Page 88 of Whiskey Chase
“Come out here,” Scarlett pleaded.
I took my time, stopping for a glass of water in the kitchen before joining them on the deck.
“Devlin, look what Jonah’s mama sent him,” Scarlett said, tapping a photo album with her unpainted fingernail.
“I told her we were exchanging childhood memories, and she reluctantly agreed to send this,” Jonah explained. “It’s my early years.”
The picnic table was scattered with other albums, Scarlett’s I guessed. The resemblance between Jonah and the rest of the Bodines in childhood was unmistakable.
“Is your mama okay with you bein’ here?” Scarlett asked, flipping the page and cooing over a little Jonah on a spotted pony.
Jonah kicked back in his chair. “She’s not thrilled, but she did overnight the album.”
Scarlett raised her gaze to mine. “I can understand how family bonds get tricky.”
She was sending me a message, begging me to understand. I looked away.
“What’s your mama like?” Scarlett asked Jonah.
“She’s the best. Tough lady. Takes no crap but has a real soft center.”
“She sounds wonderful. I hope I can meet her sometime. Is there anything you want to know about our daddy?” she asked softly.
Jonah looked pensive for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess, was it all bad? Did I miss out on not having him around?”
Scarlett sat thoughtfully with the questions. “It wasn’t all bad, no. But it was all inconsistent. Never knowing if you were coming home to happy Mom and Dad or miserable Mom and Dad. That takes a toll. Daddy got worse after Mama died. There wasn’t much good after that. You had to look for it pretty hard. But I still would have liked for you to get to know him. At least then you’d have some answers.”
They flipped through photos and shared stories. And from the outside, I could see the bond they were forging strengthen. Scarlett was claiming Jonah as family. I wondered what she’d do when he decided to go back or move on. I wondered what she’d do when I decided.
After a while, Jonah excused himself to make some calls, and I took his seat at the table next to Scarlett.
“Gibson and I are fightin’,” she admitted as she packed up her albums into the tote.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was a long time coming,” she sighed. “Can I ask you that favor now?” Her sweet gray eyes pleaded with me.
“Sure,” I said. Just because she was asking didn’t mean I had to say yes. She shut me out, and thanks to my family’s reaction to my failed marriage and the near implosion of my career, I had a sore spot in that area.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get away for a night? You know. Get out of Bootleg and go someplace.”
“Don’t you have work?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I have a handyman I can pawn the maintenance calls off on for twenty-four hours or so.”
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
“Anywhere.”
34
Scarlett
“Are you sure I’m dressed all right?” I asked, brushing my palms over the hem of my strapless sun dress. It was blue and white with giant flowers all over it. The waist nipped in and the skirt flared out. I’d bought it on a whim and found no occasions to wear it in Bootleg.
“You look amazing,” Devlin assured me. He was wearing stone gray trousers and a simple white button-down that looked way too good on him.
“I feel pretty fancy for a barbeque,” I confessed.
