Page 139 of Can't Get Enough

Am I discouraged?I don’t think so.

Am I mad?I don’t know.

One thing I am for sure. Hungry. My stomach is eating itself inside out.

“Lunch,” I mutter, trying to put the conversation behind me. Something else will come. Mama used to sayYou make the plan. God’ll make the way. We’ll see about that.

The kitchen is empty, two plates abandoned on the table. I frown and look around the room as if for body-snatcher clues. And then a peal of laughter from the backyard draws me to the window.

I’ve witnessed this scene a thousand times. My mama with her gardening gloves out back pulling weeds and planting flowers, her face hidden by a big floppy hat, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it again. There she is, though, bending to yank a weed and looking up at the tall man who, in his expensive jeans and his vintage J’s, is clearing bushes and hauling bags of soil from the shed to the plot of land. I wasn’t sure the garden supplies I bought would ever get used, but they are today.

Ignoring my hunger, I walk outside to the garden, smiling widely enough to encompass them both.

“I see you making progress,” I say.

Mama and Maverick both glance up at me, their faces creasing with smiles.

“I figured it was about time I get back,” Mama says.

“We haven’t been out here too long,” Maverick adds. “I promise we’re not overdoing it.”

“Good.” I fold my arms and inspect their work. “Doctor said you’re recovering very well, Mama, but we don’t want you to end up back in the hospital.”

“I’m fine.” Mama waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve let this go too long. You know that Mrs. Mayer so nosy. Always poking her head over my fence in my business. Trying to see what I’m doing. Next time she looks over here, she gon’ see my ranunculus coming back.”

“Your mom said she might even enter them into the floral contest next year,” Maverick says, walking over to me and wrapping one strong arm around my waist. He drops a kiss to my forehead and searches my face. “You good, Gorgeous?”

Heart check.

Do I regret choosing him?Hell, no.

I lean into his arm and let a new peace and fresh acceptance settle over me.

“Never better.”

Later that night, Mama’s upstairs in her room. I’m not sure if she’s asleep because her insomnia is always so bad. Sometimes she walks for hours, but I don’t hear her tonight and I hope she’s at peace. Aunt Geneva ate and praised Mama’s leftovers. Now she’s catching up onLove & Marriage: Huntsville.

Once the house is quiet and night falls, Maverick and I take what’s left of Mama’s sweet potato pecan pie out to the porch and sit on the front step. Our legs are flush together and the pan rests on the curve of our knees.

“I never would have guessed you grew up in a place like this,” Maverick says, scooping out a hunk of pie.

“Like what?” I turn my spoon around on my tongue and tap my head to his. “Country?”

“Charming. Quiet. Small.” He shrugs. “You’re so bold and boisterous and sophisticated.”

“Grounded,” I add. “I always think that I can fly high because I know where I came from. My family are good people, and I may not be all up in church twice a week the way Mama and Aunt G are, but they taught me humility as much as they did confidence. They taught me how to fight and how to find peace.”

“Your mom is pretty fantastic. Your aunt Geneva, too.”

“I wish you could have met my father, and I wish I could have met your mom.”

“I’ve been thinking about that all day, actually.” He balances the pie pan on our knees more securely and links our hands between us. “I also wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

“It’s only Japan.” I bump his shoulder and smile. “Hop, skip, jump.”

He cups my face and lowers my head to his shoulder, kissing my hair.

“I’ll miss you, Hen.”

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