Buffy’s mother whispered, “Oh, my,” behind her. She looked at her grandmother who was blinking tears away and whose eyes held so much pride for the men she loved. She smiled at Gran Roberta who simply hugged her husband of sixty-seven years as he lowered himself into his wheelchair.
Buffy swallowed and attempted to compose herself. She felt like her heart would burst from the love she had for the people here. How could she have been so blessed?
Looking over at Ridge she saw he had relaxed and within a few minutes the men were all sharing their stories with him, from Earl, the World War II vet to her grandfather who’d served in Vietnam. Then her father and Luc answered his polite questions about their own service.
Luc asked, “How’s the vote looking?”
“It’s still too close to call but we’re not going to give up.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know who I was?” He looked over at Buffy suspiciously. She just cocked her head wide-eyed. Not me.
“Oh, man, that picture in the Post went global. Some of the guys in my unit saw it and said it had to be a publicity stunt to bring attention to the Vote.” Ridge looked off. “You mean it wasn’t?” Luc shook his head. “Well, surely it gave you some increased visibility.”
Ridge said, “Good and bad, it seems.”
“Well, as long as the good wins,” Luc smiled.
Buffy’s grandfather asked Ridge to explain more about how the program would work and then Buffy knew it was safe to leave Ridge in their hands. He had a captive, supportive audience.
In the kitchen Buffy’s mother looked at the other three women and ground out, “It irritates me when you keep me out of the loop. He’s the one, isn’t he?” Her eyes lit with a strategic fire. “Isn’t he, Lana Jean Calloway?”
Buffy couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t heard her full name in that tone of voice since she was eight. “No one’s keeping anything from you, Mom. I’m sure if you ask Ridge right now if he’s the one, he’d back out of here quicker than you could say gumbo. Please don’t blow it.”
“You knew about this, Mother,” Pamela said, calling Lillie by her affectionate nickname, to make her point of why she shouldn’t have been left out. It didn’t sound very affectionate.
“Mom, it’s just not quite time to go shopping for a wedding dress, ‘ya know?” She hugged her mother who relaxed, but Buffy could tell she wasn’t about to give up. She gave Lillie a what now? grimace and Lillie just patted them both on the back.
“Come on, girls. They could talk until next month about the wars and your Mr. Romano’s project but I think they could use a distraction. Buffy, grab the potatoes, and I’ll call your father to get the ham.”
Lunch proceeded without a hitch. Luc said his goodbyes and took off. Ridge made the rounds thanking everyone for their support and promised to come back one day. This concerned Buffy. It sounded too much like the distant future. Shaking Earl’s hand he said, “Sir, my company has a more advanced prosthesis. I can arrange it for you if you’re interested; it’s lighter and more flexible than the version you have.”
Earl narrowed his eyes and said, “Son, I’m ninety-three years old. This old arm has become like my real arm over the years, and we do just fine. Getting a new one at this stage of my life would be like a woman gettin’ fake boobs when she’s past her prime.” His eyes shot to Buffy’s grandmother.
“Old coot,” Ridge thought he heard Lillie say under her breath.
“Watch it, Dad,” said Robert who just put his arm around a steaming Lillie and hugged her. “Ignore him, sugar.”
“Now, Earl,” Roberta said, and her look seemed to be the only thing that made him quail.
Then Buffy’s great-grandfather shook Ridge’s hand and, looking around him at Buffy, said, “You chose a fine man, youngin’.”
Silence.
Ridge turned slowly to look at Buffy. She shrugged and shook her head. It wasn’t me.
Then she watched with an impending sense of doom as her mother put her hand on Ridge’s shoulder and said, “Might as well buy the ring, dear. When a Calloway tells you, you’re the one, it’s like that old saying, “If I tell you the moon is made of green cheese, get your crackers.” She nodded, yep.
“I—” Buffy’s head sank into her hands. Why had she thought this picnic could take place without a bomb going off? What was Ridge thinking? She could feel him emotionally backing away from her already.
She’d been trying to just let it play out, let him come to the same conclusion himself. But no, of all people Grandpa Earl had thrown the big one out there and there was no pulling it back.
Ridge made all the right noises to her family and then they walked silently to her car.
No comments:
Post a Comment