Sheila Payne?”

“Mousy little woman? Weepy all the time?”

Trent stilled.

“Haven't seen her.” She paused again as if thinking, then said, “This is all Lily's fault, you know. She told me that I had to have been a strong woman to convince Mr. Hard-Ass to move here and become a parent, but I'd never thought about it in those terms before.”

“I'd have to agree with her.”

“After I came home and thought about it, I had to agree with her, too. My talk with her this morning is one of the reasons I'm out here. Gardening helps me think things through. And do you know what I've decided?”

He was almost afraid to respond. “What?”

“I'm going to become that same strong woman. No more Sheila Payne doormat to the marines. I'm going to try and model myself after Lily and Bernadine and Tamar.”

Uh-oh,
said his inner self, but aloud he replied, “That sounds good, Sheila.” He feigned a hasty glance down at his watch. “Oops. Gotta go. Lily's waiting. I just wanted to say thanks for the wedding and everything. Take care, and good luck with the new you.”

“Thanks, Trent.”

Still a bit stunned, he crossed the street to Lily's house.

He found her in the kitchen making the sloppy joes they'd be having for dinner. “You've created a monster, you know that, right?”

Wearing an apron over her T-shirt and jeans, she looked up, puzzled. “Monster? What are you talking about?” The smell of the onions and beef she was sautéing in a big shiny pot filled the house.

He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Sheila Payne. I think Barrett may be driving her to drink. God, that smells good.”

Spoon in hand, she turned his way and asked, “What?”

Laughing at the confusion on her face, he took a seat and related his conversation with Sheila.

When he finished, Lily went back to her cooking. “Could be worse. She could want to model herself after Eustasia Pennymaker and be in the market for a sow.”

“True, but why does this give me a bad feeling?”

“Because you're a man, and it looks like another strong woman will be moving in. It'll be okay. The colonel's not going to be happy, though. How'd the Dads meeting go?”

“How'd you know we were meeting?”

“Is Dads Inc. a secret organization now?” she asked. “You know there aren't any secrets around here.”

Resigned to that truth, he related the reason for the meeting and concluded by declaring, “Barrett's an idiot.”

She sighed. “He and Preston seemed to be doing so well. Maybe it'll all work out. Me, I have problems of my own.” She poured a can of pork and beans into the now done meat and onions and stirred as she told him about Devon's behavior.

His eyes widened.

“When I went up to check on him a little while ago, he'd trashed his room. Sat down with him and tried to get him to talk out what he's feeling, but it was like talking to this stove. He's cleaning up now.”

“Frustrating, huh?”

“Extremely, but I'm going to keep pounding away at it. I'm not giving up on him.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

She added barbecue sauce and a bit of brown sugar to the bubbling ingredients in the pot. “Yes, but let him finish first.”

“What do you think is going on with him?”

She shrugged. “Says he hates life.”

“Probably wants back what he had with his grand.”

Lily nodded. “Understandable, but how do you explain to a little boy that life makes us go on?”

“Maybe the new reverend will help us figure out how to make that happen.”

“Be nice, but as I said, I'm going to keep trying to reach him.”

“How's his eye and lip?”

“Big.”

“Zoey been by?”

“Nope.”

They shared a look of concern. Trent tried to ease her worries. “Those two love each other so much, they won't be apart for long.”

“I'm hoping on that, too.”

Trent stood. “I'll go see what kind of progress he's made.”

“Thanks. When he's done, I'm going to walk him over to Zoey's so he can apologize.”

“I'll take him over.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Sounds like a dad mission. Might give me a chance to talk to him, too.”

“You're not bad at this dad stuff.”

“Thanks. You're no slouch at being a mom, either. In fact, Amari wanted to know if he could call you Mom.”

She stilled, and next he knew, she had tears in her eyes.

“Aw, girl. What's the matter? You know I hate it when you cry.”

“Amari is so amazing. Of course he can.”

“Come here.”

She went to him, and he took her into his arms and held her tight. “One day,” he whispered, “after we survive this child-raising business and they're both grown and gone, we're going to have Bernadine buy us an island to live on where no one can find us.” He pulled back and looked down into her wet eyes. “And I'm going to show you every day what an amazing woman you are.”

“Promise?”

“Scout's honor. I'll go up and get Devon.”

“Thanks, Trenton.”

“For you, girl, the world.”

Trent went upstairs and knocked on Devon's door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, Dev. How are you?”

“Fine.” He was stretched out on his bed reading his Bible, and immediately focused his attention back on the pages. Trent's slow look around the room showed it to be as neat as he assumed it had been before the trashing, and he contrasted that to the chaos that reigned in Amari's bedroom. “Heard you and Ms. Lily got into a small spat this morning.”

“What's a spat?”

“A little argument.”

His lips thinned. “Yeah.”

“She said you don't like her anymore.”

“She won't let me do anything.”

“Like what?”

He glanced Trent's way. “Be a preacher.”

Trent sighed. “Did you worry your grandma this way whenever she told you no?”

He didn't respond for a long moment, then said, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I knew better.”

“So why should Ms. Lily saying no be any different?”

“Because my grandma never said I couldn't preach,” he threw back.

“I see. You'll get to preach when you're older, Devon, but right now, your job is to learn how to be the best person you can be so that you can be ready. And your other job is to respect your mom. You don't raise your voice, you don't talk back, and you definitely don't tear up your room when she tells you something you don't like.“

He looked down.

“Do we have an understanding, son?”

He whispered, “Yes, sir. Am I getting a spanking now?”

Trent stared in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“Because when my grandma talked real soft like that, I usually got a spanking.”

Trent understood. “I will never put my hands on you in anger, Devon, ever, okay?”

Devon nodded hastily.

“Now you and I are going to go see Zoey, and you're going to apologize for the stuff you said.”

“But—”

“But what?”

He sighed. “Nothing.”

“If you have something to say, now's the time, son.”

He shook his head.

“You sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Lily was just putting the top on the sloppy joes when Trent and Devon walked in. She asked Devon, “Is your room picked up?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She looked to Trent, and he nodded in agreement, adding, “We're going over to see Zoey now.”

“Okay.”

Trent didn't pay any attention to Devon's hangdog face. “We'll be back in a few.”

Reg met them at the door, ushered them in, and called up the steps for Zoey. While they waited for her to come down, Reg took a look at Devon's injuries. “Your eye's going be like this for a few more days, Devon. Is the pain medicine helping you sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Zoey!” he called again. “She's probably up there taking her bed apart. Caught her this morning trying to dismantle the dishwasher with a butter knife.”

“What?”

“She wants me to take her to a hardware store to buy real tools like Mr. Trent's.”

“Sorry,” Trent said.

“No, I think this is pretty cool. Just have to keep an eye on her so she doesn't undo every screw in the house.”

Trent hadn't any idea Zoey would take to tools the way she had, but he approved. “I'll get her some tools and some things she can take apart, like old clocks and radios.”

“That would help a lot. Zoey!!”

She finally appeared, wearing a pair of winter gloves and swim goggles over her eyes. Trent supposed it was the closest she could find to genuine safety gear, and he wished Mal and Rocky were there to see her. “Looking good, Zoey.”

She smiled back, but upon seeing Devon, turned away in a huff.

Devon cut her a simmering look in response, but Trent ignored it. “Devon, you have something you want to say to Zoey?”

“I forgive you, Zoey.”

Trent stared as if the boy had suddenly grown three heads. “You forgive her?” he asked startled.

“Yes. I called her names, but she resorted to violence. The Bible says—”

Trent threw up a hand. “Hold it.” He bent down and looked into Devon's eyes and said firmly, “Apologize to her now, or it'll be you and a paintbrush on Ms. Agnes's fence in two minutes.”

Devon swallowed. “I'm sorry,” he said belligerently.

Trent looked at Reg. The outdone Reg chuckled and shook his head.

Devon had his arms folded over his chest like a put-upon child king.

Trent wondered if he should have let Lily come over with Devon instead. Although he'd promised to never put his hands on the boy in anger, he wanted to smack him upside his little pea-shaped head. He calmed himself. “Devon. You're going to apologize again, and this time, sound like you mean it.”

The second attempt was only marginally better.

Apparently, Zoey wasn't buying any of it. She signed,
Dad. Can I go back to my room?

“Yeah, baby. Go on.”

Before she departed, Trent told her, “Zo, one day next week, you, me, and your dad will go to Franklin and get you some real tools and safety gear. How's that sound?”

Her face brightened like the sun. She ran back and gave Trent the biggest hug she'd ever given him, and signed:
Thank you!

“No problem, but until then, no more taking apart anything that doesn't have Barbie's name on it. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Promise?”

She nodded again enthusiastically. Smiling, she ran up the steps and disappeared.