South of the buttonwood.., p.29
South of the Buttonwood Tree, page 29
“Yes, ma’am. She was embarrassed of her predicament and thought she was doing what was best for her and the baby. Fear clouds a person’s judgment sometimes, because she should’ve known we’d all still love and support her, no matter what. Am I right?”
It took a moment, but the room echoed with “Yessirs.”
Peer pressure wasn’t always a bad thing, I reflected, watching him in awe as he guided our friends and neighbors to the destination he wanted them to see.
He added, “It’s not like all of us haven’t made our own questionable choices from time to time. Another question?”
Someone else said, “Sarah Grace, did Fletch really knock up a waitress from the Dishwater?”
“Well,” I said, “I don’t rightly know if she worked at the bar, but Fletch is now living with a woman and their unborn child in Florida.”
A gasp went around the room, and Daddy looked at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“And while we’re talking questionable judgment,” I went on, emboldened, “you all might have heard by now that I eloped with Shep Wheeler when we were eighteen years old, and we divorced not long after. But I never stopped loving him. So if you see us together around town, just know that we’re doing the best we can to make sure this second chance sticks.”
Jaws dropped around the room, including my father’s.
I almost laughed. Swear to God, I almost did.
“In more serious news,” Daddy began in a low voice. Everyone leaned forward. “You’ll be hearing a lot of talk about this soon enough, but I want you to hear it from me first. It’s time to confess that I am not Sarah Grace’s biological father. Ginny and Mac Bishop were once in love. Sarah Grace is their child. As is, it turns out, Blue Bishop.”
After the ensuing uproar calmed, Daddy explained what had happened in such a way that he and Mama were going to have casseroles and floral arrangements on their porch in no time flat.
Daddy stepped off the chair and said, “Fortunately for us all, humans are forgiving creatures. We love, we learn, we grow. We’re going to need your assistance to help our family heal. Sarah Grace and Blue, especially, have been given quite a shock, and I’m sure they’d appreciate your kind support as they adjust to it all.”
As we walked toward the exit, drinks in hand (on the house), Mrs. Weese stood up and hugged me. It started a chain reaction of hugs and handshakes. It took five more minutes before we were able to leave.
Outside, Daddy said, “Transparency. I like it.”
I untied Hazey and we headed off down the street. “Mama’s going to skin you alive.”
“Worth it, to get it all out at once and stop the rumors.”
“Well, if nothing else, it was probably good practice for the campaign trail.”
He glanced down, then back at me. “I’m dropping out of the running, Sarah Grace.”
I froze. “What? No. Daddy, please.”
He gave me a sad smile. “One day, maybe, I’ll run again, because I’ve spent a lot of time mulling it over, and I realized everyone has something to hide. No family is perfect. No one is perfect. We all have flaws. We all have strengths. The things we do in the name of love might not be our proudest moments, but they’re actions that come from the heart. Trying to achieve perfection in any form is harmful in the long run. If I can take what’s happened to us to show that even the most loving of families have problems, then hopefully it will help other families going through their own issues. Help them to be more transparent. Help them to heal. But right now, I need to be here to help my own family heal. I’m so sorry, Sarah Grace, for keeping the truth from you. I love you more than you can possibly know.”
“I love you, too.” I hugged him tight and never wanted to let him go. “You’ll always be my daddy.”
Chapter
24
Blue
“She looks like one of Marlo’s moonflowers,” Moe said as he sat on the sofa, holding Flora in his arms, gazing at her like she was the most beautiful flower he’d ever seen, and she was looking at him much the same way. “What’s her name?”
“Her name is Flora,” I said, then kissed his soft cheek.
It was the third time he’d asked in twenty minutes. It was a little past eight in the morning, and I’d been trying to sort through all the gifts I’d found on the porch yesterday—that were now scattered throughout the dining room—so I could write thank-you notes. But sitting with Moe seemed more important, so I was curled up next to him on the couch.
Marlo had asked if I could keep an eye on him this morning while she ran an early errand, and I couldn’t help wondering where she’d gone. She hadn’t said, and when I asked, she’d only smiled and told me she’d be back soon.
It was the second morning in a row she and Moe hadn’t shared breakfast on the deck, but Moe didn’t seem upset by the break in his routine. There was no glow about him at all, only that distant look in his eyes that made my heart ache. Flora’s newborn magic didn’t seem to be helping, either. How long until he was lost to that distance, never to return? A week? Two?
I rested my head on his shoulder. “I love you, Moe.”
He touched his hand to his cheek where I’d kissed him and smiled at me. “You’re a nice girl. What’s your name?”
My chin quivered as I said, “My name is Blue Bishop.”
He scratched his chin. “Bishop. I know that name. Good people.”
Nodding, I sat next to him for a while, trying to make peace with my emotions, until Flora started to complain, making him agitated. I scooped her up, bouncing her in my arms. “Are you hungry, Moe? Breakfast is almost ready.”
He nodded and patted his stomach. “Like a bear.”
“It’s almost ready. Another minute or two,” Persy said from the kitchen, where she was making breakfast. Scrambled eggs and sausage.
She was planning to go see Kebbie later on this morning, and after coffee with Henry at the bookshop, I was looking forward to a quiet day here with Flora. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Sarah Grace since yesterday at the hospital, but we’d texted, and it was like nothing had changed between us.
And for that, I was grateful. We’d become friends over the past couple of weeks, and I had the feeling that friendship would only grow stronger now that we knew the truth of who we were and how we were related.
Persy would likely see Ginny today at the hospital, and I could only hope she’d be civil. Ginny had been on my mind a lot this morning, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to think of her as the enemy, even as a custody battle loomed. We wanted the same thing—for Flora to grow up happy, safe, loved. I just wished it could all have been different. That I’d get to know Ginny outside of a courtroom.
She was my mother.
I could barely wrap my head around the notion. She’d been so terrible to me growing up that it was hard to feel any kind of warm and fuzzy feeling about the revelation, yet part of me now understood why she’d acted so badly. She thought Mac had failed her and that all Bishops were well and truly bad at their core.
I’d spent a lot of time thinking about Twyla, too. Thinking and wondering.
I couldn’t imagine a day when I would think of her as anything other than my mother, so I decided I wouldn’t even try. She was and always would be my mama. My Twyla.
The wind had been still this morning, and I tried to imagine a life without finding things. Without my foraging. Without the family I’d been raised with. Without the lessons that had come from the hardships I’d endured. Without the wind’s guidance. Without Marlo and Moe as surrogate grandparents.
It was all … unfathomable.
Everything that had happened to me had shaped me the same way the wind carved rock, slow and steady: The way I didn’t take a single day for granted. The way I baked. The way I used art to influence, not arguments. The way I longed for a big family. The way I loved.
All this time I’d wanted to be normal because I cared so much about what others thought of me, of my family, when it truly didn’t matter. Because it only mattered what I thought. I was proud of who I was, and I loved my family. I wasn’t going to let anyone make me question my place in this community ever again. Because I belonged here as much as anyone else.
And with that, I knew I’d be staying in Buttonwood. I’d come to realize that moving didn’t make for a fresh start. It was a mind-set. One that had taken me a while to figure out, but now that I had, I couldn’t wait to see where it would lead me.
I kissed Flora’s head and danced with her around the living room, earning a smile from Moe. Flora was getting sleepy, her body growing heavy as I glided past the dining table. I stopped to critique the last of the Poppy paintings. I’d finished it this morning, and I was happy with the way it had turned out. I smiled at Poppy Kay in the dance studio, her arms out, her legs stretched in a position that looked a lot like a mix between tai chi and ballet. I’d scan all the paintings and send them to my editor later today, since my scanner was at the farmhouse.
I flipped open my sketchbook and glanced at the crow that stared back at me. I’d had an idea for a new book based on an advice-giving crow, whose guidance was sometimes misunderstood by those receiving the messages. I had two rough sketches done—one of a black crow and the other of a golden crow. I was leaning toward the golden one as my main character. Ideas swirled, and while I longed to sit down and continue sketching, I didn’t have time. There was too much to do this morning.
“Blue,” Persy said softly and motioned with her chin toward the couch.
Looking over, I saw Moe starting to nod off. I walked over and pulled a blanket onto his lap. I took a long look at him, trying to memorize everything I possibly could. Because I couldn’t help but feel I didn’t have much time left with him.
I held Flora close as I walked to the sunroom, searching for solace as I gazed out at the backyard flowers, letting the colors soothe. I waited to feel the pull to the woods, but it didn’t come—there was no reason to, now that I knew the truth. But I found I missed it and promised myself I’d go for a hike soon. Maybe with Henry again. Or Marlo. Or Sarah Grace. When I did, I’d be sure to stop by the Buttonwood Tree to give thanks.
“Should we eat outside this morning to keep Moe as close to his routine as possible?” Persy asked as she scraped eggs onto a serving plate.
“Good idea.”
At the sound of my voice, Moe blinked awake and looked around like he didn’t know where he was.
“Are you hungry, Moe?” I asked loudly, knowing he’d probably forgotten I’d already asked. Flora didn’t so much as flinch at my voice. She was sound asleep.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, trying to stand up. “Surely am.”
Persy rushed over to help him up, then walked with him onto the deck. A few quick trips between the kitchen and deck, and we had the patio table set. I was about to lay Flora down in her cradle when there was a soft knock at the door. When I peeked out the window, I was taken aback to see that it was Ginny who’d knocked. She stood on the porch holding a small gift bag. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.
Her gaze flitted between me and Flora before she said, “Hello, Blue. I hope I haven’t come at a bad time. I was hoping to talk with you.”
“We were just getting breakfast ready.” Flora’s heart beat against my chest, little flutters, tiny reminders that grief and pain didn’t have to make you hollow, burned from the inside out. There was room enough for forgiveness. For healing. “Come on in.”
Ginny took a step backward. “Are you sure? I can come back another time.”
I was impressed she’d shown up in the first place. Twyla would’ve taken to her bed for days after getting the devastating news Ginny had heard yesterday. It was simply Twyla’s way. To retreat, to nurse her wounds alone. I silently told myself to avoid comparing them. They both had their strengths … and weaknesses. “I’m sure. Stay. I’m not hungry, anyway. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, no thank you.”
She glanced around as if trying to soak in everything in one look. She said nothing about the smattering of gifts around the room but tipped her head to the side when she saw my artwork on the table and walked over for a closer look.
“These are lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“Is this Delphine?” she asked, tapping the picture of the crow.
“Not exactly. It’s loosely based on her, though. A new story idea.”
“I saw the crow once, up close. It was beautiful. This black crow captures it perfectly, except for the eyes.”
“Really?” The crow never came close to people, preferring to watch from high above.
“It was—” She swallowed hard. “It was after you were born. I’d gone to the Buttonwood Tree. As I sat crying on the cold ground, she landed next to me, and when I looked over at her, I saw she was crying, too. She had gold eyes and was crying golden tears. I’ve never told anyone that before now.”
Golden tears. My skin prickled, and I rubbed away chill bumps while trying not to disturb Flora.
Ginny’s yearning gaze dropped to the baby, and I couldn’t ignore the silent request. “Would you like to hold her?”
“Could I?”
“She drools a little when she sleeps. Let me grab a cloth for your blouse.”
“It’ll be fine,” she said, setting the gift she’d brought onto the table. “A little drool never hurt anything.”
It sounded so much like something Twyla would have said that I smiled. Could they have been friends if given the chance? I wasn’t sure. And I’d never know.
I passed Flora into Ginny’s arms, and there were tears in her eyes when she looked up at me. “She looks so much like you and Sarah Grace when you were born. That hair is definitely all Cabot.”
“My hair was that light?” I’d only ever known it to be a dark blond.
She nodded. “Your color now is just like Mac’s, though. You look so much like him that sometimes it’s been hard for me to look at you at all. Seeing you brought back such painful memories.”
I thought about all the times she’d evaded me my whole life. I thought it was solely because I was a Bishop, but it went deeper. It was because I looked like the man she’d loved and lost. “And now?”
“It still hurts, but for entirely different reasons.” She sniffled as she held Flora tightly. “That bag is for you. You mentioned you found your hat and my button in a box of childhood mementoes. I’d like to add a few things to it, if you don’t mind.”
Curious, I opened the bag and pulled out a stuffed white rabbit that had thin strands of silver threads woven through it and a flat hand-carved maple bird, hollowed in the center to hold three wooden loops.
“Mac made that teether for you not long after I learned I was pregnant, right around the same time I bought that rabbit for your eventual nursery.”
My throat clogged with emotion. “You kept them all this time?”
“Of course. You were gone, but you most certainly were never forgotten. I want you to know, Blue, that if I had any idea you were mine, I would’ve come for you. Nothing would’ve stopped me. I know you didn’t have an easy upbringing, and I can hardly bear thinking of you having to struggle when I was so … oblivious.”
I held up a hand to stop her. “My only regrets from my childhood come from losing people I loved too soon. They weren’t perfect. But I was loved.”
“I wish I’d known the Bishops better, but Mac and I needed to keep our relationship secret. He spoke fondly of them, but he wanted better for himself. For his own family. He didn’t have the best grades in school—he was a different kind of learner. He could carve wood, fix an engine, and take apart a toaster, rewire it, and put it back together. When that judge offered him a way out, he jumped at the chance. He thought the military was the best way for him to learn skills he could then use for a career.” She shook her head. “If he’d just stayed here in Buttonwood…”
“I know from experience there’s no use playing the what if game. If he stayed, he could’ve been in the car with Wade and Ty when they crashed.”
Maybe one day I’d tell her why my brothers had robbed that bank, but I wasn’t ready to open myself up like that quite yet. I gestured to the couch. “Please, sit down. Flora gets heavy after a little while.”
She sat and gazed at Flora’s slack face. “Is she a good baby?”
“The best.” I suddenly wanted her back in my arms, but I forced myself not to ask.
“Sarah Grace and I had a long talk this morning,” she said.
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s angry.”
I nodded. “I think we all have cause to be angry.”
“Yes, that’s true. I made mistakes, I admit. No one is perfect, though heaven knows, I tried to be. I thought I was cursed to a lifetime of unhappiness, so I tried extra hard to prove the tree had no power. To prove I could still have a perfect family.”
I wanted to say there was no such thing, but the Buttonwood Tree said Mac, Ginny, and I would have been one. I tried to picture the three of us together, and I simply couldn’t.
“In that quest for perfection, I hurt so many people. I did my best to hide the Bishop in Sarah Grace out of fear, but really all I did was make her feel like she was less than, a disappointment, which couldn’t be further from the truth.” Her brows knitted. “In turn, she made choices and decisions she regrets…” She shook her head. “And it’s likely Kebbie would’ve made different choices recently if she hadn’t been afraid of what I’d think or do … and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making her believe she couldn’t trust me. I hope one day she’ll be able to forgive me. Which leads me to Flora.”
I stiffened.
“I had no say in Mary Eliza taking you away from me. You were just … gone. Kebbie did—does—have a say in what she wants for Flora, and I’ve been trying to take the decision away from her because I thought I knew better. Just like Mary Eliza believed she knew what was best for me.” Her chin quivered as she smoothed Flora’s hair. “I would love to raise this little girl, but she’s not mine to raise. She’s yours. I’ll support Kebbie’s choice. I’ll support you. But I do hope you’ll allow me to be part of Flora’s life. And your life, too.”
