Eyes Turned Skyward
Page 7“Famished and wasting away,” I joked, patting my belly.
“You girls, all worried about your figures. A man likes curves, my gal.” His arm around my shoulders, we crossed through the living room to the kitchen, where my mother finished the gravy.
“Oh, Lee, you’re actually here.” She smiled. “Could you take the biscuits out?”
“I told you I would be, Mama. We agreed, once a week.” I grabbed the nearest pot holder and took the biscuits out of the oven, careful to place them on the silver trivet she’d laid out. “Perfect as always.”
“You flatter me. Now, grab a plate, your daddy only has fifteen minutes before they notice he’s not an hour early and the world ends.”
“Ha.” Daddy kissed her on the cheek, his tan T-shirt almost complementary to Mama’s blue shirtdress and Army Wife apron. We’d given it to her for Christmas when I was ten, and she still wore it religiously.
“Is Will coming?” Mama asked, setting four places at the table.
“He said he’d be here at seven fifteen.” I took glasses down for orange juice.
“Damn, I just might miss him,” Daddy muttered.
“Richard! Language!” My mom swatted his backside when she thought I couldn’t see. “We are certainly not your soldiers!”
He laughed and winked at her. “Ah, my poor little southern belles, are my Yankee manners offending you?”
The doorbell set the dogs barking. “Tell that boy he doesn’t need to ring the doorbell. He’s family,” Daddy ordered.
I swung the door open, happy to see Will standing in the entry. He looked good, but I still wasn’t used to seeing him in regular uniform. “Good morning, Lee-Lee.” He bent and kissed my cheek. “How are you feeling?”
I ignored his question and instead pressed my mouth to his gently. “I missed you yesterday.”
He pulled me into a familiar hug. “Sorry, honey, class ran late.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know about that polar bear in our front yard, would you?”
With a squeeze of my shoulders, he broke our hug and headed in to breakfast. “Yeah, I might need to talk to your dad about that before I go to class.”
“Will!” Mom exclaimed as she put the food on the table. “So good to see you.”
“You, too, ma’am.” He held my chair, and I slid in, sitting between him and Daddy.
“Oh, you know you can call me Mom.” She heaped food onto his plate.
My stomach dropped slightly. Was that because he was my boyfriend? Or because he’d been Peyton’s best friend?
He’d saved my life. It made perfect sense that I thought about him. Right? Just maybe not this much. Where was he? Had he headed home to Colorado, like his license plate suggested? Was he in college? Out? What did it feel like to be kissed by a guy with a tongue ring?
“Lee!” Mama snapped.
I found a biscuit crushed in my left hand and heard a beeping sound coming from the kitchen. “Ma’am?”
“Your alarm?” She pointed to the counter where my handbag rested.
I nodded, throwing away my decimated biscuit on the way to the counter. Slipping my cell phone out of the bag, I canceled the reminder. I left the phone in my bag—Mama wouldn’t stand for it at the table—and took my seat again.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll take them right after I eat. They make me sick on an empty stomach.” I grabbed another biscuit, breaking it in half before placing it on my plate.
“I think you should—”
“Honey, maybe you could just grab them—”
“Magnolia. Will. Give her a break. She’ll take them after she eats.” Daddy’s voice stopped them midcomplaint, and I smiled my thanks at him. He nodded but didn’t look happy as he went back to his breakfast.
“Oh, Lee, I made you a fruit salad instead.” Mama handed the crystal bowl across the table.
I scooped the fruit onto my plate, still eyeing the gravy. “Thank you.”
“Have you told Dr. Larondy our decision yet?” she asked, staring at my plate and counting every calorie I wasn’t allowed to work off.
I froze midchew, and Will squeezed my knee under the table, sending silent support. I just never knew for whom. Swallowing slowly, I thought through my response.
“I haven’t—”
“Lee, you can’t put this off.” Her voice rose.
“—because I haven’t made my decision yet.”
Well, if that didn’t hush her right up. Her fork rattled on the breakfast china. “We decided that the procedure—”
“You decided, Mama,” I rebuked, keeping my voice as low and respectful as I could. “I haven’t had symptoms since we started the beta-blockers, and while I respect your choice and your wishes—”
“But you don’t, not really.” Oh, here we go. “You couldn’t possibly respect us, love us, if you’re willing to risk your life like this. Every day you wait is too long. To even think of putting your father and I through this again is just unforgivable, Lee. This is your life we’re talking about!”