Page 12 of The Cannon
Maybe I went too dressy. I kind of feel like I’ve got my Sunday go to meetin’ clothes on. But I’m trying to show respect for the invitation to join the Swifts at their home. Shit. I overdressed. Too late now.
What an awesome place this is. Southern vibes. Weeping trees and a road lined with Dogwoods. It leads to a circular brick driveway in front of an impressive pillar and porch house.
Sitting atop a wide rolling lawn it commands attention. Huge lime-green and purple hydrangeas edge the two-story beauty’s lines. Years tending other people’s gardens has schooled me. I appreciate a well-designed landscape. This one rises above most.
Okay, get out of the car. Do it now. Just another minute.Be cool. Don’t talk too much. Let her come to me. My balls are sweating. Here I go.
As soon as I’m out I hear the barking. Oh God, a dog. Is there anything this family doesn’t do right? Sounds weirdly like Oscar.
The front door swings open, relieving me of having to get the courage to ring the bell. It’s Brick. Atticus follows.
“The welcoming committee.”
“Just want to give you a heads up,” Brick says lowering his voice. “Did you bring you’re A-game?”
I’m confused. “What are you talking about? And why are we whispering?”
“Bristol didn’t come alone. She brought “the doctor”,” Atticus says using air quotes.
Oh, great.
“You can take him,” Atticus says chuckling.
Shaking his head at his brother’s idea of a plan, Brick adds to the story.
“I don’t think it’s necessary to fight. Even though personally I can’t stand the guy.”
“Stick Up His Ass isn’t a good fit for her or us,” Atticus says.
I feel Atticus’ arm around my shoulder.
“Come on now. Get in there and show her your pitch.”
“Yeah, baseball metaphors are going to make it happen,” Brick says sarcastically. “Just be yourself. We’ve got your back.”
“Let me get something out of the backseat. I brought the hostess flowers and a small gift.”
“See, I told you he’s a Tennessean at heart,” Atticus says.
I retrieve the tulips and small glass jar.
“What’s that?” Brick asks.
As we walk toward the front door, I’m beginning to get more nervous.
“Texas chow chow. This is my favorite. I don’t know. Think it’s stupid?”
“Not at all. Chicks love a considerate man. My mother especially.”
We walk through the open doors, me following Atticus. Brick puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Relax,” he whispers.
An excited dachshund makes it to me like a shot out of a gun. Sniffing the intruder and barking his greeting. Then he raises up against my leg, trying to climb his way into my arms. Oh my god. He looks a lot like my Oscar. I feel a familiar lump in my throat.
“Hey, buddy!”
“Meet The Colonel.”
