Chapter 40
A s the dim light of sunrise filtered in through the windows, Brody awakened to find Rose staring at him. “Hi,” he whispered so he wouldn’t wake up Dalia, who still slept on the couch.
“Hi.” The little girl spoke softly, too, glancing over at her mom. “She’s sleeping. Wanna come feed the chickens with me?”
“Ah, sure. I’ve never fed chickens. You’ll have to show me how.”
“’kay.”
And that was how city-boy Brody McIntyre ended up feeding chickens at sunrise on a farm, with the tutelage of a five-year-old girl. This, he decided, was the life he’d always wanted but simply hadn’t known it.
Dalia awoke to the smell of bacon. Alarmed that she’d slept in – and that she had on yesterday’s rumpled clothes – she jumped up off the couch and took in the room.
An afghan had been used on the rocking chair and a familiar male voice could be heard in the kitchen.
Following the irresistible scents and sounds, she padded into the kitchen.
There she found Mama at the stove, Rose at the table, and Brody sitting next to her daughter.
They ate scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and cut-up strawberries.
Each had a generous glass of orange juice.
They turned to her as if an unexpected anomaly had appeared in their midst.
“Mommy! Mr. Mac-Tyre and I did the chickens, and we did the sheep, too.” Rose beamed with pride.
Dalia glanced out the window. Sure enough, her sheep rambled around their pasture.
“I confess,” Brody said, “Rover helped a lot with the sheep.” At the mention of his name, the dog went to his side for a pat on the head.
Dalia ran a hand through her messy hair. “Yeah. He’s a good herding dog who doesn’t need anybody to show him how to do that job. He was born to it.”
“Sit down, sweetie,” Mama insisted, putting down a plate for her. “Eat your eggs while they’re hot. There’s nothing worse than cold eggs. Besides, you need your energy. This afternoon we meet the contractor at the bakery.”
Dalia sat down, still in a daze from sleeping so hard. But the sight of food made her tummy growl as she realized she was hungry.
Brody ate his final bite, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and said, “Mamie, I hate to eat and run, but I have to get to work. Good luck with the contractor today. Thank you so much for indulging your surprise guest here.”
“My pleasure, sweetie. Any time.” Mamie carried over her own plate and sat down.
Brody stood up, leaving Dalia with a conundrum. How should she say good-bye to her lover early in the morning in front of her daughter and mother, in the kitchen no less? She started to get up but he stopped her.
“No, no. Eat while it’s hot, like your mom said. Rose, great job this morning with those chickens and sheep. You’re an excellent teacher. Mamie, thanks again. I’ll see you all later.”
He walked out of the room leaving Dalia stricken with a stab of acute loneliness the second she heard the front door click shut.
She jumped up and followed him. The joy that lit up his face when he saw her emboldened her to throw her body into his and clutch the sides of his head for long, lingering kiss.
He grinned down at her, his arms around her as he rocked her back and forth.
“I didn’t know what to do,” he explained. “I don’t know the proper etiquette for a situation like ours. Thanks for showing me.”
“You’re welcome.” She backed away to let him leave.
“Dalia, is there anything I can do for you today to help with telling your mom about Llayne O’Brien?”
“No. It’s something I have to do myself. But thank you for caring. Now, go save the town.”
“Will do.”
Dalia stood and watched until the last speck of dust his truck riled up settled onto the road. When she turned back to the house, the gravity of the conversation she must have with her mama hit her. She’d do anything to spare that woman any consternation. But she might not be able to do that.
As soon as she entered the kitchen again, the wall phone rang. Kenyon had called to tell her what they suspected was true. Dalia thanked her and hung up, her heart heavy with the task ahead.
“Rose, love, I’m thinking Rover wants to go check on his sheep,” she said.
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Finished with her breakfast, Rose hopped off her chair and charged outside with her best friend.
Dalia sat down, pushed her uneaten plate away, and said, “Mama, I have something I need to tell you.”
Despite her food only being half eaten, Mamie pushed her plate away, too. “Yes, boo. You know you can tell me anything.”
“That was Kenyon on the phone, confirming something we discovered yesterday but weren’t sure about. It’s something we never in a million years imagined when we started out.”
Slowly, she explained the entire series of events. She told her mama about the note she’d found in the lockbox, the professor who’d helped them, the visit to Amberton and the nice folks they’d met there, and the shocking result of their meeting with Nellie Franklin.
When she explained what the felonious obstetrician and nurse had done for so long all those years ago, Mamie gasped and clapped her hand to her chest. “No! Who could do such a thing?”
“Unfortunately, it’s been done before. There was a famous case back in the thirties and forties. Same kind of scheme on an even larger scale. It was finally stopped in 1950.”
“Oh my word, I remember that. The whole country was horrified. So, boo, you’re telling me you were one of those babies?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“That means you have a mother out there who thinks her baby was stillborn?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find out who that mother is?”
“Yes.” Dalia took her mother’s hand. “But first I want you to know that no one will ever be my mother but you. No man will ever be my father but Butch. We are family and always will be.”
“Of course, love. We may not have been your birth parents, but we always considered ourselves to be your parents in our hearts and souls.”
“And mine, too. That can never be undone. I’m the luckiest girl alive to have found you to be my family.”
“Dalia, is your birth mother’s identity troubling to you?”
“No, not exactly. It’s just an unbelievable coincidence. You see, we know her.”
“And she is?”
“Kenyon’s mother, Llayne O’Brien.”
Daughter and mother clutched hands, each afraid to look away lest their deep bond be broken. Dalia slid off her chair, fell to her knees, and put her head in her mama’s lap as she’d done countless times as a child.
Mamie stroked her daughter’s hair as they quietly absorbed what this meant. The spell was only broken when Rose burst into the room shouting, “Shelda got out!”
Dalia stood up and kissed her mama’s forehead. “Back to real life.”
“Yes, boo. Life goes on.”