Let It Go (25 page)

“Brody!” a tall, stately, middle-aged man still holding on to a full head of thick, dark hair greets them, wrapping his arms snugly around Brody’s frame. “Good to see you, kid. And you brought company.” The man breaks his hold on Brody, enthusiastically extending his hand. “You must be Savannah.” Savannah nods, meeting his oversized palm, her smile reciprocal of his. “Lance Galloway,” he introduces himself.

“This is my mama’s husband,” Brody clarifies.

“I’m what they call the
other half
,” Lance jokes, alluding that his wife is the
better half
. Waving to a tall, good-looking blonde, Lance beckons, “Come on over, baby. See what company your baby brought.”

Brody shakes his head smiling, slightly embarrassed. Recouping, he embraces his mother. “Hey Mama.”

“How’s my boy?” she greets him. Pulling away, she inspects his frame. “Have you been eating right? You look a little slim. Used to eat me out of house and home, this one,” she pulls Savannah into the conversation with her eyes.

“Mama, this is Savannah,” Brody acquaints them.

“I wondered when we’d get to meet you. Heard you introduced her to your daddy first,” she says, a hint of displeasure in her voice.

“Thanks for having us over, Lydia,” Savannah speaks her name, having been prefaced by Brody in previous conversation. Studying her face, Savannah immediately picks out the high cheekbones and deep-set steel blue eyes she shares with her son.

“Uncle Brody! Uncle Brody!” a boy of about six years chants, making a beeline.

“Liam Patrick,” Brody greets him by name, stooping down and scooping him up in his arms.

After a quick hug, Liam wriggles free, pulling at Brody’s hand. “Come see my trap I set in the woods.”

Brody looks to Savannah. “She’ll be fine,” Lydia consoles. “I don’t bite…hard.” She winks at her son, the same charming grin staring back at him.

“What are you trying to catch?” Brody asks Liam as they walk away. “A wassa kitty?” Brody offers up with a spooky and excited intonation.

“What’s a wassa kitty?” Liam asks, his eyes as big as saucers.

“The most elusive wildcat on the planet. Hunters have been tracking it for years,” Brody tells a tall tale.

Another one of Savannah’s heartstrings finds itself effectively tugged watching the six-foot-four Adonis walk away, his pinky finger securely tucked in little Liam’s hand.

“Do you want children?” Lydia asks, taking note of the warmth in Savannah’s expression as she watches Liam and Brody.

“Yes Ma’am,” she answers, “someday.” Savannah notes the newly confirmed
want
making its way onto her Brody-inspired checklist.

“Brody says you’re a writer? Anything I’ve read?” Lydia keeps her inspection unthreatening.

“Well, I don’t have any books published just yet. I write for the paper mostly. A column for the
Savannah Sun Times.
Are you a big reader?” Savannah attempts to change the trajectory of the conversation, uncomfortable with the self-focus.

“Oh yes. I read anything I can get my hands on. It’s part of my job.” Lydia smiles. “I’m a technical editor at University Press.”

“Oh!” Savannah pipes, surprised and impressed. University Press is on her list of possibles to submit her book proposal should Willow pass on the project. “That’s very cool. You do exist? Editors.” Savannah chuckles, finding them rather elusive as a writer.

“It’s unfair the power we have,” Lydia sympathizes with her. “A lot of really good manuscripts don’t ever get published…all dependent on our interpretation…and the satisfaction of our day, quite frankly. Well, enough about business,” Lydia dismisses. “Brody says you’ve been married before?”

“Ah,” Savannah hesitates, “yes Ma’am. We grew apart. Things just didn’t work out.” Savannah worries she’s making it sound worse with her need to explain.

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Lydia offers, pointing to a jovial man across the yard, sitting next to and conversing with two very attractive twenty-something year old women. “That’s Vance. He was my second husband. Lance is third and final, thank God. Brody’s daddy, Chance, was the first.” She rolls her eyes, still some unrequited tension from that particular union and demise.

Savannah takes in the rhyming names, the odd account showing itself in her expression.

“I know, right. You think I would have shied away from Lance.” Lydia chuckles at the otherwise unfortunate omen. “We’ve been married now for eighteen years. Think this one’s actually going to stick.”

“Takes a little time to get it all figured out, I guess,” Savannah says.

“Youth is certainly wasted on the young,” Lydia replies, her drawl present but not overpowering.

“What are you gabbing about, Lydia honey?” an elderly gent approaches.

“I was telling Savannah here how it would have been more fruitful had I been wise instead of so good-looking as a young woman. Guess I can blame that on you and Mama,” Lydia jokes, complimenting her parents on their favorable stature and appearance.

“Ah ha ha,” he indulges in an enjoyable laugh. William “Bill” Weatherford sports a nineteen fifties-esque retro fashion of dress pants, a light plaid sweater vest and a matching paperboy cap. “I came to get a kiss from a pretty girl.” Bill offers up his cheek to Savannah.

Savannah pecks him on his clean-shaven face. “You sure smell good,” she compliments his aftershave.

“Glad to hear I still got it.” Bill winks at her. “Brody used to watch me shave as a young chap, biting at the bit to do so himself. He’d stare into the mirror wishing hair to grow on his upper lip.” Bill laughs. “I’d lather him up with Old Spice, give him a razor with the cap on and let him go to town.”

“I used to do the same thing with my mama. My legs,” Savannah clarifies. “Although no one told me what a chore it would be once the newness wore off.” She chuckles, thinking of the pesky every other day hygiene requirement.

“I got another one,” Bill prefaces, fully divulging in Brody stories. “Mother and I,” he uses the habitual moniker for his wife, “used to take the RV on all sorts of sightseeing trips. Well, one summer we took Brody with us. He couldn’t have been more than ten. He was sitting in the passenger seat proud as a peacock after touring Mount Rushmore.” Bill mimes the young boy’s actions, his arm raised and crooked at the elbow as if it leans against the passenger door frame. “He said, ‘Paw-Paw, this RV is real nice. You think I could have it when you die?’” Bill releases another belly laugh with the memory.

“And did he tell you he had a terrible time sleeping in his own bed as a little boy?” Lydia joins in, her eyes squinting into a smile. “He just had to be near me. Touching me somehow. Holding my hand. Nestling his back against mine. He was an affectionate little thing.”

“He still is,” Savannah affirms with a chuckle, noting how efficient a cuddler he is, his skin in constant contact with hers if in the general vicinity.

“I’m sure his daddy and my divorce had a lot to do with that. He was so young,” the guilt in Lydia’s voice present.

“He’s very well-adjusted,” Savannah says, attempting to offer support. “Y’all did a good job with him. He’s such a good man,” she speaks from the heart.

“Well, thank you,” Lydia dismisses. “I just figure he was born that way.”

The two attractive blondes formerly sitting with Vance approach, introducing themselves as Brody’s sisters, Emma and Kate. Kate plays interception with Lydia and Bill while Emma boldly asks for some alone time with Savannah.

“Savannah, I need some help in the kitchen, icing cupcakes. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Emma inquires, pulling her away.

“Where are you going with her?” Lydia peeks around Kate’s obtrusive frame.

“Don’t worry Mama. You’ll get more time with Savannah later,” Emma playfully calls back to her.

“Don’t know how good of a cupcake icer I am, but I’ll give it a try,” Savannah releases with a nervous chuckle. A fan of take-out, having lived alone for the past year and a half, she doubts her rusty culinary skills.

“Just shellac it on there.” Emma, caretaker and mother of two, Liam Patrick and Sophie Grace, efficiently demonstrates a perfect icing swirl with a few twists of her wrist. “All goes to the same place anyway, right.” The two women now alone in the kitchen, Emma wastes no time getting to her point. “So what are your intentions with my brother?”

Savannah continues looking down at the cupcake in her hand, her knife working the decadent icing around its top. “We’re just getting to know each other,” Savannah informs, unclear of her intentions at this point.

“You know about his past? I assume he’s told you about his divorce,” Emma leads.

“We’ve talked about it.” Savannah nods.

“I get that her family had money. She was used to a certain lifestyle and maybe we didn’t fit in to that.” Savannah finally looks up, the reservation and hurt in Emma’s voice playing on her compassion. “She was fine, with all of us, at first. But then, it was like we had to beg for Brody’s time. For their time. It put a lot of strain on him. Trying to accommodate her and us. She was very controlling like that. Are you a family person?” Emma’s thoughts roll together.

“Well yeah,” Savannah answers as if that should be a given. “I like getting together. Meeting his people. What’s not to like,” her question completely rhetorical and meant to soothe Emma’s apprehension.

“That’s what I thought,” Emma says. “We were all very nice and accepting of her. It makes things better for everyone, when everybody gets along and enjoys each other.” She exchanges her iced cupcake for another in need of the same tending. “I don’t understand why someone would purposely drive a wedge between family members.” She looks to Savannah inspecting.

Savannah shrugs. “Maybe she wanted him to herself. Jealousy makes people do some really strange things.”

“That whole experience really did a number on him. It was hard to watch.” Emma’s eyes squint, recollecting the discomfort in watching her older, stronger brother work through his hurt. “It caused a lot of strain between him and his family, us. And after the divorce, he kept beating himself up over the fact that he let her do that. He’s like that, you know. Very loyal. A man should be loyal to his wife. I get that. But he shouldn’t have had to choose to begin with.” Emma continues spitting things out, her thoughts drifting back and forth.

“I’m sorry that happened to y’all,” Savannah says, the conversation reminding her of Jack’s family and how she truly misses their presence in her newly divorced life. “I guess it’s true what they say, you’re not only marrying the man, you’re marrying his family.”

Emma shrugs. “That’s what we hoped for. Guess it just doesn’t work out that way all the time, when you don’t meet your in-laws’ expectations.”

“I’m sure it was more complicated than that,” Savannah intervenes. “It wasn’t anything y’all did or didn’t do. Some people are just hard to please.” She pauses momentarily, contemplating whether to carry on. “I’ve been married and divorced, too. Sometimes I think we get so wrapped up in the displeasure of our immediate relationship, we forget that there are others involved. Family members, on both sides. It hurts everyone,” she admits, disappointed.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Brody’s been hurt enough. I don’t want to see him go through that again.” She looks to Savannah, expectant of a reply.

“Emma, your brother and I are just getting our feet wet,” Savannah begins. “I don’t know where we’ll end up from here. But, I can assure you, it’s not my intention to hurt him.”

“Good enough.” Emma dusts off her hands as they’ve made quick work of icing cupcakes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just had to get it out.”

“No harm done,” Savannah affirms. “You’re a good sister to look out for him.”

Emma chuckles. “Lord knows he’s done his fair share of battling for me,” the young mother of two divulges.

“What’s going on in here?” Brody interrupts, coming through the door accompanied by Liam and Sophie, both of them wrapped around each of his legs, enjoying a free ride, their bottoms firmly attached to the tops of his shoes. Brody’s cousin Gavin and Jac, just arriving, trail in behind him. “You bogarting the cupcakes, Sis?” Brody looks at Emma, his eyes inspecting, figuring she has been doing a little interrogating of her own.

Emma scoops up the platter of cupcakes, quickly escorting them out the door. “Two-hand touch football in five minutes. With Savannah and Jac, we have enough for boys against girls,” Emma digs playfully.

“Boys against girls? Yay!” Liam chants jumping off Brody’s leg, the six-year-old of the persuasion that girls do in fact have cooties.

“Girls rule and boys drool,” Sophie challenges in her four-year-old tongue, her eyes keenly glancing up at the icing-laden butter knife Savannah holds in her hand.

Savannah bends down to her tiny frame, offering up the icing. “I have a niece about your age,” Savannah says, quelling Sophie’s apprehension.

The towheaded youngster, a spitting image of her mother, quickly pulls the icing from the knife with her finger, sticking it in her mouth before running off out the door behind Liam in preparation for the football fun.

“Thank you for helping out,” Brody says, placing a kiss atop Savannah’s head.

Jac playfully nudges in between them, helping Savannah clean up the kitchen as Brody and Gavin draw up football strategies on a napkin.

“What was going on in here? A little grilling?” Jac asks of Savannah and Emma’s alone time.

“Nothing you wouldn’t do.” Savannah grins at her overprotective sister. “Still hanging out with that one?” Savannah pries, her eyes darting in Gavin’s direction.

“Maybe.” Jac shrugs, a smitten smirk forming on her lips.

“Once you go Mac, you never go back,” Gavin pipes up, a play on his and Brody’s last name, McAlister, proof that he’s eavesdropping on their sisterly conversation.

“You go ahead and tell yourself that,” Jac spars playfully.

“It’s true,” Brody says, circling the counter, coming up behind Savannah. “Hunters among men. We always get our prey.” His teeth frisky in their gnawing at her neck.

Savannah giggles, shooing him away. “Yeah. You catch that wassa kitty and I’ll believe it,” she challenges through a giggle, pushing out the front door behind Jac and Gavin. Brody tracks her, hot on her heels.