Quinn took a step toward us. “What are you doing?”
I ignored him, and kept my eyes on her, my voice low and soothing. “Trust me, just stand up.” You love me. Trust me.
Gathering a deep breath, she stood stiffly, biting down on her bottom lip and watching me as though she expected betrayal.
“Put your hand out, please.”
She hesitated, glancing from me to Desmond, but then she put her hand out.
I took the baby’s tiny fist, inserted my index finger into it, then placed his little hand in Shelly’s.
She sucked in a breath, her eyes darting to mine and then back to her nephew, her features softening with comprehension.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. She couldn’t catch them before they spilled over her cheeks.
“Have him hold your finger.”
She did, very gently. The entirety of her focus on the little man in my arms, she slipped her finger into his grip.
Ensuring Desmond’s hand never left hers, I shifted his weight back to my forearm and then finally into her hold. She sucked in a ragged breath, her eyes overflowing with wonder as she sat back down in her seat.
“Hello, Desmond,” she whispered through her tears, smiling widely at his sleeping face, then kissed his little nose. “Hello, I’m your aunt.”
The baby sighed, stretched, and then tucked his fists under his chin, bringing her finger with him. And now I wanted to add another photo to my Faces of Shelly file. Reverence.
At some point Quinn had come to stand next to me, the look on his face told me he didn’t know what to think; shocked and concerned seemed to war with happy amazement.
I grinned, thoroughly enjoying the big guy’s confusion. “Hey there, Papa bear. Looks like you have yourself a godmother.”
Janie also stood and walked around the table to us.
Slipping her hand in the crook of Quinn’s elbow, she said, “Actually, bears make the worst fathers. They eat their young. Or, to be more accurate, they eat bear cubs that might be their young.” She lifted her chin, gazing at her husband with a happy smile on her face, the look so completely at odds with the words coming out of her mouth. “Some biologists think they do this to regulate the size of the bear population. Others hypothesize—since females can have litters of mixed paternity—males kill cubs so a female will come back into estrus and he can impregnate her again. You know, to better ensure passing on his genes.”
Quinn didn’t seem to hear his wife. Or, if he did, her grizzly facts didn’t faze him. Pun intended.
“The best dads in the animal kingdom are red foxes.” Janie brought her eyes to mine, giving me a smile.
“Red foxes, huh?” I got the sense she was trying to communicate more than just facts about the childrearing habits of mammals.
“That’s right.” Her grin widened and she lifted a meaningful eyebrow. “Red foxes make the best parents. And the best mates.”
* * *
The rehearsal was set to take place at the Oliver Chapel in Cades Cove. It was a rustic building, built in the eighteen hundreds, part of the national park, and never used for outside events. But Sienna—being a movie star—and Jethro—being a park ranger and a direct descendant of the Olivers—were able to pull a few strings so they could use it for the wedding.
I arrived five minutes before the appointed time and took my place as a groomsman along with the rest of my brothers. The whole ordeal took about an hour and a half, and mostly we just stood around. It would be a full Catholic Mass, with a bishop or a cardinal or a rook or something like that doing half the heavy lifting. Reverend Seymour would be doing the other half.
It seemed like a good compromise, including both religions. But logistically, getting all the kinks worked out so both would get equal showtime, it took a while.
When we were mostly done, and Sienna’s momma was talking over the final details with the officiants, Jethro drifted to where Drew, Billy, Duane, Roscoe and I were gathered. We were in a circle across the room from Cletus, giving him dirty looks.
“We’re still mad, right?” Roscoe asked.
“We are,” Jethro confirmed. Then to me, he lifted his chin. “Where have you been?”
“What are you talking about? I was here the whole time.”
“But you were gone all day.”
I brought my hands to my hips, peering at my brother. “Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up.”
“Does this have anything to do with a certain lady mechanic?” Billy asked. His mouth wasn’t smirking, but his voice was.
“Yes.” I pulled my hand through my hair, too tired to hide the fact that I was tired. “Her brother, and his wife and baby came into town unexpectedly this morning. I’ve been over there.”
Drew perked up at this news. “Quinn is in town?”
“He is.” I eyeballed Drew, curious about how well he knew Quinn and whether or not he could help me win the big guy over.
I’d left Shelly with her family and things had been good just before I drove off. Janie was on the floor doing tummy time with Desmond while Shelly and Quinn went to her Quonset hut to look at the statues. But I believed the good was tenuous. Shelly didn’t seem ready to explain the details of her disorder to her brother.
But it was her refrigerator, so that was that.
“Will they be around tomorrow?” Jethro glanced between Drew and me. “They should come to the wedding.”
“I can ask.”
“Go ahead, call them now.” Jethro pointed in the direction of my back pocket. “I know Ashley would like to see Janie.”
“I can try to call her landline. Shelly doesn’t have a cell and I don’t know Quinn’s number.”
“Shelly doesn’t have a cell phone?” Roscoe crossed his arms. “How does she survive?”
“Air, food, and shelter, I suspect.” Billy sent our youngest brother a dry look, making Jethro laugh.
“I have Quinn’s phone number. I can ask.” Drew pulled out his cell and turned away from our semicircle to place the call.
“You know what I mean,” Roscoe grumbled, rolling his eyes.
While Jethro and Billy took turns teasing Roscoe, Duane and I shared a look at our youngest brother’s expense.
“He’s such a dummy.” Duane kept his voice low, so only I could hear. “Remember that one time, he must’ve been in second grade, when we made him think we knew the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”
I chuckled. “And then Billy made us dress up as Donatello and Rafael.”
“Yeah.” My twin bit his bottom lip, his stare losing focus, a small smile playing over his features.
Glancing at his profile, at the nostalgic glint to his eyes, I asked myself if I really wanted to tell him the truth about Christine. Would he look back at our childhood and think of it as tainted? Would these memories lose meaning for him?
“Why’re you staring at me?” His eyes slid to the side, his brow wrinkling.
“Uh,” I shook my head. “I need to talk to you.”