Page 102 of Smoky Mountain Dreams

Nova sighed and said quietly, “You know I love you like myvery own son, but, Jesse, sometimes in this situation? You’re the asshole.” Shewent back inside.

Jesse went cold and hot all over, shame and hurt floodingover him.

Tim nervously wiped his hand over the back of his mouth. “Thinkon it. That’s all I ask.” He followed his wife.

Jesse could see the football game on the screen through theglass door, and make out Brigid looking out at him as her fingers worked on thecranes, folding, folding, folding, ever folding. What was she folding themfor? And why didn’t he ask her?

Because I’m too fucking afraid to hearthe answer.

He turned away and stared up at the hazy sky. The treesrustled above, and the grandmother’s hand in the mountain peaks stayed firmlyburied in the ground, the rise of her knuckles so heart-rendingly visible andforever promising that her hand might lift and hold him close. Might, butwouldn’t.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He wanted tohear Christopher’s voice so badly, but he didn’t want to disturb Christopher’sThanksgiving. He sent a text instead, wanting desperately to go inside and tellNova and Tim what they wanted to hear, but he stayed rooted to the spot.

“Gran.” Christopher sat down in a hard, uncomfortablehospital chair next to her wheelchair. His mother had just vacated it for thebathroom. “Gran, why did you do that?”

“It sure looks like a bad idea now, doesn’t it? As much as Ihate the man, I didn’t think he’d actually stroke out.”

“Gran. Seriously.”

She folded her gnarled hands and sighed. “All right, Ithought a heart attack was possible, but mostly unlikely. I guess, somewheredeep down inside, I just wanted to torture him a little for all the hell he’sgiven you.”

“But it ended up being at my expense, Gran. I thought youloved me. I thought I was your favorite, but you threw me under the bus to geta rise out of an asshole. Ruined Thanksgiving not just for Bob, but for me andthe kids and Jackie and Mom. Why?”

Gran cast her eyes down, her crepe-roses cheeks pinking. “I’msorry, baby. I was wrong and I didn’t think it through. Which is silly becausein that nursing home, except for having to listen to Edna’s dang stories, I’vegot nothing but time to think. It just seemed like a fun thing to do. Liven upthe day.” She took his hands in hers. “I was wrong as I could get.”

“Liven up the day, huh? More like kill up the day.”

“Shh. Don’t talk that way. He’ll be fine. You’ll see. Plentyof years left to call you names and treat you awful.” She sighed. “Biggestfailure of my life is that I didn’t raise your mama to be strong of mind enoughto see through his crap and to stand up for her baby above all else in thisworld. If I could turn back time, I’d do it better.”

“Mom’s choices are not your fault.”

“Guess I’d have to find out just where we went wrong,though. The hours I’ve spent searching my memory, Christopher, trying to figureout just what I did or said that made her so weak-minded—so easily persuaded byfear.” She trailed off, her hazel eyes going milky with memory. “I wish I knew.I just wish I knew.”

“Ah, Gran…”

Sammie Mae returned from the bathroom, her eyes red-rimmedand cheeks flushed from tears. She’d obviously tried to clean herself up bysplashing water on her face, because the hair around her temples was damp.

She stopped in front of Christopher, hands on her narrowhips and fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I wanna talk to you.” She looked ather mother and then nodded a little way down the hallway. “Alone.”

Christopher squeezed Gran’s hand and then let go to followhis mother until they reached a quiet corner with vending machines. He lookedback to the waiting area where Jackie had moved into the spot by Gran. Joe hadgone to drop off the kids at his ex-wife’s house. Christopher’s phone buzzed inhis pocket, startling him. He quickly glanced at the screen.

My Thanksgiving’s been less thanstellar. How about yours?

Lord, he wished he and Jesse were together. He’d text himback in a minute, but first he had to deal with this. “Yes, Mama?” Christopherasked when Sammie Mae turned around, her face quivering with emotion, lookingfragile and fierce at once.

“Christopher, I’m so ashamed of you.”

It hit like a punch to the gut. How was it possible that he’dactually hoped—something he understood only now that hope was gone—that she wasabout to tell him she loved him? That she was sorry for what Bob had said. Butno. That wasn’t what Sammie Mae ever had to say.

“Why did youdothis? Has Satan warpedyour heart so much?”

He stared open-mouthed at his mother. She’d been there, hadn’tshe, when Lee had tossed the news out on the table? She’d seen Gran’sexpression, and had to know she was complicit if not the mastermind behind thewhole thing, but it washis fault?

“If you can’t give up sinning, couldn’t you have just keptit private?”

“Private?”

“In your bedroom. With the door closed and the blinds down.No one needs to know your…your…‘personal business’ or whatever you want to callwhat you do. Couldn’t you have just kept it toyourself?What did you expect to come of flaunting sin like that?Nothinggood, Christopher. Nothing good can come of sin! When are you going tolearn?”