Amos squeezes my knee and winks at me, lowering his fork to a plate that now has a suspiciously large helping of raspberries.
That man. I don't have a sun, but something inside me melts a little at that. He remembered I didn't like fruit and sneaked it off for me.
"You stayin' for breakfast, Conman?" Amos throws a claiming arm around my shoulders, thumb lazily brushing little wisps of my hair, and directs a smirk to me. "Mom told me I couldn't call him Convict even though he has all those tats."
"Dick." Connor scowls.
"Connor..."
"Sorry, Momma. No, just dropped by to let you know I'd be going out of town for a few days to deliver some furniture in case you stopped by and I wasn't there."
"You boys." Mitchell shakes his head. "Guess I'm the last of the farming Shays on this side of the family. Glad you came out instead of just calling. Been too long since we've seen your face around here."
"I know, I know. I'll try to visit more often, but not today. Toto's not too happy I stuck him back in the truck. Nice to meet you, Mercy. Be sure and add some dye to his shampoo so he can cover up all those grays. See ya, dickface. Sorry, Momma." He kisses Corina's cheek, slaps his dad's shoulder, then drops a still mewling kitten in his shirt pocket that's so tight the helpless creature doesn't even have a chance of escaping. "I'll leave so I don't call him any more names. I'll just be taking little Bagheera with me since I didn't see any sign of his mother or siblings out there."
Aww, the black panther from the movie. Very fitting, and such a cute name.
"You know I'm not gonna call him that, don't you?" Amos taunts his brother.
"Oh, no? Enlighten me,Amy."
Corina sighs and shrugs her shoulders as if to say,Boys never grow up.
"Baggy. Ole Baggy Britches."
"No. No, you're mixing them up. Bagheera wasBaggyand Mowgli waslittle britches."
"Yeah, but the kid was young like the kitten. So Baggy Britches, it is."
Connor scratches his nose with his middle finger. "Bye, Amy."
"Later, Conway Twitty."Amos returns the gesture.
I can breathe easier with him gone. One Shay man is almost too much. Two is definitely too much, and three? Well, there's no recovering from that.
"Believe it or not, Mercy, they really do love each other."
Amos shovels more raspberries into his mouth. "Of course, we do, Momma. We just try to keep the love alive by adding a little spark every now and then."
Crunching through my toast, I think about what I just saw. Though they have unique ways and traditions, there's no denying the members of this family love each other. But isn't that what family is supposed to do? Love each other no matter what?
"You done, baby? I'll take your plate so Dad and I can clean the kitchen." Lips touch my forehead in a sweet kiss. "Why don't you sit with Mercy on the porch, Momma? It's such a nice day."
Shooting him an incredulous look, I almost grab for his hand and beg him to come with me as a buffer. I feel embarrassed for how his parents saw me yesterday and being alone with one of them is the last thing I want. But at the same time, I want to know more about Corina's story. What better time to ask her than when she's away from Mitchell and Amos?
"That's a lovely idea. Come this way, Mercy."
I follow her through the other side of the kitchen and into the living room, the clinking sounds of dishes trailing after us before disappearing as we move away. The house is very tastefully decorated in cool grays and dusky blues, but this room is a bit warmer with its golden mustard accent wall. And even though the vaulted ceiling opens the room up, it still feels cozy. I could definitely see myself taking a nap on that couch.
"Before we go outside, do you mind if I show you something?" Corina stops by a framed collage, softness overtaking her expression. "This is one of my favorite pieces."
Hesitant steps bring me closer. It's full of kid drawings. Stick figures and houses. "Your grandchildren did these?" That's pretty sweet of her to frame all—I do a quick count—ten pictures.
"No, no grandchildren yet." She sounds wistful. "These are all Amos. He drew them when he was six."
Six. I look curiously at her. "Amos said you married his dad when he was six."
"I did. And it all started because of this." She motions to the pictures.
