Kathleen Creighton: One Summer’s Knight

I thought his eyes were cold, cold as that sky, but they aren’t. Not at all.

The thought came out of nowhere, as the image in her mind’s eye merged and blended with the winter scene before her until she could no longer distinguish one from the other. Perhaps she’d only imagined it, just now, but could it possibly have been compassion she’d seen in that coldhearted lawyer’s eyes?

The Starr family’s big old-fashioned kitchen was crowded that morning, noisy with laughter and the clatter of pots and the tinkle of metal jar lids. It smelled of burned blackberry jam, which wasn’t as bad a smell as Mirabella would have supposed, mixed with the scent of new-mown grass carried in through the open door on a sweet June breeze.

The same breeze brought the sound of her stepson J.J.’s squabbles with his cousin Sammi June over baby-sitting rights to eighteen-month-old Amy Jo, who was gleefully in pursuit of the kittens a stray calico mama cat had hidden out in the garden shed sometime in April. The sound of that laughter, Mirabella decided as she watched her daughter through the screen porch door, had to be one of the sweetest in all the world, sweeter than the music of a thousand wind chimes…choirs of angels. Well, maybe she was a little besotted.

At the thought, her gaze shifted automatically to the man she could just see beyond the doorway to the hall, trying to talk on the phone. He had his head down and a finger stuck in his free ear in a futile effort to dampen down the noise all around him. And as so often happened when she caught a glimpse of her husband-little things, like the glint of light on his dark blond hair or the flash of his slow, sweet smile-something bumped up under her ribs and made her catch her breath. Something composed of varying parts happiness, awe and fear. A year and a half later, Mirabella still hadn’t quite gotten used to the wonder of Jimmy Joe Starr.

A year and a half. Could it really have been that long ago that they’d shared the Christmas miracle of Amy’s birth in the sleeper of Jimmy Joe’s eighteen-wheeler on an ice-bound Texas interstate? Had a year-yes, to the day-gone by since she’d gazed into his brown eyes and pledged through a shimmer of tears to love him for all the days of her life?

It was true, though-today was her anniversary. The family was even now gathering for the celebration; tonight the whole Starr clan would be here for barbecue and black-eyed beans and corn bread, and plenty of fresh blackbernes to go with the homemade ice cream. But where in the world had the year gone? It had passed in a moment, a snap of the fingers, the blink of an eye. And yet, so much had happened in that time.

To begin with, there’d been the amazing and hectic week leading up to the wedding, when Mirabella’s best friend and maid of honor, Charly Phelps, having flown out from Los Angeles a week early, had somehow managed to get herself thrown in jail in the tiny Alabama hill town of Mourning Spring. And when Troy, Jimmy Joe’s oldest brother and best man, had gone to see what he could do about bailing her out, in spite of the fact that Charly had once pledged to loathe and despise all things Southern until her dying day, they’d wound up falling in love. Speaking of miracles! They’d gotten married, themselves, just last fall. Now, to top it all off, Charly was pregnant and, at this very minute, upstairs in the guest bathroom suffering through a horrendous bout of morning sickness.

As if that hadn’t been enough excitement, just two days before Mirabella’s wedding, her sister Summer had arrived in a U-Haul truck packed with all her worldly goods, including her two kids and a motley assortment of animals, having just filed for a divorce from her husband of ten years, that irresponsible bum, Hal. And that was just the beginning! It seemed that Hal-

“Hey, Marybell, how’s it goin’?” Jimmy Joe’s whisper in her ear spilled a cascade of shivers down her spine.

“Fine,” she whispered back. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Ah, that was just my brother Calvin.”

“Customer problems?”

“Nothin’ he can’t handle.” He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take more’n that to pull me away on our anniversary, darlin’.” He straightened and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Got to run over to the house, though. Cal’s needin’ some numbers. Be right back.”

Mirabella nodded and replied with a brisk “See you later.” But her brow furrowed as she watched her husband squeeze past Troy and Charly’s huge yellow-eyed chocolate Lab, who had parked himself in front of the screen door. Poor Bubba was suffering divided loyalties, what with Charly throwing up in the bathroom and Troy gone off to the store to find her some saltines and cola for her nausea.

Out on the lawn, Jimmy Joe had paused to swing Amy up in a quick hug before handing her over to J.J. and Sammi June. Mirabella watched him with a familiar lump in her throat until he’d driven away in their silver-gray Lexus. But when she turned back to the panful of dusty blackberries in front of her, her gaze was snared instead by another pair of wise brown eyes with a golden gleam of fire lurking in their depths.

It’s the fire, Mirabella thought suddenly. That’s what’s missing from Jimmy Joe’s eyes these days.

“Problems?” Jimmy Joe’s mama, Betty Starr, asked softly.

Mirabella shook her head. “He just needs to get some information for Cal. He’ll be right back.” Her gaze dropped to her berry-stained fingers as she quirked a wan half smile and muttered, “Paperwork. Always something.” But she knew the evasion was useless; when it came to her kids, Jimmy Joe’s mama didn’t miss much, and it was a pretty safe bet that she hadn’t missed the worry in Mirabella’s eyes.

Okay, maybe worry was too strong a word, but concern, at least. And she didn’t even know if she was justified in that. After all, in the last eighteen months, her husband’s trucking business had grown beyond anyone’s hopes and dreams, thanks to the hoopla over Amy’s birth. All the major networks had carried the story of the gallant trucker delivering a baby on a snowbound interstate on Christmas Day. Jimmy Joe had been an overnight sensation, a hero, albeit a reluctant one. Job offers had begun pouring in almost immediately and hadn’t slowed down since. As a result, instead of the one Kenworth Jimmy Joe had nicknamed “The Big Blue Star,” Blue Star Transport now owned a fleet of six trucks and counted two of the Starr brothers, Calvin and Roy, among its drivers. Jimmy Joe still had more business than he could handle and was looking for a piece of property on which to build Blue Star Transport’s new terminal. Mirabella just wished she could be certain all this success was making the man she loved happy .

From over at the sink, where she was up to her elbows in jam jars and soapsuds, Jimmy Joe’s sister Jess, mother of Sammi June, gave a cackle of laughter. “Paperwork-now, there’s something I just can’t picture. I sure never did figure Jimmy Joe for a businessman, did you, Mama?”

Betty said, “Oh, I think he can be anything he sets his mind to.” And she smiled at Mirabella and winked as if to say, Don’t worry about that one, hon-he knows what he’s doing. Life is always goin’ to have its little ups and downs…

Mirabella nodded as the sounds of running water and banging doors came once again from overhead. All four women-Betty and Jess, Granny Calhoun and Mirabella-glanced upward and exchanged empathetic glances and sighs. They’d all been through it before.

When it got quiet upstairs again, Granny Calhoun, her twiglike fingers nimbly stemming blackberries, aimed a sly, sideways look at Mirabella and croaked, “You’re lookin’ broody, y’sef. Got those dark circles und’neath your eyes. You keepin’ secrets, baby girl?”