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Stuck, I dutifully go over to the sink. Next to me, she sticks her hands in the soapy water, scrubbing a plate in silence before handing it to me for rinsing and drying. Neither of us says a word for several long minutes, though I can hear her humming softly under her breath. The tune sounds vaguely familiar, but it takes me a while to figure it out.
“Are you humming Bobby’s song?”
She smiles, the kind sweetness as obvious as the lines on her face. “Yes sir, he played it for me the other day. That boy is touched by God, working miracles with his hands and his mouth.”
I snort, not remotely interested in doing the ‘that’s what she said’ joke Mama Louise just unintentionally set me up for, but it runs through my mind anyway. I clear my throat instead. “Bobby’s good, for sure.”
The demon in my head still giggles like a twelve-year-old boy.
“How about you? You doing as well as he is?” She says it lazily, like I didn’t just mosey right into the trap she set for me.
I lift a brow in warning, glaring at her so she knows that I’m well aware she’s trying to figure me out. Thing is, I’m simple as fuck. I don’t need much, don’t want much, either. Just my family all together and maybe a little slice of happiness for myself.
“I’m fine, Mama Louise.” It should be the end of it. Not many people stand up to a big motherfucker like me when I make declarations. Hell, I could walk into Hank’s on any given day and proclaim it two-dollar draft night, and even Hank would probably go along with me. He might threaten me with his Louisville Slugger at the end of the night, but he wouldn’t be too quick at arguing with me.
Mama Louise has no such compunction. She’s a pro at this game from years with her own boys. She touched the boundary line, I defended, so she backs up and comes from another angle. “I’m glad to hear it. How about those boys on your team? Are they all fine?”
Halle-fucking-lujah! A safe zone. I can talk about the kids all day.
So I do, telling her about the plays they’re running, the progress they’re making, and the fun we’re all having. She’s got a mind like a steel trap, and I predict she’ll know each and every boy by name and by story within moments of meeting them. “You still planning to come to the games?”
She bumps me with her shoulder, but it hits somewhere barely north of my elbow. “High winds and rainstorms couldn’t keep me away!” She chuckles. “Well, I guess the game would be cancelled in that case, but you know what I mean.”
I do. She’s solid for the games, gonna be sitting right there on the sidelines with the rest of the crew cheering the Wildcats on. Cheering me on.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” It’s the polite and proper thing to say, but I actually mean it, and she nods like she knows it.
We finish with the dishes, and though it’s on the tip of my tongue to decline her offer of sweet tea, it’s not an often-extended invitation and I can’t be rude to the woman who’s taken us in. We’re not exactly orphans since we’re all full-grown, but even big guys like Brody, Bobby, and I can use a mother’s love every once in a while, even if we don’t admit it. And Shay is blooming like a damn sunflower under Mama Louise’s watchful care. I don’t want to fuck that up.
So I grab two glasses from the cabinet and she smiles like I just gave her a gift. She pulls the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and pours us each a healthy dose of the brown liquid. “Let’s go on the back porch. I’ve been cooped up inside all day.”
I lead the way, opening the back door for her, and we settle in the wooden chairs on the porch. I think they’re called Adirondack chairs, and they usually make me think of the beach. Tonight, they feel comfortable and perfect, though, and I relax into my drink, my chair, and the night.
And pray that the team was all she wanted to talk about.
“So, what’s got you irritated as a racoon with no trash?” she asks conversationally and then takes a sip of tea. No such luck, I guess.
I sputter on my own drink, even though the bourbon is smooth as honey. “Nothing. I ain’t riled up over anything, ain’t irritated in the least.”
Her face says ‘doubt it’ loud and clear. “How’s Mike?”
I swear to God, butter would not melt in this woman’s mouth and a pit bull would lose his bone to her determination.
“Fine. Working third shift and can’t coach anymore, which you apparently already know. One of the moms took over as head coach.” My voice gives nothing away, and my hand is steady as I take another sip.
