Mary wakes before Everett the following morning. He finds her sipping coffee at the small round table in the kitchen. “Morning,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Feeling any better today?”
“No. But I will soon. I’ve decided to back off on the pain pills. They’re making me depressed.” She nods at the coffee maker. “Get some coffee and sit down. I want to ask you something.”
Everett smiles at the authoritative tone of her voice. “Yes, ma’am.” His mom is on the mend.
He pops a pod into the Keurig machine he gave her for her birthday in April. She loves the coffee maker as much as she loves her new sewing machine, his gift to her last Christmas. When the coffee finishes brewing, he joins her at the table. “What’s up?”
“I want to know what happened that made you leave Atlanta in such a hurry. Are you in trouble with the law?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Everett walks her through the events of August twenty-nine. He tells her about Wade coming to his show and Carla’s pregnancy and Louie’s money.
Mary’s face remains expressionless, and when he finishes talking, they sit in silence for a long while. “Regardless of how Carla got pregnant, that child is your flesh and blood, Rhett. Your responsibility.”
The disappointment in her tone deflates him. He hasn’t let her down since that morning two years ago when she discovered him on her doorstep. That was rock bottom for him. He never wants to go there again.
“Carla tricked me, Mom. She went off the pill without telling me and used my semen to get pregnant. I feel violated.”
“Puh-lease,” Mary says, rolling her eyes. “I agree that what she did was underhanded, but Carla is a lovely girl with a genuine heart. I don’t blame her for wanting to start a family. Would marrying her be such a bad thing?”
“I’m not marrying someone I don’t love. You, of all people, should understand that.” A vision of Presley lying beside him in bed, with her auburn hair fanned out on the pillow, enters his mind. Tears fill his eyes, blurring his vision as he stares down at the table. When he looks up again, his mom is studying him intently.
“You’re the bravest man I know, Rhett. You’ve always been my rock. How many times did you take beatings that were meant for me? What are you so afraid of now?”
“I’m not afraid of anything?”
“Really? Then why did you run away like a coward?”
Ouch. He slouches down in his chair. “Maybe I’m not ready to be a parent.”
“You have to grow up sometime. Don’t you want to have children?”
He shrugs. “Until Carla got pregnant, I’d never thought much about having children. It was just one of those things in the far-off future that I would worry about when the time comes. Maybe I’d be fine with not having children.”
She strokes his hand. “You’re nothing like your father, Rhett. You’re a better man than he ever was. And you’ll be a better father.”
Everett jerks his hand away and sits up straight in his chair. “Is that what you think? That I’m worried I’ll beat my wife and kids?”
“Isn’t it?”
Everett jumps to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way. “I need some air.”
Changing into running clothes, he heads out into the brisk morning. He takes off down the road at a sprint, running as fast as he can until he struggles to breathe. Until he realizes he’s running from the truth. He knows he has the alcoholic gene. What if he has the abusive gene? His father never hit his mother, never even raised his voice to her, until after Everett was born. His father hated him. Of that much he’s certain. What if something goes so wrong in his life and Everett lets it get the best of him? He’s lost control of his anger many times before. But only with guys. Never with a woman. Not until that day he was tempted to slap Naomi.
Even if a miracle happened and things worked out with Presley, would he want to have children with her? He can’t honestly answer that. Just as he’s not sure he can be a part of Carla’s baby’s life. It’s in the best interest of the child to keep it away from him.
When he finally returns home two hours later, Mary, dressed in jeans and a sweater, is standing in front of the fireplace looking at the urn. She doesn’t acknowledge Everett, and wanders from room to room for the rest of the day, lost in her thoughts.
They eat dinner in a companionable silence. He’s thrilled to see his mom devour two slices of the store-bought supreme pizza.
“How’re you feeling without the meds?” he asks.
“More pain but less nausea is the trade-off for giving up the narcotics. But I feel less depressed and more like myself.”
On Saturday, Mary surprises him by making his favorite Mexican dinner—beef enchiladas, homemade guacamole, and virgin margaritas. She’s not much of a drinker either. It’s hard to enjoy a cocktail when you live with an abusive alcoholic.
She still winces in pain sometime, but mostly, she’s moving around a lot better.
“What’s all this?” he asks when he sees the kitchen table set with placemats, linen napkins, and a small purple mum in the center.
“We’re celebrating your success.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you, Mom.” Everett kisses Mary’s cheek as he holds her chair out for her.
“I’ve been thinking about moving to Nashville with you,” Mary says, draping her napkin across her lap. “But I have some questions.”
“Fire away.” He forks off a bite of enchilada and stuffs it in his mouth.
“The timing is ideal. Our lease here is up at the end of December. But what would I do with all our stuff?”
“Haul it off to the dump.” Everett stops chewing and flashes her a mischievous
