Abit
I’d carried the dread around with me for more than a week. I’d been so happy that Fiona and I were back together, I hadn’t mentioned anything troubling—like about having kids. But I couldn’t get married with something like that hanging over us. I finally got up the nerve.
“Do you still want to have children, Fiona?” My heart was thundering.
“Of course I do, Rabbit.”
I felt like she’d punch me in the gut. “Why’d you come back, then? You know how I feel.”
“Yeah, I do.” She paused, like she was thinking of the right thing to say. “I decided I’d rather have a life with you without kids that a life without you.”
I didn’t know what to say. How do you thank someone for giving up a dream?
After that, we started planning the wedding and figuring out who to invite. I was surprised how long that list grew; I never imagined I’d have that many people who might come. Or for that matter, that anyone would want to stand next to me in a wedding—let alone someone like Fiona.
Mama acted all prudish at first. I knew she was thinking about time or something along those lines. She’d told me she knew we’d been sleeping together, in a way that made it sound all ugly-like. But oncet she got over that kind of foolishness, she dove into planning the food and all.
Fiona was a ferocious list maker; she took a full inventory of our furnishings and other stuff. Then she told me which things of mine she just couldn’t bear to live with. Fine by me. They didn’t mean a thing to me. Just something to sit on or sleep on. She also made what she called a “short list” of things she’d like me to make in the woodshop, including a hoosier with carvings along the top. I musta sighed, because she added that I didn’t have to make them before we moved in. I chose to think she was kidding.
When it came to things she had that I couldn’t live with, I thought about the table I’d made for her that Dr. Gerald Navarro ordered. I didn’t want to get rid of it, but it sure had bad memories. Then I remembered the initials I’d carved underneath, and I felt that was a kind of blessing, making that table ours all along.
I had one other thing I needed to mention: garden gnomes. We hadn’t even moved in yet, but she’d already bought a dozen or more of them things to put all round the garden. I guessed it was an Irish thing. Trouble was, I didn’t trust myself not to run over them with the lawnmower oncet we moved in. Later on, though, I looked at it another way: If gnomes were the biggest sore spot for me, things were going good.
Eventually, we got rid of a lot of stuff, but it still took a bunch of trips in Shiloh’s truck to get our belongings out to the new place. One evening, we went out after Fiona got off work. As I drove, we both commented on how pretty the sky looked—big pink clouds catching the sun’s long rays. But then, in the blink of an eye, like someone flipped a light switch, they turned gray; it was coming up dark fast.
As we crested a small hill along the road to our house, I could just make out some people digging in the yard. “Hey, what’s goin’ on here?” I asked when I got outta the truck. Millie almost never made a peep, but she barked at them.
Addie Compton stood off to the side while what looked like a coupla grandsons were digging deep holes in the yard. They’d taken a lot more than dahlias—including a big lilac bush and at least a dozen rose bushes. The yard wasn’t safe to walk in with all them holes.
“You said we could take some,” she fired back.
“Yeah, some dahlias. Not all this.” A noise at the side of the house made me look over thataway, where yet another grandson was loading his truck with the firewood she’d promised us. Cold mornings weren’t that far off, and I’d looked forward to having a ready supply. “And just where are you goin’ with that wood?” I asked.
“Home,” he said, as if that cleared everything up.
“Well, I think you need to run along. Take your flowers but leave the wood.” I looked to Addie and said, “You promised that. Said it was a housewarming present because we’d been so nice to work with.”
There was a tense standoff, but finally she nodded, and the grandson threw a few pieces of wood back on the pile. They loaded Granny in the backseat, strapped down the trunk lid to hold in all the plants, and roared down the driveway. Halfway down, Granny stuck her head and arm outta the back window, clutching a piece of firewood. “I hope you’uns burn up with that wood!”
I had to console Fiona. She was awfully superstitious, what with all them Irish curses running round in her head. I assured her we’d be happy there. But we rode home quiet-like. I had to admit Mrs. Compton’s curse sent a chill down my back, too.
When we got back to my place, that seemed like the least of our worries.