Petey steps onto the porch with us, and the woman really begins to freak out. Her gaze bouncing over the patches on his cut. “No. No. No. Why are you all here?”
“Let’s just relax,” my husband says, doing his best to calm the situation. “What is going on?”
“Brody is cheating on Daisy,” I say, placing my hands on my hips.
“I am not!” Brody yells from the other side of the door.
“He’s really not,” the woman defends.
She may be pretty, but she’s a lot older than Brody.
“He’s friends with my son,” she tries to explain.
“Who’s your son?” I ask, still not convinced there isn’t something fishy going on here.
“Jackson,” Miss Maggie says loudly from behind us.
“Jackson?”
Wait, how did Maggie get here?
The woman in front of me pales, swaying on her feet. My husband reaches for her just before she faints.
Brody opens the door and pushes past me. “Jenny. Jenny, are you okay?” When he lifts his head to look at me, he spots Miss Maggie. “Ohhhh … shit.”
“Get her inside,” Maggie orders.
Brody doesn’t hesitate to scoop the woman into his arms. I hold the door open for him. Maggie follows on his heel. She pauses in front of me. “A mother’s intuition. Never doubt it,” she says, wagging a finger in my face. Ray heads in behind her.
Petey waves for me to enter in front of him. “What in the fuck?” he whispers as I pass.
I shrug, because dammed if I know what’s going on. This is fucked up.
Poor Maggie.
I watch her go to the sink and wet a washcloth. Her eyes never leave Brody as he lays Jenny on the couch.
Jenny.
We all know who she is. I was a teenager when we brought her home and buried her at the cemetery. But if that wasn’t her, who was it?
Maggie gently pushes Brody away as he continues to fuss over her. “She’ll be just fine, dear. Go sit down.”
He falls into a nearby chair, pushing his hands in his hair.
Ray goes to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee.
Maggie brushes the cloth over her daughter’s brow as tears stream down her face. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling. “I always knew you were alive,” she whispers.
Jenny’s eyes begin to slowly blink open. “Mama?” she asks, holding her head like it hurts.
“It’s me, baby. It’s me.”
Jenny sits upright, wraps Maggie in her arms, and clings to her like she never wants to let go. “Mama,” she cries.
“Oh, baby. I have missed you,” Maggie whispers into her daughter’s hair.
The rest of us quietly begin to head outside. This seems like a very, very private moment.
