“Just . . . No, it doesn’t matter.”
“It obviously matters,” Dr. Reynolds said.
Tippy sighed loudly, his hands clasped together, his elbows on his knees. “I just put it together.”
“Put what together?” Butch asked.
With a reluctant look at Butch, he said, “Daphne began acting this way shortly after Jenny died.” Tippy closed his eyes, regret filling his heart.
Dr. Reynolds asked, “They were friends, your wives?”
“Yes,” Butch said softly.
“It makes sense,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“What does?” Tippy asked.
“How did your wife die?”
Tippy watched Butch take several deep breaths before the simple explanation. “Car accident.”
“Daphne’s actions are rooted in fear,” Dr. Reynolds said. “She realizes how unpredictable life is. She is trying to control her world so that nothing bad happens. We all know this is futile, but she feels completely responsible for the welfare of the child.”
“I guess we are completely responsible,” Tippy said.
“Tippy,” Dr. Reynolds said, leaning forward, his full attention on him. “What do you fear in this situation?”
Tippy tried to give it serious thought. Maybe there was so much to fear that he didn’t know how to choose just one thing. “Look, I trust God with our baby. I think I fear that I may not ever see my wife again. The wife I knew and fell in love with. I’m afraid she’s going to disappear into this new person that I dread seeing every day.”
Dr. Reynolds nodded, jotting down notes. “I can understand why you’d be concerned and fearful,” he said in a way that made it seem okay. His focus shifted to Butch. “What about you? What do you fear?”
Butch leaned back, then forward, then sideways. The man who’d once severed his thumb without shedding a tear—when it happened or when they sewed it back on—looked to be on the verge of an emotional collapse. Tippy wasn’t sure he could watch. He slapped his friend on the back in encouragement. At least he hoped Butch took it that way.
Still, Butch refused to speak for a little bit.
“Take your time,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“I guess I’m afraid,” Butch finally said, “that Ava is going to grow up and turn out to be . . .” He swallowed, his voice starting to give out.
“Be rebellious?” Tippy asked, trying to finish for him.
“No,” Butch said. “I’m afraid she’s going to grow up and look and sound and talk and act just like Jenny, and I don’t know if I can face that every single day for the rest of my life.”
Then Butch put his hand over his face and cried.
CHAPTER 28
BUTCH
“SO IF TIPPY and I were to need—want—to go out again, you wouldn’t mind staying with Daphne?”
“She was cool.”
“You’re sure you were good for her?”
“Of course, Daddy.”
“Because last time, when I came to get you, she looked startled.”
“She looks like that all the time.”
“More startled than usual.”
“I was just giving her some tips on how to raise a kid, that’s all.”
Butch laughed as he pulled into the parking lot. “You’re an expert on that, are you?”
“Well, I’ve had to raise you on how to raise me.” She grinned, loving her joke. Butch tried to smile too, but it was the saddest thing to think about and so awfully true.
And with that innocent statement, Butch had a change of heart. He pulled to the curb in front of the church.
“You know, you’re probably old enough to go to church by yourself now. I can just meet you out here after you’re done.” Already the tweed jacket he was wearing was feeling uncomfortable and tight and a decade too old.
Ava’s eyes widened with guilt-inducing shock. “You don’t want to go to church with me? You said last night you would.”
“Look at me, Ava. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb. I haven’t been here in six years. These people don’t even know me.”
“They know you,” she said, cutting her gaze away from him and folding her arms.
“How?”
“They pray for you all the time.” She grabbed her purse—one of Jenny’s that looked big enough for her to fit inside. Her shoes were too small, they’d realized this morning, so she limped a little as she stomped away from his truck, not bothering to shut the door.
Butch undid his seat belt and reached for the handle, trying to close the door. On the third grab, he shut it, but not well. He gripped the steering wheel, closed his eyes, tried to figure out what the right thing to do was. The last place he wanted to be was church. He’d known the day he became a parent that his will was going to be the last one considered, and with Jenny by his side, he learned to make the sacrifices. But now . . .
He caught a glimpse of Ava trying to open the church door by herself. It was heavy and she was fighting a stiff breeze. A man about Butch’s age came to the rescue, greeting Ava and chatting with her as they both went inside.
Butch found a parking place, turned off the truck, and stalked toward the church. He pulled open the door and there Ava stood, clutching her purse, waiting on him.
She grinned. “I knew you’d come.”
The next thing Butch knew, a crowd was gathering around him, shaking his hand, even hugging him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more welcomed in his life. He definitely didn’t feel any animosity, which he figured he’d get as soon as he walked in the door. Why shouldn’t he? He’d stopped coming with Jenny and Ava long ago, citing too much work, which was the case early on in his business when he was still trying to gain clients and underbid competitors. By the time the business got on track, they’d gotten into a routine of going without him, even though they invited him every week. Still, he felt like a third wheel. And about the time he decided he should go, Jenny died and Butch realized there was no use in praying—it was too late for that, and he wasn’t the kind of guy whose prayers would be listened to anyway. Why would they be? He’d been MIA from church for years.
Since then, Beth had been taking Ava, and Butch had continued to stay at home. Until Ava got the funny idea that they should go together.
They went to sit by Beth and her family. Butch removed his jacket and loosened up a bit. Nobody seemed overly concerned with dress. He saw everything from jeans to dress slacks, so he didn’t stick out at all. A few people turned and smiled and waved at him. He smiled back, pretending to know them. He didn’t recognize a soul. Ava, however, seemed to know everyone and was busy hugging necks and shaking hands.
After a nice organ prelude, Beth rose and went to the front.
“What’s she doing?” Butch whispered to Ava.
“She’s in charge of announcements.”
Beth pleasantly welcomed the congregation and introduced herself for visitors. “If you’d open your bulletin, you’ll see that the Fourth of July picnic will be at Evans Park, starting at ten thirty. Sign-ups for the softball game, tennis tournament, and flag football will be in the foyer after the service.” She glanced at the notes in her hand. “Also, on the twenty-third of this month, we’re having a potluck for the homeless. Do we have an update on that?”
Ava suddenly stood, causing Butch to startle. “Everything is still on track,” Ava said loudly and almost theatrically. “We need more vegetables if anyone can volunteer to bring those. The sign-up sheet is in the foyer, or you can e-mail me.”
She sat back down and glanced at Butch. “What?”
“You’re in charge of the homeless ministry?” Butch whispered.
“Mom was,” she whispered back. “They let me take over a few of the little things.” Ava smiled and returned her attention to the front, but Butch couldn’t stop looking at her.
CHAPTER 29
BETH
BETH STOOD ON THE PORCH, sipping Sunday afternoon coffee she’d once enjoyed very much. These days everything had a bitter taste.
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She checked her watch. Robin was supposed to come home and they were supposed to look at a dress catalog together, but once again she was MIA.
Beth set her coffee down, deciding to grab her rose clippers and do something about the bushes along the fence line she shared with the Buckleys. She knew they hated overgrowth. She did too, yet somehow she’d learned to live with it. But being a good and reliable neighbor was one thing among many others she should’ve been doing over the years.
At the fence line she stood and watched Larry, Chip, and Nathan try to get that silly kite off the ground. For the boys, it truly was the Summer of Intense Fun, and though Beth could admit it to no one, she was jealous of how boys remedied their troubles. It seemed so easy. Just get a ridiculous, fun project and memories were made forever.
“Do we really have enough room to launch it here?” Chip called from the front lawn.
Larry was over by the garage fiddling with something. “It’s a soft launch. Just to test it.”
“Hi, Beth.”
Beth turned to find Charles getting into his car. He was wearing slacks, a button-down shirt, and a tie. She rarely saw him dressed any other way.
“Hi, Charles. Looks like you’re off to someplace important.”
“Just work. I have a deadline, so I have to push through the weekend.”
Cory was trailing Charles out the door, bounding down the steps of their front porch. “Dad! Wait! Can we make a kite later?”
Charles’s gaze shifted to Larry and Nathan and Chip in the front yard.
“All right, start the engine!” Larry said.
Cory’s face was awash in awe. Like she said, boys were so easily entertained.
“Um . . . I’ll probably be home too late, buddy. I’ve got lots of—” Charles glanced at his watch—“lots of work, but maybe Monday after school.”
It was summer break. What school?
Charles tried a smile Beth’s direction. “He’s taking some classes this summer, aren’t you, Cory? To get ahead.”
Cory nodded, though not very enthusiastically.
“Oh. How nice.” Should she have been doing that too? Sending the kids to summer school to stay ahead of the pack?
“So how about that? Monday afternoon? And listen, stay inside till your mom gets home from taking Hannah to that pageant thingy, okay?”
Cory nodded vaguely, but his attention was on Chip, who was running across the front lawn with the kite, about to launch it into the stratosphere. Larry followed with a remote control of some sort in his hand. She glanced around. Where was Nathan?
As Charles backed out of the driveway, Beth heard the faint whir of an engine, and to all of their surprise, the kite launched into the sky.
“Awesome!” Cory said, leaning against the fence.
Chip and Larry had their arms lifted in the air.
“Uh-oh . . .” Cory pointed to the string beginning to collapse in front of Chip.
“This isn’t good,” Chip said, and they all looked up.
Suddenly the kite dive-bombed. Beth shrieked and covered her head as the kite dipped low and then screamed skyward.
“Can you control it?” Larry yelled.
“I don’t think so!” Chip yelled back, just as the string broke.
Beth peeked out from behind a hand to see the kite narrowly miss the Buckleys’ roof. “Cory, you should probably—”
The kite whizzed past, and Cory’s head whipped right, following its every move.
Then they all saw it at the same time. An unsuspecting mom pushing a purple stroller. The kite was headed straight for them.
“Watch out!” everyone screamed.
The mom turned just in time to duck.
The kite shot upward again, but this time straight into the Buckleys’ tree. It lodged below a large branch.
Beth brushed the hair out of her face as Chip and Larry ran to check on the woman and the baby.
“That was soooo cool,” Cory said.
“Sorry about the tree. I’ll have one of the boys get it, okay? Tell your parents not to worry,” Beth said.
Larry walked back to the house, closely followed by Chip as they discussed whether or not they should try it with bottle rockets. “Hey, buddy, run inside and get us some drinks, okay?”
“Sure, Dad!”
“Can’t believe that thing flew,” Beth said.
“Where is Nathan?” Larry threw his arms up. “He just disappeared. He missed the whole thing.”
Beth had spotted him seconds ago. She pointed toward the end of the porch, almost around the corner. Nathan was texting something on his phone.
Larry looked dejected. “I can’t believe a motorized kite couldn’t keep him off that thing. A motorized kite that we built ourselves.”
“Honey, you’re doing a great job.”
“This is going to take drastic measures,” Larry mumbled and then strode into the house.
Just then Robin’s car pulled into the drive.
“Hi—sorry I’m late, Mom.” She smiled as she got out of the car. “I brought the book! Come on.”
Beth grinned genuinely. She couldn’t resist when Robin got excited about something.
“How about on the porch? It’s a nice day.” Beth pointed to the two wicker chairs that were in decent shape. She’d set out some lemonade. This time it was from a mix, but whatever.
They sat down and Robin placed the wedding dress catalog on her lap and turned to a bookmarked page.
“Before you show me,” Beth said, touching her arm, “I want to tell you something. Your dad and I aren’t poor, sweetie. I mean, we have bills. But we can pay for the wedding.”
“I know,” Robin said. “I know that, Mom. It’s just . . . Marvin and I want to do it our way, you know? We want to spend money where it’s important to us and skip the things we don’t care about.”
Beth nodded, understanding the insinuation with a great deal of pain. What Robin was trying to say so delicately was that if Beth were in charge of the budget, she’d be controlling.
“Besides, Mom, Marvin is really good with money. He’s amazing.”
“He is amazing. I really . . . admire his passion for what he does. I’m sure one day he’ll find something even more exciting that he can be passionate about.”
Robin glanced at her, uncertainty flickering quickly across her face, but it was gone as soon as she looked at the bridal gown book.
“Okay, I’m so excited to show you this one.” She opened it up, and Beth leaned in for a look.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said, but she couldn’t keep her attention on the dress. Ever so slowly, her gaze dropped to the price at the bottom. “Kind of expensive, though, don’t you think?”
“I know,” Robin said.
“The less expensive ones are usually in the back.”
“I already looked. I don’t like any of those.”
Beth tried to steady herself for a somewhat-difficult conversation. “Sure, but . . . you may have to make some sacrifices.”
“I’m only getting married once. My dress is not being sacrificed. It’s the thing I’ve most looked forward to about my wedding. I want to look beautiful for Marvin.”
Beth leaned away and nodded, trying to seem compliant. “Okay. Of course. But you may have to cut corners somewhere else.”
“I know.”
“That photographer you mentioned last night that you hired is a little pricey.”
“What do you mean? He cut us a deal.”
“Still, Nathan could take pictures. He’s very good—”
Robin’s eyes cut sideways, glaring at Beth. “Why do you care so much? Marvin and I are paying for this.”
Beth moved to the edge of the wicker chair. “I’m not just talking about the wedding. Believe it or not, there are things to pay for after the wedding. Like rent. And car payments.”
“We got it covered,” Robin said, whipping through one page after another.
“Have you made out a budget?”
/> “We got it,” she said, still flipping, but this time toward the very high-end side of the catalog.
It started out as a small, niggling feeling, almost like a hiccup that wasn’t quite ready to launch. But Beth knew better—this was no hiccup coming. It had a lot more heartburn behind it.
“What do you mean, you got it? How do you know you got it? Have you considered unexpected expenses?”
“We have some in savings. I told you Marvin’s good with—”
“How much? A couple hundred? He delivers pizza.”
Robin didn’t even look up.
“Have you weighed the fact that Marvin’s a good saver against the fact that you’re a very good spender?”
“What, so I’m just like some silly teenager who is gonna blow her life savings on cotton candy and lip gloss?”
“You have two hundred and twenty-three Beanie Babies! You tell me!”
Robin shot to her feet, the catalog falling to the dusty porch. Beth rose too. Robin leaned in, hands on her hips. Inside her memory, Beth found herself looking at Robin, eight years old, hands on her hips in the exact same way, trying to convince Beth and Larry that she was old enough to walk to the 7-Eleven by herself—a mile away.
Now Robin was a good two inches taller than she. “You don’t think I’m mature enough to get married.”
“I didn’t say that,” Beth said, though she desperately, desperately wanted to. It was all she could do not to say it. Robin said it. Why couldn’t she?
“You think we’re gonna end up broke.”
“No, I don’t. . . .” Yes. Yes, I do! And when had gonna replaced going to in her vocabulary?
Robin stepped closer, so close that Beth could smell the bubble gum in her mouth. “So you haven’t had that conversation with Dad? The one where you’re worried that Marvin and I are gonna have to move into your basement?”
Beth blinked. Had they? Maybe Beth was just remembering that they should’ve had it. Maybe they were going to have it before Larry began his Summer of Intense Fun.
Beth lifted her chin a bit, trying to show how a mature person argues. She put on the tone she often used with Larry—no matter what pitch the other person used, they still sounded whiny comparatively. “Every parent worries about their children.”