He turned his head to glance behind him and chuckled. “That would be my mother, and, no, she won’t get dizzy.”
“Your mother?” There was incredulity in her voice, but the smile he liked seeing began to grow as her gaze stayed on Delilah.
“Would you like to meet her?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think I should.”
“Why not?”
“Because of who I am. Or rather, who my mother was.”
“What do you think will happen?”
She didn’t answer, but her hands squeezed his tighter.
“I can assure you, my mother is the most understanding of women. After all, she raised three rather rambunctious boys. She won’t look down upon you because of who you are. Or who your mother was.” He searched her features, her hesitation clear. He saw fear, too, and that shouldn’t be. He didn’t know her well, but she seemed like a genuinely nice person, albeit a little stiff and reserved. “You haven’t realized yet, despite Josie’sprofession, your mother was well liked in this town. Have you met anyone who disparaged her? Ridiculed her? Or yourself for that matter?”
“No, not really. There was one woman at Sullivan’s. I think Tresia called her Samantha, who looked at me with what I can only assume was disgust. For the most part, though, everyone I’ve met has been friendly.”
“Come on then. Come meet my mother. You’ll like her.”
He didn’t give her a choice. With his hands still grasping hers, he guided her toward his mother, who had stopped spinning, and was now skating with Royce toward the edge of the pond and the bales of hay, where their belongings were. Royce helped her cross over the frozen ground so she could rest on the hay, then moved off toward Mr. Palmer’s peanut and popcorn cart.
“Mama, I’d like you to meet Sheridan DuBois. Sheridan, this is my mother, Delilah Cabot.”
Delilah’s face lit with pleasure, as he knew it would, and she held out her hand. His mother had always been kind and accepting of others. Well, with the exception of the woman who’d left him at the altar. For Katie, Delilah held a great deal of disappointment and contempt, for breaking his heart. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss DuBois.”
“You as well. You skate beautifully.”
“Thank you.” His mother gave a small laugh. “You’re doing wonderfully, too. Is it your first time?”
“Yes, it is.” Sheridan smiled, which he noticed was becoming more and more frequent—and that was fine with him. “I’m finding it enjoyable, if a little frightening.”
“Frightening? What are you afraid of, dear?”
“That I’ll fall and make a complete fool of myself.”
Delilah nodded, then offered some sage advice, advice he’d heard all his thirty-three years. “Falling and making a completefool of yourself is part of life, Miss DuBois. It’s going to happen, whether you want it to or not. We can’t stop it, no matter what we do, but take it for what it’s worth—a learning experience. We aren’t born knowing how to walk and talk but eventually we learn. The main thing is knowing what to do with the experience. Do you get up after you fall? Or do you just stay there and wait for someone to help you?” She patted Sheridan’s hand. “The choice is yours, of course, but I would opt for getting up.” She winked then turned her attention to Royce, who joined them, the smell of fresh roasted peanuts rising from the small bag in his hand. “This is my husband, Royce. Royce, this is Sheridan DuBois.”
He gave the bag to Delilah then extended his hand in greeting, his smile wide. “How do you do, Miss DuBois?”
“It’s lovely to meet you.”
“How are you finding Serenity?” There was genuine concern in Royce’s expression, as if her answer was important, but Royce was like that. He cared about other people, wanting them to be as happy as he was, which Wyatt found to be an admirable trait.
“It’s a lovely, little town. So much different than where I’m from.”
“And where is that?”
“New Orleans.”
“I thought I heard that in your voice.” Delilah glanced at him even as she extended the bag of peanuts toward Sheridan, who shook her head. “Wyatt, didn’t you spend some time there when you were in the army?”
“I did. I loved it.” He declined the offer of peanuts as well with a quick shake of his head. “Even learned how to speak French while I was there.”
“Are you ready, my dear?” Royce asked as he held out his hand to Delilah.
“Of course.” Delilah laughed, put down the bag of peanuts and looked at Sheridan. “Miss DuBois, stick with Wyatt. He skates better than I do.” She winked, then allowed Royce to escort her to the ice.
