“You’re welcome,” Loralee said to her departing back, knowing she’d done a good thing, and hoped Robert was watching.
She put her arm around Owen. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go set the table and make some sides to go with Merritt’s lobster. Don’t tell her I said this, but I have doubts about her ability to cook an edible meal, so let’s make sure we don’t leave the table starving.”
Owen put his hand over his mouth and laughed, and for the first time in a long, long while Loralee truly believed that her journey had finally moved from a steep hill to a flattened path. She just hoped a cliff wasn’t waiting at the end of the road.
*
Loralee wiped her lips on her napkin, trying not to be obvious about the food she was transferring from her mouth. The lobster had been delicious, especially dipped in melted butter. She just had no appetite and had felt as full as a tick after the first bite. But she hadn’t wanted to tell that to Merritt, or to allow her to think that the food wasn’t good.
At least Owen had scraped his plate clean, eating everything that was edible from his own lobster and earning himself a smile of appreciation from his sister.
Loralee balled her full napkin in her hand. “That was very good, Merritt. Your daddy never told me what a good cook you are.”
Merritt stood and started collecting plates. “That’s because he didn’t know. I started cooking when I was in college and never really had a chance to show him.” She avoided Loralee’s eyes as she took her plate.
Loralee touched her arm, causing Merritt to pause. “You didn’t need to stay away because of me, you know. I always made sure that I’d be away flying during your school breaks so I wouldn’t interfere. Your daddy would put fresh flowers in your room and make lists of things the two of you would do while you were home. I didn’t know until much later that he never told you that—that he just expected you to know that he wanted you to come home. To meet your new baby brother and spend time together as a family.”
Merritt placed the dishes in the sink, then looked out the window into the garden. “I guess I know where I got my stubborn streak.” She gave a little shrug. “And no, I never knew. It didn’t even occur to me, really. I just thought . . .” She turned on the faucet and let the water run over the plates in the sink. “He had you.”
Loralee tried to remember something her mama had once said about wanting to redo the past, but drew a blank. Probably because her heart hurt too much. “There was more than enough room in his big heart for both of us. And for memories of your mama, too. He wanted you to know that. He wrote you letters, but they all came back unopened.”
Merritt’s hands gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white. It was to keep from crying. Loralee knew this because Owen always did the same thing. She just hoped Merritt knew she wasn’t accusing her of anything—there was so much hurt between Merritt and her daddy that Loralee never took a side. She just wanted Merritt to know that Robert had tried.
Owen, bored with the conversation, said, “May I be excused?”
Loralee sighed. “Not until we clean up the kitchen first. Merritt, leave those dishes alone. You cooked, so Owen and I will clean. You go relax. Gibbes is coming over later to pick up some of his boxes, but you probably have time to brush out your hair.”
Merritt finally turned around, a small smile on her lips. “You never give up, do you?”
Loralee beamed her brightest smile, the kind she’d always greeted passengers with—especially those traveling with small children. “Mama always said that the point of life was to spend it trying. Only quitters quit.”
Merritt wiped her hands on a dish towel. “And my mother always told me that the smartest people always know when it’s time to quit.” As she walked toward the door, she said, “I’m going to get Cal’s box to show Gibbes. I found it on the floor of the backseat of my car.” She paused as they both watched a reluctant Owen pick up the iced-tea pitcher from the table and move as slowly as possible to the refrigerator.
Loralee stood, trying not to lean too heavily on the table. “I guess we were both raised by a couple of really smart women.”
What could have been taken as a snort came from Merritt just as Owen yanked open the refrigerator door, then stood there, confused. “The light’s off and it’s not really cold in here.”
Merritt’s shoulders slumped. “Not that I’m surprised—that thing has got to be at least fifty years old. I just can’t believe it waited until tonight.”
Loralee stuck her head into the refrigerator, agreeing with Owen that it was definitely not as cold as it should be. “Mama always said troubles are sometimes a blessing in disguise. Just think how nice it will be to have one of those new stainless refrigerators.”
Merritt gave her a look that would have wilted kudzu.