Loree Lough - An Accidental Family

When she stepped inside, Lamont grabbed the trash can she’d put on the porch earlier, and dragged it down the flagstone steps. If he knew Nadine, she’d be up there for half an hour or more, getting her sleepy-headed grandchild cleaned up and into pajamas, listening to her prayers, maybe telling her a bedtime story or two. More than enough time for him to get some of the party remnants cleaned up.

He tossed empty potato salad and cole slaw tins into the bag, then put what remained of the birthday cake on her kitchen counter. That done, he stacked her gifts on the living room sofa, placed her birthday cards on the coffee table and, with nothing left to do, headed back to the porch. When he hit the foyer, the distant strains of a familiar lullaby wafted down the stairs, stopping him dead in his tracks.

He followed it up the steps to Amy’s room. Her voice was so lovely, soft and dulcet and the slightest bit husky. But then, he’d be hard-pressed to name something about her that wasn’t lovely.

Was she sitting on the edge of Amy’s mattress, he wondered, or in a stiff-backed chair next to the bed? When Lamont peered around the corner, it didn’t surprise him to see Nadine stretched out on the mattress with Amy nestled happily in the crook of her grandmom’s arm.

He smiled, then remembered the flat, rectangular package still sitting on his backseat. Tiptoeing down the steps, he headed for the driveway, hoping she’d like his gift. Something told him he’d never know for sure because, earlier, he’d watched her fawn over a gaudy clay refrigerator magnet the church organist had sculpted for her, seen her fuss over the sweater vest Marian the librarian had crocheted from pea green and purple angora.

Lamont sat in the rocker on her porch, the present in his lap. The coffee was cold now, but he sipped it anyway, enjoying every swallow because Nadine had made it for him. He felt at ease here, inhaling the aromas from her potted plants, looking out over the expanse of freshly mowed lawn, listening to crickets and night birds that filled the darkness with harmonious song. He could picture himself whiling away the evening hours with her, right here on this porch, chatting until it was time to turn in.

“I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen a tough cowboy with a pink bow on his belt.”

He looked down. The way the gift rested in his lap, it did appear that he’d worn a fancy ribbon in place of a belt buckle. Laughing, he sat up straighter as she settled into the rocker beside him. “It isn’t much,” he said, handing her the little box.

“You shouldn’t have, Lamont.”

“Sure, I should. Gal doesn’t turn thirty-five every day.”

“Flatterer,” she said, and carefully removed the ribbon. “Did you wrap this yourself?”

“Can’t you tell by the wrinkles and the tape hiding the rips?”

“I really hadn’t noticed,” she said, lifting the box top.

Nadine parted the tissue paper and peered inside. “A gift certificate?” Turning it over in one hand, she read, “Dinner for Two at Cowboy Joe’s, Best Steak House in Texas.” She bit her lower lip before meeting his eyes. “Lamont, you shouldn’t ha—”

“Sure, I should,” he said again. Shrugging, he added, “I just thought, well, I kinda hoped you’d use it to treat me to a steak dinner.” He grinned. “You know, to make up for canceling steak night.”

Nadine tucked the card back into its tissue-paper bed, replaced the lid, and sat the gift on the table beside Lamont’s half-empty coffee mug. “Thank you.”

Was she blushing? And why on earth was her lower lip trembling? And was that a tear glistening at the corner of her eye? Last thing he wanted to do was upset her. Presents were supposed to make people happy, not make them cry. “Nadine,” he said, reaching across the space separating them, “it’s your gift. I was only kidding. Take anyone you please to dinner at Joe’s.”

Nadine patted his hand. “It’s a wonderful, thoughtful gift,” she interrupted, “and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share it with than you.”

Did she mean it? He stared deep into her big blue eyes. Well, it sure looked like she’d meant it. So then, why the waterworks? Sighing, Lamont prayed for a sliver of knowledge to help him understand this remarkable woman.

“And thanks for cleaning up the yard. You didn’t have to do that, either.”

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