Chapter 45
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
“Let me help you, sir.”
Jerry Young looked over to the young man—well, younger than him, at least—reaching for the walker Jerry had been trying to reach. This man seemed to have extendable arms, and he grabbed the walker and pulled it out in one fluid motion.
“Thank you,” he said, trying hard not to make his voice too grumbly. He wasn’t upset by getting the help, just the fact that he needed the walker at all. But Cecily had said if he didn’t use the walker, she’d make him sit in his wheelchair.
No, thank you.
He simply needed to get inside the bowling alley, where this quarter’s Young family birthday party would take place.
“Sure,” the young man said, and he looked vaguely familiar to Jerry. He probably went to church with him, or had seen him at the grocery store. Something.
“You’ve met Jerry Young,” a woman said, a smile in her voice.
Jerry switched his gaze to Bailey McAllister, and he definitely knew her.
“He’s Bryce’s grandfather.” Bailey wore the grin on her face as she linked her arm through the tall cowboy’s. He beamed down at her, and Jerry had seen his grandson look at the woman the same way. Many years ago, sure, but Jerry recognized two people in love when he saw them.
“Jerry, this my boyfriend, Reeves Durham.”
“Yes, of course,” he said diplomatically. Cecily would be so proud. “I think my wife mentioned that you had a new boyfriend.”
Bailey trilled out a light laugh. “We’ve been dating for six months now. It’s not terribly new.”
Jerry gripped the handles of the walker and took a shuffling step toward the entrance of the bowling alley.
“Daddy.” Tex’s chastisement sounded too loudly in Jerry’s ears, and he practically rolled his eyes as he turned toward his oldest son. “You said you’d wait for me.” He shot sunshine toward Bailey and Reeves. “Though I can see you’re in good hands.”
He laughed as he moved over to shake hands and give hugs. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Well, by the time I got the fifteenth text, giving in seemed like my best option.” She rolled her eyes, but her voice said she wasn’t that upset.
“I didn’t text you,” Jerry said.
Bailey looked at him, blinked, and tipped her head back as she laughed. “You’re right, Mister Young.” She moved up to shuffle-step into the bowling alley beside him. “You didn’t text me, but do you know who did?”
Jerry set his sights on the entrance to the alley, knowing what waited for him beyond those glass double doors. Disco bowling. Loud music. All of his sons, their wives, and his grandchildren.
Heck, Jerry had some great-grandchildren now, and his heart swelled with love for his family.
“My wife?” he guessed, though he knew Cecily had texted Bailey, specifically to invite her to this quarterly birthday party. OJ was born in December, and on this, the second weekend in October, they were celebrating all birthdays in the final quarter of the year—October, November, or December.
Joey had brought up Bailey first, actually, and she’d said, “She should be invited. She’s practically part of our family, and it’s OJ’s big family party.”
Of course, Bryce had piled on after that, and even Otis and Georgia had said it was a good idea.
Jerry didn’t truly mind, but he had the grumpy grandpa role to play—at least until Leigh put a baby in his arms. Then Jerry had no hope of keeping his frown on his face.
“Your wife, yes,” Bailey said, stepping ahead of him to open the door. “And Joey, and Adam, of course, because he just wants Joey to be happy.”
“Of course,” Jerry murmured, though he loved Joey and Adam with his whole heart.
Their little girl was the cutest thing on the planet, and about as far from a Young as anyone could get in the family, since both Joey and Adam had light features.
Their darling Eliza had wispy, blonde hair that stood straight up on her head, and Jerry had spent a whole afternoon holding the baby and lightly brushing his fingers through it.
“Georgia,” Bailey said, blocking the entrance and holding up a third finger. “Otis. OJ—and he invited me four times. Four.”
Jerry grinned at her. “Well, he’s got spunk, and he has a lot of his parents’…tenacity.”
Bailey cocked her head, even as Reeves eased to her side. “We’re not upset we’re here, right?” he asked. “I mean, it’s a private birthday disco bowling party, with people who won’t care I’m the Teton Mountain Man.”
Jerry sized up the man, and the way he settled Bailey. Her shoulders deflated, and she nodded her agreement.
“You’re right,” she said.
Reeves leaned closer, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. “Maybe stop blocking the door then.”
Bailey started, and Jerry grinned at the two of them. “Yes, of course.” She moved out of the way, and Reeves pulled open the other side of the entrance.
“In you go, Jerry,” Reeves said.
Jerry really liked the man’s energy, and he moved past him and into the bowling alley. The weather had started to turn in the past couple of days, and Jerry sure was glad to get out of the wind.
“Gramps,” Joey called. “We have a place for you on lane seven.”
“Lane seven, Daddy,” Tex practically bellowed, and Jerry wouldn’t be able to simply shuffle over there, take a seat, and watch Gabe’s boys throw strikes. Between here and lane seven, no less than six of his sons loitered with their wives, children, and the “extra” aunts and uncles.
The bowling alley had twenty lanes, and his family alone could fill them. Cecily had planned this birthday party with Abby and Cheryl, and Jerry wasn’t surprised to see four tables set out in front of the shoe rental, each of them covered with cupcakes.
Morris and Gabe had been born in November, and they’d sponsored the café here at the bowling alley. Anyone could go get something to eat off the menu, free of charge.
Someone—probably Georgia, as she threw plenty of parties at her bookshop—had blown up dozens of balloons and tied them to the backs of the stools at the chest-high tables a layer up from the bowling alley.
“Howdy, Jerry,” Wade said, and Jerry grinned at the man. His youngest son, Wyatt, had been born in October, and the boy already wore one of the traditional crowns that Cecily brought for all the birthday boys and girls, no matter their age.
“Are you going to get a strike?” Jerry asked the boy, and Wyatt grinned at him.
“I hope so,” he said, as he already carried a lime-green ball toward the ball return shelf on lane one. Wade moved around pretty well since getting his new prosthetics about a year ago, and Jerry sure did like the man.
He and his wife had been so good to Tex and Abby—and everyone else in the Young family—and Jerry loved anyone who could handle his loud, boisterous boys and genuinely call them friends.
He wasn’t surprised to see Melissa coming toward him with a dark red ball. “Gramps,” she said. “Did you want me to get you a ball?”
“No, little miss,” he said, his back starting to hurt. “I’m not going to bowl today. I’m just here for the cake.”
Her face lit up, and she hurried to put her bowling ball next to Wyatt’s. “I can get you one of those.”
“Mel,” Tex said at Jerry’s shoulder. “Gramps is sitting on lane seven. If you want to bring him a treat, it’ll need to go there.” He nodded further into the alley. “See where Joey and Momma are?”
Mel turned and looked, and Jerry figured he could keep shuffling along.
“Okay,” she said, and Jerry noticed she wore a hint of light brown blitz on her eyelids today.
Jerry could only imagine what that situation looked like with her and Abby—and probably Tex too—and he thanked the Good Lord Above that he’d only had boys.
Blaze and his family had taken lane two, as evidenced by Faith carrying Harmony on her hip and trying to get Ty into a chair by lifting him with one arm.
“Tex,” Jerry said, and his son hurried forward to help.
“Thanks,” Faith said, and then she crouched down in front of her five-year-old. “You will not leave this chair, or there will be no grilled cheese sandwich for you, no cupcakes, and Daddy will not help you roll the ball down the lane.” She bent her head closer. “Do you hear me, Ty?”
“Yes, Momma.” The boy sniffled, and he looked at Jerry, a clear plea for help in the alligator tears clinging to his eyelids. “Grampy.” He reached toward him, and Jerry decided on the spot that he needed a break.
“I’ll sit with him,” he said. “I need to catch my breath.”
Faith looked at him, her displeasure with her son changing to concern instantly. “Are you okay?”
Jerry tried to tell her he was fine with only his eyes, and she seemed to get the hint. She stood and wiped her fingers through Ty’s hair. “Boys who scream at their cousins don’t get cupcakes.”
That was Faith-speak for, Fine, be nice to him, but he deserves to be punished a little bit.
“Daddy, I’m gonna go make sure Bailey and Reeves get to their lane.”
Jerry lifted his hand in a wave of acquiescence for Tex, and his son left him there with a still-sniffling Ty. He heard his son’s voices, their wives, the children laughing and moving back and forth as they looked for their bowling balls.
The scent of hot oil met his nose, and Jerry would love some French fries. Maybe Cecily would be distracted enough by the ninety-plus people here, and he could get Trace to sneak him some fries with a lot of bacon and a lot of cheese.
Yes, he’d been battling health problems for a couple of years, but the doctors had never told him he couldn’t have bacon cheese fries. That was just his wife.
“I sit with you, Grampy.” Ty looked at him with the biggest, widest, most mournful eyes.
“Sure thing, little buddy.” Jerry reached for the boy and lifted him into his lap—something else Cecily would get after him about. “Tell Grampy why you’re screamin’ at your cousins.”
“I just so essited about the cupcakes, and Avy tooked mine.”
Avery—Trace and Ev’s youngest. And yes, Ty loved cupcakes. Jerry smiled down at the giant pins painted on the wall at the end of the lane, seeing the piping that would come to life when the lights turned out and the neon got lit.