Getting out from behind the wheel, he goes around to the passenger side and stands in front of Carla. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, she holds up a finger to silence him.
“Me first. I owe you an apology, Rhett. What I did was wrong on so many levels. I let my desperation to have a baby cloud my judgment. You don’t owe me or the baby anything.”
“And I’m sorry for going MIA. You took me by surprise. And I needed some time to think. But, regardless of how it came about, that’s my kid in there.” He dips his head at her baby bump. “I don’t know what the future holds for me. I may have a successful music career, or I may fall on my face. Financially, I’ll do what I can. But I want to be a part of his or her life. You and I were friends long before we started sleeping together. Based on that friendship, we can offer our child a stable life.”
“Seriously? Do you mean it?” Tears spill over her lids and slide down her cheeks.
“Yes, I mean it. I’m sorry it took me so long. I had some growing up to do.” When he pulls her in for a hug, she breaks down in sobs.
“Shush!” he says into her hair. “Everything’s gonna work out.”
“I’ve been so scared. I don’t regret getting pregnant. I’m thrilled about the baby. But I feel so alone.”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
When she finally stops crying, she invites him inside for a cup of tea. They talk about the amazing care she’s getting at Emory, her due date of March twenty-seven, and her recent ultrasound, which revealed a healthy fetus.
Carla blushes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I decided not to find out the sex.”
“Good! I prefer to be surprised.” When she cocks an eyebrow at him, he adds, “I’ll do everything in my power to be here for the birth.”
They talk for another hour, and when he leaves her apartment, even though he’s scared out of his mind that he’ll let his kid down, he’s comforted in knowing he’s doing the honorable thing. At home, he finds his mom standing in the middle of the kitchen staring into an open cupboard.
“What’re you doing?” he asks, leaning over a pot on the stove to sample her marinara sauce.
“Trying to decide what to take with me to Nashville,” she says with mischief in her smile.
He places the lid back on the pot. “Does that mean . . .”
“Yes! I’m moving to Tennessee with you! If you’ll still have me.”
“You bet I’ll still have you.” He wraps his arms around her in a hug. When he squeezes too tight, she grimaces, but she doesn’t complain.
“I have one condition,” Mary says when he sets her loose. “I insist on making a detour through Hope Springs. I won’t be able to sleep until you’ve cleared your name.”
He was planning to call Stella in the morning but speaking to her face-to-face is even better. And he needs to see Presley. He’s not yet ready to give up on their relationship.
“Fine by me.” Everett turns his attention to the collection of chipped and broken dishes in the cupboard. “Why would you take any of this junk?”
She slams the cabinet doors. “What about these?” she asks, opening the cupboard beside it that houses her cookware.
“Jeez, Mom. Those pots were cheap when you got them as a wedding gift. I’d be embarrassed to give them to Goodwill.”
“But what will we cook with when we get to Nashville?”
“It’ll cost less to buy new stuff than to pay for a truck to move all this.” He gestures at the pots and pans. “Besides, part of the adventure is starting anew, with no baggage from our past.”
This from the man who just committed to a lifetime of supporting a child he never planned on having.
Mary closes the cupboard doors. “In that case, I’ll take my Keurig, my sewing machine, and my wardrobe. When are we leaving?”
Everett’s been ready to leave Atlanta since he got here ten days ago. “I see no reason to hang around. My old high school buddy, Marty, does odd jobs for a living. I can pay him to haul everything off, either to Goodwill or to the dump. We can box everything up tomorrow and leave first thing on Friday morning. We’ll spend the weekend in Hope Springs. I’ll book a room for you at the inn.”
“That’ll cost a fortune,” Mary says. “Can’t I stay with you at your apartment?”
Everett laughs. “Not unless you want to share my air mattress with me. We can afford to live a little, Mom.”
“As long as you promise not to go overboard.” Her hands on his shoulders, she walks him over to the table. “Now, sit down and I’ll get our dinner.”
They make plans while they eat. Everett hasn’t seen his mom this excited and animated since . . . since never. While she’s doing the dishes, he accesses the inn’s website on his phone and reserves one of the smaller, less expensive rooms. For a woman who’s never stayed at a luxury resort, she’ll feel like a queen in a royal palace.
They stay up late, making plans for the future, and first thing on Thursday morning, he goes to a nearby grocery store to collect empty boxes. They work tirelessly throughout the day, and by dinnertime, their meager belongings are packed into boxes. The few they’ll take with them are stacked by the front door. The rest are neatly organized in the living room for Marty to distribute to the dump and Goodwill next week.
On their last night in the only house Everett has ever thought of as home, they order pizza and eat on trays in the living room. Mary has been quiet most of the day, and he senses she’s reminiscing about the past.
“What’re we gonna do about that?” she asks, her eyes on
