Chapter 21 #2
We’re just sitting down at the table for the meal Rhett had catered from a lovely lady here in town I’ve known my whole life, when Papaw opens his big mouth.
“Not every year I sit down to eat with the high-and-mighty Winthrops,” he announces, cutting into his turkey.
“Papaw,” Rhett warns. “Not today.”
The old man just lifts his fork and knife into the air with a shrug. He’s got on a clean collared shirt today. I didn’t know he owned anything other than coveralls.
“Jus’ sayin’.”
“You know it’s twenty twenty-six, right?” Betsy Mae says with a wry grin. “We don’t do that weird classism thing anymore. Well, boomers might, but the rest of us don’t.”
Papaw looks at her with amusement, chewing a big bite of turkey. He doesn’t bother to use a napkin, but at least he’s using utensils. “Girlie, I’m so broke I can’t pay attention to trends like that.”
Betsy crosses her eyes and makes a funny face, which we all appreciate. She’s able to diffuse the situation, maybe because she didn’t grow up here in Heaven.
Rylan decides to interject. “I think you’re all hat and no cattle, Papaw.”
There’s a moment of shocked silence, then everyone bursts into laughter, including Papaw. He sets his knife and fork down to stare at his great-grandson.
“Where’d you learn a phrase like that?”
Rylan points at me. “From Mary London. She’s got a comeback for every ornery customer. I heard quite a few when I was there painting the awning the other day. She stands up for herself, but somehow everyone leaves smiling.”
My heart just about melts in my chest. I know kids hear and see more than we think, but I’m proud he’s learning how to work a situation with your words. You don’t have to be nasty in order to stand up for yourself.
I shoot Rylan a wink, which makes him duck his head. “And if all that fails, you threaten to talk to their mamas. Works every time.”
Silas and Betsy pick up the conversation, telling stories of people in their boutique.
We all interject with other stories, and before you know it, I’m standing to clear the empty plates.
Rhett jumps up to help me. I’m grabbing Papaw’s plate when he grips my wrist with his bony fingers.
Up close, I can see where he missed a few spots when he shaved and got cleaned up for dinner.
“You’re all right, girl,” he says quietly, giving me a head nod of what I assume is approval.
I give him a genuine smile in return. “I know.”
I wink and he guffaws, letting me go.
Rhett and I return to the table with several pies. “Mary Lou makes a pecan pie that’ll make you thank your maker for taste buds. I could only snag one this year before she sold out.” I cut into that pie first. Everyone holds out their plates, wanting to give it a taste.
There’s a knock on the front door that has us all turning our heads in the direction of the front of the house. Rhett pushes back from the table and stands. “I’ll get that. Keep eating.”
We do, except we don’t get far when a familiar voice cuts into our nice little dinner. Silas and I look at each other with dread. It’s our father.
The man himself storms into the dining room, a collared shirt and sweater vest on, making him look like every rich Southern gentleman that came before him. He looks angry though, like someone watered down his scotch.
“Can’t even invite your widowed father to Thanksgiving dinner, huh?” He looks at Silas and then at me, accusation in his eyes.
“That’s my fault, sir,” Rhett says, coming over to stand by me.
Daddy’s gaze cuts to Rhett, venom in his voice. “Doesn’t surprise me that a Price would be so rude.”
Papaw scrapes his chair back and stands faster than I’ve ever seen the man move. “Watch your lying mouth, Winthrop!”
The two men start talking over each other, volume rising. When Papaw points a gnarled finger right in Daddy’s face, he swats it away. Then they’re bumping chests like they’re going to fight right here in the formal dining room. Silas and Rhett break them apart, trying to defuse the situation.
My heart sinks down to my heels as I watch two grown men red in the face with anger over something that happened years ago. Holding a grudge for decades is a pastime here in Heaven, a fact I knew, but conveniently glossed over these last few weeks when I’ve been so happy.
Daddy turns his gaze to me, his hands up in peace. This time, his eyes hold a hurt I didn’t see before. “I lost your mama and now I don’t even get invited to Thanksgiving dinner with my children?”
I straighten my spine when all I want to do is cry in a crumpled mess. “We all lost Mama, but you haven’t made it easy to keep including you, Daddy.”
Papaw snickers, watching his mortal enemy get talked to like that, but Rhett silences him quickly.
Daddy’s face screws up. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” I take a step closer to him. “Rhett and I are dating. That’s why I’m here for Thanksgiving. I couldn’t tell you that though, because you’d behave exactly as you’ve done just now, starting a fight on a family holiday. You should be ashamed of yourself, Daddy.”
He stares at me for several long seconds, huffing breath through his nose. He shakes Silas off of him and storms out without a single word. I stand there awkwardly in the silence, not sure what to do now.
“You’re dating? That’s awesome!” Ryland says behind me.
Papaw hoots, like this is all good entertainment.
The tears I was holding back flood my eyes all at once. I refuse to cry in front of everyone, so I rush to the bathroom instead. Rhett follows me, after telling Rylan to cut up the pie and dig in. He slips into the bathroom before I can get the door closed.
“Hey,” he murmurs, holding me close and letting me bury my face in his shirt. Tears flow, and as I try to sniff them back, I’m aware that I’m probably ruining his shirt. “It’s okay, June bug.”
I’m pretty sure nothing is okay.