Last Chance Family Part 32

Because they let her go.

She limped her way to the information desk and then up to Rainbow's room. She pushed through the door.

Mike sat in the bed with the child. Rainbow, sporting a big cast on her leg, leaned her head up against his side as he read to her from a picture book. And when he got to the right place in the story he started to sing in a slightly off-tune baritone, "I love my white shoes, I love my white shoes."

Rainbow turned the page for him.

Charlene let go of a completely sappy sigh because she couldn't help but feel as if she'd come home. To her family. The one she'd always pictured in her mind.

"Hey," she said.

Mike looked up, a big smile lighting his face. And in the next instant, he was across the room, holding her gently as if she might break.

Which, actually, was kind of true. She probably should have waited until tomorrow for this. But she'd been waiting for so long.

He eased back and caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I feel so guilty. But I was upset. I thought that truck was going to hit you. I thought I was going to lose you, just when I had come to realize how much I want you in my life."

"Just so long as we get one thing clear: Tigger is not a demon cat."

"Whatever you say," he said with a half smile.

"I don't imagine Rainbow and I are ever going to turn you into a cat person, are we?"

"You could try." He hesitated for a moment, the smile sobering. "Look, doll, I'm not good at love. I haven't had a lot of practice at it. But a wise woman told me that I should always bet on it. She said it was a sure winner. So here I am."

"A wise woman?"

"I never lied to you about the fact that I spoke with Miriam Randall," he said softly. "I was trying to get her to bless this stupid idea I had about you and Timmy. And thinking back over that conversation, I guess I heard only the stuff I wanted to hear. But here's the thing. At the end of that conversation, she told me to bet on love, even if the odds seemed a million to one. She told me I couldn't lose."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. She was talking about you. I had already decided that you were perfect. And now that I think about my conversation with her, I spent a lot of time telling her how terrific I think you are."

Her face heated. "Terrific, huh?"

"Yeah. Charlene, I love you. Nothing brought that home like standing there this afternoon watching that truck barreling toward you. And I just know that you and me and Rainbow are a match made in heaven. Miriam Randall is a miracle worker."

Charlene couldn't believe it. All these years and Miriam had actually sent her the soulmate she had been looking for. And she'd done it in a sneaky, underhanded way.

But then, come to think about it, Miriam was sort of like that. She always made her matches work for it, didn't she?

"I've been waiting my whole life for someone like you. I love you, Mike. I think I fell in love with you that day you rescued the cat from under the bush," she said as she sank her head against his chest.

"You've been waiting for a guy like me? Screwed up and confused?"

She laughed. "No. I've had lots of guys like that. I'm talking about a guy who put his whole life on hold for a little girl. A guy who put up with a demon cat, just because the little girl needed it. A guy who learned how to braid hair. And who has learned the Pete the Cat song." She looked up at him. "Amanda told me to go find a guy like that. And finally, I've found him. And in the most unlikely of places, right next door."

"Are you guys going to get married?" Rainbow said.

They both turned. "Yes," they said in unison.

"So that means I don't have to move into the perish house?"

They nodded, and neither one of them corrected her p.r.o.nunciation.

"I can keep Tigger?"

"Yes, you can," said Mike.

"And Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod, too?"

"Uh-huh," said Charlene.

"And I can still be friends with Ethan?"

"You'll both start kindergarten together next fall."

Rainbow smiled, and for the first time ever, she looked like a little girl who might one day live up to her name.

Molly Canaday is a tomboy with a pa.s.sion for cars-and little time for romance.

But Simon Wolfe is about to race in and change her priorities.

Please turn this page for an excerpt from Last Chance Knit & St.i.tch Molly hadn't planned to attend tonight's meeting of the Last Chance Book Club. She didn't have anything nice to say about their book selection this time. Besides, she had planned to work on the Shelby.

But the bank had screwed up that option. And when she got home from work, she found her lazy, no-account brother sleeping on the couch, dirty dishes in the sink, and laundry overflowing the hamper in the bathroom.

She probably should have gone grocery shopping or tackled the laundry, but that would have ticked her off worse than she already was. So she took a shower, made herself a grilled cheese sandwich with the last remaining piece of American cheese, and headed out for her meeting.

Thank goodness Savannah White was on refreshment detail this week. She arrived with the most amazingly delicious apple strudel.

Molly found herself standing around the refreshment table with several club members including Jenny Carpenter, Arlene Whitaker, and Rocky deBracy, the wife of the English baron whose textile machinery plant was single-handedly creating an economic renaissance in Last Chance.

"Honey," Rocky said to Savannah as more members of the club trickled through the library doors, "you have to enter this strudel in the pie contest at this year's Watermelon Festival."

Savannah gave Jenny a little smile, as if she knew that Jenny's string of pie-baking victories was about to come to an ignominious end. "Oh, I don't know," she said sweetly. "It's not my recipe. It's my granny's. And I think she already won a few blue ribbons at the festival."

Jenny maintained her composure. And why not? Jenny's pies were as amazing as Savannah's strudel. Molly was impressed by the baking prowess of both of them. When it was Molly's time to bring refreshments, she always stopped at the doughnut shop.

Jane Rhodes waddled in carrying her knitting bag and looking like an over-inflated hot-air balloon. "Hey, honey," Arlene said, draping an arm around her niece-by-marriage, "when are you going to have that baby?"

"I don't know. I'm already three days past my due date, and I'm tired of people looking at me slant-wise and asking me why I'm still here. Like I'm going to disappear once baby Faith is born." She ran her hand over her baby b.u.mp.

"So you've settled on a name?" Rocky asked. The baby in question was going to be Rocky's niece.

Jane nodded. "Yeah. But I'm starting to think that she's holding out until I finish this sweater." She reached into her bag and pulled out a pink baby sweater that was missing one arm. Jane had been working on this sweater for weeks and weeks.

She gave Molly a pleading look. "I'm desperate. How do I pick up the st.i.tches around the armhole again? You walked me through it on the first arm, but then I forgot how to do it. And I was going to go ask your mother, but I saw the notice on the door. Where is your mom?"

"That's one of those unanswerable questions," Molly said. "Apparently she's gone to see the world. And she didn't think she needed to take Coach with her."

"Well, good for her," Arlene said. "Don't get me wrong, Moll. I love your daddy. He's a great football coach and all, but he's been ignoring your momma for some time."

Molly didn't respond to this. Because the more she thought about the situation, the more she realized there was blame on both sides. Coach had ignored Momma, but it wasn't right for Momma to take off without a word and leave everything on Molly's shoulders. She clamped her mouth shut and took Jane's knitting into her hands.

She immediately relaxed. What was it about knitting that always calmed her down? She felt the same way when she was working on a car. Whenever her hands got busy, her brain slowed down, and she could live in the moment.

She was deep into a knitting lesson when Nita Wills, the town librarian, called the group together. Hettie Marshall Ellis had arrived. Hettie was the CEO of Country Pride Chicken, the second largest employer in Allenberg County. She had also recently eloped with Reverend William Ellis, the pastor of Christ Episcopal.

No one in town, much less the book club, knew how to deal with this new reality. Hettie was often regarded as the Queen Bee of Last Chance, but that seemed like a very unlikely role for a minister's wife.

When everyone had settled down, Nita kicked off the book discussion. "I have a number of questions about our selection this time, but before I start, does anyone have a question of their own?"

"Yeah," Molly said. "Why on earth did we pick this book?"

A t.i.tter of laughter met this comment, but Nita wasn't smiling. "I take it you didn't like the book."

"Nita, the book is over a thousand pages. I got to page two hundred and threw the paperback against the wall. Honestly, this was the most depressing thing I've read since The Road. Why do we read these books?"

"She's got a point," Arlene said. "I mean, I'm all for capitalism and freedom and all that, but honestly the author goes on and on about it. And she seems to think that anyone who gives to charity is either misguided or downright evil."

Lola May snorted. "Arlene, didn't you know that the best way to help poor folks is to let rich folks get richer?"

"Well, that is the morality that Ayn Rand espouses in this book," Nita said.

"Well, it ain't very moral," Lola May countered.

Cathy Niles let go of a long, mournful sigh. "Can we read something light and fun next time? I really liked it when we read Pride and Prejudice. I'd like to read a love story that doesn't involve the characters having long-winded conversations about original sin, morality, and free love. I don't know about y'all but I don't find any of that even remotely romantic."

"That's the point," Nita said. "We're reading to-"

"Nita, the book is just BS, and frankly someone should have edited it. It was boring," Savannah said.

Everyone looked in Savannah's direction. The use of even abbreviated profanity was frowned upon, especially with a minister's wife in attendance.

Savannah faced them all with cool aplomb. "I'm sorry, y'all, but the ideas in this book are just mean. For instance, if folks followed Ayn Rand's philosophy, The Kismet would have been torn down and replaced with a new, s.h.i.+ny, soulless multiplex. Instead, Dash helped Angel Development put money into the old theater, even though we all know it's probably never going to show a profit. But having a theater will build up our community. And that's important. Sometimes the community is just as important as the individual. And sometimes an individual needs help."

"Hear, hear," Molly said. "If it weren't for Ira Wolfe and his generosity, I wouldn't be anywhere near getting my own business off the ground. Of course, I can't say the same about his no-account son, or Ira's brother-in-law. Did y'all hear about how the bank closed the dealers.h.i.+p?"

Everyone nodded except Savannah. She just stared at Molly, kind of the same way she'd stared yesterday at the Purly Girls meeting.

"Savannah, I know I don't have grease on my face this time. What is it?"

Savannah blinked. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking." Savannah turned toward Nita. "We should stop reading dystopian fiction. It's depressing everyone, especially since things are improving here in Last Chance. I know we talked about reading Hunger Games next, but I really don't want to spend time with kids who are forced to kill each other for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the state."

"Me neither," said Cathy. "And you know what? It's kind of disturbing that every other book you pick up these days at the bookstore has a vampire or a werewolf or kids run amok. Doesn't anyone read the sweet books anymore? You know, like Little Women?"

"Little Women?" Hettie finally spoke. "My goodness, I haven't read that since I was twelve. I did love that book."

"I've never read it at all," Arlene said. "But I did see the movie. I loved Christian Bale, but I could never understand why Winona Ryder threw him over for Gabriel Byrne."

While Arlene was speaking, Savannah stared across the table at Molly. Her gaze was intensely probing. Just before Molly was about to check to see if she'd spilled cheese on her T-s.h.i.+rt, Savannah turned toward Nita. "You know, I think we should read Little Women."

"Could we talk about this book first, before we select the next one?" Nita said.

"No," Hettie said, looking around the table. "Is there anyone here who finished this book?"

Jenny Carpenter was the only one who raised her hand. But that hardly counted because Jenny had no life beyond teaching algebra at the high school. And, truth to tell, Jenny had been kind of depressed since Reverend Ellis had run off with Hettie. So of course she'd had time to read a book with a thousand pages.

Hettie stared at Nita. "I rest my case. Who wants to read something sweet like Little Women next time?"

All the hands went up. Of course, more than half the ladies of the book club were members of Christ Episcopal. So if their minister's wife, who also happened to be the second largest employer in town, suggested a book, it was a lead-pipe cinch that everyone would agree to read it.

"Hold up a minute, Molly," Savannah called. Molly was heading toward her canary yellow Charger, parked in the lot behind the library.

She turned as Savannah hurried up to her. "What?"

"Uh" Savannah stood there for a moment looking awkward.

"What the heck is it? Do I have BO or something?"

Savannah shook her head. "No, it's just that I have something I need to tell you."

"About what?"

Savannah danced from foot to foot and continued to look awkward. When she spoke, her words came out like a racing freight train. "It's a message from Aunt Miriam."

Wariness scrambled over Molly's backbone. "From Miriam?" she asked. c.r.a.p, she didn't need another surprise today.

Savannah's aunt was practically legendary. She was one part fortune-teller, one part busybody, and she'd made it her life's work to find soulmates for every blessed single person in Last Chance. She'd been implicated in several recent weddings. Miriam also had a hand in matching Savannah up with Dash Randall. Molly glanced at the big, fat diamond on Savannah's hand. The wedding of the decade was planned for the first week of June.

Molly wanted nothing to do with one of Miriam Randall's predictions. She didn't believe in that c.r.a.p, which put her in the minority. If Miriam made a forecast, the church ladies of Last Chance-and that was a majority of the female population-would be working overtime to get her hitched up to someone.

Yuck.

"Don't look so astonished and petrified." Savannah was actually wringing her hands, which seemed like a bad omen.

"What is it? Are you about to tell me that I should be looking for a man just like my father? I'm not sure that's what I want. I mean, look at where it left Momma."

Savannah frowned. "Uh, well, I'm not sure. He might be like your father. I mean, well, most men like football, don't they?"

"Yeah, I guess. What exactly did Miriam tell you?"

"She told me you should be looking for someone who has known you for a long time. Since you were little."

The forecast was a little underwhelming. And also annoying.

"Great. So every past member of the Davis High School football team is a possible match."