The Banty House Page 22

  “She’s in the kitchen.” Ginger led the way with the pan in her hand, reading the tape on the top as she went. “Preheat oven, then bake for thirty minutes.” Maybe she should lace the casserole with some of Betsy’s pot, then pass it off to Edith as a peace offering. She giggled at that idea. Peace bitch, she thought as she carried it into the kitchen.

  Betsy was sitting at the table with a glass of sweet tea in front of her. “Hello, Gladys. Oh, my! Did you bring one of your baked spaghetti casseroles?”

  “I sure did. I thought maybe y’all would like something homemade since we all know neither Kate nor Connie can boil water without settin’ off the smoke alarm.” Gladys laughed at her own joke.

  “Well, that’s right sweet of you,” Betsy said in a sugary tone. “Won’t you sit down and have a piece of cake and some tea?”

  “I’d love to,” Gladys said. “Who brought the cake?”

  “Ginger made it.” Betsy flashed a saccharine smile.

  “With Betsy’s recipe.” Ginger cut a wedge of cake and filled a glass with ice and tea. “Ice cream?”

  “Just cake.” Gladys’s tone was a bit flattened. “So you can cook?”

  “More now than when I arrived.” Ginger set the cake and tea on the table for Gladys, then handed her a folded linen napkin. “Betsy is a great teacher. I’m going to take Sloan a bottle of water. Holler right loud if you need me, Betsy. I can hear you through the door.”

  “I’ll be fine. We don’t have anything else to do until supper, and Gladys has brought us that. Connie has walked up to see Flora, and Kate is in the cellar, so you go on and take a little break,” Betsy told her.

  Ginger got a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and left the two old gals to their gossip session. As she was leaving, she heard Gladys say that Flora had offered to bring the snacks for Sunday school the next day, and a bit of a chill chased down her back. Betsy was up to something, sure as shootin’, and Ginger intended to find out what it was before she went to bed that night.

  The garage door was up. A nice breeze kept the place from being too warm. Sloan had already filled a bucket with soapy water and was busy going over the top of the car.

  “Why do you do that every week?” she asked.

  “Because it’s my job,” he answered. “Before I took it over, they had an old guy from up the street taking care of it, but he died not long before I came home. Kate did it until they hired me. If they wanted me to wash it every day, I’d do it. They pay me well even though I don’t need it—Granny left me well taken care of. But they knew I needed something to do with my days other than let guilt eat me up.” He finished the top, rinsed it with a garden hose, and used a chamois cloth to dry it off. “Did you think about the baby’s birth certificate?”

  Ginger opened up a lawn chair and sat down. “I’ve got mixed feelings about staying here, Sloan.”

  He stopped what he was doing and pulled up an old straight-backed chair from the corner and sat down beside her. “I thought you had that part settled.”

  “So did I. But am I just letting someone else run my life like Lucas did? Am I taking the easy way out? This is a gravy job, and I love it here at the Banty House, but will I regret making such a quick decision? I know they mean well, but I promised myself I’d never let anyone”—she paused and searched for the right words—“make all my decisions for me again.”

  “Move in with me,” Sloan said.

  She wanted to pop herself on the ears to be sure she’d heard him right. Had the trip he had just made rendered him totally insane? Surely he hadn’t just said that, had he? She stared at him for more than a minute, trying to figure out if aliens had abducted him and done something to his brain while he was gone. The last time a guy had said that to her, she’d wound up with more trouble than she could hardly handle.

  “Think about it,” he said. “If you decide not to stay in Texas, it would ease you out of their lives. It will break their hearts if you leave suddenly. Betsy has adopted you as her granddaughter. I haven’t figured out why, but I think it has something to do with the past. This way, you can continue to work for them in the day and come home to my place at night.”

  She almost pinched herself to see if she was dreaming. “I’m eight months pregnant,” she finally whispered.

  “I can kind of see that.” He grinned. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me. There’s a spare bedroom in my house. It might not be as fancy as the one you’re in now, but I reckon I can drag the old baby bed out of the barn out back, clean it up, and fit it in there. You don’t have to make up your mind right now, but give it some thought. Not being here after you help get supper done would mean a little space between them and you. Then, when Betsy’s well enough to take over the kitchen, you’d probably be done by midafternoon.”

  “Are you going to be mad at me if I say no and just leave on Monday?” she asked.

  He covered her hand with his. “Ginger, I could never be mad at you. You’re the angel who brought me up out of a deep depression. I owe you my happiness, my peace of mind—you’re my saving-grace angel.”

  Twice now someone had called her an angel. They must’ve gotten into Betsy’s weed and Kate’s shine to think that, Ginger thought. She certainly didn’t have a halo or wings either.

  “So, will you think about it a day or two?” he asked.

  “Yes, I will, and thank you for the offer, Sloan. You are a good man.” She started to get up, but he was on his feet before she hardly moved. His big hand cupped her elbow and helped her to her feet. “You’d better get on back to washing the car, and I should go inside to see if Betsy needs anything. She’s been taking a little hour-long nap in the afternoons, so she might want me to help her up the stairs.”

  Sloan chuckled. “Nap, my butt. She’s probably having her midday smoke.”

  “Oh!” Ginger stopped after she’d taken a step. “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?” Sloan asked.

  “Remember when I told you about us making some wacky brownies, and then Flora bringing doughnuts real early this morning, and Dr. Emerson telling us about the restraining order Edith had drawn up?” Her mind was running in circles.

  Sloan’s expression was one of pure confusion. “You better back up and tie all that together for me.”

  “When I got a pan of lasagna out for dinner today, I noticed the brownies were gone,” she said.

  “Flora gets a pan full of them once in a while to help with her mother. The old gal won’t take prescription medicine, says it’s all poison, but she will nip a little moonshine or eat a funny brownie once in a while. She says that’s all natural and won’t destroy her insides,” Sloan explained.

  “But when I was leaving the kitchen to come out here just now, I overheard Gladys say that Flora was bringing the snacks for the Sunday-school class tomorrow,” Ginger said. “When is Sunday school in y’all’s church? Is it before or after the church services that we went to? I thought we were picking Flora up to go to church with us in Hondo, so would she be goin’ to Sunday school in Rooster, and is Edith in that class? I’m confused.”

  “Sunday school is before church here in Rooster,” Sloan explained. “Flora plans on going to that in our regular church, the one where you’ve gone with us. Soon as it’s over, she’ll hightail it down to the old post office and wait for us on the bench. We’ll all be in our car and we’ll pick her up to go with us to whatever church we decide on in Hondo.” Sloan chuckled, then laughed, then guffawed. Ginger couldn’t help but join him. They both had the hiccups when they finally got control. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes, and handed it off to her.

  “Our middle child is surely acting out, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. You sure you want to move away and miss all this?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not,” she admitted. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall and see what happens in church tomorrow, but that restraining order is for everyone who lives in the Banty House.”

 
; “I don’t live here,” Sloan said. “I could go to church here in Rooster and report to you when we have dinner at the café there in Hondo. See what a nice guy I can be? I’d be the perfect roommate, and, honey, I do need help raising these old gals. What do you say?”

  “I’ll sleep on it,” she promised. “But the sisters will be disappointed if you don’t go with us. They’ve talked about what they’re going to wear and how nice it’ll be to have you walk in with us when we try out new churches. Besides, I’m sure Betsy and Flora have everything covered.”

  Sloan took a step forward, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and brought her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss that made her knees go weak. She leaned into him as far as her pregnant belly would let her when the kiss ended and splayed her hands out on his chest. She could feel his heart beating as wildly as hers and wished that he would kiss her again, but he just took a step back and said, “Think about that while you’re sleeping on it.”

  “As if I could forget something that scorchin’ hot,” she said.

  “So you felt it, too?” he said.

  “Oh, yeah, I did,” she told him. “And I liked it.”

  Sloan whistled all evening as he brought his old baby bed from the barn and cleaned it up. He washed and rinsed each section, then propped them up against the house to dry. When he finished, he took all the pieces into the house, rubbed the oak wood down with lemon oil, and put them together. The assembled bed fit very well in Granny’s old bedroom, over on the side with the window, so the newborn could get plenty of sunlight.

  Babies change your life. Creed’s voice was clear in his head.

  “Maybe I need a big change,” Sloan said.

  Don’t jump into the deep end if you can’t swim, Bobby Joe said, joining Creed.

  “Thanks for the advice, fellers, but I got this,” he said.

  The next morning he parked his truck outside the Banty House, and the garage door opened. Ginger and the ladies were already waiting in the car. “Y’all sure look pretty this mornin’,” he said as he got in behind the wheel.

  “Thank you,” they all said at once.

  “First time in our entire lives we’ve been to a different church,” Connie said from the back seat. “We’re a little bit nervous.”

  “I understand y’all are picking Flora up in front of the old post office, and I’m going to the church, right?” He started the engine and backed the vehicle out into the street. If Ginger was right and Flora really took funny brownies to Sunday school, then there might be some loud singing in the church services that morning.

  “No. She changed her mind.” Connie had entirely too much happiness in her tone. “I went to see her yesterday, because we were down to our last dozen eggs. I got the last that she had. She’s sold her chickens and her cow. She said don’t have time to work, take care of her mama, and run out to her place at the edge of town to milk a cow and take care of the livestock. She’s going to our church in Rooster today, but she’s going to meet us for lunch at Mama Rosa’s Diner. She says they’ve got a chicken and dressin’ special on Sundays, and she said you’re supposed to drive us and go with us.”

  Rats! Sloan thought. I was so looking forward to the circus. But the way Ginger was grinning, he was kind of glad he’d get to sit beside her in services that morning. He gave Ginger a sly wink and smiled when she blushed. They were sharing thoughts, and to him, that meant they’d make fine roommates—at least for a while, but he was already making plans for the future.

  Ginger chose the first church going into town, which turned out to be about twice the size of the one in Rooster but one of the smaller ones in Hondo. The congregation was already singing the first hymn when they walked into a packed house, so they had to go all the way to the front pew for a seat.

  The ladies had decided to wear their pink Easter dresses from the year before, complete with hats and white gloves. It was truly by coincidence that Sloan had chosen a pink and green plaid shirt that morning and kind of matched them. The singing had been loud and lively when they first came in, but the noise dropped by 50 percent as the folks hushed and watched the newcomers take their seats. After the five of them had settled down on the pew right in front of the preacher, everyone began to pick up the volume again.

  When the hymn was over, the preacher took his place behind the pulpit. “I’d like to welcome all our visitors this morning. We’re glad for every single soul who comes to worship with us. Since these folks on the front row didn’t get here in time to sing the first hymn with us, we’ll sing another one this morning. So turn your hymn books to page one forty and let your voices ring all the way to heaven’s gates.”

  “That’s right sweet of him,” Ginger whispered to Sloan.

  Sloan leaned over and cupped his hand over her ear. “Maybe God whispered in his ear to do that so that you’ll stay in this area and move in with me.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind,” she said.

  “Mind about what?” Betsy asked from Sloan’s other side.

  “Shhh . . .” Kate poked Betsy in the ribs. “Mama taught us not to talk in church.”

  Sloan didn’t even try to listen to the sermon. His mind went in circles, starting with what the commander had told him about a job and making its way around to how much he really did want Ginger to move in with him. That kiss the day before had told him that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. It was possible they could build a relationship out of the friendship they already had for sure.

  Ginger must’ve gotten uncomfortable because she started to shift her weight from one hip to the other. He leaned over and said, “Are you okay?”

  “Need to go to the bathroom, but I hate to walk past all these people,” she told him.

  “Tell Betsy we’ll meet her in the car. I noticed the restrooms are right off the foyer. I’ll go with you. I’m about to fall asleep.” He laced his fingers in hers and pulled her up to a standing position.

  Betsy gave him a sweet smile, and it almost seemed like lots of the people were enjoying having a little distraction from the pastor’s dry sermon that morning. Sloan waited outside while she went into the ladies’ room, and when she came out, he escorted her to the car.

  “I didn’t mean to squirm like a little kid, but sitting a whole hour is gettin’ tougher and tougher. The baby tries to flatten my bladder sometimes. I’m sorry that you missed the last part of the sermon,” she apologized.

  “Honey, I wasn’t listening to the sermon anyway,” he admitted.

  She removed her hat and laid it on the seat between them. “Me, either. Most of the time, the preachin’ kind of bores me, and this morning I couldn’t keep my mind off those brownies. One part of me hopes that they don’t cause a problem. The bad part of my heart wants Edith to pay for insulting Belle. Did I tell you that I’ve picked out a name for my baby?” she asked, then fell silent.

  “Nope, you did not.” He started the car and turned up the AC to cool it down for the ladies. “Are you going to tell me what it is or make me wait until she’s here?”

  “Martha Belle.” It was the first time Ginger had said the name out loud, and it rolled off her tongue beautifully. She laid a hand on her stomach and said, “How do you like that name, little girl? Is it something you can love your whole life?”

  “That was my grandmother’s name.” Sloan’s voice went hoarse like he was talking around a lump in his throat. “You can’t name the baby that and leave us, Ginger. We need you to be part of our lives.”

  Like every other child that was born into this world, she had needed care from the time she was born, but that was the first time anyone had ever said that they needed her. She wasn’t sure what to do with the emotions inside her—did she run from them or to them?

  “Are you sure about that? You’d forget me in a day or two, like the foster parents did when they said goodbye and I was taken away. It’s the way of nature to forget those who are out of sight,” she said.

  “Honey, I’ll never forget you,
and neither will the sisters,” he told her.

  “Don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I hope next week’s church is better’n this one,” Kate said as she got into the car. “That sermon was so dry it about put me to sleep.”

  “About, my ass.” Betsy slid into the middle of the big bench seat. “I had to keep nudging you with my good arm to keep you awake.”

  “I heard her snore twice.” Connie fastened her seat belt. “And there was dust on the arm of the pew. That’s disgraceful. It’s my turn next week, and I’m choosing that big, fancy church downtown.”

  “I’m going to ask Flora about all of them before I choose,” Betsy said. “She’s worked over here for more than forty years, so she’ll know a little something about them—like how good the preacher is and how crowded they might be and such things.”

  They commented on every church they passed between the one they’d attended that morning and the café where they planned to have lunch. Flora had already arrived and gotten them a table, so they didn’t have to stand around and wait like twenty other people.

  “I slipped out fifteen minutes early,” Flora said. “This place is pretty popular on Sundays.”

  Sloan patted her on the back. “Thank you. I didn’t eat much breakfast, so I’m starving.”

  “Plus, it took everything in him to sit still during a boring sermon. How was church in Rooster?” Betsy asked.

  Flora put her hand over her mouth and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Fantastic. Just flat-out wonderful.”

  Sloan squeezed Ginger’s knee under the table. “Sermon was that good, huh?” Dammit! He knew there would be a fiasco, and he’d missed it.

  “Don’t have any idea what James talked about. Seems like he started off with something about loving thy neighbor, but then Edith”—Flora did a head wiggle—“who always has to sit on the front pew like the Queen of Sheba, just laid flat out on the pew and started snoring. I swear, I could almost see the roof risin’ up and down every time she snorted.”