Under a Summer Sky, page 21
Tears filled Maddie’s eyes as Asa squeezed her hand. His hand felt warm and strong—so different from the last time they’d sat in this office.
“Now, of course, you’ll need to follow up so we can make sure there’s no recurrence.” He looked at the calendar on his desk. “The first time I’d like to see you is in four weeks—so around the beginning of September. After that, every six weeks for a year or so.”
Asa’s eyes glistened as he shook his head in disbelief. When he finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. “I can’t thank you enough, Dr. Raines,” he said, standing to shake his hand.
The doctor stood too. “In my experience, it’s the patients who have a strong faith—who believe in some kind of higher power—that have the most profound results. And from the moment I met you, I had a feeling you would have a positive outcome.”
Asa smiled at Maddie. “Maddie’s the one with the strong faith,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I think she has a direct line to heaven.”
The doctor put his hand on Asa’s shoulder. “Well, she’s a keeper . . . and so are you.”
The doctor reached out to shake Maddie’s hand, but Maddie bypassed his outstretched hand and hugged him instead. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
Asa held the door for Maddie, and as she stepped out into the late-day August sunshine, she felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders: Asa was going to live . . . their lives would be normal again . . . they would grow old together. Her heart sang with joy.
“I think we should celebrate,” Asa said, putting his arm jauntily over her shoulder.
“What about Harper?”
“She’ll be fine, but if you’re really worried, call Micah.”
“He’s not home. He’s out on the Cape, helping Noah.”
Asa frowned. “How about Bella?”
“Okay,” Maddie said with a nod, reaching for her phone.
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at a table near a window at the Union Oyster House, sipping cocktails and perusing the menu when their cell phone rang. Maddie looked at the screen. “It’s Bella,” she said, flipping it open.
“Hi, Bella,” she said. “What’s up?” As she listened, a smile spread across her face. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said, laughing. “Thank you so much for letting us know.” She paused. “Yup, we’ll be home in a couple of hours.”
Maddie closed her phone and beamed. “Two of the eggs hatched!”
“Great,” Asa said, laughing. “I can’t wait to be followed around by fuzzy little goslings.”
47
Micah and E stood on either side of Noah, holding up the new granite countertop while Noah spread silicone along the plywood base; then he quickly squeezed a bead of caulk around the rim of the new sink, and they gently set the heavy granite down and slid it into place.
“When is Laney due home?” Micah asked.
Noah frowned and gave the granite a gentle nudge to center it better around the sink. “I think she’ll be home on the twelfth. She didn’t want to have to freeze the peaches because she worried it would make the cobbler watery, so she planned on getting back as close to the sixteenth as possible while still allowing enough time to get everything done. And she wanted to be home for Asher’s birthday, which is the thirteenth.”
“We shouldn’t have asked her to make the cobbler,” Micah said regretfully.
“If you hadn’t asked her to make the cobbler, she wouldn’t have gone to Georgia.”
“Well, it’s too much. It’s bad enough that we’re having the wedding here. She must be absolutely frazzled.”
“She’s okay,” Noah assured him.
E looked up and caught his uncle’s eye, and Micah nodded in understanding. Everyone in the family knew that Noah—ever the optimist—was notoriously bad at gauging his wife’s stress level. “I still think we should make it up to her somehow. Any idea what she might like?”
Noah surveyed the counter and took a sip of his beer. “You really don’t have to do anything,” he said. “She’s getting a new kitchen.”
“I know, but that’s from you—because she’s put up with you all these years,” he added with a grin. “We should do something too.”
“Well, we were just talking about how nice it would be to get away . . . and since E and Gabe are heading back to school soon, maybe you guys could stay with the boys for a weekend.”
“Where are you thinking of going?”
“We talked about Nantucket, but she thinks it’s too expensive.”
Micah nodded. “Well, how about if we give her a gift card for the Century House and stay with the boys.”
“She’d love that,” E said, before his dad could answer.
“She would,” Noah agreed, “but don’t you think the Century House is a little extravagant?”
Micah took a sip of his beer. “Nope, Laney’s worth it. She’s always been there for me, and this is long overdue.”
Noah shrugged and turned his attention back to the countertop. “When are they coming with the tent and the dance floor?”
“Probably the same day Laney gets home.”
“Perfect,” Noah said with a chuckle. “She’ll come home to the usual—blessed pandemonium.”
“Well, at least the kitchen’ll be done,” Micah said.
“Maybe,” Noah said with a smile. “E, can you hand me that cloth?”
“Where did you learn how to do all this anyway?” Micah asked.
“We ministers have all kinds of hidden talents,” he said with a grin. “Actually, I learned a lot when I helped Dad update their kitchen.”
“When did you order the cabinets and countertops?”
“Oh, back when Laney started talking about getting a new oven—that was the easy part. Convincing her to go to Georgia was the hard part.”
Micah looked around. “She’s going to be so surprised.”
Noah nodded. “I tried to get an idea of what color scheme she liked when we were picking out the oven, and she seemed to be drawn to the darker colors.”
“Well, it’s gorgeous. She’s going to love it.”
“I wanted to refinish the floor too, but we have to be off of it for three days afterward, so I don’t think we’ll be able to fit that in.”
Micah took a sip of his beer. “Maybe you can do it right before you go away. And we’ll have the boys come stay with us in New Hampshire.”
Noah looked skeptical. “That would involve bringing the dogs too . . . and trying to work around Ben and Seth’s cross-country schedule. It’s a nice thought, but nothing is ever that simple around here.”
Micah laughed. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to camp out in the yard one weekend.”
“Dad,” E interrupted, looking at the clock. “Do you need me anymore?”
“Why? Where are you headed?”
“Out.”
Noah raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.
“I need to go running, shower, and then Chloe and I are going to a movie.”
Micah looked up. “That reminds me—I’m supposed to find out if Chloe’s coming to the wedding.”
“She is,” E said with a smile. “Thanks for inviting her.”
“Good! Beryl and I are looking forward to meeting her. We’ve heard so many good things . . . especially her poetry reciting skills.”
E laughed. “Yup, she definitely impressed Grandpa.”
“And he’s not easily impressed,” Micah noted.
Noah eyed his oldest son. “Well, just because your mother’s not home, doesn’t mean you can stay out all night.”
Micah eyed his brother. “You’re kidding, right? He’s a twenty-one-year-old college senior, and he still has a curfew?”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Noah said defensively. “I just follow ’em.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” E interjected. “Chloe and I both have to be at work tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll be home at a decent time.”
Just then, Gabe came in, drying his hands on a paper towel. “Well, the front is all done—two coats. But I’m not responsible for how much paint Ben and Seth spattered on each other . . . and the hydrangeas.”
“I thought you covered the bushes.”
“I did, but they still managed to get it everywhere.” He looked at E. “Are we running?”
“Yup.”
“Hey, are you guys running Falmouth?” Micah asked.
“We are,” Gabe answered.
Noah eyed his brother. “Poor planning on your part.”
Micah frowned. “When is it?”
“The day after the wedding.”
“It’s late this year. Oh, well, maybe next year.” He looked at Gabe. “Are you still going to be our DJ?” he asked hopefully.
“Yup. In fact, I’d like to go over the music with you sometime.”
“I’m staying over tonight . . . so maybe later?”
“Sounds good.”
The screen door squeaked open, and Ben and Seth tumbled in, covered in red paint, and Noah groaned and shook his head.
“It’s his fault,” Seth said, pushing his brother.
“You started it,” Ben protested, pushing back.
Micah just laughed. “I’m so glad I have a girl.”
“You are now,” Noah said. “Wait ’til she’s a teenager.”
“Yeah, Uncle Micah,” Seth added. “You’ll wish you had five boys!”
48
“There it is,” Laney exclaimed, pointing to an old wooden sign by the side of the road. “Want to stop and take a picture?”
“Sure,” Asher said. “Can Halle be in it?”
“Yup,” Laney said, stirring up a cloud of dust as she pulled over. She helped Asher climb out and then clicked Halle’s leash onto her collar and lifted her out. “Hold on to her,” she warned, handing the leash to him.
Asher nodded and led Halle—sniffing happily—through the tall sprays of goldenrod and milkweed. “Get busy,” he said, and he didn’t have to ask twice—Halle promptly squatted. “Can I go too?” he asked.
Laney looked up from her phone. “Go ahead.”
Asher turned away and pushed down his shorts. “Look how far I can make it go,” he said proudly, glancing back over his shoulder.
Laney shook her head—after five boys, male peeing prowess was old news. “You’re definitely a Coleman,” she said as Asher pulled up his shorts and studied the hand-painted sign.
PACEY’S PEACHES AND PECANS
PICK YOUR OWN
OR VISIT OUR GIFT SHOP AND TAKE HOME
A DELICIOUS HOMEMADE PIE, COBBLER, OR JAM
2 MILES AHEAD . . . BUSES WELCOME!
“Someone needs to repaint it,” Asher called, critically eyeing the peeling paint.
“You’re right,” Laney called back.
Asher turned around, pushed Halle’s hind end down, looked up at Laney, and grinned. “Perfect,” Laney said, taking the picture. She studied the image and gave him a thumbs-up. “If I had a Facebook page, this would be a perfect post.”
Asher walked back toward the car, looking puzzled. “How come you don’t have a Facebook page, Mom?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, showing him the picture. “I guess I’m kind of old school. I keep in touch with my friends the old-fashioned way—with letters and phone calls.” She lifted Halle back into the car.
“Does Dad have a Facebook page?” Asher asked, climbing.
“He does. He says it helps him keep in touch with his congregation.”
Asher nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think I want a Facebook page.”
“How come?”
“Cuz kids post mean stuff.”
“How do you know that?”
“Ben and Seth were talking about it. They thought I was asleep, but I heard Ben tell Seth about some older kids that posted some really mean things about a girl . . . and she ended up in the hospital.”
“She did?” Laney asked in surprise, wondering how she’d missed this. “Was she okay?”
Asher shrugged. “I dunno because they started whispering.”
Laney frowned. “Well, sometimes kids do say mean things . . . and it’s usually because they’re having a hard time or they aren’t happy.”
Asher nodded, stroking Halle’s head. He looked back at the sign. “Two miles, Mom! Let’s go!”
Leaving a trail of red dust behind them, Laney pulled back onto the road, and as they crested the next hill, she pointed. “There it is!”
Asher looked out at the rows of gnarled, ancient trees, their limbs heavy with rosy, golden fruit. “Wow!” he said.
“And those are the pecan trees,” she said, motioning across the road.
Asher gazed at the majestic trees on the opposite side of the road—they were twice as big as the peach trees. “Mom, how come we don’t live here?”
Laney laughed. “I don’t know, Ash. When I was your age, I was certain I’d live here someday . . . but sometimes life doesn’t work out the way we plan.” She turned into a long, winding driveway shaded by peach trees and drove slowly up to an old rambling white farmhouse sitting on a hill. “This is where Gramp and Gram lived,” Laney said softly, tears filling her eyes.
As she pulled up next to an old Chevy pickup, a lanky reddish-brown hound loped out of the barn, bellowing a deep-throated greeting. “C’mere, Red,” a broad-shouldered man with a tattered John Deere hat called out gruffly, following him.
Laney climbed out of her old Honda Pilot and stood with her hands on her hips, watching the man as he tried to suppress the grin that was spreading across his face. Laney slowly shook her head as she walked toward him, and when they reached each other, he swept her off the ground in a powerful bear hug. “Oh, man, yer a sight for sore eyes,” he said, laughing and swinging her around.
“So are you,” she said, resting her hand on the side of his tan face and searching his bright blue eyes. She lifted his hat off his head and laughed. “Oh, my goodness! Look how gray you are!”
“You’d be gray too if you were running this place,” he said, laughing.
“Mom!” Asher called, eyeing the big hound warily.
Lyle looked up. “Oh, man, look at this kid—does he ever look like his father! Are you sure you had anything to do with him?”
Laney laughed. “I’m sure. I felt every contraction.”
Lyle walked over and smoothed Halle’s soft ears. “You don’t need to worry about Red. He’s a big mush—big wind, no rain.”
Asher nodded and opened the door for Halle to jump out; immediately, she ran fearlessly over to the old hound and jumped on him, but he just wagged his wiry tail and sniffed her. Satisfied that his uncle was right, Asher started to climb down too.
“Hey, man, you got a hug for me?”
Asher grinned and jumped into his uncle’s strong, brown arms.
Lyle chuckled. “Man, you’re heavy! What’d you have for breakfast?”
“Pancakes, sausage, and orange juice.”
“All that? Well, heck, I hope you saved room for dinner.”
“You’re having dinner now?” Asher asked in surprise.
“Yup.”
Asher gave his mom a puzzled look, and she laughed. “You’re in the south now, Ash. Life’s a little slower down here.”
Lyle set Asher down and grinned. “I like that shirt,” he said. “Do you think it would fit me?”
Asher looked down. “Nooo,” he said, laughing.
“What if I let you drive my John Deere?”
Asher’s eyes grew wide. “You have a John Deere?”
“Yup, didn’t yer ma tell ya?”
Asher shook his head and then frowned. “I still don’t think it’ll fit you.”
Lyle ruffled his hair. “That’s okay, Ash. I’ll let you drive my tractor anyway,” he said. “A little later though, cuz everybody’s waitin’ and dinner’s gettin’ cold.”
“What are we having?” Asher asked as Laney reached into the back of the SUV for the gifts she’d brought.
“Let’s see,” he said, scratching his chin. “We’re havin’ fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, coleslaw, biscuits . . . and peach pie with homemade ice cream.”
“Peach ice cream?” Laney asked, her eyes growing wide.
“Is there any other kind?” Lyle teased.
They turned toward the house, and as they came up the walk, Lyle’s wife, Maren, came out on the porch, drying her hands on her apron. “They’re here,” she called, and a tall, dark-haired boy and a younger girl came running toward the door. Maren gave Laney a hug and knelt down in front of Asher. “You must be Asher,” she said with a kind smile. “I’m Aunt Maren and these are your cousins,” she said, motioning to the boy and girl standing beside her, “Levi and Laurie.” Asher smiled shyly and nodded.
The screen door squeaked open again, and a tall, slender man with a shock of white hair politely held it open for a sprite, petite woman in her early seventies. Laney looked up in surprise. “Hi, Uncle Luke and Aunt Jo.”
“Hi, Laney, dear, it’s so good to see you,” Aunt Jo said, reaching up to hug her.
The older gentleman leaned on his cane and smiled at Asher. “Hello there, young man,” he said, his ice-blue eyes sparkling.
“Hello,” Asher said politely.
“Uncle Luke is Grandpa Pacey’s brother,” Laney explained.
Asher nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the introduction of so many new family members.
Laney smiled—struck by how much her uncle looked like her father . . . and her grandfather. She gave him a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. She looked around at her family. “It’s so good to see all of you.”
49
As Noah poured fresh paint into the roller tray, he heard Lucky meowing sadly and went out on the porch to investigate. Lucky was sitting by the screen door, watching the birds. “Sorry, pal, no more roaming . . . or hunting. Even if you could go out, those birds are off-limits.” Lucky looked up at him and cried pitifully. “C’mere,” he said, sitting down on the step. Immediately, he padded over, swishing his tail, and swept back and forth between his legs, making figure eights. As he came through the last time, Noah stopped him and gently cupped his head in his hands to get a better look at the wound where his right eye had been. “Looking good,” he said softly, scratching his ears. Lucky purred loudly, continuing to swish his long tail. Then he padded back to the door. “You don’t know how much I wish I could let you out,” Noah said sadly, “but the doc and Mom said no.”
