Chapter 18 #3
“Yes, but anything can happen in stories,” he reminds me. “The frog became a handsome prince, and he married the princess and brought her back to his palace to live with him. Romantic, right?”
“In a way.” Maybe. But I still can’t understand how the princess could kiss a frog to begin with. I almost don’t blame her for not keeping her word.
“Now Warren was only a boy of about seven years the first time he heard this story, and the minute Momma told it to him, he was enthralled. Wanted it as a bedtime story for a week straight. Then one day, he marched himself right down to the riverbank.”
“No!” I gasp as an inkling of suspicion grows. “Tell me he didn’t…”
“He did.” Jedidiah’s disgust matches my own. “Every frog he came across got a kiss from him just in case it could be his princess. It wasn’t until the morning he woke up with red spots all around his mouth that Momma found out what he’d been doing and made him quit.”
I hold back the laughter battering at my lips, but a smile still breaks through as the song ends.
“So am I a frog or a princess?” I search the crowd until I find Warren holding Emmaline and staring back at me.
He waves at me with her little hand, and the picture of him as a mischievous child is so easy to see.
Then the image is replaced by a young boy with mismatched eyes, and a quick pang darts through me.
His childhood couldn’t have been so carefree.
But I couldn’t do anything for him then and neither can I now.
“Without a doubt, you’re my brother’s princess, Mara. And all of us are so happy that you and Emmaline are part of the family.”
Family. I let the word settle into the cozy space Warren created in my heart as Jedidiah leads me back to my husband, daughter, and newfound family. “Thank you for dancing with me, sister.”
Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for calling me sister.
That’s what I want to say, but instead I nod with a small smile and lean into the familiar arm that sneaks about my waist.
“Tuckered out?”
“I wouldn’t mind a chance to catch my breath.” Emmaline’s head swivels my way when she hears my voice. “My sweet girl, did you miss me? Come see.” Warren passes her to me, and I press soft kisses to her hair. Do all babies smell as good as mine? Surely not.
Cornelius appears to my right and gruffly clears his throat. “Sure am glad you decided to come tonight.”
I still, unsure if it’s me he’s speaking to. But when a reply isn’t forthcoming, I look up and find both men staring at me. Warren’s hand flexes on my waist, and I accept the encouragement it offers. “I didn’t want to.”
Crinkles of kindness line his eyes, and I’m struck by just how much of Warren I see in him. This close, it’s impossible to miss, and it puts me more at ease.
“I didn’t want to,” I repeat. “But I also couldn’t hide away for the rest of my life.
” Emmaline begins to gnaw on her fist, and the cuteness of it coaxes a smile from me.
“When my daughter’s old enough, I want her to walk in front of everyone with a respectable name.
To know that Warren’s her papa in the eyes of God and man.
But she can’t if I don’t show her how much I believe it first.”
“Damn right I’m her papa,” Warren says without a care for who might overhear his language.
“And you do believe it, don’t you?” the older Shay asks.
I think back to how I mouthed off to those older women. “I absolutely do.”
“As you should. Emmaline’s a Shay now, same as you.
” Cornelius’s tone is stern, yet kind. “No matter what anyone here in Hope’s Stand or anywhere else says, you walk proud knowing you’re one of ours.
I don’t know all the things you’ve been through, but I can hazard a guess none of it was pleasant.
None of us would fault you if you never wanted to step foot in town again.
But you’re a strong woman—a strong mother—and you’re setting a mighty fine example for that darlin’ little girl of yours. ”
“The best mother.” A small hand squeeze accompanies Warren’s proud proclamation.
Unless doing the opposite of Mrs. Overstreet counts, no one’s taught me how to be a mother.
But I must be doing at least part of it right if both of these men can see it.
Something in my heart shifts, something good, and I tighten my lips to prevent them from wobbling.
Crying in front of everyone is the last thing I need, especially on my first public outing.
When I’m able to contain myself, I meet Cornelius’s gaze.
“Thank you for accepting us into your family.”
Craggy lines spread as his cheeks lift. “That’s what a true family does, Mara.”
When it’s time to dance with the elder Shay, it’s not nearly as awkward as I had feared it would be.
All of these Shay men are a cut above the rest I’ve known.
And there’s something about Cornelius. He’s quiet and sometimes a little gruff with his words, but he’s always respected my need for distance between us.
Now his quiet is calming. He’s steady like his son.
He calls me his daughter.
And maybe, just maybe, I can one day call him Pop.