though the idea were outrageous. “Nah, I’ve had a few close calls, but no girl has tied me down yet.”
He’d had his choice of Stony Point girls, Wally remembered, and Jem had liked to party. But you’d think by the time a man reached his age that he would settle down. “My place is just there, beyond that rise. Come on. Peggy will put on an extra plate.”
“You sure, man? I hate to intrude.”
“You’ve been gone a long time, but you’re still family, Jem.” And Wally was surprised to feel a lump form in his throat.
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind introducing me as J.C.? There are folks around here who’d just as soon forget Jeremiah, if you know what I mean. I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot with the good folk of Stony Point.”
Wally shrugged and opened the door to his cottage. “Come on in. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s paid for, and Peggy’s fixed it up real fine.” Wally stood aside, waiting for Jem to pass through. A glance around brought a quick sense of relief. Peggy must have gotten home from The Cup & Saucer early enough to tidy up. On Wednesdays a co-worker gave her a ride home, picking up Emily on their way.
“Daddy!” Emily flung herself at him, her hands clutching his legs. “You smell like fish!” She wrinkled her tiny nose, and seeing Jem, cocked her blond head to one side.
“This is Je—‘er—J.C.,” Wally said, “my brother—and your uncle. He’s come for a visit.” Wally felt a burst of pride. He’d always yearned for Jem’s approval, sulked when it never came, and finally had simply let it all go. He no longer needed it; he never even talked about Jem anymore, not even to Peggy. But suddenly, the old feelings crept up from somewhere. Truth was he’d never stopped caring, even when Jem had been, for all intents and purposes, kicked out of town. Not that there hadn’t been reasons. What had brought him back? Was all that talk about position and success true or was Jem still looking for that dime?
“Hello, Mr. J.C.,” Emily said with her usual friendliness, cocking her head to one side and peering up at him.
“Well, Miss Emily,” Jem said, taking her hand and kissing it like she was a princess or something, “I’m very pleased to meet you!”
Emily stared out of curious blue eyes, her mouth quickly forming a smile.
“Can this be the same girl I knew in high school?” Jem extolled as Peggy appeared at the kitchen door. “You don’t look a day older!”
Peggy had changed into jeans and a soft lavender sweater that was one of Wally’s favorites. Her cheeks were pink with pleasure at the compliment. Jem was being too bold, but then Wally was always protective of his Peggy. She said something about wishing she’d known they were having company; she’d have cooked something better, but soon they were situated around the table.
“I hope you like meatloaf,” Peggy said, unfolding her napkin. “Did I miss you at our wedding? And what does J.C. stand for? When we were kids, it was always Jem!” Peggy could rattle on and ask more questions at one time than anyone Wally had ever met. He studied Jem’s swarthy face. If he was going to go around calling himself J.C., people were going to ask.
“I love meatloaf,” he said, “and I flog myself for missing your wedding, my fair lady. Alas, I was out of the country at the time. As to your third question … Jeremiah Hamilton Carson at your service.”
Wally groaned. Jem could be such a ham! All that high-toned speech!
But Peggy was clearly charmed. Wally felt a fleeting stab of envy—well, maybe just concern. Peggy was always ready to embrace the world, accepting everyone at his word. Innocence had its price, though, and he worried about her.
“God is great, God is good …”
Emily, eyes closed and hands folded, had begun grace before the meal as she always did. Wally glanced at Jem whose fork was poised in midair ready to attack the meatloaf. He narrowed his eyes like he was surprised or
He’d had his choice of Stony Point girls, Wally remembered, and Jem had liked to party. But you’d think by the time a man reached his age that he would settle down. “My place is just there, beyond that rise. Come on. Peggy will put on an extra plate.”
“You sure, man? I hate to intrude.”
“You’ve been gone a long time, but you’re still family, Jem.” And Wally was surprised to feel a lump form in his throat.
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind introducing me as J.C.? There are folks around here who’d just as soon forget Jeremiah, if you know what I mean. I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot with the good folk of Stony Point.”
Wally shrugged and opened the door to his cottage. “Come on in. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s paid for, and Peggy’s fixed it up real fine.” Wally stood aside, waiting for Jem to pass through. A glance around brought a quick sense of relief. Peggy must have gotten home from The Cup & Saucer early enough to tidy up. On Wednesdays a co-worker gave her a ride home, picking up Emily on their way.
“Daddy!” Emily flung herself at him, her hands clutching his legs. “You smell like fish!” She wrinkled her tiny nose, and seeing Jem, cocked her blond head to one side.
“This is Je—‘er—J.C.,” Wally said, “my brother—and your uncle. He’s come for a visit.” Wally felt a burst of pride. He’d always yearned for Jem’s approval, sulked when it never came, and finally had simply let it all go. He no longer needed it; he never even talked about Jem anymore, not even to Peggy. But suddenly, the old feelings crept up from somewhere. Truth was he’d never stopped caring, even when Jem had been, for all intents and purposes, kicked out of town. Not that there hadn’t been reasons. What had brought him back? Was all that talk about position and success true or was Jem still looking for that dime?
“Hello, Mr. J.C.,” Emily said with her usual friendliness, cocking her head to one side and peering up at him.
“Well, Miss Emily,” Jem said, taking her hand and kissing it like she was a princess or something, “I’m very pleased to meet you!”
Emily stared out of curious blue eyes, her mouth quickly forming a smile.
“Can this be the same girl I knew in high school?” Jem extolled as Peggy appeared at the kitchen door. “You don’t look a day older!”
Peggy had changed into jeans and a soft lavender sweater that was one of Wally’s favorites. Her cheeks were pink with pleasure at the compliment. Jem was being too bold, but then Wally was always protective of his Peggy. She said something about wishing she’d known they were having company; she’d have cooked something better, but soon they were situated around the table.
“I hope you like meatloaf,” Peggy said, unfolding her napkin. “Did I miss you at our wedding? And what does J.C. stand for? When we were kids, it was always Jem!” Peggy could rattle on and ask more questions at one time than anyone Wally had ever met. He studied Jem’s swarthy face. If he was going to go around calling himself J.C., people were going to ask.
“I love meatloaf,” he said, “and I flog myself for missing your wedding, my fair lady. Alas, I was out of the country at the time. As to your third question … Jeremiah Hamilton Carson at your service.”
Wally groaned. Jem could be such a ham! All that high-toned speech!
But Peggy was clearly charmed. Wally felt a fleeting stab of envy—well, maybe just concern. Peggy was always ready to embrace the world, accepting everyone at his word. Innocence had its price, though, and he worried about her.
“God is great, God is good …”
Emily, eyes closed and hands folded, had begun grace before the meal as she always did. Wally glanced at Jem whose fork was poised in midair ready to attack the meatloaf. He narrowed his eyes like he was surprised or
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