Page 77 of The Cannon
“The Swift women have style.”
I pull into a parking space and shut off Bristol’s car. The truck isn’t right for every occasion.
“Your parents always look like they just came from a photo shoot.” I step out and come around the car to open her door.
“Thank you,” she says taking my hand. Then she looks in my eyes. “My love.” A soft giggle leaves her lips. “I have a feeling I’m going to be overusing the word.”
“Impossible.” I think about this morning and take her in my embrace. “I love you, Bristol Swift.”
“Sawyer Tom, I feel the same. Me for you.”
“You two lovebirds. Help Grandpa, please.”
We turn to find Grandma Birdie offering her arm to her husband. He’s limping. It’s a shaky arrangement at best.
I go to his side and slip my arm through his. “Come on, Davis. You and I can do a better job of it.”
“What happened to your leg?” Bristol says as we walk towards the steps.
“Elvis strained his knee trying to keep up with the youngsters,” Grandma says.
“And Ann Margaret’s back is hurting. I’m not the only one you know.”
Bristol weighs in. “You two forget how old you are. Maybe you should dial it down a bit. Just to protect yourselves.”
They look at her like what she’s saying is ridiculous.
“Sweet Little Lark,” Grandpa says chuckling.
Reaching the steps we begin the slow climb. I lean around Davis’s body and get Bristol’s attention. Just a look and a smile. That’s all I needed.
Chapter 20
Bristol
An after-dinner champagne caps the night. The sound of my knife tapping against the crystal goblet draws everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to make a toast.”
We all came to Brick and January’s home for the baptismal dinner. I thought our family celebrations have always been fun, but now I see I was setting the bar low. With Sawyer by my side everything looks rosier. Le vie en rose.
We’re gathered around the large rectangular table letting the delicious dinner settle. Brick outdid himself on this one.
“Lets lift our glasses to baby Beauregard, the most beautiful, clever and easygoing child ever conceived.”
We all drink to the latest addition to the Swift family.
“You forgot about his artistic bent,” my mother says across the table.
There’s laughter and comments coming from every corner.
“Exactly how did you come to that conclusion, Mother?” Brick asks.
“Simple. I was arranging a bouquet of flowers to watercolor and baby was in your father’s arms and you tell the rest, Boone.”
My father rarely disagrees with my mother, but his expression tells me he’s about to.
“Lucinda I’m not sure I observed the same thing you did.”
