Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

business if I’m stepping over the line, but that boy who showed up here on Friday—Mason . . . is he your son?”

Maeve smiled. “He is. But, unlike Ivy, I didn’t have the courage to raise him on my own.”

Bud nodded. “Everything happens for a reason, Maeve. God has a plan.”

“It does . . . and He does,” she agreed.

“So what does your handsome beau—as Gladys calls him—think of all this? Did he know about Mason?”

Maeve shook her head. “He didn’t know.”

Bud nodded but didn’t say anything.

“And he’s not my beau anymore,” she added.

Bud frowned. “Oh,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“His dad just died, too . . .”

Bud shook his head. “When it rains . . . it pours.” He paused. “Are you going to the service?”

Maeve shook her head.

The porch was oddly quiet with everyone inside, and Maeve looked up at the slate-gray sky, not ready to go back inside. “What happened to the sun?” she asked, and then a sudden gust of wind swept down the porch, rocking the chairs and fluffing Tallulah’s fur. The little orange tiger cat opened her eyes, and sensing the storm, hopped off her chair and sauntered down the porch toward the door. “She knows,” Bud said, smiling, “but that breeze feels good after this hot day.” He looked out at the giant old willow tree next to the pond, and Maeve followed his gaze, watching its long, wispy branches dancing in the wind. “That big ole willow has seen a lot of storms in its lifetime,” he said, “but its roots are deep and strong. It’ll lose some branches in this one, but if Jim doesn’t pick ’em up, they’ll take root and become new trees. That’s how willows are—resilient. They just dance in the storm.”

Maeve nodded. “I wish I was more like a willow.”

Bud looked over at her. “I know it’s not my place, Maeve, but if it’s not too late, I think you should go to the service. You may think that boy o’ yours doesn’t want you there, but I’ll bet anythin’ he wishes you were.”

Maeve looked up in surprise, remembering Jen’s sermon about hearing God’s voice, and as she considered Bud’s words, she felt an odd peace fill her heart. She’d been praying for guidance and praying that she wouldn’t lose Gage, and suddenly, it was crystal clear: she loved Gage with all her heart—and whether he got along with his dad, or not, it was still his dad! She looked back at Bud. “But the service is tomorrow morning . . . in Tennessee!”

Bud leaned forward in his chair and eyed her solemnly. “Then you better get going, missy.”

49

WHEN THE BELL OF THE OLD ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF EARLY TUESDAY morning, Gage practically jumped out of his skin. “No wonder Cale and I never overslept,” he grumbled, fumbling to turn it off. He felt something heavy on his leg, looked down, and realized Gus had curled up next to him sometime during the night and now had his head on his leg. “Hey, pal,” Gage said softly, flopping the dog’s ear back and forth, “mind moving your head so I can get up?” Gus opened one eye, made a guttural sound of contentment, and closed it again. “Hey,” Gage said, nudging him, and the dog rolled onto his back for a belly rub. “Uh, sorry! No time for that today. I have to hop in the shower.” Gage managed to extricate himself from under the sheet, grabbed the towels his mom had brought in the night before, and shuffled sleepily down the hall to shower and shave.

An hour later, after downing a cup of black coffee, he was standing in the downstairs bathroom, trying to tie his tie, when Chase walked by.

“It’s crooked,” his little brother teased, peering into the bathroom, “and there’s a button in the back of your collar that needs to be buttoned.”

Gage reached back to button it, but the buttonhole was too small and he couldn’t push it through. “Damn!” he muttered. “Can you get it?” he asked, turning so his brother could reach it.

Chase tucked the tie under the collar, secured the button, and then eyed the knot his brother had tied. “Who taught you to tie a tie . . . Dad?” he teased.

“Who else?” Gage asked.

“Well, a Windsor knot is a little fancy for a funeral. You should use a four-in-hand or a half-Windsor,” he offered. “I never use a full Windsor.”

Gage groaned. “I don’t have time for a tie-tying lesson. Mom and I are picking up Dutch.”

Chase nodded. “It’ll only take a second,” he said, quickly untying the tie and deftly retying it with a simple half-Windsor. “The trick is tightening the knot as you bring it up,” he said, as he slid it up and cinched it into a tight, neat knot close to his brother’s collar. “See?”

Gage turned and looked in the mirror. “Nice,” he said, lightly touching it. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” Chase said. “Now you look almost as sharp as me.”

“Not quite,” Gage said, eyeing the slim tailored suit his brother was wearing. “You always look cool as a cucumber,” he said, smiling—it was a phrase they’d often heard their mom use. “Is your eulogy all written?” he asked.

“It’s up here,” Chase said, tapping his temple, “and in here,” he added, patting his heart.

“No way,” Gage said, eyeing him. “You didn’t write it down?!”

“Nope,” Chase said.

“You’re a lot braver than the rest of us,” Gage said.

“Or more foolish,” Chase quipped with a grin.

Libby hurried into the kitchen and eyed her sons suspiciously. “How come you two look like cats who ate canaries?”

“I don’t know,” Gage said innocently, and then changed the subject. “Are you ready?”

“Almost,” she said, brushing away a tear as she stuffed a wad of tissues into her purse.

“You okay, Mom?” Chase asked, frowning.

She nodded. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She looked at them as if she were seeing them for the first time. “You both look nice.”

“Thank you,” Chase said. “So do you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding. “So, you and Liam are going over early to make sure everything’s ready?”

Chase nodded. “Yes,