Bonnie Winn - Lone Star Blessings

“So glad to see you!” Emma McAllister hugged him, then drew back with a big smile.

“We’ve missed you,” Matt Whitaker added.

Assorted versions of the same sentiment echoed as people crowded around. Although Tucker had known many of them since he was a kid, he didn’t feel a sense of homecoming. Instead, he felt the distance he’d created since Shelley’s death. He managed to say most of the right words, respond to all the greetings. However, the tie he was no longer accustomed to wearing seemed to tighten.

He glanced at Alyssa, and her expression was one of pure pleasure. Knowing he couldn’t disappoint her, he allowed himself to be swept along as the members strolled toward the back lawn, where round tables and folding chairs had been set up. Some people opted to bring quilts and sit on the lawn, but Tucker had been so caught up in the trauma of coming to the church, he hadn’t thought to bring a blanket or a dish to share. Long, rectangular tables, draped with plain white tablecloths, were filled with casseroles, salads, cakes, fried chicken—just about everything.

Families clustered together. Tucker swallowed, remembering when he was a kid and his parents would bring a quilt, so they could sit beneath the spreading limbs of the tallest oak tree.

Alyssa tugged on his hand. “Miss Emma said it’s okay we didn’t bring anything, ’cause there’s always too much anyway.”

True. He’d never yet been to a potluck that ran short of food. He wasn’t particularly hungry, wishing only that the picnic would end quickly so he could go home. But he walked behind Alyssa, scooping food onto his paper plate, then filling a glass of punch.

“This way, Dad.” Alyssa scooted toward a table.

Trying to balance the plate and glass, he didn’t notice until it was too late that she’d led him to the Lambert woman’s table.

“Miss Lambert’s my new Sunday school teacher,” Alyssa announced, clearly pleased.

That was quick. She’d barely had time to unpack her car.

Marvin greeted him heartily. “Come sit down.”

He couldn’t refuse without being rude. “Sure we won’t be crowding you?”

Marvin shook his head, gesturing to his wheelchair. “I brought my own seating, so we have more than enough room. Right, Kate?”

She met Tucker’s gaze and he was surprised to see a trace of vulnerability in her eyes. It faded quickly as she directed her attention toward Alyssa. “Hey!”

Alyssa scooted into the narrow spot between Marvin and Kate. There wasn’t a chair on the other side of Marvin, but there was one beside Kate. Moving the chair would be awkward, obvious. So he put his plate on the table and sat next to her.

His shoulder brushed hers as he settled in place. She didn’t jerk away, but he could feel her arm stiffen before he shifted over a few inches.

Sipping his punch, he wished he’d thought to choose a bracing cup of coffee instead. He watched his daughter. Her face was lit up, more animated than he’d seen it in…longer than he could calculate.

Marvin cut into his brisket. “Did you get some of this, Tucker? Best brisket I’ve ever eaten. That’s saying something—I eat barbecue at least twice a week.”

Tucker hadn’t paid any particular attention to what he’d piled on his plate. Looking at it, he realized he had about three kinds of potato salad and no meat. “I’ll have to try it another time.”

“I can get you some, Dad.” Alyssa popped up before he could protest.

Marvin looked after her wistfully. “Wish I could bottle some of that energy.”

Tucker guessed Marvin was a man used to doing things on his own. He was probably chafing, being confined to that chair.

“Does she have any brothers or sisters?” Kate asked.

His throat tightened. “No.”

She didn’t press. “I’m an only child myself.”

Marvin looked over at Tucker, then wrinkled his brow. “How is it I’ve never met you? I’ve been coming to this church since I moved here.”

Alyssa arrived with a hearty portion of brisket. “Mr. Carlson said there’s lots.” After placing the plate of meat on the table, she scooted next to Kate again. “And there’s all kinds of cake, too.”

Marvin turned his attention to the girl. “Daisy Ford didn’t make a pie?”

Alyssa shrugged. “Somebody said there weren’t many pies ’cause there’s gonna be a pie sale for the hospital this week. Guess they want to make sure people’ll buy the pies.”

Marvin nodded. “That’s right. Just heard about it this morning. My brain’s starting to act like a sieve.”

“It’s okay to forget stuff,” Alyssa assured him. “I forget things, too.”

Marvin chuckled. “Guess I’ll take your word for it.”

Tucker watched them, remembering the light, easy play they’d shared with Alyssa’s grandparents. But now the visits were one-sided. Shelley’s parents drove down from Dallas, but he and Alyssa hadn’t been out of Rosewood in the last two years.

Kate picked up the plate of brisket, offering it to him. “It really is delicious. Somebody told me that Michael Carlson cooks it over a low fire for hours and hours. I’m not that much of a meat eater, but this just melts in your mouth.”

His gaze dropped to her lips as she spoke. They seemed to be curved in a perpetual smile. Well, at least since they’d sat down to lunch. He easily remembered how well she could frown. Still, he couldn’t miss the tint of some sort of pinkish gloss on her full lips.

At that thought, he straightened up so quickly that he brushed her arm again. His tie felt as though it was made of shrinking elastic, tightening around his neck. “Warm for this time of year, isn’t it?”

Kate tilted her head. “I’ve only visited here before, so I don’t really know, but it seems about right to me.”

“She’s used to the heat and humidity in Houston,” Marvin explained. “It’s like being in a twenty-four hour sauna.”

Tucker glanced back at Kate. “So you are from the city.”

“Born and bred.”

He waited, but she didn’t add any details. Picking at the food on his plate, he hoped they wouldn’t have to stay too long at the lunch. He glanced over at his daughter. Alyssa was all smiles.

And she’d sure taken to Kate.

Something was different about the woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on the change. Same fiery green eyes, pale skin, auburn hair…maybe that was it—she didn’t have her hair scrunched into a ponytail. Instead it was loose, falling past her shoulders in waves.

Pretending interest in his brisket, he snuck another look. With her coloring, he expected a sprinkling of freckles, but he didn’t see any. Maybe she was a hothouse flower who kept inside all the time. She laughed just then at something Alyssa said, throwing back her head, exposing the slim column of her throat. It, too, appeared flawless.

“Tucker, it’s been a month of Sundays!” Old man Carruthers stopped by the table. “Well, more than that, I think. Good to see you back where you belong.”

Tucker stood to shake his hand. Albert Carruthers had been Tucker’s Sunday school teacher when he was in junior high school. Despite his feelings about church now, Tucker knew Mr. Carruthers only meant well.

“You doing all right, sir?”

“Just getting old, Tuck.” He lifted his cane. “But I’m not letting it slow me down.”

Remembering the older man’s endless energy when he was younger, Tucker grinned and lightly touched the cane. “Don’t be vaulting any fences. Mrs. Carruthers’ll have your hide.”

Albert chuckled. “You’re right about that.” Reaching up, he patted Tucker’s shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger. I’ve missed you.”

Tucker would have liked to reassure his old friend, but he couldn’t lie to him.