One Christmas Knight

Chapter 13

“Man, that is a sight for sore eyes. ”

I-40-Texas

“Other than the fact that my insides feel like jelly, I’m fine,” snapped Mirabella, and she could just see her mother’s eyebrows arching at the way she sounded, so brusque and cranky. So typically Mirabella.

She didn’t mean it, of course; she almost never did. No one knew that sometimes it was simply the only way she could get a word out without her voice shaking, or how important it was to her pride and self-esteem that she always appear calm and completely in control.

Even more so now, considering the state of near panic she’d been in the last time she’d seen Jimmy Joe. And considering that not ten minutes ago she’d been in a similar state just because she couldn’t shower and wash her hair.

“What am I going to do? I look like hell!” she’d hissed in a burst of tearful hysteria that was completely foreign-and consequently utterly bewildering to her. “Mom-quick-let me have your brush! Do you have any lipstick? Oh, no…I’ve lost my hair thingy. I look like a wet cat. Oh, God, I can’t let him see me like this!”

“Bella,” her mother had said, laughing in amazement, “since when do you care? Besides,” she’d added dryly, “I imagine the man has just seen you looking a lot worse.”

“That was different,” Mirabella had snapped, feeling free to behave like an unreasonable and obstinate child as long as there was no one but her mother to witness it.

It was only now, looking up at Jimmy Joe’s face, that she knew how right she’d been. It was different. Unavoidably and inevitably, everything had changed.

He hadn’t, of course; he still looked like a young Robert Redford-an unshaven one, to be sure-lean and blond, dimpled and adorable. His eyes were just as kind and his smile every bit as sweet as she remembered. It wasn’t he who had changed, she realized; or her, either, for that matter. What was so different was the way things were between them.

They were like…strangers. It was hard even to remember now, the closeness, the incredible bond they’d shared. She hadn’t imagined it-she knew she’d been pretty much out of it for a lot of the time, but she wasn’t wrong about that. It had been real. Never in her life before had she known, or even imagined she could know, such a sense of oneness with another human being. It was as if she’d found a part of herself she hadn’t even realized was missing. But now the piece was lost once more, and how would she ever again be able to delude herself into believing she was whole?

They were like strangers, but worse than that-strangers with memories in common of time spent together in abnormal intimacy, both physical and emotional; of things said that could not be unsaid; of secrets revealed that would never be forgotten. It was only natural that there should be awkwardness between them, Mirabella told herself sadly. She should have expected it.

What she couldn’t have expected was that it would hurt so much. She ached inside in places that didn’t have anything to do with having just given birth to a child. She ached as though her heart had been torn in two.

“What’s all this?” he asked with a frown, waving a hand at the plastic bag dangling above the head of her bed, at the tube leading from it to a needle stuck into the back of her hand and held in place with a crisscross of white tape.

She glanced down at it and dismissed it with a shrug. “Nothing-some fluids and antibiotics. I guess I was a little bit dehydrated. The antibiotics are just as a precaution.”

“Where’s the baby? She doin’ okay?”

Mirabella smiled; it had become a reflex, automatically triggered by any mention of her daughter. “Amy’s fine. They’ve got her in the nursery, doing all the tests they usually do on newborns. But yeah…she’s fine. Weighs five pounds six ounces. In another month, she’d a’been a chunky little seven-pounder.”

“Like her mother,” Ginger added, smiling smugly. “All my babies were seven pounds plus.”

“Well,” said Jimmy Joe. “I sure am glad to hear that.” He shifted and cleared his throat, looking even more uncomfortable, if that was possible, rubbing at the back of his neck in that embarrassed way he had. “Uh…hey, listen, I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything. I meant to get you some flowers, but…”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Mirabella murmured, feeling her face grow warm. God, how awkward this was. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Then for a moment there was silence, as both of them struggled to find something else to say. She felt as if she was suffocating.

“They say how long they’re gonna keep you here?”

She lifted the hand with the needle in it. “I don’t know. I guess until this is done. I think they might want to keep Amy overnight, just to be on the safe side. I don’t know what I’m going to do, though. I mean-”

Her mother interrupted with, “Now, honey, I told you not to worry about that.”

“Mom flew in this morning,” Mirabella explained. “So I guess Amy and I’ll just go back with her, as soon as the doctors say it’s all right. But I don’t know what I’m going to do about my car…all the Christmas presents… Everything’s still out there in that damn snowbank.” She gave a strangled gurgle of laughter; she was damned if she was going to shed another tear-not while he was here.

Jimmy Joe was rubbing his neck again, looking ashamed of himself the way he always did, she was beginning to realize, when he’d done something to be particularly proud of. “Don’t need to be worrying about that. Got it all taken care of.” He lapsed into hopeful silence. When he saw he was going to have to do a little more explaining, he coughed and looked pained.

“You maybe don’t remember it, but the fella helped us out on the radio last night? Guy’s name is Riggs. Anyway, he said he had a service station. I figured I’d stop in, you know, just to say thank-you to him for everything he did. Turns out he’s got a nice little garage out there on old 66 just west of Vega-has a wrecker, too. Anyway, I gave him your keys and told him to go pick up your car, soon’s the road clears up some more. He’ll keep it for you until you can get back here for it, no problem.” He patted his pockets, reached into one and pulled out a business card, which he handed to her with another of those embarrassed little coughs of his. “So-you can just give him a call when you feel like it. It’s all taken care of.”

Mirabella usually hated it when people-men especially-tried to take charge of her life. But instead of feeling resentful, she felt a curious melting sensation inside. Fighting against an urge to weep and sniffle, “Oh, Jimmy Joe…” like a swooning belle, instead she scowled fiercely and demanded, “What about all my stuff? All my Christmas presents are in the trunk of my car.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bella!” her mother exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You and that new granddaughter are all the Christmas presents your dad and I need! What is the matter with you?”

It was a question people asked her a lot, for some reason. But now it brought her even more dangerously close to tears. What was the matter with her? She should be just about the happiest woman in the world. She’d just had a baby; a beautiful, healthy baby, the baby she’d always wanted-she’d already convinced herself she’d really wanted a girl all along. So why was she still wishing for something she didn’t have? Especially when it was something she’d come to terms with long ago.

Thoroughly ashamed of herself now, she made a gallant effort to brighten up, although faking cheeriness wasn’t something she excelled at. “Thanks… ‘Preciate it,” she said grudgingly, and felt her heart bump when Jimmy Joe grinned at her use of the favorite truckers’ acknowledgment, as if it was a private joke they’d shared.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself up on the pillows. “You going to see Amy before you leave?”

His smile grew tender. “Sure am. Yeah…thought I’d stop by on the way out.”

Her world darkened, as if a cloud had drifted across the sun. “So…I guess you’re anxious to be on your way.”

“Yeah… J.J.’s waitin’ for me. Still got a load to deliver, too. You know how it is…”

“Yeah…” Her smile flickered, then went out like a snuffed candle when she met his eyes. She grabbed a desperate gulp of air and said, “You talked to J.J.?”

Jimmy Joe suddenly frowned. “Haven’t had a chance. I’m gonna call him after I get out of here, I guess. That’s if I get out-Did you know there’s a whole crowd of reporters downstairs? They tell you about that? TV, newspapers, I don’t know what all.”

He sounded so incredulous, she had to laugh. “That’s what I heard. So…I guess you’re a hero, huh? Did you talk to them?”

“Hero…” he muttered under his breath, then gave a disgusted-sounding snort. “Didn’t have much choice. They pretty much had me surrounded. Those media people sure are somethin’ else. Damn-oh, ’scuse me, ma‘am-darned if I didn’t feel ’bout like General Custer at Little Big Horn. Course…” He smiled and reached out as if he meant to touch her, and her heart skipped a beat. But he let the hand drop to his side and then made sure it stayed there by hooking the thumb in his jeans pocket. “They only talked to me because they couldn’t get at you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Me?” She tried to laugh at the absurdity of it, at the same time shrinking back against the pillows. Because having lived most of her life in a media-crazy town like Los Angeles, she knew exactly how an ordinary, unremarkable story could catch fire in the public’s imagination, especially when fueled by a hungry media trying to fill a slow news day. This story-Christmas Day, lady stranded on snowy interstate, giving birth in a truck, handsome trucker-driver hero-oh. God, it would be like manna sent from heaven!

Oh, God Everything in her cringed at the thought. How stupid she felt. How humiliating it was. To have everyone know…the people she worked with… And worse than the humiliation was the thought that the specialness of her time with Jimmy Joe, the beautiful intimacy they’d shared, might be taken away from her to become just more fodder for the newsmagazine shows.

“Oh, God,” she whispered “Oh, no…”

“Marybell, I’m afraid you are about the biggest thing to come along since Madonna had her baby,” said Jimmy Joe, smiling crookedly down at her. There was a look in her eyes she couldn’t quite fathom, a certain sadness, perhaps. Could he possibly regret the loss of what they’d had together as much as she did? Her throat filled. “The hospital’s doin’ a pretty good job of keepin’ ‘em away, so far,” he went on, “but soon as you leave here, you know they’re gonna be waitin’ to jump you. Probably be best if you just faced the music. Hold a press conference, or something, get it over with right here.”

“I’d hate that,” Mirabella snapped. She felt like a cornered animal. I don’t want to deal with this, she thought furiously. Not now. Now when I feel so vulnerable, so not myself. So alone. “I can’t do it.”

She saw her mother and Jimmy Joe exchange looks. Then he shrugged and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, lightly, as if brushing away tears. “Well, now…” he said in a soft, soothing tone, “you sure don’t have to, not if you don’t want to. Hey-I’ll just go talk to ’em for you, how’s that? Sure…listen, I’m gonna take care of it, don’t you worry about a thing.”

Okay, great, she thought resentfully. Now what does he think I am-a helpless wimp? Just because he saved my life, just because I needed him last night, does he now think I can’t get along without him?

“You don’t have to do that,” she muttered, shifting around against the pillows. I don’t need you, Jimmy Joe Starr. You, or anybody else. Amy and I will be just fine! She glowered first at Jimmy Joe, then at her mother. “Okay-okay. Tell the hospital I’ll talk to them. Just once, though. After I’ve had a chance to shower and wash my hair!”

“Marybell, are you sure you want to do this?” Jimmy Joe asked, bending over her, his eyes dark and concerned.

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “I’m not a child.”

“Well, okay then.” He ducked his head and planted a kiss on her forehead, then straightened and looked across at her mother. She heard her mother give a tiny gasp, quickly stifled, then a laugh that sounded both surprised and pleased.

“What?” she demanded, her paranoia prickling.

“I think I’d better be rollin’,” said Jimmy Joe in a husky voice as he leaned down to kiss her again. Not on the forehead this time, but on the lips, and with such tenderness she instantly forgot all her suspicions, forgot she’d just vowed she didn’t need him. Maybe she didn’t need him, but she wanted him. Oh, yes, she wanted him. Wanted him kissing her like this again-often-for all the rest of her life.

Then he straightened and she felt his fingers, briefly, in her hair. “I’ll stop by the nursery, see if they’ll let me say goodbye to Amy Jo. You take care a’ yourself, now, you hear? Ma’am-sure was nice meetin’ you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Mirabella stared after him, feeling stunned…like a hollow, aching shell. I can’t believe it, she thought. He’s gone. I’m never going to see him again.

“Well,” her mother said when the door had closed silently behind him, letting her breath out in a rush of laughter. “I certainly can see why you feel about him the way you do.”

“Oh? And what is that supposed to mean?” Mirabella’s voice was light and breathy, cheery and fragile as a soap bubble.

“Oh, honey, anyone can see you’re crazy about him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Mirabella with a snort. “Just look at him, Mom.”

Her mother’s eyebrows rose. “I did. He’s an absolute joy to look at. I also saw the way he looked at you, my dear. Those eyes…”

Mirabella rolled hers in exasperation and leaned back against the pillows. “Oh, brother. Don’t read anything into it, okay? He just has kind eyes, that’s all. And cute little dimples and a sweet, sexy smile. So what? He’s not even thirty. That’s eight years younger than I am, Mom. Eight years. So, forget it.” She sniffed and threw an arm across her eyes. “Just forget it, okay?”

There was silence for a moment, and then Ginger said with a soft laugh, “Well, all I can say is, for somebody so young, he’s awfully wise. He certainly managed to figure you out in a hurry.”

Mirabella uncovered one eye. “What are you talking about?”

Her mother was wearing that arch, Moms-know-everything look that always annoyed her so. “I’m talking about that nifty little piece of reverse psychology he just pulled on you. Boy, how did he get your number so fast? That’s what I want to know.”

“Reverse-that was no such thing!” said Mirabella hotly. “I simply-”

“Bella, he winked at me.”

“He what?”

“He winked at me-right after you’d ‘knuckled under’ to his demand for a press conference.”

“He didn’t.”

“Yes, dear, he did. He saw you crumbling like a wet cookie, and somehow he already knows you well enough to realize that the best way to get you to do something you don’t want to do is to tell you you can’t do it, or offer to do it for you.”

“Yeah, well, if he knows me so well,” Mirabella sobbed angrily, “how come he didn’t stay, huh? Tell me that!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, the man had things to do! Besides, with all those prickles of yours, how was he supposed to know you wanted him to? Oh, my dear,” her mother said huskily, “you have so much pride. But I’ll tell you this-if you let that beautiful young man get away, you are absolutely crazy. Do you hear me? Crazy.”

And she said no more. Because like the terrific mother she was and always had been, she knew when it was time to ignore all the prickles, and simply… hug.

A nurse bustled in, strewing cheer before her like flower petals. “Oh-having a little cry, are we? We certainly know how that is! Well, I have someone here who’s going to make you feel a lot better!” She held back the door and wheeled in a tiny plastic bassinet with a practiced flourish. “Here you go-this pretty little girl wants her mama, don’t you, sweetie pie? Yes, you do…”

Mirabella sat up straight, sniffling, and wiped her eyes on her hospital gown as she searched avidly through her tears. “Oh,” she cried, laughing when she saw the tiny bundle tucked in a bright red Christmas stocking, a tiny red stockinette cap on her fuzzy pink head. “She looks just like an elf!”

“That’s just what she is,” cooed the nurse. “A li‘l ol’ Christmas elf. And she’s all nice an’ clean an’ sweet, an’ she’s even had a visit from her handsome daddy, and now she’s hungry, aren’t you, darlin’? Here you go, mama.”

And she scooped up the baby, red stocking and all. Mirabella held out her arms, and as the nurse placed her daughter into them, she wondered again in utter awe how something so tiny could rouse such enormous feelings in her.

“Oh…” she whispered, and a moment later she wasn’t even astonished to hear herself doing something she’d vowed she would never, ever do. But she was. She-intelligent, sensible, no-nonsense Mirabella-was talking baby talk. Cooing like a besotted dove. “Hi, there… How’s my widdle girl? How’s my sweetie-little-lov’ums, huh?”

Oh, it was awful. It was glorious. It was… Amy. Her baby. Her miracle.

The nurse hovered, ready to help with the breast-feeding, until she saw that Mirabella didn’t seem to need any help. She laughed and said, “Well, I see somebody’s taught you right. I’ll just leave you to it, then. Y’all just give me a buzz, now, if you need anything.” She parked the bassinet beside the bed and went away.

“Who was it?” Ginger asked softly. “Jimmy Joe?”

Mirabella nodded, her head bowed as she gazed intently at her hungrily nursing daughter. She rocked herself slowly back and forth, awash in prickles and weighed down by an ache deep. deep inside her.

“Oh, look-Bella, look! She has red hair!” her mother cried, just as a tear rolled off the end of Mirabella’s nose and dropped onto the baby’s downy head.

It took Jimmy Joe another four hours just to get out of Texas, and he was never so glad to see anything in his life as he was that Welcome to Oklahoma sign, or the smooth, dry blacktop beyond it. Something in him sure did want to put the old hammer down and not ease up until he hit Little Rock, but he knew that was just plain stupid, considering he hadn’t had much sleep in more than two days and was already running on raw nerves. So the first Motel 6 sign he saw, he pulled off. His sleeper was going to need some clean bedding before he would be able to use it again, but it was a hot shower he wanted more than anything. He didn’t stop to eat-he’d filled his belly before he’d left Amarillo, anyway-just got his rig buttoned down and himself checked in, then headed for his room, and a shower so long and hot it made his pulse pound. He didn’t even remember falling into bed.

He woke up to early-morning light pouring in through the window he’d forgotten to draw the curtain across twelve hours before. He showered again, and shaved this time, then dropped off his key and hit the road. First truck stop he came to he pulled off again, this time to fill up the Kenworth’s fuel tanks, and his own, too, while he was at it.

He thought about calling J.J. again, but decided there wasn’t much point in it, since he’d already told everybody at home he was on his way. He’d made the call from the hospital, right after he’d left Mirabella and said his goodbye to Amy Jo. The pink-pinafore lady had been real nice about letting him use a phone in one of the administrative offices, out of sight of the pack of newshounds out in the front lobby.

He remembered how he’d worried about it, thinking it was worse than getting a tooth pulled, having to explain to an eight-year-old boy why he’d broken his promise to him. He remembered the way his stomach had tied itself in knots as he’d stood there with the receiver mashed up against his ear, listening to the rings.

It was picked up on the fifth ring, and he’d had to shout to be heard over the racket in the background. And a moment later he’d heard his son’s excited voice yelling, “Dad! Hey, guess what, I saw you on TV!”

“Naw,” said Jimmy Joe. “No kiddin’?”

“No kiddin’, Dad. It’s on CNN-we all saw you. Is it true? Did you really deliver that lady’s baby? Just like on Emergency 911?”

“Well, yeah…sorta. Hey, listen, how’re you all doin’? What’s all that racket I hear? Everybody havin’ a good time?”

Before J.J. could answer, there was a click and his mother’s voice said, “Hello, son. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mama. What’s everybody doin’? Sounds like you got a houseful, as usual.”

“Oh, yes, everybody was here for dinner. Al and Tracy left a little while ago-they had to get back, Al’s on duty tonight. Pretty much everybody else is here, though, just relaxing-you know how it is. They’ve got the football game on now, I think. The girls are still cleaning up in the kitchen…”

“Hey, Dad,” J.J. interrupted. “You know that new computer game you got me? It is so cool. Oh, yeah-and I like the remote-control truck, too, only I haven’t had a chance to play with it yet, hardly. Uncle Roy’s been playin’ with it all day, and he won’t give it back.”

Jimmy Joe was laughing when his mama said quietly, “Well, son, I guess you’ve had quite a time of it this Christmas.”

His laughter turned soft, and he took a breath and said, “Yeah, Mama, I sure have.”

“Well, you can tell us all about it when you get here. Where are you now? You headin’ home?”

“I’m ‘bout to. I got this load to drop off in Little Rock tomorrow, so it’s gonna be late-sometime the next mornin’, probably-before I get there. Don’t you wait up, now, y’hear? You can save me some of that turkey and sweet-potato pie, though.”

JJ. yelled, “We will, Dad!” while his mama was laughing in a way that told him she was probably wiping away some tears, too. Then she called out, “Hey, it’s your brother-come and wish him Merry Christmas!” And then there was so much yelling and hootin’ and hollerin’ Jimmy Joe could hardly hear himself think, so he wished everybody a Merry Christmas and said his goodbyes laughing.

When he was hanging up the phone, he found that there was a lump in his throat, and a few tears in his eyes, too. And since there wasn’t anyone around to see them, he figured this was one of those times he didn’t mind letting them fall.

After that, he hadn’t been able to think about very much except how badly he wanted to be home with his family, which made it easier than he’d thought it was going to be to leave Texas and everything that had happened there behind him. What with Christmas homesickness and road conditions that required all his skill and concentration just to keep his rig on the road, he thought he managed pretty well to keep his mind from dwelling on Mirabella and her baby. But that was yesterday.

This was another day, and after a good night’s rest, it seemed like his mind just wanted to gnaw on the situation like a dog on a fresh bone. He went over everything that had happened-every minute, every word, from the first moment he’d set eyes on the lady in the silver Lexus, way back there in that New Mexico truck stop. And the conclusion he came to was that he was making way too much out of the whole thing.

It was something his son had said to him, about it being like the TV show Emergency 911, that had really pulled him up short. Shoot, it happened all the time-peopte delivering babies in taxicabs and snowstorms, saving people’s lives and all that stuff-cops, firemen, EMTs, and sometimes even plain old ordinary guys like him. It stood to reason a man might feel some sort of bond between himself and a woman whose baby he’d helped deliver, or somebody whose life he’d saved, and that she might feel grateful and tender toward him, too. Sure, that would just be natural. But did these people go around falling in love with the ones they’d helped, or getting all involved in their lives? Uh-uh. That just didn’t happen, except maybe for remembering birthdays, cards at Christmas, things like that. Mostly, though, their worlds were separate, and once all the excitement died down, everybody went back to their own world and got on with their lives. That was the way it was supposed to be.

And all for the best, too. At least that was what he told himself over and over again on that long drive home. He told himself he had J.J. to think of, a family that loved him and a trucking company to build, and that ought to be enough to keep him happy and occupied. He told himself just about the last thing he needed in his life was a headstrong and independent career woman from L.A. who hated country music and thought it was perfectly reasonable to go and have a baby without even knowing what it was like to make love with a man. It took him close to a thousand miles, but by the time he got home, he almost believed it.

Two days after Christmas, at four o’clock in the morning, Jimmy Joe’s mama came downstairs and found him sitting in her living room in his daddy’s old favorite chair, watching television in the dark. She stood in the doorway with her glass of antacid fizzing in her hand and watched with him for a while, then said, “Son, you’re gonna wear out that remote.”

He looked over at her. “H’lo, Mama, sorry I woke you up.”

She shrugged and waved the glass. “Oh, I was up anyway. Always eat too much of that rich food over the holidays, then I have to take a few days and get my stomach straightened out.” She came and sat on the couch and put her feet, which were clad in slippers that looked like a pair of pink lapdogs, up on the coffee table. “How long ago’d you get in? I didn’t hear your rig.”

“It’s down at my place. I parked it and drove the car over. Didn’t want to rouse everybody.” He spoke absently, his eyes following the images on the screen. Images of a mother with burgundy hair with her newborn baby. The baby was dressed up in a Christmas stocking like a little bitty elf.

“Which one is that?” his mother asked, then answered herself. “Oh-The Today Show. I think CNN’s after that one.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve already been through ’em once.” Actually, he was on his third go-round, but he didn’t tell her that. Or that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to turn the tape off. Or what a shock it had been to him to see Mirabella’s face, hear her voice again, and how turning it off had seemed worse than leaving her all over again, and how lonely he’d felt in the silent darkness of that cozy and familiar living room.

“Son,” his mama said quietly, “are you in love with this woman?”

A laugh burst from him. “Trust you, Mama.” But he knew from long experience she wasn’t going to leave it alone, so he tried to joke her out of it, which was a tactic that never had worked with her very well. “Do you know how ridiculous that is? Now, how in the world am I gonna fall in love, huh? I got a child to raise, a trucking company to build, a house to take care of-”

His mother interrupted him with a sigh. “Yeah… sometimes I forget you’re not my oldest child. Son, you’re not even thirty, and you’re older than any of them, you know that? I don’t think you ever were a kid-you’ve been saddled with so many responsibilities all your life. There you were, taking on the responsibility for Patti when you were just in high school, then your daddy dying and you taking over the business, and trying to raise J.J. all alone. Tell me something-are you ever gonna think about yourself sometime in your life? Do what makes you happy?”

Jimmy Joe pressed the Pause button, freezing Mirabella’s face just as she was looking down at the baby in her arms. Pain punched him in the gut. “I am happy, Mama.”

“Yeah,” Betty Starr said with a snort. “A happy man sits all alone in the dark watching a tape of a beautiful woman over and over.”

His thumb moved on the remote and the image sprang to radiant life. His heart lifted. “Yeah,” he breathed. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

His mother chuckled softly. “So, I’ll ask you again. Are you in love with her?”

He sighed and scrunched down farther on his tailbone. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I am, and sometimes I’m sure, and then other times…I’m sure I’m crazy.”

“Well, good, you’re confused. That’s a good sign you are in love.”

Jimmy Joe snorted. “I’m not confused, Mama. I know right well when a woman is out of my league.”

The lapdog slippers hit the floor and the empty glass hit the top of the coffee table. “Now, you just stop that right there. I know I raised you to be humble, but I sure never raised you to be ashamed of who and what you are.”

He sat up straight and raised a calming hand; grown-up or not, all of Betty Starr’s kids knew to steer clear of her temper. “Now, simmer down, Mama. It’s not a case of being ashamed of who I am. You know me better’n that. It’s a case of knowin’ who she is. We’re from two different worlds. We’re just-” he took a deep breath to ease the ache in his chest “-too different.”

“Well, now,” said his mother thoughtfully, “you know that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

With one savage gesture Jimmy Joe shut off the VCR and slapped the remote down, then got up to pace in the restrictive area in front of the coffee table. He felt restless and jangled, overloaded with feelings he didn’t know what to do with, and like any overloaded child needing to blow off some steam, he knew he was safe with his mama. “I’m not just talking likes and dislikes,” he said with controlled fury. “Different politics and opinions, things like that-that’s nothin’. What I mean is, we don’t even think alike. We don’t believe in the same things.”

“You know this for a fact?” his mother said mildly. “That’s an awful lot to know about somebody in just two days.”

“She’s a Californian, Mama, through and through.” He paused to put up a hand, holding off what he knew she was going to say next. “I’m not judging-I’m not. But I’ve been around those people out there enough to know they don’t think like anybody else in this world.” He shook his head and blew out air in a breathy whistle. “She’s got some strange ideas.” You don’t know the half of it, Mama. She’s a virgin at thirty-eight-a virgin! And she’s just had a baby-a baby she made herself from a damn test tube. What kind of woman does that?

Betty Starr watched him for a moment, then settled back on the sofa cushions, once more installing the lapdogs in comfort on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I saw her on that interview, and she sounds like a real nice woman to me.”

“Well-” he lifted his arms and blew out another exasperated gust of air “-sure, she’s nice. She’s intelligent and funny and fiesty and opinionated, and she can be a real pain in the butt sometimes.” And a whole lot of fun to argue with. He looked sideways at his mama and grinned. A lot like somebody else I know who’s near and dear to my heart. He leaned over to kiss her.

She patted his cheek and smiled at him. “Well, then?”

He pulled away, exasperated again. “Okay. So, say I do love her. Say I love her enough to get past all the differences-what about her? What’s a woman like that gonna do out here? She’s a city girl. She’s got a career, friends, family…”

“If I heard right, she said her parents live in Pensacola.”

“Yeah, yeah, they do, but she’s got a couple sisters, some friends out there in L.A. The point is, she’s got a life there. You think somebody like that’s ever going to be happy living in a place like this, a hick Georgia town-”

With a sly smile, she finished it for him. “With a bunch of Crackers and rednecks?”

“You said it, I didn’t.”

They both laughed, and his mama sighed and said, “Oh. Jimmy Joe…”

After a forgiving silence, she said gently, “Let me ask you this, son. Who do you think you are to make that decision for her? Did you even ask her how she feels about it?”

He went back to his daddy’s old chair, sat in it, and leaning earnestly forward with his elbows on his knees, began to shape pictures for her with his hands, the way he sometimes did when he had something complicated to explain.

“It’s like this,” he said patiently, ignoring his mother’s broad smile. “There’s ducks, and then there’s chickens. Ducks live in the water, and chickens live on dry land, and there’s no way they’re ever gonna find a way to live happily together. Now you take the chicken-that’s me-and throw him in the water-that’s the big city-and he’s just gonna sink like a stone. The duck, on the other hand, she can go and live in the chicken yard, all right, but is she gonna be happy there?” He sat back with a fat sense of satisfaction, figuring he’d made his point about as well as anybody could make one. “Now, I ask you, can you think of anything in this world sadder than a duck who’s never going to see a pond again?” He couldn’t understand why his mama was just sitting there laughing.

“Oh, Jimmy Joe-” she chuckled, reaching over to pat him on the knee “-you know, I think you read too much.” She paused to wipe her eyes, then gave a deep, amused sigh. “Son, I don’t know how to tell you this, but people aren’t chickens or ducks. People can live anywhere, adapt to anything, if they want to. Depends on their priorities, what they want out of life, what’s important to them.” She paused again, this time to let the seriousness in her voice settle in around them, and then continued, “And the only way you’re ever going to find that out about a person is to ask.”

Jimmy Joe stared at the floor and said nothing. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother’s lapdog slippers slide off the coffee table as she stood and gathered up her antacid glass. He felt a lump settle into his throat as she leaned down to kiss him.

“I’m just so glad you’re home safe and sound, son,” she said huskily. She gave his shoulder a squeeze and shuffled off toward the kitchen. In the doorway she paused and turned. “You know,” she said. And he thought, Uh-oh. He knew that sly tone of voice. “J.J.’s still got a week’s vacation left. Why don’t the two of you go on down to Florida, spend some time together? I’ll bet Pensacola Beach’d be pretty nice this time of year.”

He cleared his throat and waved his hand and tried his best not to sound like he was making excuses. “Ah, well…you know I sorta promised J.J. I’d take him to Six Flags. It’s open just for the holidays. And then I got to service my truck…get ready to make another run out to California…”

“Son,” his mama said sternly, “I never raised you to be a coward.”