Don't Date Your Brother's Best Friend

“I remember. She was a nice lady.”

“That she was. First cousin to my Rema,” the chief said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Seems to me if they’re family to you, you gotta get your ass out there and help.”

“I intend to, sir,” I said.

I definitely meant to help out at the Winters’ place. I was looking forward to dinner with Sarah Jo more than I cared to admit to myself. Ryan would be there. Her dad would be there. It was perfectly innocent. I wanted to support her and encourage her all I could, knowing what a difficult time it was for her, and how little help she was getting from her brother.

I had gotten really good at picking up Ryan’s slack over the years.

5

Sarah Jo

Luke said he’d come by around five-thirty to help with dinner. Being used to Ryan’s planned times of arrival, I figured he’d show up when I set dinner on the table as my brother always did. Imagine my surprise when Luke drove up at 5:25 with a Pyrex dish of banana pudding that needed to go in the fridge.

“We had a slow night at the station, so I whipped this up in the kitchen. After I cleaned the place practically from top to bottom.”

“Wow. I can’t even get my daddy to put his own plate in the sink,” I laughed and rearranged stuff so the 9×13 pan would go on the shelf in the refrigerator. “Thanks so much.”

“Is it okay if I go ahead and start the grill?”

“I was just gonna make some chicken in the oven. Figured it was too chilly out to grill,” I said.

“Nah, I don’t mind it. Here,” he said, holding out a grocery bag. He had picked up turkey burgers (lower fat for my dad than red meat) and some onions and red and green peppers to grill.

“I’ll just go put some baked beans together,” I said, “this looks great.”

“Psst,” he said in a stage whisper. I leaned in, “That pudding is made with skim milk, so it’s low fat. Don’t tell Donnie.” I grinned and nodded.

He went out back to start up the grill. He had the charcoal burning by the time I came out with the burgers and the sliced-up peppers and onions on some foil.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’d best wait a minute till it’s good and hot.”

“This was really nice of you,” I said, “to come by and help out. I’m sure you have plenty to keep you busy at Cecil’s.”

“I sure do, but you guys are family, too. I had many a meal with my feet under your mama’s table,” he said, “that woman made the best damn meatloaf I have ever had, God rest her soul.”

I smiled, “She sure did. She never did write down the recipe, just did it all from memory. So I can’t make it…” I said. One more thing my mother could do if she was here—get my daddy to behave himself and do his therapy, make glorious meatloaf that men remembered all their lives, get Ryan to straighten up and stop whining all the time. I was trying to fill her shoes, but I just wasn’t enough. My anguish must’ve shown even though I didn’t mean it to because Luke nudged my shoulder with his.

“Go take a break. I can keep an eye on Donnie and the burgers at the same time. I can handle this,” he said.

I gave a cheerful smile, “Don’t you worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll get started on the beans, set the table.”

He didn’t let me off that easily. He caught my sleeve, made me look at him. And his damn blue eyes drilled into mine.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I’m fine!” I insisted.

Even though I wanted nothing more than to get scooped up into another one of Luke’s bear hugs that made everything safe and dark and quiet for a minute. I wanted to open my mouth and wail that I missed my mama and didn’t know what to do. But my mama was gone, and she didn’t raise a whiner. So I kept my chin up and gave him the same beauty pageant smile my mama always used at church when those ladies asked her if my daddy had quit drinking. It was the gleaming brittle smile of a woman who was bearing her own burdens and was not to be trifled with. False sympathy led to gossip, and the only thing my mother hated worse than whining was gossip. I owed it to her to keep my head up.

“Go in there and get some potatoes, and you can come back here, have a seat and say you’re cooking potatoes if you think you’ve gotta be busy,” he said.

Refusing to argue any more with a guest, I remembered my manners and did as I was told. I came out with big russet potatoes and wrapped them in foil to put on the grill. I hurried back inside and grabbed a beer for Luke out of the refrigerator. He shook his head, “I reckon you need that more than I do,” he said.