Something Old, Something New (9 page)

“Yes, we are, so I'm going to sashay my sweet little behind over to my house and get my movie while you start the fire.”

“
Pretty Woman
?” he asked, mortified.

She smiled and purred, “And when the movie's done, I'm going to show you something even more fun than making popcorn.”

He grinned. “Go get your movie.”

“I'll be right back.”

After hustling across the street, Lily walked into her dark house and turned on a lamp. She took a long look around at her quiet, well-furnished living room and imagined it being overrun by men bearing sports equipment, fishing rods, hunting rifles, and lots and lots of car parts. As she smiled, she reflected back on her talk with Trent. It felt good to get the day's moodiness off her chest. She'd had her say, and he'd had his. If they continued to be as open and honest with each other as they'd been tonight, she believed their marriage would flourish.

She grabbed the movie from her DVD stash and turned to leave. Before turning off the lamp she took one last wistful look around then plunged the space into darkness.

O
ver at the Garlands', Devon and Zoey were preparing for bed, but Devon was blue. His relationship with Zoey was changing, and he didn't know how to make it stop and go back to the way it had been before. He blamed a lot of it on Mr. Trent and Amari. If they hadn't let her work on that dirty old car, he and Zoey would be watching their favorite
Toy Story
DVD and having a good time. Instead, all she seemed interested in doing was taking her Barbie cars apart and putting them back together. Earlier, on the computer downstairs, she had Doc Reg go on the Lego website so she could show him the car kits she'd had her dad order. When she signed,
Aren't they awesome!
he'd nodded, but hadn't meant it. He didn't want her working on cars. Boys worked on cars. She was supposed to be his music director, and as soon as he convinced Ms. Lily to let him preach again, he was going to need her help. “I'm ready to go to bed, Zoey.”

Dressed in her green Princess and the Frog pajamas, she glanced up, raised a finger to signal just a moment, and finished putting the doors and wheels back onto her pink Barbie SUV. The car was now in one piece again. Grinning, she held it up for him to see, but instead of smiling back, he groused, “Come on. I'm sleepy.”

She gave him a tight-lipped glare, then scrambled to her feet to place the car back into the Barbie garage. She climbed into bed and made sure her big stuffed tiger, Tamar, was comfortable.

As always, Devon was sleeping on the big fat air mattress. He liked it because it reminded him of the one he used to sleep on when he and his grandma went to the summer night revivals. But his grandma was in heaven, and this wasn't a revival. “Can we turn out the light tonight? I don't like sleeping with the lights on anymore.”

She signed:
I do, and plus, it's my room.

He didn't like this new lippy part of her either, as his grandma used to call it. Because he didn't know how to handle all the new experiences life was throwing his way, he had no sympathy for her fear of the dark, and he was mad. At everybody. “Okay, you baby. Keep the lights on. I don't care. You and that stupid tiger.”

Zoey signed furiously:
I am NOT a baby. Take it back, Devon Watkins, or I will kick your butt!

He sneered, “Baby! Baby! Zoey is a baby! That stupid tiger is stupid, stupid, stupid, and so are you! I hope the rats come tonight and eat you up!”

Zoey jumped off the bed, launched herself at him, and the fight was on.

Devon had never been in a fight before, but from the fury-fueled punches Zoey got in before he could put his hands up to defend himself, she must have been in plenty. He kept crying out for her to stop, but her small angry fists continued to rain down on his now-turtled form.

Next thing he knew, Dr. Reg was pulling Zoey away, and Devon tasted blood from his bleeding nose and his busted lip. Zoey was so mad her face was red, and her hair was plastered to her face with sweat. Dr. Reg stared at them both in amazement. He then leaned down and looked at Devon's busted lip and swelling eye. “What are you two doing fighting? You're supposed to be best friends.”

Zoey started signing, and she was going so fast because she was still so mad, Dr. Reg had to hold up a hand. “Wait. Let me fix his lip and stop his nosebleed first.” Before leaving the room, he warned them both, “No more fighting. Zoey, go sit on your bed.”

She did, but if looks could kill, Devon would've been laid out in a casket.

W
hen Lily's phone rang, she and Trent were watching the credits for
Pretty Woman
and getting ready to move their party upstairs. Looking at the caller ID, she said to Trent, “It's Reg.”

The conversation only took a few seconds. Ending the call, she told Trent, “He's bringing Devon home.”

Trent dropped his head.

“He and Zoey got into a fight. Guess she kicked his little behind. Reg says he has a busted lip and a black eye.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, Devon called her a baby for wanting to keep the lights on.”

“He knows she's scared of the dark.”

“Yes, he does, and I guess he really knows now.” She shook her head. “Zoey never impressed me as a fighter.”

“Growing up with a crack addict, she's probably got a lot more street in her than we think.”

“True. Reverend Paula said Zoey was a chatterbox when she knew her and her mom.”

“She say anything about her being the reigning heavyweight champ?”

She laughed, and then sobered as she thought about their abbreviated evening. “Sorry we couldn't make a night of it. At least you got to see
Pretty Woman
.”

“But not the pretty woman I wanted to see.”

She kissed him. “You're so sweet.”

“Devon owes me one.”

“And me.”

“There might be a lot more to him than we think, too.”

Lily paused and thought about that. “Not sure who he'll turn out to be, though.”

“Could be some anger beneath that clip-on tie.”

“I'm sensing that, too. We'll talk about it. Let me go. See you in the morning.” She gave him another quick kiss and hurried home.

As the silence of the house echoed around Trent, he thought about Lily having to go home, and all he could say was, “Damn.”

Following Reg's instructions, Lily had Devon lie on the couch with a small ice bag on his lip and another on his eye. His face was a mini version of Riley's. “You're going to have a real shiner in the morning, buddy. You made Zoey pretty mad, teasing her that way. Why would you do that to your best friend? You know she's afraid of the dark and needs the light on.”

“She's mean.”

“Sounds to me like you were the one being mean, Devon.”

“She's changed.”

“People do as they get older.”

“I don't want her to get older.”

Lily stroked his brow. “I know, sport, but you can't stop it. You just have to go with it.”

“She doesn't like me anymore.”

“The way you've been acting, I can't much blame her, but you'll work it out. Friends always do.”

“What if she doesn't want to be friends anymore?”

“I don't think that's going to happen. In a few days, or even in the morning after she calms down and starts missing you, your friendship will be okay, but don't tease her like that again, Devon. It's not right.”

“Am I on punishment?”

“Nope. Zoey gave you all the punishment you need. She's on punishment, though, for fighting. According to Doc Reg, no movies for her at the rec next Friday night.” And before he could gloat, she warned, “Smile, and you'll have no movies next weekend either, sir. And you will be apologizing to her.”

She watched him swallow his glee. “We'll keep the ice pack on for a few more minutes, then get you in bed.”

He nodded.

Later, Lily tucked him in and gave him a good-night kiss. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. If you start to hurt in the middle of the night, come and get me.”

“Okay,” he replied, sounding sad. “Night, Ms. Lily.”

As he lay alone in his bed in the dark, Devon's eye hurt and his lip throbbed. The medicine Ms. Lily had given him for pain was making him sleepy. As he drifted off, his last thought was that he never wanted to be in another fight again. Ever.

A
fter leaving Detroit, Griffin headed west. He spent one night with his mother, Judith, at her home on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota before riding west to Oklahoma, where his grandfather Thaddeus July lived.

It was dark when he pulled up in the dusty front yard. Thaddeus was seated in a chair on the broken-down porch. His emaciated, one-eyed hound, Donut, lay at his feet.

“Good to see you,” his grandfather called as Griff strode toward the porch. “So?”

Weary and stiff from the road, Griff sat down on the top step and stripped off his leather jacket. The T-shirt beneath was damp with sweat, but the cool night air felt good. He dragged off the bandanna to free his hair. “I got my answer.”

“Cub's yours, right?”

“Right.”

“How's the mother?”

“Very rich and very pissed. Told me not to tell the boy where she lived and threatened to call the cops if it took me more than thirty seconds to leave her place.”

“Real happy to see you, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“So now what?”

“We call Great-Aunt Tamar and tell her what we know.”

“Not we. You. She hasn't spoken to me friendly-like in ten years, and before that nearly thirty. It probably burned her fry bread to no end to have to call me and ask for help in finding out about Amari.”

“She's had good reasons to be mad.”

“I know, but she and I will be on our way to the Ancestors soon, and Old Tamar's not going to be happy if we bring this feud with us to the other side.”

It was the first time he'd ever expressed a desire to reconcile with his sister Tamar. Griff turned to look his grandfather in the face. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“I am.”

Griff teased, “You been drinking?”

“No. Should've done this decades ago.”

“Maybe Amari will be the bridge you two need.”

“We'll see. You hungry?”

“As a bear.”

“Come on inside. Saved you some dinner. How's that pretty Lakota mama of yours?”

“Still gorgeous.”

“Good.”

Inside, Griffin ate the chicken, beans, and fry bread on his plate and watched his grandfather making his way around the tiny kitchen. Like most of the men in the July family, Thaddeus was well over six feet tall, with dark skin. He'd always been a vibrant, hard-living man, but in the last few years, age had slowed him down considerably. “You take your meds today?”

Thaddeus shot Griffin an exasperated look. “Every time you all visit, that's the first thing out of your mouths.”

“Well, did you?”

“Yes, I did. Now don't ask me again.”

Griffin hid his smile and went back to his meal. Age may have slowed him down, but mentally Daddy T, as he was affectionately known to his legion of grandkids, was as sharp and irascible as ever. “So how're all the uncles, aunts, and cousins?”

Thaddeus took a seat at the table and filled Griffin in on the tales of one divorce, two college graduations, and three jailings for car theft for nineteen-year-old Diego, one of his younger cousins, which exasperated his grandfather to no end.

“Diego is named for one of the original outlaw Julys, Daddy T.”

“And you're named for the outlaw Griffin Blake, but you're not out robbing banks.”

“Car theft's in the blood, you know that.”

“For some of us.”

“And that some includes you, or did somebody else steal Great-Aunt Tamar's truck, Olivia, the last time we were in Kansas?”

He chuckled. “I can't lie. Wish I'd've been there that morning when she found the truck gone.”

“And you wonder why she's mad at you.”

“Just me being coyote.”

“Uh-huh, be glad she didn't shoot you like one. So what about Trent's wedding? Are you going?”

“Yep, me and the whole clan. Talked to Mal a few weeks back.”

“Tamar's not going to be happy.”

“Nope, but weddings mean family, and since we are, we're going.”

Griffin could just about imagine the chaos that would result. The Oklahoma Julys would descend on Henry Adams like locusts in the Bible. “Guess I'll go, too. Need to talk with Trent about Amari's future, and somebody's got to keep our side of the family in line.”

“You going after custody of the cub?”

“No, but I'd like to be in his life.”

“Me, too. By blood he's my great-grandson, not my sister's.”

“You approach this with that attitude, and she will shoot you.”

“I know, but we'll figure it. Family always prevails.”

Griffin knew he was right, so he went back to his meal.

Chapter 8

T
rue to her word, Sheila Payne stopped by early Saturday morning so that she and Lily could begin planning the wedding. Although Lily was still grateful for Sheila's offer, she remained a bit doubtful about the woman's true abilities to pull this off, but as they sat in the kitchen and discussed the ins and outs, Lily got the impression that the colonel's wife did indeed know what she was doing.

“Now about your gown,” Sheila asked. “Are you doing the traditional white gown?”

Lily thought back on the catalogs she'd gotten from Bernadine. “I don't really want to. They seem so expensive.”

“What about a nice new suit?”

Lily hadn't considered that as an option. “That's a great idea, Sheila.”

“And it can be any color you decide. Although I'd stay away from black.”

Lily contemplated the idea a bit more. “If I go with a suit, that means the men in the wedding party won't have to wear tuxedos either, correct?”

“Right. Nice suits will work for them as well.”

Lily sighed with relief. “Trent will love that.”

They then spent a few more minutes going over the food to be served for the reception. Sheila asked, “Do you want a cake?”

“I do, but not the traditional tiered thing. If Rocky and Siz don't mind, I'd like a variety. Maybe a red velvet, a German chocolate, and a coconut.”

Sheila wrote that down. “I'll talk to Rocky and see what she thinks. Where do you want the ceremony to take place, and do you have a pastor in mind?”

“I'd like to use the school's kiva or the rec, and Bernadine has just hired a town priest. Her name's Paula Grant. I thought I'd ask her to do the honors.”

“She's a priest?”

“Yes. Episcopalian, I believe. Not real familiar with that denomination.”

“I am. Barrett and I are both Episcopalian. When will she be arriving?”

Lily made a mental note to get the information out to the community about the priest's arrival. “In a few days. She has some loose ends to tie up down in Miami.”

Sheila seemed pleased. “That's wonderful. I'll speak with her about the service after she's settled in. Might be nice to welcome her with a dinner of some kind.”

“Since you're now the Henry Adams VP of social affairs, that'll be up to you.”

Sheila stared.

Lily explained, “Bernadine doesn't have the time to head up stuff like this, and I'm not making the time, so the job's yours. I'll check with Bernadine, but I'm pretty sure the title will come with a salary and a budget.”

Her mouth dropped. “A salary?”

“It won't be a large one.”

“I don't care. I've never had my own money, Lily. Oh, my. I married Barrett right out of college.”

“Then let me be the first to welcome you to the World of Working Women.”

Sheila looked so stunned, Lily laughed.

“Does that mean I get to plan next year's August First parade?” Sheila asked.

“If you think you can handle Preston and Amari, have at it by all means.”

Sheila sat back in her chair and placed her hand over her heart as if it were racing.

“You okay?”

“I'm overwhelmed.” She straightened, leaned forward, and looked Lily in the eyes. “Why are you giving this position to me?”

“One, because every town needs elegance, and if you can add that to Henry Adams, I know Bernadine will be grateful. And two, frankly, Sheila, we've all been waiting to find out who you are.”

Her lips thinned. “Really?”

“Yeah, girl. It's been what, two years, and none of us really know you.”

“My apologies,” she said softly.

“You have nothing to apologize for. We just haven't seen the strength it must have taken to get Barrett to move here and become a foster parent. Everyone in town knows that man did not come here of his own free will.”

Sheila smiled and nodded. “True. But I never thought about my convincing him taking any kind of strength.”

“It had to. He's a hard-ass.”

Sheila nodded again. “He is that, although Preston's helped soften some of the marine edges. After I went on retreat this summer, our marriage seemed to be better, too.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“The Dads group is helping as well.” Sheila then asked, “Will I have an office?”

“Yes. That a problem?”

“No. I think it'll be wonderful having some place to go every morning.” She paused for a moment as if thinking. “Are you sure about this, Lily?”

“Just as long as you don't go overboard and have us doing teas every three days, we're good.”

Sheila laughed. “I won't, I promise.”

“Good. I don't want to have to confiscate your white gloves.”

There was a pause as Sheila went silent again. She finally turned her attention Lily's way and declared in a satisfied-sounding tone, “Guess I have a job.”

“Guess you do.”

Sheila's face beamed. Lily couldn't remember ever seeing her so pleased.

“It's going to take a while for me to digest all this,” Sheila admitted. “So how about we go back to the wedding plans. That I can handle.”

The conversation moved to the subject of how many invitations Lily might need sent out. To which Lily replied, “I assume everyone in town will want to come, and maybe the construction crews and their families, too. We're all pretty close around here.”

“Okay. How about we plan on, say, a hundred? In reality the invitations should have gone out already.”

“I know, but the only person coming from out of town for sure is my son, Davis. No sense in sending early invites to the people here. I've everyone's address on a spreadsheet. I'll print it out and get that to you on Monday.”

Sheila took a look down at her notes. “Think I have enough to get started.”

Lily felt relief wash over her like the blue waves of Hawaii. The wedding plans were finally under way, and Sheila hadn't mentioned anything about glass slippers, fairy coaches, or seven dwarves.

Lily walked her to the door.

Sheila paused before leaving to say, “You've no idea how much you've done for me today, Lily Fontaine.”

“Feeling's mutual.”

They shared the smile of women on the way to becoming friends, and Sheila departed.

Having enjoyed Sheila's visit, Lily turned from the door just as Devon came downstairs. He'd slept in, in response to his troubling evening. The ice packs from last night had kept his eye and lip from swelling too much, but the skin around his eye was bruised, and his bottom lip was split and fat. It was easy to see that he'd been in a fight. “How're you feeling?”

“My eye hurts. I think I need more medicine.”

“I'll get you some after you have breakfast.”

He sat down at the table, and after he poured cereal into his bowl and had his glass of juice close by, she said, “Want to talk to you about something. Mr. Trent and Amari are going to move in here with us after we get married. Think that's a good idea?”

He shrugged. “It's okay, I guess.”

Lily tried to gauge his true feelings. “Do you think it's a bad idea?”

He shrugged again. “Why can't they live in their own house?”

“Because a married couple should be under the same roof.”

“Oh.”

Lily added, “It'll probably be a lot noisier around here, and maybe more commotion, but I think we'll get used to it. And we'll be a family.”

“You and I are already a family.”

“True, but we'll be a bigger family. And you'll be getting a brother and a dad.”

Devon didn't reply. He ate his cereal instead.

Peering at his downcast eyes, she asked, “Don't you want a brother and a dad?”

“No.”

“Why not?” she asked gently.

“I just want our family to be me and you, and maybe Davis.”

“I see, but our new family will be fun.”

“I don't want a new family. I just want us to stay the same.”

“Life is always changing, Devon.”

“I hate life!” he declared angrily and crossed his arms with emphasis.

Lily paused and studied him for a silent moment. “Devon?”

“I hate it,” he echoed. “I don't like it when things change.”

“But sweetheart—”

He pushed his bowl away. “I'm not hungry anymore. Can I have my medicine and be excused?”

Lily observed the angry face and found herself at a loss for words. “Can you tell me why you're so mad?”

“Because I want to be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You asked me. I answered.”

Lily cocked her head. She'd never met this mouthy little boy before. Holding on to her own rising temper, she said to him, “Usually people get mad for a reason. I'd really like to understand yours, and maybe we can fix whatever it is.”

“Stop trying to make me do new things!”

She understood now, or at least she thought she did. “You're going to be doing new things for the rest of your life, baby boy. There's no way of getting around it.”

“I don't care. I want to stay me.”

“And who is that?”

“Devon Watkins, the anointed preacher,” he threw back in a sullen tone. “God's going to punish you for not letting me preach the Word.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You and everybody else are going to burn in the pit.”

“Zoey, too?”

He shot her a dark look, but he didn't reply.

“There's a lady pastor coming to live here, and I think you're going to like her.”

The look on his face said otherwise, but Lily chose to ignore it. “She's also a counselor and has spent many years helping kids with their problems. I'm going to have you talk with her when she gets here. Maybe she can help you sort out some of these feelings you're having.”

“I don't want to.”

“Doesn't matter.”

He shot her another look.

She shrugged and said, “It doesn't, and if you want to add me to your list of why you're mad, fine. My job is to love you and help you, and I take my job seriously.”

He refolded his arms in a huff. “Then why won't you let me do what I want? My grandma let me do whatever I wanted.”

“I don't believe that for a minute.”

“She did,” he countered, raising his voice. “And I don't like you anymore.”

“I'm not liking you a whole lot either, so add that to your list. Now I'm going to get you your medicine, and you can take your little mad self back up to your room.”

She gave him the pill. He washed it down with the last of his orange juice and stomped up the steps loud enough to be heard in Georgia.

Lily got up. “Devon!”

“What?” he demanded from the landing.

“Get back down here.”

At first she thought he was going to give her more lip, but as she glared up at him from the bottom of the stairs, he must have seen the cool fire in her eyes, because he complied. He wasn't happy, but she didn't care. Her mother would have smacked her into next week for making such an exit. “Now,” she said in a voice reminiscent of mamas everywhere, “you don't get to storm around here like some kid on TV. Walk back up those steps like you have some sense.”

He had the decency to look ashamed and muttered, “Yes, ma'am.”

This time he climbed the stairs with a lot less attitude.

“And don't even think about slamming your door,” she warned, went back into the kitchen, and sat down. Lily put her head down on the table. Reverend Grant couldn't get to Henry Adams fast enough. Devon needed help, and so did she.

A
cross the street, Trent and Amari were discussing the move to Lily's, too.

“What do you think of the plan?” Trent asked him. “And you can be truthful, son.”

Amari looked at his dad, seated across from him at their kitchen table. “Do I still get my own room?”

“Absolutely.”

“And I can put my NASCAR posters back up on the walls?”

Trent nodded. “We'll build the gym over there, too.”

Amari's face brightened. “She's okay with that?”

“Yep.” Trent was certain Lily wasn't, but he'd made the biggest capitulation, so what could she say?

“One last question,” Amari said. “No, two.”

“Shoot.”

“I've seen the inside of her refrigerator. Are we going to have to eat all that yogurt and stuff she buys? I'm used to meat.”

Trent chuckled. “We'll still eat meat, don't worry. I'm not fond of the yogurt and stuff, either. What's your second question?”

“Do you think it'll be okay if I call her Mom? Never had a mom before.”

Trent went still. He met his son's serious gaze and felt his own heart fill with emotion. He'd never had a mom either, and knew how that lack had saddened him while growing up. “I think she'll like that, Amari.”

“Good. When do we pack?”

Amari's beaming face let Trent know that everything would be okay. He just hoped Devon was smiling, too.

H
e wasn't. Devon was up in his bedroom smoldering because every time he turned around, somebody was making him do something he didn't want to do. When Ms. Lily demanded that he come back down the steps, he'd started to refuse, but the look in her eyes said she wasn't playing, so he'd obeyed. His grandma had given him that look a few times, and it usually came with a whipping on the end, so he knew better than to keep acting up. However, he was still so mad he wanted to beat up something the way Zoey had done him. Since he didn't know how, he snatched a pencil out of his X-Men pencil holder and tried to break it in half. He wasn't strong enough, and that further inflamed his anger so he threw it across the room. Every pencil in the cylinder went flying after that. The crayons came next, followed by all the pieces of chalk. With furious tears streaming down his cheeks, he threw his bed pillows and kicked his Spider-Man slippers lying so innocently next to the bed. He snatched open his dresser drawers and grabbed handfuls of the nicely folded items inside and gave them the same treatment. All he wanted was his grandma and his other life back, but because that could never be, he threw himself onto his bed and cried until the medicine eased him back into sleep.