“Dang it, Josiah, we are proud of you, boy! Just wanted better for you, that’s all. We’re worried about you.”
Woodman nodded at his father, then put his arm around his mother’s trembling shoulders. “I’ll be home for a few days after boot camp, Momma. And it’s not like I enlisted in the Army or the Marines—they’re on the ground in Iraq. At the very worst, I’ll be on a boat in the Gulf.”
“Pastor Mitchell said a s-suicide bomber could c-crash a plane into a-a boat,” answered his mother, sobbing into her handkerchief.
“Then Pastor Mitchell’s a jackass,” grumbled his father, huffing in annoyance. “What’s he about, puttin’ such ideas in your head? Ain’t he supposed to comfort his danged flock?”
“I know you’re not insultin’ Pastor Mitchell!” said Sophie, clasping her hands together with indignation.
“Don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Sophie,” said his father. “Just sayin’ it ain’t no good puttin’ maudlin thoughts in the boy’s head with him leavin’ tomorrow. Gotta think positive, now.” He stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine out of the bucket where it chilled and refilled her drink before looking at his son. “Go on and change now, son. We’ll head over to the club in a—”
“I’m sorry,” said Woodman, dropping his arm from his mother’s thin shoulders and standing up between them. “I’m not goin’ to be able to join you for dinner.”
“Why, Josiah!”
“But, son, we were expectin’—”
“It’s homecomin’ tonight, and Ginger’s date canceled on her, so—”
His mother’s face darkened. “So you’re takin’ Ginger to the dance. Instead of spendin’ your final night home with your momma, who loves you.”
“Momma, try to understand—she got stood up and has no one to take her. I’m sorry to miss dinner, but I can’t let the young lady sit at home alone if I’m able to be her escort.” His mother’s brows furrowed deeply, but Woodman had made the perfect argument, and he knew it. She gave him a thin smile, and he turned to his father. “Can I borrow your tux, sir?”
“Course, son.”
His mother sniffled delicately, reaching up to wipe away the last of the wetness on her cheeks. “I just hope that gal knows what a treasure you are, Josiah.”
“Least I could do. Her date got strep throat.” And her other date is a bona fide asshole.
“That’s just fine.” His father cleared his throat meaningfully. “A real reminder of what you got waitin’ at home, son.”
Woodman felt his cheeks flare with heat as he nodded at his father. Though he appreciated the fact that his parents and the McHuids expected him and Ginger to end up together, sometimes it felt like there were a few too many cooks in that particular kitchen.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll drive you to the station tomorrow mornin’,” said his mother. “Just us three. We can say our good-byes then.”
“Yes, Momma. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Giving her son a somewhat happier smile, Sophie Woodman nodded, whisking her perfectly manicured fingers at him. “Well, scoot then! Go get ready for your dance, handsome.”
He kissed his mother on the cheek and nodded to his father, leaving them alone in quiet elegance as the sun slipped below the horizon.
Chapter 6
Ginger
“Gran!” she exclaimed, bursting into her grandmother’s kitchen, holding her homecoming dress in one hand and a large canvas bag in the other. “I’m here!”
She hung the dress on the coat hook by the door and placed the bag, which held hot rollers, makeup, three jewelry options, two shoe options, and four bottles of perfume, on one of two kitchen chairs. Scattered all around the small kitchen were taped-up moving boxes, which only multiplied as Ginger headed through the small dining room and into the screened porch.
“Doll baby,” her grandmother greeted her, reaching for the cane that had become omnipresent. “Your parents . . . leave yet?”
Ginger’s parents, who were on the board of the Apple Valley Country Club, had dinner plans tonight, which left Ginger to get ready at her grandmother’s cottage. All things considered, it was for the best. They wouldn’t have been pleased to hear that Ginger was being escorted to the dance by Cain and may have even forbidden her to go. Better to apologize later than ask permission now.
“No, Gran, don’t get up,” said Ginger, bending down to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Daddy’s still in the pasture with Bit-O-Honey—she had a girl!—but Momma left a while ago. She needed to check on the centerpieces.”