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The table and the candy dish rattled like thunder in the dark room. Scottlyn bent over, righted the dish with one hand and with the other, rubbed her bare shin where it had connected with the sharp corner of the coffee table. She grimaced at the noise and the pain, training her ears for sound from behind the closed doors of the bedrooms down the hall. Nothing stirred. Satisfied that everyone except her still slept, she turned from the doorway and resumed her midnight musing.
The lights in the room flashed on. Scottlyn swallowed a yelp, spun back to the hall, and found Diana in the doorway, a can of pepper spray aimed and ready. The women stared at each other for a second.
Scottlyn drew in a long slow breath.Diana lowered the can.
"You scared the life out of me," Scottlyn said. "That makes two of us. What are you doing banging around in here in the dark, at"—she glanced at the clock on the mantle—"two a.m.?"
So much for working out my thoughts in peace and quiet. "I can't sleep. When I get like that, lying in bed just makes me more restless, so I pace. I was trying to do it quietly."
The older woman slid the can into the pocket of her robe, crossed the room, and brushed a strand of Scottlyn's hair out of her face. She cupped her chin. "I thought relief would have you sleeping like a baby tonight."
Scottlyn lifted a shoulder and stepped around Diana. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" She bounced a fist off her thigh. "I just can't get her expression out of my head."
"Bradley's mom?"
"Yeah, and it's weird. I mean...she's a crazy woman who tried to steal my child. She's out of my life and Mercie's for good, signed, sealed, and legal. So why should I lose any sleep over her?" She turned and lifted her hands in surrender. "But every time I close my eyes, there she is."
Diana nodded and took a seat in one of the room's overstuffed chairs. "Why do you think that is?"
Scottlyn stared at her feet while the clock on the mantle ticked the night away. She faced Diana and scraped the hair out of her face with an unsteady hand. "Because crazy wasn't all I saw."
Diana cocked her head and waited.
"I saw grief, and I saw longing, and I saw love. Crazy I could deal with. But those other things? How am I supposed to ignore those?"
Diana held out her hand. When Scottlyn crossed the room to take it, she pulled her down to sit on the arm of her chair. "Sweetheart, Maybe God is trying to show you something more."
"What?"
She waved the question away. "I can't listen for you, and I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you a story."
"A bedtime story? I've outgrown those, haven't I?"
Diana grinned. "Call it what you wish. But I bet you find something important in it." She settled back in her chair, and her eyes took on a dreamy quality.
"Small towns can be very insular. They don't always run at the same speed the rest of the world is addicted to. Sabor is no exception."
"Diana, this isn't news. I've lived here all my life."
She patted Scottlyn's leg. "Yes, but you haven't lived as much life here as I have, so cut me a little slack. I'm the one telling this story."
Scottlyn shrugged and waited for her to continue.
"Small town life can be a good thing and a bad thing. Churches of all denominations, public schools and private, community activities...the lines can get a little blurred, but that's part of the charm. If you live here long enough, you'll meet almost everyone, and almost everyone will, through acquaintance or grapevine, know you and your story." Her words trailed off as she stifled a yawn.
"Sorry. I'm glad Mercie will be your alarm clock in the morning, not mine. Anyway, about fifteen years ago Sabor's city council decided to hold an annual celebration. They wanted to draw in some commerce from the neighboring towns while getting residents, old and new, involved in something that fostered some renewed civic pride. It was a massive undertaking. They planned a rodeo, a parade, a gospel sing, a craft show, a farmer's market, and a street dance. A real carnival atmosphere complete with games for the kids and food vendors for the grownups. They decided to call it—"
"The Sabor Roundup," Scottlyn supplied. "It happens every year in August. I've attended it my whole life." And what does any of this have to do with Bradley Nelson's mother?
"But you weren't there for the first. That first year, it seemed like everyone in town had a job to do. Sabor's public schools partnered with Eden Heights to put together a fund raiser to benefit both schools. We had a couple of nice raffle prizes and a bake sale. Joe Anderson brought three of his young horses in and sold pony rides. A couple of the other farmers got together and supplied some baby animals for a petting zoo."
"We still do all those things." Scottlyn said around a yawn of her own.
"Yes, but we only did the pageant the first year."
"Pageant?"
"Yeah, someone wrote a play about the founding of Sabor. It was a hoot and more fiction than fact, but the whole town got behind the production. It was going to be the diamond in the crown of the first Sabor Roundup. With kids in both schools participating and the gospel sing right afterwards, most of the town turned out that night.
"The play centered around Marcus Sabor and his family's struggle to carve a living on the harsh Oklahoma frontier. Marcus established a homestead and opened a general store and, before long, more businesses opened and more families moved into the fledgling town. Marcus went off to fight in the Indian Wars and never came home. Mrs. Sabor rose from the ashes of her grief to found the first school, named for her late husband. And from those humble beginnings Sabor, Oklahoma, was born." Diana shrugged. "Like I said, as productions go, it was pretty cheesy, but there was one little actor who absolutely stole the show that night." Diana paused and squeezed Scottlyn's hand.
"A little boy with black curly hair. He couldn't have been more than four, and he couldn't remember his lines for squat, but he had the cutest smile, no one in the audience seemed to care. His mom stood just off the platform with twin baby boys asleep in a stroller by her side. She spent the whole hour practically shouting his lines to him. And where some parents would have been embarrassed at their child's failure," Diana made air quotes around the word, "her face simply glowed with more love and pride than I've ever seen."
Scottlyn's stomach filled with heaviness even as her eyebrows lifted in realization.
"I never met that woman, but I've never forgotten the look on her face. Today, we both saw a face filled with grief and pain. But under those things, I couldn't help but see the memory of a young mother's love and pride in her son."
***
SCOTTLYN SPREAD A BLANKET under the brilliant violet blooms of a redwood tree in Sabor's tiny city park. A few feet away, Grant pushed Mercie in a baby swing attached to one of the sturdier limbs.
"Diana didn't know?"
Scottlyn set out their picnic lunch of sandwiches, chips and fruit, and shook her head. "She told me that she never met them, never knew their names. She thought she recognized Bradley's Mom the day she crashed the party, but she wasn't sure until the day of the hearing."
"That's amazing." He stopped the swing. "You ready to eat, Squirtling?"
Mercie kicked her legs and bounced in the seat, doing her best to set the swing back in motion. "Go!" The baby's single word was followed by a jutting lip and a liquid blue gaze.
Scottlyn laughed at the look of helplessness that washed over Grant's face. "You're gonna have to toughen up, or she'll have you wrapped around her little finger so tight, you won't be able to breathe."
"But look at that face."
"Ignore the face, it's a weapon."
Grant tilted his head and frowned in confusion.
Scottlyn sighed. "Oh, good grief." She fastened her eyes on Grant's face, rounded them into pleading circles, and forced her lips into a little pout. "Grant, will you let me pick the movie tonight...please?"
He looked from one pouty face to another. "Wow, you're good."
"We're women. The look is imprinted on our DNA in the womb. Mercie is a particularly fast learner."
"So I should ignore the face?"
"From her, never from me. Pluck her out of there and let's eat."
Grant did as she requested, bringing the squirming one-year-old to the blanket. Scottlyn set her down in front of a bowl full of halved green grapes. Mercie's protests over being removed from the swing died as she buried both hands in the squishy green fruit.
"Is she eating or playing?"
"A little bit of both, I hope. Now that she's feeding herself, meal times are an adventure for both of us." Scottlyn smothered a yawn and handed Grant a plate. "Sorry."
"That's OK. Did you get any sleep last night?"
"Not much. There's just so much in my head. I don't know what to do. Especially after Diana's story."
"What's left to do? Everyone had their day in court. The judge ruled in your favor. Problem solved, case closed."
"Maybe, maybe not." She looked at Mercie and had no defense against the wave of love that flooded her heart. "If it were just me, I probably could walk away from this whole thing and be done, but when you add Mercie to the equation, it gets a whole lot more complicated."
"In what way?"
Scottlyn took her sandwich apart and layered potato chips on top of the sliced ham. She smushed it back together. "Right now, Diana and I"—she glanced at Grant from under her lashes—"and you, we're Mercie's life. But she won't always be a baby."
"I'm not sure what you mean. You guys aren't going anywhere, and if you'll let me, I plan to hang around for a really long time."
She looked into his eyes. Her heart warmed at the promise she heard in his words. "Oh, I'm keeping you, but I'm talking about later. I never intended to give Mercie the gory details of her conception, but I didn't plan to keep her in the dark about her father, either. He's gone now, and she's going to have questions as she grows that I can't answer. How do I explain things to her if I've cut the people with answers...her grandparents... out of her life?"
Grant frowned. "I don't get it. You just went to court to keep these people out of her life."
"No, I went to court to keep custody of my child. But the whole thing made me realize that her grandparents might have some rights as well. Their son made some bad choices, but that doesn't make his parents bad people. Should I keep them out of my daughter's life as punishment for what Bradley did? That doesn't seem like a very Christian way to live."
"Mama."
Scottlyn looked down. Mercie was covered in a sticky glaze of grape juice, but the bowl she held up was empty, the smile on her face full of accomplishment.
"Gone gone."
Scottlyn took the bowl. "Look at you. You are such a big girl." She opened a package of wipes and focused on cleaning the messy hands and face.
Grant reached over and brushed a few smashed grapes from the blanket. When he continued, his voice was tense. "I was just as excited as you were about the outcome of the hearing the other day. What if I said that I have feelings for you and hopes for our future? Plans that don't include Bradley or anyone connected to him."
Scottlyn took a fresh shirt out of the diaper bag, shook it out, and pulled it over Mercie's head. "That could be a problem since, you can't take Mercie or me out of that equation." She met his gaze across her daughter's head, taking in the storm of negative emotions gathering on his face. "I like you a lot, and I'm honest enough to admit that having any sort of relationship with Bradley Nelson's parents is not my first choice. But if that's what God is telling me to do..." She shrugged. "Then I'm just going to have to suck that up. And so will you."
Eight hours later Scottlyn paced the living room dressed for her dinner and movie date with Grant. He was two hours late and hadn't called. Her temper teetered on the edge of eruption. She looked at the clock a final time. Two hours wasn't late, it was not coming. Two hours late without a call of explanation was stood up. Her hand hovered over the phone, and she jerked it back. Bradley ruined my life and my dad kicked me out. I will not give another man control of my emotions!
She fingered the bracelet on her wrist and heard Grant's words. "I know you have a lot on your plate right now."
Yes, she did, and there was no room left for a temperamental man.