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“I read in that article that Maya does that sort of thing, too. Just thought you’d like to know it was something she had in common with your mother. She was talking about giving it up. Said it was too rustic a hobby for a woman in her position. She never did, though. Just kept it to herself.” Turning, he set his empty cup down. “Guess I’ll head up to bed now. Big day tomorrow, with the wedding and all.” He started toward the stairs.
“Dad.”
The old man stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Thanks.”
“Goodnight, son.”
“Night.” Caleb sat down again, alone now with his thoughts. His fears. And the new, confusing things circling his mind like sharks. He was glad his father had reached out to him tonight, tried, in his way, to mend old wrongs. But he couldn’t help but think he should have been having a long conversation with someone else tonight.
With Maya.
Because, dammit, there was so much he needed to work through where she was concerned. So much he was confused about. Mostly he wanted to know why she’d agreed to marry him. Had it been for the reasons he’d laid out? Because, frankly, he’d been making those up as he went along. It scared the hell out of him to admit it, even to himself, but he had to know. They were at zero hour. Mostly he’d just wanted to lock on to her and the babies in some way that assured him they wouldn’t just vanish from his life, fall through his tenuous grasp someday. Coming out here, he’d discovered that they were precious to him…she was precious to him. He could understand feeling that need to hold on to the babies. They were his, after all. But why that desperate need to cling to Maya?
She was the mother of his kids. That had to be stirring some kind of primal instincts to life inside him. There were probably all kinds of psychological reasons why a man would feel drawn to a woman who was about to bear his children.
Weren’t there?
And why didn’t it feel as if that was the answer? Why was he suddenly dreading the thought of taking her with him, into his world, watching her evolve into the perfect political wife, seeing her change…and maybe cut her hair? Or…give up quilting?
He stayed up by the fire for a long time, thinking, searching his mind. But all he kept seeing when he imagined the future was a log cabin on a hillside above a wildflower-strewn meadow. A couple of kids, and a big shaggy dog bounding through the blossoms. Maya on the front porch, in the sunshine. A doe and a pair of spotted fawns feeding out back.
He fell asleep, and the images wove into dreams. Vivid, achingly wonderful dreams.
* * *
Maya had pleaded exhaustion and gone to her room just to get out of the sight of her mother and sisters before the tears came. And once they started, they didn’t seem to want to stop. She buried her face in her pillows and thumped her mattress repeatedly with her fist, but it didn’t help.
After twenty minutes she forced herself to sit up, reached for a tissue and caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. Red puffy eyes, wild hair, streaks on her face and a runny nose looked back at her. “You are a basket case, Maya Brand,” she told herself. “Why don’t you get a grip?”
“Because you’re going to become a wife and a mother of two all in the space of the next few days, darlin’.” Her mother’s voice made her jerk her head around. Vidalia sat in the chair beside the bed. In her hands she held a big bowl of vanilla ice cream, with chocolate syrup drizzled over the top, a generous dollop of whipped cream…and two spoons.
Maya sniffled. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long enough for the ice cream to get just soft enough. I figured I’d let you cry it out. It’s cleansing, a good cry. Sometimes you just need to let it rinse you clean.”
She held out the bowl.
Maya eyed it. “I’m not hungry,” she said.
“Since when do we eat ice cream because we’re hungry?” Vidalia asked, and set the bowl in her daughter’s lap.
Maya picked up the spoon and took three consecutive bites.
“You came upstairs before I got to tell you about the wedding plans that man of yours managed to put together.”
She sniffed, ate another bite, looked at her mother.
“He spoke to Reverend Jackson, and the reverend says he’ll personally take care of getting the church ready. He even offered to have the full choir turn out, and Mrs. Sumner is practically begging to be allowed to play the organ.” Vidalia sneaked a quick taste of the ice cream with her own spoon. “And get this, Mrs. Mackensie and the Ladies’ Auxiliary volunteered to see to it the flowers arrived and take care of the decorations. Well, you know, Mrs. Mackensie’s sister is the only florist in town, so I suppose that makes sense, but—’’
“But, Mom, the church ladies don’t even like me.”
“Oh, honey, they do now.”
Maya thrust out her lower lip. “I don’t think I want them at my wedding.”
Her mother smiled. “That’s exactly what Caleb told them. He said he just wanted use of the church, thank you very much. Said he had his own florist in mind, and that he didn’t want anyone there who wasn’t specifically invited. Told the reverend his next sermon ought to be on loving thy neighbor and the dangers of false pride.” She smiled. “The reverend laughed! He said it was about time someone put that bunch in their place, and he thought Maya Brand was just the one to do it.”
