Bobby shakes his head mournfully. “Last man standing.” He points his fork at each of the women at the table. “And that is not a challenge. If anything, I challenge you to let me live in peace. Me and my guitar.”
Rookie mistake. He just painted a big ol’ target on his back.
Over dinner, we talk about the new cattle, who are doing well and blended with the main herd, the rising price of hay, and Cooper’s latest building project, a birdhouse for the tree in Mama Louise’s yard. Then the conversation turns to Brutal and Allyson’s wedding, and all hope for any other topic is lost as they discuss their plan to turn the foundation of their new home into a wedding venue with the addition of some rugs. I don’t get it at all, but Katelyn and Allyson say they have a ‘vision’ and I don’t doubt that they’ll come up with something beautiful.
After dinner and the dishes are done, we head outside for a cornhole tournament. “The first bracket is Erica versus Cooper,” Shayanne announces. “Watch out for that one, girl. He’s little but he’s got good aim.”
Erica looks Cooper, who is only a couple of inches shorter than she is, up and down and grins. “Me too.”
Their game is the upset of the night when Erica wins, but Cooper quickly forgives her when she loses to Bobby on the next bracket. Bobby takes on Shayanne, and most everyone gathers in the yard to cheer on the close game. Except Erica and Cooper, who take off to catch fireflies.
I sit on the porch, sipping at a Budweiser and watching the two of them run around. Erica’s good with kids. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. Or maybe she’s just good with Cooper because he’s bit of a spitfire himself. Her soul probably recognizes a kindred spirit.
Mama Louise drops into the chair next to me. “Pretty evening, huh?”
I grunt and take another sip, avoiding the conversation she’s trying to start because I’m still me, even if I have grown a bit.
“You don’t have to talk. I know how you boys are, but I’ve spent a lot of years reading people, especially stubborn, grumpy old men, and I’m perfectly happy to carry the conversation myself and say what I want to say.”
‘Old?’ Hardly. The rest I won’t argue with.
“You’re almost there, Brody. I can see it for you, the future you’ve been quietly dreaming of.”
She looks at me, and though I fight it, my head turns and I meet her eyes. Once upon a time, I thought she’d been a godsend, helping Mom and helping us through a rough spot, and then she was gone from my life. Another of Dad’s doings with his piss-poor decisions.
But the joke’s on him in the end, because Mama Louise has a heart bigger than the sun when it fills the whole horizon, and when we needed her like never before, she came through. I will never be able to repay her for what she’s done for my family. For me.
“Thank you. For everything,” I say quietly, my voice rough and scratchy like I haven’t used it in too long.
She nods, not needing the thanks but appreciating it all the same. “Keep at it. You’ve got your family to a good place, and now you’re finally letting yourself live too.” She puts her hand on my arm, squeezing tight. “Your parents would be proud of the man you’ve become. You took the best of both of them—”
I open my mouth to contradict her.
“Don’t argue with me about your Dad. Paul had his demons, but don’t we all?” She lifts a brow, telling me to shut my mouth, and I oblige this time, not sure what to say. “You took the best of both of them and grew into a man with a good heart, a strong work ethic, and a mouth fouler than the Devil himself.” For once, she says it like it’s a compliment instead of her typical reminder to watch our language, something I’ve never quite understood.
I smile, hiding it with a sip of Bud, and she goes back to watching Erica and Cooper run around and Bobby and Shayanne play cornhole. But after a second, I give her more.
“When I lost the farm . . .” I clear my throat, not used to opening myself like this. “It could’ve gone . . . I could’ve gone wrong, turned into Dad. He lost the most important thing to him, and so did I, in a way. I’m not diminishing how important Mom was or how much losing her hurt, but that farm became a barometer of sorts. And I lost it. I felt like a failure. Hell, I still do sometimes. But I won’t always be. I’m going to buy it back from you one day.”