“Tom junior, Mama. Not senior.”
Her back stiffened and the pitcher of tea shimmied. “T-that boy who stood you up all those years ago?”
“Mama, I know.”
“Know what?” She came to the table, chin up, gaze down. “Oh, shoot, I forgot ice. Give me your cup.”
Ginger pressed her hand on Mama’s. “About you and Mr. Wells. Tom Senior.”
Mama snatched the cup, and her hand, from Ginger’s grasp. “What in the world are you talking about?” She jammed the plastic cups under the ice dispenser. “This town is a gossip petri dish.”
“Apparently not, Mama. I never heard word one about you and Pastor Wells before. Is it true? Are you the reason he left town?”
Mama pressed her forehead against the fridge, filling the cups to the brim with ice. “Certainly not. Who told you such a wild tale?” She came to the table and sat with a harrumph, tucking her bobbed copper hair behind her ears.
“Edward Frizz. Tom confirmed it.”
“Just like that?” Mama scooped more rice than she’d ever eat onto her plate. “They walked up to you at Bridgett Maynard’s wedding, of all places, and said, ‘Hey, your mama ran Pastor Wells out of town?’ Land sakes, that was twelve years ago. Some folks have to learn to let things go.” Her hands trembled as she dumped almost all of the Moo Goo Gai Pan over her rice.
“You’re seriously going to eat all the Moo Goo?”
“Oh, see what you made me do?” Mama shoveled some of it back into the container. “Ginger, I don’t know what possessed—”
“Is it true? You and Pastor Wells?”
Mama set the container down, her eyes glistening, and stared toward the bright kitchen, sniffling, running her hands through her hair. “You were to never know.”
“Why not?”
“How in the world did Edward Frizz find out?”
“I don’t know about Edward. But Tom, of course, knows. His dad told him the whole story when he decided to return to Rosebud. Tom’s starting this new church.”
“I suppose . . . So, Tom’s dad told him? Warned him?” Mama’s eye sparked with a wild, rebellious glint. “Stay away from the Winters women?”
“Who knows? Probably.” Ginger’s stomach rumbled, asking for food, rejecting the forming rock of tension as any kind of nourishment. Tom certainly didn’t heed his daddy’s warning. “Did you have an affair?”
“No! No . . .” Mama broke open a set of chopsticks and swirled her chicken through a pile of fried rice but never took a bite. “Remember Parker Fox?”
“I think. Wasn’t he the banker you dated?”
“I finally thought I’d found me a good one, you know? He adored you.”
“If you say so.” None of Mama’s boyfriends ever adored Ginger.
“He wasn’t a drinker or doper. He wanted a nice suburban life. Just like I wanted when I married your daddy.”
“So what happened?” Ginger scooped a forkful of rice and beef into her mouth, exhaling, willing this conversation to be about truth. Maybe healing.
“He asked me about your scars.”
Ginger set down her fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “He didn’t want a stepdaughter with such ugly scars?”
“No, Ginger, why do you always assume the worst?”
“Because it’s usually true.”
“He wanted to know how it happened. So I told him. He was aghast. First that you were trapped in a trailer fire but mostly because I’d left you alone. I told him you were twelve and that I’d only gone down to the Wet Your Whistle for a beer and burger with a guy from work. That was too much for him and he wanted out.” Mama snapped her fingers. “He didn’t feel I’d be a fitting mother should we ever have kids.”
Ginger shoved her food about her plate. “I’m sorry, Mama.” But in a small way, she understood Mr. Fox.
“I was pretty messed up. Started having nightmares of you trapped in all sorts of fires. Only I couldn’t rescue you. I’d wake up in a panic, trembling like a pup in a rainstorm.”
“Where was I? How did I not know this?”
“You were sixteen, trying to figure out life for yourself. Wasn’t fitting for me to dump my burden on you.”
“But we were supposed to be the Gilmore Girls. Best friends and all.” A bit of the sarcasm she loathed coated her response.
“Don’t be impertinent, Ginger. Anyway, that’s when we started attending church.”
“And you hooked up with Pastor Wells?”