Page 145 of Always Meant for You
I let the word drift through my head as the image of Mabel curled asleep in my arms surfaces, and damn, I ache to hold her. She doesn’t just stir something in me. She settles me. Roots me. The quiet sense that she’s where I end. That if I let myself fall, she’ll catch every piece. I’m not sure what to call that kind of knowing. But I want it. Every night. Every season. And only with her.
“It’s been ages since we’ve had a night like this. What a day!” Sally exclaims, fanning herself.
Mr. Muldowney claps me on the shoulder. “You did good, Cal.”
“Thank you, sir. But the credit goes to Mabel.” I glance around the square, trying to find her. I check my watch. It’s been at least thirty minutes since I last saw her talking with a family that drove up from northwest Kentucky.
“And you’ll never believe this,” Margaret says. “Betty and I were talking to a couple who used to work at the factory next to the quarry. We told them how interested people were in purchasing Eat Elverna shirts and hats, and they suggested looking into manufacturing the items there. Can you imagine if we got that going again?”
“Now that would be something,” Claudine replies, patting her brow with a paper napkin.
Jamie and I never dreamed people would want sustainable farming merchandise. And now they’re asking for it. Not because we sold it, but because Mabel made it matter.
“Gladys, you look quite lovely in that pink scarf. Is that the one Mabel gave you?” Margaret asks.
Gran still doesn’t say anything. She watches the dancers and taps her feet to the music.
“She’s not talking, but she’s alert,” I offer.
Sally nods. “Yes, she sure is.”
Margaret pats Gran’s hand. “Oh, Gladys, Cal and Mabel did a wonderful job planning the Saturday farmers’ market and the square dance. I’m sure you’re so proud.”
A trace of a grin pulls at her mouth before her shoulders dip and her eyes start to close.
“It’s getting late,” I say, starting to rise. “I’d better get her back to the center.”
Elias shakes his head. “You stay, Cal. I can take your grandmother home.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
He meets my gaze. “Not at all. You earned a little downtime. When you see Mabel, let her know she deserves to have some fun tonight. Why don’t you take her out?”
I nod, trying not to look stunned. Mr. Muldowney’s always been fair, but praise? A push toward rest? An open door where Mabel’s concerned? He’s not just letting me near her. He’s inviting me to step in. Still, it doesn’t mean I won’t keep tabs on where he’s storing that shotgun.
“Will do, sir. Thank you.”
“I’ll join you, Elias. It’s a lovely night for a walk,” Claudine adds with a warm smile.
I kiss Gran’s cheek. “I’ll see you real soon for a visit.”
“Mabel,” she whispers.
I nod, my throat thick. “Yes, I’ll bring Mabel along.”
Mr. Muldowney gives my shoulder another pat, then releases the brakes on Gran’s wheelchair. He and Claudine say their goodbyes and head down the path leading to the assisted living center.
I scan the crowd. No sign of Mabel.
“Looking for Mabel?” Margaret asks.
“I am. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Margaret and Sally exchange a look.
“She was with a young man earlier,” Sally says.
A dull thud presses behind my ribs.
