He met Ashley there a little before noon. She was on her thirty-minute lunch break before beginning afternoon deliveries. He bought them each a quarter-pound plate with mild sauce and RC Colas and they took a seat at one of the picnic tables inside. Each was encrusted with etched carvings and initials, the tabletops long ago evolving into works of art. All part of the charm, like barbecuing in your backyard without the gnats.
“You took your time texting,” she said.
He’d waited until nearly ten last night before confirming their date. “I figured you were still at the funeral.”
“I left there around eight. It was all so sad. A lot of people came. Papa Evans was well liked. The whole family’s pretty ripped up.” She spoke with surprising emotion for an ex-wife and ex-daughter-in-law.
He could sympathize with the Evanses. He knew how it was to suddenly lose a father. They ate a few moments in silence.
“You know,” Ashley said, “no matter how hard you try, you can’t keep avoiding it.”
He stared at her as a memory returned.
Those same words, but a different voice.
“You can’t keep avoiding it,” Paula said again.
He’d driven over to tell her the wedding was off. They were sitting on her parents’ front porch, a waft of honeysuckle in the air. Paula looked her usual perfect self. Slacks and blouse. Hair combed and sprayed. Nails lacquered pink. Earrings. A single brooch. The invitations had all been sent, the ceremony scheduled for three Saturdays away. A modest affair with a reception afterward.
But he was having second and third thoughts.
Ashley Reed the main source of his confusion.
“I assume you’re in love again with Annie Oakley,” Paula said, like a parent scolding a naughty child.
“Does it really matter how I feel?”
She angled her head toward him. No reverse gear for her, just barrel straight ahead. “It doesn’t matter one bit. What matters is here.” She pointed to her washboard tummy. “You should have thought about that before you decided to get me pregnant.”
But he doubted that had been his call.
Their relationship had dragged on two years. They met right after he returned home from law school and opened his practice. A local girl, born and raised, who taught third grade. Ashley had been a continual presence, but her inability to commit never allowed her to be anything more than a momentary diversion. He’d delayed things as long as he could. Finally, two months ago, Paula told him he could stall no more.
A child was on the way.
“We’re going to have a family, Brent. And isn’t that more important than Annie Oakley?”
She was taunting. Seeing how he’d react. A game they played more and more. Paula pushing, he absorbing. Surely, she had it all figured out. The announcement would come after their honeymoon in Cancun. Returning hardly tanned from a week in the Mexican sun, she predicting for her family and friends, with a smile, that the trip may have been productive. It would be her parents’ first grandchild, another honor he knew she was intent on snaring from her younger sister who’d just recently married.
“You can’t keep avoiding it,” she said.
“No, I can’t.”
“Oh, come on, Brent. It’s not a prison sentence. I’m not so bad. You enjoy yourself when we’re together.”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“You just want her more.”
He caught the edge in her voice. “I never said that either.”
“You didn’t have to.” Then she added, “From what I hear your little pistol is hot after a new husband anyway. And it’s not you.”
He’d heard that too. One source of gossip confirming they intended to marry. Characteristically, Ashley had said nothing. She never did. Probably because she really didn’t know herself.
“That’d certainly solve your problem,” he said.
“I don’t have a problem. I’ll soon have a loving husband and a baby on the way. We have a beautiful wedding planned and we’re going to have a wonderful time in Mexico. What more could a girl want?”
