Tate, like his son, had also stuck to me like glue. As the days passed, I realized both Jackson boys were behaving, as usual, just the same. One of their women had been brought low, no matter how they felt about her, Neeta was still one of their women, and they weren’t taking any chances.
Jonas gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, I returned it but hoping mine reached my eyes and I hurried out of the bathroom, hearing Buster drop down to follow me with Jonas. I grabbed my black pumps from the bed and stopped twice in the hall to lift up a foot in turn and shove them on. We all arrived in the dining area in time to see Tate, wearing charcoal gray suit pants and a midnight blue shirt open at the collar, slide the glass door open and walk through.
I looked down at Jonas and we followed Tate, me stopping for Jonas to precede me. I pushed Buster back with my foot and slid the door closed. I turned toward the deck steps just in time to see my father, my mother, my sister and Mack climbing the steps. Dad was going slowly but he looked fit, if much thinner, and he had a tan. All of them were wearing funeral black.
I stared at them a second, in shock. They knew, of course, I’d called them the day after we found out about Neeta. They’d called every day since and they knew the funeral was today.
I just didn’t know they were planning on coming.
I stopped staring and started running. I slowed my progress so when my arms closed around my Dad, I didn’t hurt him.
“Daddy,” I whispered.
“Honey,” he whispered back as his arms went around me strong and tight.
I was holding onto my Dad, feeling his healing arms around me but I heard Mom say, “Tate, hon, give Jeannie some sugar.”
I smiled over Dad’s shoulder at Carrie who smiled back. If Mom was talking in third person and asking for sugar, she was back.
Dad kissed my cheek and let me go in time for Mack to give me a bear hug then, while I was hugging Carrie, I heard Dad say, “You must be Tatum.”
“Tate,” Tate replied and I pulled away from Carrie but kept an arm around her to watch Dad shake Tate’s hand.
When they released hands, Dad looked at Jonas but asked Tate, “This your boy?”
“Of course it’s his boy, he’s the spittin’ image,” Mom declared and bustled up to Jonas. “Hi Jonas, I’m Gramma,” she announced then demanded, “Give me some sugar.”
Jonas stared up at her, clearly uncertain what to do with a self-appointed Gramma since, between Tate and Neeta, he’d never had one.
“She means she wants a kiss, honey,” I informed Jonas and Mom bent down and pointed her index finger at her cheek.
“Right there, hon, a big smackeroo,” Mom instructed and Jonas’s eyes shot to his father. Tate nodded and Jonas leaned in and swiftly kissed her cheek.
“Oo!” Mom shouted and shot upright, smacking her hand on her cheek. “Keeping that one forever.”
“Oh God,” I whispered and Mom turned to me.
“Neither of you girls gave me grandkids, I’m claiming Tate’s,” she declared.
“Jeannie, you might wanna tone it down before you scare the kid silly,” Dad cautioned.
“Boloney, he’s not scared,” Mom said to Dad and then looked down at Jonas. “Are you, hon?”
“Um…” Jonas mumbled which meant yes.
“Let’s get coffee,” I suggested in an effort to save Jonas.
“Great idea, I’m three quarts low,” Mack put in and walked to Tate, taking his hand, giving it a firm shake at the same time clapping him on the shoulder. “Tate, man, shit reason but still good to see you.”
“Same here, Mack,” Tate replied and Carrie moved in for a hug from Tate.
“Hey there, honey,” she whispered, giving him a good squeeze then leaning back, leaving her hands on his shoulders. “You doing okay?”
“We’re hangin’ in there, Carrie,” Tate murmured.
“Well, I’m not, we flew in late last night, stayed at a hotel by the airport, been on the road all mornin’. Then Gavin got lost –” Mom stated, forging toward the house.
“I did not get lost,” Dad declared.
“Hon,” Mom stopped at the sliding glass door and turned to him, “you… did.” She looked at Tate. “Sat nav who? Sat nav what? I don’t need a sat nav. Acting like he drove through the Colorado mountains for a living!” Then she threw open the door and disappeared into the house but we heard her shout, “Good God, look at that cat!” Then we heard her coo, “Who’s a pretty kitty? Come to Gramma, pretty kitty.”
“I’m feeling nostalgic for my hospital bed,” Dad muttered to Tate and moved to follow Mom, tousling Jonas’s hair as he went by.
I got close to Jonas, bent down and whispered, “My family’s a little goofy.”
“I can tell,” he whispered back, I winked at him and straightened.
Then I introduced, “Jonas, baby, this is my sister, Carrie and her partner, Mack.”
“Hey,” he said on a barely there wave.
“Hey, big man,” Mack said back, Carrie smiled at him and Jonas looked at me.
“Your sister is as hot as you,” he announced, Carrie let out a startled giggle and Mack straight out laughed.
“He thinks I’m a milf,” I whispered to Mack.
“Darlin’, you are,” Mack whispered back.