Page 11 of Home Body
No one said a word all the way home from the church. What could they say?
Kenyon sat in the backseat of her dad’s Land Rover, her skirt taking up the entire space, billowing up to her chin. Zach had stayed at the luncheon, which her parents had invited folks to enjoy even though there hadn’t been a wedding. After all, the catering had been paid for and it was too late to get their money back. More than half of the guests accepted, happy to go eat off a buffet, drink from an open bar, and gossip about the wildest wedding they’d ever witnessed.
As Kenyon and her mom and dad had come out of the church, a sheriff’s car had pulled up. Two officers got out and Kenyon could’ve sworn one looked familiar. There was something about his angular jaw, intense eyes, and sandy hair. Both officers headed for the brawl that was taking place in front of the church. Larry, Tamara’s husband, had tackled Chad and they tussled in the grass while a tattered Tamara, dress torn and hair a mess, stood by screaming manically. But the officer’s gaze riveted to Kenyon.
Oh lordy, she realized, he looked a lot like the guy who’d carried her to Dalia’s truck the night before. What was with the guy? Did he work night and day in different towns?
Her dad had taken her arm to escort her to his car, the officer had turned his attention to the fight, and the moment of recognition vanished. But as they’d driven away, she looked back to see the officer lift his head to try to get a final glance at her.
He must think her a total basket case. Ah well, so be it. She just might be.
Once in the house, her mom offered to help her take off her gown. “We can donate it to charity or something. They can sell it.”
Kenyon smoothed the skirt. “Yes. That’s a good idea. But I want to wear it for a while first. I love it.”
“You want to wear it around the house?” Her dad sounded confused.
“Yeah. I like it.”
Kenyon caught the glance between her parents, the one that said they thought their daughter had gone off the deep end. They might even be considering an intervention.
“Um, sure, honey. You wear it for as long as you want.” Her mom shrugged at her dad as if to say, “It’s utterly normal for a woman to wear her bridal gown around the house.”
Obviously, her mom was placating her, maybe in preparation for that intervention.
“Oh, yeah,” her dad played along and agreed without conviction.
In the kitchen, her dad poured them each a glass of wine and they sat at the counter like zombies, sipping away. Every attempt at conversation became so stilted they shut up.
The doorbell rang, saving them. Uncle Claudio bolted in without waiting for anyone to answer, as he always did, carrying a tray covered in a tea towel.
“Howdy everybody!” he bellowed. “I figured you guys must be starved, what with all the excitement. The food at the luncheon is excellent. Everybody’s loving it.” He set the tray down on the island and plucked the towel off with a flourish. “Ta da! Pulled pork, fancy chicken, roasted veggies, even mac and cheese. It’s a little bit of everything off the buffet.”
The doorbell rang again and Llayne’s parents, known to the family as MoMo and PoPo, rushed in with another scrumptious tray of food off the buffet. Next, Mack’s parents arrived.
Within minutes, two dozen family members and friends filled the kitchen and food abounded. Everyone fawned over Kenyon, the women praised her dress, and it turned into the weirdest gathering any of them had ever known.
But one crucial thing was missing, Kenyon realized. There was no cake. She’d so looked forward to having some of that white wedding cake with its cream cheese frosting and fancy little flowers. Right on cue, Zach appeared with an entire tier of the wedding cake. The non-wedding reception in the kitchen of the O’Brien home was complete.
By midafternoon everyone had gone. The house had become quiet, giving Kenyon a chance to think. She gathered her billowy skirt in hand and ambled out onto the back deck. The family dog, an old gal named Bitsy who looked like a small golden retriever, protectively followed.
“How you doing, baby?” Kenyon sat down and massaged the girl’s neck and ears. “You thought I was moving away for good, didn’t you? Nope. At least not yet.”
Bitsy sighed happily and laid down, her paws on the train of Kenyon’s dress. Kenyon scanned the lovely backyard of manicured lawn and mature trees and flower gardens that backed up to the three acres of woods her parents owned. How she loved it there. But she didn’t want to stay forever. She was anadult who needed to forge her own way in the world. To do that she must figure out a new plan.
Nothing came to mind. Except… the potential job at theThe Detroit News. The article they wanted. What could she write about? In an instant, that became the most important thing in her life. And just as suddenly, she knew who she wanted to talk to about it.
“Mom! Mom!” She hollered as she went back into the house.
Her mom rushed down the stairs. “Honey, are you okay? What is it?”
“I need to go to see Dalia and her mom. I need to thank them. And I’d like you to meet them.” She didn’t confess that she missed them. There had been something about that farm’s kitchen table. It’d taken on the aura of a magical altarpiece that invited a person to spill their guts and fill up with kindness and hope.
“Do you mean right now? Or maybe tomorrow?”
“Now.”
“Ah, okay. We need to call them to let them know we’re coming.”
