Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Yeah, definitely.” My fists tighten around the steering wheel. “Listen, there are a few things you need to be prepared for. Mostly about my mother.” We pass by the feed mill. Lloyd Hornback is out front, loading a bag of pellets into someone’s truck. I wave at him, and he stalls before waving back. He didn’t recognize me in this high-priced SUV.
“What about your mother?” Violet watches me expectantly.
“Right.” Where do I begin? “For one, she has very strong opinions on things.”
“What things?”
“All things.” Even that which she doesn’t understand, having lived a sheltered small town farm life. “And she’s very devoted to her church and living a good Christian life.”
Violet nods slowly. “I’ve been to church once. Somebody in our family was getting baptized or something. I don’t know. It was a really long time ago.”
Audrey and Violet would be labeled heathens by Mama’s standards, but I keep that part to myself. “Mama goes every Sunday, without fail. And she reads verses from the Bible every night. Her best friends are Reverend Enderbey and his wife, Celeste. She is against drinking, cussing, and premarital sex. She thinks having too much money is a sin and wealth should be shared. She makes all her choices based on being in God’s good graces.”
“Wow. Huh.” Violet seems to process my words. “What does she think about Henry?”
It didn’t take long for Violet to connect those dots. “Mama’s not his biggest fan. She is getting better.” Especially after Henry suggested holding a second reception in Greenbank so the town could be a part of the celebration. And despite his worries, we did not wake up with her standing over our bed with a claw hammer on Christmas Day, but she did ask Reverend Enderbey to say a special prayer during the barn service for those who fall to temptations of pride, greed, and the flesh. His gaze was squarely on Henry while speaking the words. “But there are still a lot of things about Henry that she does not like and never will. She’s still hoping that Jed and I will get back together.”
“Who’s Jed?”
“My ex, who is also the reverend’s son.” I give her the two-minute rundown.
“What a douchebag,” she mutters.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t even faze me anymore. I’m thankful.” If Jed hadn’t cheated on me, my life would be completely different. Unsatisfying. And I’d have no clue. “Everything happens for a reason.” I’ve never felt that saying more than when I look at Henry.
“So, does your mother know about me, then?”
“Noooo.” I punctuate that with a shaky laugh. How do I put this delicately? “Mama has a big mouth. We can’t trust that she’ll keep it quiet, and we want to protect you from all the media stuff for as long as we can. Plus, it’ll send Henry back five hundred pages in her good books. She’s already called him the devil on earth several times.”
Violet watches the houses pass. “Do you think Henry regrets what happened with my mom?” she asks quietly.
I hear the question she asks, but it’s the one she doesn’t ask aloud that lingers in the air between us. “The only regret Henry has where you’re concerned is that he didn’t know about you sooner.”
After a few beats, her dimples pop with a smile.
“So, you’re a cousin today, if you’re okay with that.”
“Oooh, can I be long-lost? Like, a brother and sister who came over from England only to be separated once they got here? Oh! Or maybe one of them died on the Titanic, leaving a child who was taken in by other survivors, only to discover their real lineage on their deathbed.”
I laugh. “That is the exact kind of bait we don’t need floating around out there for the media to pick up.”
Her shoulders sink with exaggeration. “Fine. Just plain old boring cousin it is.”
“Who made these?” Violet asks around a mouthful.
“Those are Aunt May’s famous Buffalo chicken pinwheels.” Mama demands them for every church event.
Violet’s paper plate is heaping with tea sandwiches, fresh-cut veggies, and home-baked treats. The hens—five church ladies who run all the social events around town—have been busy, helping organize this shower with the official host Celeste, who is at the food table, loading more pink lady squares onto a stand.
“Holy Christ, they are really good.” She lays a hand over her mouth, her eyes flittering around the beige hall, stalling on the wall-mounted cross. “I mean, holy moly.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry, no one heard you.” There are ninety-two guests at this bridal shower, and their collective chatter creates a steady buzz that can drown out any one voice from more than five feet away.
“Do you know all these people?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Most are churchgoers, and many were at Daddy’s homecoming party. “Those are my cousins over there, who were supposed to be my bridesmaids.” I jut my chin toward Joy, Diana, and Angela, huddled by the punch bowl. Angela’s greeting was sour, but I let it roll off my shoulders. If she’s offended, that’s on Mama. Besides, they all should have known better than to accept an invitation to be in a bridal party from anyone but the bride herself.