Stand Your Ground: A Novel (22 page)

“Thanks for coming, Mom,” I said, when we stepped back from our embrace. Then I turned so that we were both facing Wyatt. “This is Mr. Spencer, the man who made this all possible.”

My mother did that little two-step scurry to the other side of the table and embraced Wyatt as if she’d always known him.

“It is so nice to finally meet you.” She held on to his hand as she added, “Thank you for taking care of my baby girl.”

Wyatt’s eyes stayed on my mom. “I can certainly see where she gets her beauty.”

My mom waved her hand in front of her face and . . . was she blushing?

“You go on,” she said, sounding like she was sixteen.

And I wondered . . . wouldn’t it be wonderful if Wyatt and my mom clicked?

From that point, it was really comfortable. As we ate, we chatted,
or rather Wyatt did his thing and questioned my mother. And like me, she just fell into it and shared everything: from how she’d raised me in Section 8 housing to how she’d felt like she’d never find success in life or love.

“Well,” Wyatt began. “Maybe I can change all of that.”

That made me pause—was Wyatt interested in my mom?

“Really?” my mother said. “What? Do you have a job for me, too? Are you going to send me to college?” She rested her hand on his arm and giggled like a schoolgirl.

But his expression stayed stiff. “I’m not talking about a job; I think you’ve worked enough.”

“I’ll be working till the day I die.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you won’t.”

My mother and I probably looked like twins the way we stared at Wyatt with questions in our eyes.

Without a word, Wyatt reached into his jacket and pulled out a box.

“Oh,” my mother said, looking from Wyatt to me, and then back to him. “Is that a graduation gift?”

“In a way.”

This was a surprise. I wasn’t expecting yet another gift from Wyatt. He’d already given me a credit card and told me that I had no limit.

As he stood and came around to my side of the table, I imagined what was inside the box—a watch, a necklace, or maybe a diamond tennis bracelet that I saw a year ago but couldn’t bring myself to buy, not even with Wyatt’s money.

But when he knelt beside me and opened the box, my mother gasped. Or maybe I was the one who made that sound.

“Meredith, I have come to love you and I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife.”

Wasn’t I
just imagining Wyatt with my mother?

“Oh!” My mother clapped.

But I said nothing, did nothing. Because this was crazy.

Now, color me stupid, but I’d had no idea that Wyatt was interested in me in a romantic way. How could he be? Our relationship was so far to the left on the platonic scale that he really could have been my father.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Wyatt asked.

“Uh” was all I could get out.

“She says yes!” my mother shouted.

Her words made Wyatt smile, though he kept his eyes on me. “I’d like to hear that from Meredith.”

“Uh . . .”

He waited a moment before he asked, “Is that all you have to say?”

My words finally came to me. “Wyatt . . .” I whispered his name. “Maybe we should have talked about this. And not here.” I made a sideward glance toward my mother.

“In front of Gloria?” he asked. “I thought this was the perfect place and the perfect way. I know how important she is to you, and I know that when you and I are married, she’s part of the deal.”

“I am?” My mother pushed back her chair and scurried over to stand behind me.

“I’ll take care of her, too,” Wyatt promised.

“Really?” There was so much joy in my mother’s voice.

With her behind me and Wyatt in front of me, I was trapped.

But how could I feel trapped by the only two people in the world who really knew me? Who really cared about me? If I’d ever been loved, it was only by these two.

While Wyatt stayed on bended knee, I replayed the last two years in my mind; they’d been the best years of my life. And if that was any
indication of what my future would be, why would I say no? Except for the fact that . . . I didn’t love him.

And then he asked the question I was thinking. “Don’t you love me, Meredith?”

“Of course she loves you,” my mother answered as if I’d discussed this with her.

“Uh . . .”

My mother bent over and hissed into my ear, “Meredith!”

Inside her tone, I heard all kinds of warnings. And saw all kinds of images—my life with Wyatt, my life without Wyatt.

“You don’t love me,” Wyatt said with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “I just hoped . . .”

His eyebrows drooped and now there was sadness written all over his face.

That made me touch him for the first time. Made me take his face between the palms of my hands. Made me lean forward and gently press my lips against his. For the first time.

I stayed like that for only a moment, then leaned back. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Wyatt Spencer. I want to be your wife.”

There were tears in his eyes when he slipped that ring on my finger. “I will always take care of you, Meredith. And I will love you forever.”

When he hugged me, I thought about the fact that I wasn’t in love with him in the way I expected to love a man. But while I wasn’t in love, I did love him; so all I needed was a little emotional shift.

I could do that. After all that Wyatt had done for me . . .

“Meredith!”

I blinked and made the nine-year mental trek back to the present, and looked into the eyes of the man who’d once been the centermost of my dreams.

“Why are you just standing there?” Wyatt asked. His eyes were
filled with concern. “Are you all right with us coming back here?” he asked, as if my opinion counted.

“Oh, yes.” I nodded. “I was thinking how great it is to be home.”

The worry lines faded from his forehead. “Yeah.” He kissed my cheek, then patted the top of my head.

“So . . .” I looked up as Newt came down the stairs. “I’ll check in with you guys every few hours.” When Newt stood in front of us he said, “Just remember what I said. No—”

Wyatt held up his hand. “No need to repeat it. I’ll stay low-key.”

Newt nodded his approval. “Good, because I don’t need you out there making news if this does go to the state prosecutor.”

Wyatt shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“Okay,” Newt said. “And, if I don’t hear anything from Ferguson or the prosecutor within the next few days, I know we’re home free on that side. We’ll just have to wait for it to die down with the Brown Guardians, but that shouldn’t take too long. Something will happen somewhere else, and all the attention will shift away from us to the next shooting. Hopefully something will happen in Florida and they’ll forget about this little thing here in Pennsylvania.” Newt embraced Wyatt like the longtime buddies they were. Then he turned to me. “Take care of this dude, will you?”

“I’ll try.” He hugged me, too, holding our embrace for one moment past comfortable. I was always the one who pulled away from him.

Wyatt closed the door behind his friend. “I’m going to go into the office. Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack.”

As I stepped toward the staircase, I glanced out the windowed wall that covered the entire back of our house. And I paused. Even
from that far away, I saw a wineglass and a plate on top of one of the tables by the pool.

“Who’s in the backyard?” I asked Wyatt, wondering if I should be afraid. But even before he answered, I figured it was one of the security guards taking a break and I hoped I hadn’t just gotten someone fired.

He frowned and walked toward the back. I followed him because Billy was back there, too.

But we’d only moved a few feet before Wyatt’s frown turned upside down. And I did just the opposite.

Because it was my mother.

W
yatt slid the glass doors apart and stepped outside. “Hey, Gloria. What are you doing here?”

The pool chair faced us and she tilted her sunglasses up to give herself a better view. “Did you think I would let my favorite son-in-law and daughter come home without someone here to welcome them?”

As Wyatt leaned down to hug my mother, I rolled my eyes and it wasn’t just because of what she said. I couldn’t believe that while we were in hiding at a hotel that was two steps above a motel, my mother was lounging around our pool like she was in Saint-Tropez.

“Meredith?” My mother said my name as if she were asking a question.

And when all I said was, “Hello,” she swung her long bronzed legs over the side of the chair, stood tall, and planted one hand on her hip.

It was a stance of expectation, like she was waiting for me to give her the same greeting that Wyatt had.

My mother stood there in all of her itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-white-on-black-polka-dot-bikini glory. Looking fabulous, I had to admit. Anyone trying to guess her age would be decades off.

Still, though, she was my mom, and as usual, just a bit past over the top. A fifty-nine-year-old woman needed to be more covered up, no matter how fantastic her body.

When I didn’t make a move toward her, my mother did one of her model strolls toward me, one perfectly toned, shaped, tanned leg in front of the other. Of course, she strutted in her four-inch sandals because she never went anywhere (not even to a pool) without her stilettos.

After giving me an air kiss on each cheek, she asked, “Where’s my grandson?”

“He’s in his playroom,” I said, then asked, “Why are you hanging out back here?”

“I already told you,” she said, glancing at Wyatt, who still stood there with a grinning face. “I wanted to welcome you home and enjoy this absolutely fabulous day.”

“It’s not even seventy degrees, Mom.” Giving her a once-over with my eyes, I asked, “Aren’t you cold?”

That was supposed to be a hint for her to cover up, but subtlety never worked with Gloria Harris. All my words did was make my mother step back and pose once again, this time with her hand on her other hip. “Do I
look
like I’m cold?”

“I think you look beautiful,” my husband said.

My mother giggled and I had another one of those moments when I wanted to throw up.

Not that I was ever concerned about their constant flirting. This was the only way my mother knew how to interact with men. Wyatt, her son-in-law, was the same as Roger, the grocery store clerk. And for his part, Wyatt would never be unfaithful to me with my mother. They were the same age; she was much too old for him.

Wyatt said, “Well, I was heading into my office; I want to check
the mail, make some calls.” He kissed my cheek, then said, “Good to see you again, Gloria.”

“I’m going in, too. I need to check on Billy and get unpacked.”

“You go on upstairs,” Wyatt said. “I’ll hang out with our son.”

As Wyatt and I moved toward the door, my mother scurried in front of us. “I’ll go with you,” she said. She did a little skip walk so that she would enter the house first, then she put a little extra into her stroll so that her boobs would jiggle and her booty would joggle.

Even after we stepped inside, Wyatt watched me and my mother walk up the stairs as if he were our security detail. She didn’t stop her little wiggle walk until we stepped into my bedroom. Then she flopped onto my bed.

I went right to my closet and tossed her one of my silk robes.

“Thanks, sweetheart, but I don’t need this,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Then I gave my mother a look that I often gave to my child. “Stop it, Mom.”

She sighed and slipped the robe over her shoulders. “I can’t believe I raised such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude. I’m just tired of you flirting with my husband.”

She laughed. “As if! You know I don’t want Wyatt. I just love that he appreciates a woman like me.”

I waved my hand. “Just cover up.”

“All right. All right.” She slipped her arms through my robe. “Now, tell me the latest.”

“The latest?” I unzipped one of the suitcases.

“Yeah, with the shooting and everything. With you guys hiding out.” Her tone held a bit of excitement.

Stepping back from the bed, I folded my arms. “Mom, this is not gossip. This is not the
National Intruder
,” I said, referring to my mother’s favorite source for news.

“Well, something is going on,” my mother said. “Haven’t you been watching TV? Wyatt’s picture is everywhere and they keep playing Wally’s interview.” She paused for just a second. “I wish you and Wyatt had asked me to do the interview instead of Wally.”

“And what in the world would you have said?”

My mother flipped her blond extensions over her shoulder. “I would have done exactly what Wally did, only it would’ve sounded better coming from me. I would’ve told them what a wonderful man my son-in-law is. In fact, I think I’m going to let Wyatt and Newt know that the world needs to see me.”

“No, Mom.”

“Why not? We need to show the world that Wyatt Spencer is loved not only by his immediate family, but his extended family, too. They need to see a woman speaking up for him, someone who’s not a blood relative and someone who is a mother.”

Her idea worried me because I knew Wyatt would agree with her. And putting Gloria Harris in front of a camera was the worst thing we could do.

“What we’re trying to do is let it all die down. Newt doesn’t want us saying a word.”

“Why not? Those black people are talking. Every day on every channel. Well, except for Fox. But even Fox keeps replaying that boy’s funeral like he died a dozen times.”