I tried to picture perky, force-of-nature Mrs. Johnson crying all alone at a debutante soiree. The woman was a buzzy social bee, always in the middle of every conversation. It was strange to hear him describe her this way.
“Why was she crying?”
“Her daddy had died not three days before.”
“You’re kidding? And she was at a tea party?”
His jaw tightened. “Exactly. Her mama was even more insistent that Cindy Ann make a good marriage match now that they were left all alone. As soon as I learned that, I felt awful. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying desperately to atone for my atrocious actions and cheer her up. Her own date, Daniel Whatshisname, was nowhere to be found. After that, every time I saw her at one of those events, I made a point of keeping her company, getting to know her, trying to distract her. And I learned an important lesson that summer.”
Here it was. The parental moral of the story.
I glanced at him. “Don’t judge a debutante by her pout?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Damned right. Everybody is fighting a pain you don’t know about. But that’s not what I meant. I learned that it’s possible to fall head over heels in love with someone in an instant. And I also learned that it can happen even when things seem impossible. Everyone knew she was promised to Daniel. But I didn’t let that stop me. I kidnapped her right out of that ballroom and drove her all the way home to the Thicket.”
My heart sped up. Did Brooks’s dad know about the two of us? “What… what’re you telling me this for?”
His smile was kind. Mr. Johnson’s hand came up to squeeze my shoulder gently. “There are moments in our lives that define us. Moments where we have to make a choice that will change the path of our future. They come upon us suddenly, don’t they?”
I thought about my decision to move with Ava or stay in California. “Yes, sir,” I said weakly. “How do you know when you’re making the right decision?”
“Well, son, I should probably tell you to follow your heart. But in my case, I followed my dick, and it hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”
I stared at him in shock for a few beats until the corner of his mouth curved up the tiniest bit.
“Malachi, if you weren’t expecting a dick joke from a man named Red Johnson…” His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “Then maybe you don’t belong here in Licking Thicket after all.”
A bark of laughter escaped me, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from being rude. But Mr. Johnson’s face was wide open with laughter, and he looked so much like his son, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I laughed and cried like someone who’d come completely unhinged.
Mr. Johnson laughed with me until he realized I was crying too. Then he turned and pulled me into a giant bear hug, murmuring the kind of paternal reassurances I’d never heard from my own father. “It’s gonna be okay, son. You’re gonna be okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I sniffled when I finally caught my breath and pulled away. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“It’s been a big week.”
I snorted. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”
His big hands were still warm and solid on my shoulders as he leaned down to meet my eyes.
“You know, Dunn told me about you and Brooks.”
I opened my mouth to sputter an explanation, although I wasn’t at all sure what it would be, but he stopped me.
“Calm down,” he said. “He only told me ’cause I had my suspicions and I asked him flat out. The boy’s got no poker face whatsoever. He told me about Paul and Ava too, so I understand that puts a hitch in your giddyup. I just want you to know that regardless of what may or may not happen between Paul and Ava or you and Brooks or any combination of the four of you,” he said, looking into my eyes with a kind of affectionate sincerity that nearly brought me to my knees, “I hope you’ll consider spending more time here with us in the Thicket whether on a permanent basis or another good visit. We’d love to have you, and you’ll be most welcome, with or without any of the rest of your crazy crew, including my son.”
“Thank you, sir,” I whispered.
He patted my shoulders before moving back toward his truck. “Now, hop in and let me give you a ride back to the Iveys’ farm before you get bug-bit to death.”
On the flight back to LA, I spent way too much money drowning my sorrows in mini bottles. It may have been a little too early for that much alcohol consumption, but that couldn’t be helped. At one point, the older lady in the seat across the aisle from me shot me a judgmental look, and I muttered something about “the time change” as if I’d flown in from Rome where I’d left some kind of happy hour in full swing when I’d boarded the plane.