Chapter 7
Ophelia awoke to the aroma of cinnamon wafting up the stairs and into her bedroom on Monday morning. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up on the side of her bed. Even after six months, she still had trouble sleeping at night and usually had to figure out where she was—her apartment or in a tent somewhere when she was deployed to teach a class, or in a tiny office surrounded by technical equipment. The latter was where she stared at a screen for hours and took care of the things that gave her nightmares. After a quick trip to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face and whipped her red hair up into a messy bun, she padded downstairs in her bare feet.
Bernie raised a coffee cup and greeted her from the end of the table. “Good mornin’, sleepyhead.”
“Mornin’,” Ophelia said on the way to the coffeepot. “Where is everyone? I thought that Tertia was in charge of the kitchen.”
“Rae and Bo left an hour ago. Rae’s dropping Bo off at the airport, and then driving on up north by herself,” Bernie answered. “I’ll be glad when those two realize that they belong here. Tertia said last night that today was a DIY breakfast—do it yourself—because she was worn out from the reception on Saturday and then Mother’s Day. Mary Jane and Joe Clay had oatmeal, and then he went out to the barn to work on the gazebo he’s building for Luna’s wedding, and she went to her office.”
“Endora?” Ophelia asked as she made herself two pieces of toast.
“She took Ursula’s advice about writing a children’s book and is up in her room working on it,” Bernie answered. “Your mother said if anyone disturbed her or Endora today that it better involve blood or broken bones. I wanted her to show me more about how to navigate Facebook, but I wouldn’t go against Mary Jane for anything.”
“Wise woman,” Ophelia said.
“You are leaving with Jake at ten thirty, so eat fast,” Bernie said. “You don’t want to be late on your first date, or on your first day at work tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ophelia gave her aunt a snappy salute. “But like I’ve said a dozen times already, it’s not a date.”
“Don’t you get sassy with me,” Bernie shot back at her. “I heard that story before from Ursula. Sit down right here beside me and I’ll give you some pointers on…”
“Good Lord!” Ophelia said with a long sigh. “I think I can figure out how to talk to Jake all by myself while we drive to Wichita Falls and back. Why don’t you work on Tertia’s romance instead of mine?”
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Bernie said with a smile. “Soon as I hear you and Jake are dating, I’ll start working my magic on her. I want to be able to say that I’m a successful matchmaker when I interview my clients.”
“Magic don’t work on me,” Ophelia declared. “I’m immune to it, so bypass me and Tertia and go right to Endora.”
Bernie finished off her coffee, stood up, and refilled the cup. “I’m saving her for last so that she can have more time to heal. Bless her baby heart, she’s making progress in getting closure and moving on, but she’s not to that final stage of acceptance.”
Ophelia wondered if she would ever get past the nightmares and into the final stage of accepting that what she had done was really for the greater good.
Bernie had a captive audience in the kitchen and was telling Tertia a story about something that had happened in her bar when Ophelia tiptoed out onto the front porch. She sat down on the porch swing, but she didn’t put it in motion. If Bernie heard even the slightest squeak, she would be outside in a flash with lots of advice for the first date.
“It’s not a date,” Ophelia said under her breath. “I don’t care if Ursula did say that same thing and then ended up married to Remy. We have different stories.”
She stopped arguing with herself when she heard a truck driving up the lane. She shaded her eyes with the back of her hand, and as soon as she was sure it was Jake, she stood up and headed out into the yard. Jake parked and was out of the vehicle with the passenger door open for her before she even made it to the bottom porch step.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.
“Mornin’ to you,” she said.
Heavy dew still lay on the grass, but she was too busy looking at the way Jake’s faded jeans fit to notice anything else. She put one foot on the running board and started to hoist herself up, but the wet sole of her boot slipped. She tried to grasp something—anything—to keep from falling, but there was nothing to wrap her hands around. Then suddenly, Jake scooped her up into his arms like a new bride and lifted her into the passenger seat.
“Can’t have you hurting yourself on our first date,” he said, chuckling.
“My middle name is not Grace,” she muttered as she fastened her seat belt and glanced back toward the porch to be sure that nosy Bernie hadn’t come outside the minute she realized that her niece had left the kitchen. So far, so good.
He closed the door and jogged around the front of the truck, slid in behind the wheel, and started the engine. “So, what is your middle name?”
“Ophelia,” she answered breathlessly. “First name is Mary, and before you ask about our unusual names, Mama named us after whatever heroine she was writing about at the time of our birth.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Jake said, “but I’m glad you offered up the information.”
“Everyone asks,” she protested.
“On my birth certificate I am Patrick Jacob. That’s not so unusual, right?” he asked, but didn’t wait for her answer. “My sisters pester me all the time about having a common name. My older sister is Murphey and the one who’s just a year younger is Haisley. Mama just knew they were boys, so that’s the only names she and Dad had picked out. Since they couldn’t agree on anything for a girl, they just used what they had. I’m used to girls having unusual names.”
“How much older than you are they?” Ophelia asked.
“Murphey was fourteen when I was born, and Haisley was thirteen. I was one of those oops babies, but I’m the third so I’m the charm, and besides they finally got a son,” he answered. “My first memory is when Murphey got married and Haisley started college the next week or so.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“I figured out that crying and hiding in my bedroom wouldn’t fix things,” he answered. “What’s your very first memory?”
“That would have been when Daddy took Mama to the hospital late one night. Grandma Marsh came to stay with us girls, and Mama said she would bring home a surprise for us. We all thought it would be kittens, but the next day, they came back with twin girls—Bo and Rae. I would have been between three and four, and I already had two sisters. I would have much rather had a kitten,” Ophelia answered with half a chuckle.
“Mary Jane had five girls in about four years?” Jake’s deep voice raised an octave or two.
“Mama had seven girls in just under six years because Luna and Endora were born a year later, almost to the day. My father wanted a son, so when Ursula was born, they decided to try again, and got me two years later. No luck, so they decided that—like you said—the third would be the charm, and they got Tertia almost two years after that. They gave up on ever having one after that,” Ophelia explained.
“But?” Jake asked as he made a right-hand turn in Nocona and headed west.
She smiled across the console at him. “Birth control failed, and they got twins—Bo and Rae. My father had a vasectomy as soon as they were born, but he didn’t go back to get things checked. One year later they got the second set of twins in the summer before Ursula started first grade. My parents divorced a couple of years after that, and Mama managed to raise us as a single mom, and still put out three to four books a year.”
“Do you see your father often?” Jake asked.
“Maybe once a year if he and his wife can fit us into their plans,” she answered. “But like another old saying goes, ‘What the eyes don’t see, the heart don’t grieve.’ Daddies don’t just see their kids when it’s convenient. They are there for them no matter what—when they fall off their bike and scrape their knee, when they cry over their first boyfriend breaking up with them, when they go to father-daughter dances with them, and they even buy an old van to take the whole family to sporting events and all over the county to see the Christmas lights.”
“My dad is like that,” Jake said. “I guess I should appreciate him more for the memories that I have.”
“That’s what Joe Clay did for us girls, and that’s why we call him Daddy,” Ophelia said. “Look!” She pointed at a sign. “Did you see that billboard for another winery?”
“There’s more than a dozen within a couple of hours driving distance of mine,” Jake answered. “I visited all of them before I finally decided to buy land in Spanish Fort.”
“I had no idea there were so many,” Ophelia said. “I went to several when I was stationed in California, but never realized there were any close to Spanish Fort. You said we were going to Wichita Falls for supplies. What do you get over there?”
“Sugar mainly,” Jake answered, “but today I also need to buy wine yeast. I’ve got a deal with a farmer just over the Red River in Terral, Oklahoma, to buy watermelons when they’re in season, and with some more local farmers to buy elderberries and strawberries as it all gets ripe.”
“How many people work for you?” she asked.
“Four when you start tomorrow. Three guys help me in the back where we make the wine,” he answered. “But I’d rather talk about you today than the winery,” Jake said. “You mentioned being disappointed because you got two more sisters instead of kittens. I saw a dog and a couple of cats over at your house when I was there. Are any of those yours?”
“Nope…” she answered. “Yes…” She paused again. “Maybe.”
Jake chuckled again. “Which one is it?”
“Pepper, the Chihuahua belongs to Aunt Bernie. Endora was allergic to dogs when she was a little girl, but Aunt Bernie says that there’s something about a dog of that breed that folks aren’t allergic to. Personally, I think Endora grew out of her allergy, if it ever even existed, but if she wants to believe that she can be around Pepper, then who am I to argue? The two yellow half-grown cats belong to Endora. Sassy is the house cat, and we all claim her, so no, the dog isn’t mine. Yes, on Sassy,” Ophelia explained. “It’s complicated. How about you? Do you have pets?”
“A mutt that adopted me when I moved here,” Jake answered. “He’s ugly as warmed-over sin, but he’s good at chasing possums, raccoons, and every other grape-eating animal out of the arbors.”
“Luna and Shane have two dogs and one is named Mutt. He’s not a pretty feller either, but he’s a good watchdog.”
Could this really be a date? Getting to know each other sure made it feel like one. However, she didn’t have the angst in her gut like she’d always experienced on first dates before. Talking to Jake about her family and learning about him seemed natural and comfortable.