Page 68 of Always to Remember
Her smile grew smaller as she looked at Clay. “Is it all right with you?”
He nodded, wishing he hadn’t changed out of his church clothes. They weren’t fancy, but she saw him in his worn work clothes every day.
“I brought a quilt,” she said.
“The boys can spread it out for you.”
“Why do we need a quilt?” Josh asked.
“Because ladies don’t sit on the ground,” Clay said.
“We ain’t never had a picnic with a lady before,” Joe said. “What else do ladies do?”
That beautiful smile returned to her face. “They bring lots of food.”
Grabbing her hands, the boys pulled her to her horse. Her laughter filtered through the air as Clay yanked their fishing poles out of the mud. His pride wanted to tell her they didn’t need her charity, but his love for the twins was greater than his pride. He’d heard all about the desserts that graced the table the day before. The twins had dug into her apple cobbler with such enthusiasm that he’d just sat and watched. He hoped Meg had thought to pack a small piece of cake for them today.
“Gawd Almighty!”
Clay swung around and wished he had a heart of stone. Leaning against the tree, he watched the delight in Meg’s face as she spread her picnic over the quilt. He didn’t know how she’d managed to pack all that food in that small basket, but she’d already set out three cakes and an apple cobbler. The boys’ eyes grew as large as the two pies she was now lifting out of the basket.
Then she brought out fried chicken, and Clay felt the juices flow like a raging river within his mouth.
She brushed her hands together, then folded them in her lap. “That’s it.”
“Gawd Almighty. Can we have a piece of cake first?” Josh asked.
“That’s up to your brother,” she said softly.
Josh turned to Joe. “Can we have a piece of cake first?”
Laughing, she tapped Josh on the shoulder. “Your older brother.”
“Clay, can we eat a piece of cake first?”
“I reckon.”
She sat back on her heels and picked up a knife. “I have buttermilk cake, spice cake, and chocolate cake. Which do you want?”
The boys glanced at each other, then looked at the cakes, then looked at each other. Clay rolled his eyes. They’d be here all day.
“How about a small piece of each?” Meg suggested.
“Yes, ma’am!”
If the woman called those pieces she was cutting small, Clay didn’t think he wanted to see what she called big. She handed the plates to the boys, and they were stuffing the cake into their mouths before the thank you’s had completely escaped.
Meg spread a napkin over her skirt. It never would have occurred to Clay to bring a napkin to a picnic. She picked up a plate and, with dainty fingers, plucked a piece of chicken out of the pot and dropped it on her plate. Wiping her fingers on the napkin, she peered over at him. “I made enough for everyone.”
“Come on, Clay,” Josh said. “Bet you ain’t never had nothin’ this good before.”
If he had, it was too long ago to remember. Clay shoved away from the tree, ambled over, and sat on the ground beside the quilt.
She handed him a plate. “Just help yourself.”
Like the twins, he found the choices too many, the decision as to where to begin impossible to make. He supposed he was too old to begin his meal with a piece of cake so he dug a chicken leg out of the pot and bit into the succulent meat. He chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor. Swallowing, he glanced at her. “How’s your hand?”
Meg rubbed the area just below her thumb. “It’s just a little bruised.”
