55. Ian
My folks’house was full to bursting, and we were practically shoulder to shoulder at the dining room table which stretched from one end of the dining room right through the double doors that led into the living room. It was a tight squeeze but I don’t think I’d ever seen my Ma happier with such a full house.
I was pretty content myself, especially watching Madison, who laughed and chatted and seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.
I stood in the kitchen, a ladle in one hand and a gravy boat in the other, admiring the woman who would soon make me a father.
“You planning on refilling that gravy boat for the rest of us or are you going to just gobble it down all by yourself here in the kitchen?”
“Gobble.” I rolled my eyes. “Good one, Pop.”
“It is Thanksgiving after all. Gotta get a few dad jokes in.”
I finished filling the gravy boat while my father scooped more mashed potatoes into one of Ma’s good serving dishes.
“You got yourself a good one there,” he said.
“Huh?”
He angled his head toward the dining room. “Your girl. I had to admit, your ma and I were worried that you might never settle down. You’re still young. It’s not that. But damn son, you’ve been living fast and hard for the past few years, and it’s been plenty worrisome. Then this little lady comes along, and after a few swift kicks in the ass, you come screechin’ to a halt and all of a sudden, you’ve turned into the sappiest sonofabitch I ever did see.”
A loud laugh slipped out. He wasn’t wrong.
“I’m trying, Pop. We are like night and day, but I’m crazy about her. She’s kept some vital parts of herself under lock and key for a long time, but she’s finally coming around, sharing her vulnerable side, and I can’t help but fall in love with the parts of her she’s shown me. Parts I doubt she’s ever shown to anyone else.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb, son, and say I think she’s the one. I’m not just saying that because she’s carrying my grandbaby. Your Ma and I are gonna love her and that baby no matter what, but you light up when you look at her, and it seems she does the same when she looks at you.”
I put the ladle down and rubbed the tender center of my chest, the place that pulsed whenever I thought of Madison.
The words were stuck somewhere in my throat, and it felt like I’d swallowed the wishbone from the damn turkey. All I could do was nod in agreement. As far as I was concerned, Madison Enright was mine. I just hoped I could convince her to take me as I was and love me the way I knew I already loved her.
“Gimme that gravy before you spill it,” Pop said, taking the overfull gravy boat from my hand. “Just go on moonin’ over your girl.” He winked. “Can’t say as though I blame you.”
My dad laughed as he carried the mashed potatoes and gravy back into the other room, while I did exactly what he accused me of—I continued mooning over my girl.
Later, after dinner when most of the four pies Meemaw had brought had been devoured, and Madison and I had beaten my sisters and my brother-in-law in Pictionary, my grandparents left with promises to see us soon. The loud laughter and conversation had quieted down. Madison sat in my dad’s recliner holding little Ellery—whose name I remembered now that I’d put my mind to it—while she slept in her arms. I plucked out a tune on my old Gibson LG-2. The guitar went pretty much everywhere with me. It was the one I used to write most of the music for the band.
Maylene and I harmonized on Tennessee Whiskey and Sweet Annie, as well as a couple of tunes from The Gravel Hill Boys last album. Madison watched with a warm, open smile that wrapped around me like the sweetest smelling vine. The woman owned my heart, yet I was still too afraid to tell her.
Head over heels. That’s what I was. Head over heels in love with the mother of my baby.