Cora rose to make sure John was out of earshot. “You know what they did for Thea’s twelfth birthday? Sent her a card with twelve dollars inside. One for each year. It came a week late on top of that. It’s not the money, Mama,” she said quickly. “We don’t care they’ve got piles of it. We’re all doing fine. It was … The card said ‘Happy Birthday, Althea. Your Grandparents.’ That’s all it said.”

  Lucy picked up her wine, took a small sip. “Did you have Thea write them a thank-you?”

  “I didn’t have to. She sat down and wrote one: ‘Dear Grandparents, Thank you very much for the birthday wishes and the twelve dollars. I hope you both are well. Your granddaughter, Thea.’”

  Lucy gave a nod of approval. “You’re raising her right.”

  “As I was. It burned me inside, Mama, and it hurt John. He tries to not let it hurt, but it does. I don’t want our family to ever grow apart and careless like that.”

  “We never could, darling.”

  “But people get busy. You’re busy, Mama, with your home, your business. Caleb and Waylon are busy, and like you said, they’ll likely start families of their own and get busier yet. John and I, we’re busy raising the kids, with our business. And, Mama, twice a year, it’s not enough.”

  She wandered as she spoke while Lucy watched and thought: my clever, restless girl.

  “You made an apple stack cake,” Cora murmured.

  “Of course I did. It’s John’s favorite.”

  “I don’t know why things like an apple stack cake and flowers on the table mean more to me now than they did when I was a girl in this house, or why this house is more special to me now than it was when I was living in it.”

  “You were looking ahead, and away, Cora.”

  “And you let me. One day, Thea’s going to look away, so I understand what I didn’t, how much it costs to let a child live their own.”

  “It costs,” Lucy agreed as she got the bowl and the buttermilk out of the refrigerator. “But it pays off so in pride of what you see that child become. And I’m so proud, Cora, of the life you’ve made, of the person you are. So proud.”

  “I didn’t appreciate you enough when I was a child.”

  “Oh, stop that.”

  “I didn’t,” Cora insisted as she watched, as she had countless times before, her mother make a well in the flour and grated butter before pouring the buttermilk into it.

  It made her smile, so she asked what she’d asked countless times before. “Why do you stir it with that wooden spoon fifteen times? Exactly.”

  Their eyes met as Lucy smiled back, and answered as she had countless times before. “Because fourteen’s not enough, and sixteen’s too many.”

  “I didn’t appreciate, Mama, how hard it was for you, especially after Daddy died. How hard you worked to keep it all going, to keep a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, to push your business on so you could. I didn’t appreciate it enough because you made it look—”

  Cora shook her head as she wandered the big kitchen again.

  “Not easy, not really easy—but natural. Like loving us was natural, and keeping the music playing, making sure we got our homework done, brushed our damn teeth, all of it, just natural, just life. Saving, like you and Daddy started, so we could go to college, just part of the whole.”

  “Your daddy didn’t want his boys in the mines. He went down so they never would. He wanted—we wanted—our children to get a good education and have choices.”

  Lucy dusted the counter with flour, turned the dough on it, dusted the top, then rubbed more on her old wooden rolling pin.

  “Your choices, the lives you’re making with them, honor your daddy, and his sacrifices.”

  “And yours, because you clearly made sacrifices, too. I see that, now. So twice a year isn’t enough, not for family.”

  Lucy rolled the dough into a rectangle, then folded the short ends together and rolled once more. With a glance at her daughter, she did the same again.

  “You’ve got a plan in there somewhere.”

  “We do, John and I. We’d like to come down more. The Easter break at school, and Thanksgiving.”

  Once again, Lucy’s hands stilled. “Cora, I’d be thrilled. And oh so grateful.”

  “But that’s not all. We know it’s harder for you to travel. You have to have someone tend the animals, but if you could pick just one time to come up, even for a few days, or with Caleb in New York, maybe we could all go up there for a few days, or to Nashville to Waylon. And the kids, they love it here and those two weeks you give them means the world because that’s the start of the summer. We like to take them for a week at the beach before school starts again.”

  “They love that week. I get lots of pictures and stories.”

  After the last fold and roll, Lucy dipped her round cutter in flour and made her dough rounds.

  “We want you to come. We want everybody to come if they can. So we’ve rented a great big house on the beach in North Carolina. A week in August. We’re going to fly you there in that newfangled airplane.”

  “Fly? But—”

  “Please don’t say no. Waylon says he’ll talk Granny into it, and you know he can talk a man dying of thirst to hand over his last drop of water. We hardly ever see her since she married Stretch and moved down to Atlanta. We’d have a real Riley-Lannigan-Fox family reunion. And if Uncle Buck, Aunt Mae, and the cousins want to come, well, we’ll just get a second house to hold us all.”

  Lucy had never been on a plane in her life—though she’d seen that coming in her future with a son living in New York City.

  And she saw, very clearly, how much this meant to her girl. The girl who’d always looked forward and away had looked back some. And looked toward family.

  “Well, I guess I’d better get these biscuits in the oven, get this meal on the table so I can think about buying myself a bathing suit.”

  “Mama!” With a hoot of delight, Cora threw her arms around Lucy. “Oh, the kids are going to go crazy when we tell them. I want them to have what I had growing up, and damn it, I want John to have what he didn’t.”

  “Then let’s get the table set. We’ll call them in to wash up, and lower the boom.”

  They feasted on fried chicken and potato salad, snap beans and buttermilk biscuits. And Cora had it right, the kids went crazy.

  It filled Lucy’s heart to have them filling her home and saturating it with the happiness they generated.

  Her restless girl had found her center, and reached a point in her life where she wanted to open it to the people and places of her origin.

  She’d had a part of that, Lucy thought, and now an invitation to take a bigger part.

  In later years, she’d look back on this simple family meal at summer’s beginning and remember the sound of children’s voices, so high and bright. She’d remember the laughter in her daughter’s eyes, and the utter contentment in the eyes of the man who was a son to her.

  She’d think of the breeze fluttering through the open windows, and the screen door where the dogs lay just outside hoping for scraps.

  She’d remember how the evening sun had slanted its light over the mountains and how blue the sky held above them.

  She’d remember all of it, and hold on tight.

  Chapter Two

  In the morning, Lucy mixed up batter for buckwheat pancakes, another favorite of her son-in-law’s. She already had bacon and sausage keeping warm in the oven, and coffee done when John came in.

  “Thought I heard some stirring up there.”

  He raked a hand through his curling mop of brown hair. “I haven’t managed to shave, and you’ve already fed the chickens, gathered eggs, milked the cow and the goat, fed the dogs.”

  “Why’s a man need to shave on a quick little holiday?”

  “I’ll bet you haven’t had a holiday, little, quick, or otherwise, since Christmas.” He shook his head as he went for coffee. “You work too hard, Lucy.”

  “I love what I do.”

  She’d twined her hair into a braid today, and he ran a hand down it in one of his easy gestures of affection. “It shows. You know, I look at you and I can see how Cora’s only going to get more beautiful. Reminds me how lucky I am we happened to sit next to each other in that lecture hall the first day of college.”

  “And I say luck had nothing to do with it. If I’ve ever seen two people meant to be, it’s you and Cora. Now sit down there and tell me what’s on your mind. I can see it without looking.”

  “I wanted to tell you how much it means you’re willing to travel, and to have us come down when I know you’re going to do just what you’re doing now, and more. Making big, amazing meals. She’s been pining the last couple of months.”

  Sitting, he sighed a little. “It was that stupid birthday card, the ten and two ones inside that snapped it. It didn’t bother Thea, but she doesn’t expect anything from them. I don’t expect anything from them, but Cora? She kept hoping they’d warm up.”

  “Some don’t have the warm in them.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” His words carried simple resignation. “Still, they’re warm enough to their other grandchildren, and generous, reasonably attentive. They expected me to marry…”

  “As befits your station, or theirs.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how much we love each other, what a wonderful mother she is, what a solid partner in business she is. She tried so hard, Lucy, and none of it mattered to them. I married too young and to someone they disapprove of, so I’ll always be a disappointment. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “It mattered to her.”

  “Too much, if you ask me. My sister’s daughter is Rem’s age. For her birthday, they bought her a horse.”

  “A horse. An actual horse?”

  “That’s right. She’s been taking equestrian lessons for about a year now. So they bought her a horse. They forgot Rem’s tenth altogether, but for some reason that didn’t snap it. It was that card, the ten and two ones that did it. The imbalance of it, the fact that she finally realized our kids would never matter to them.”

  “All it makes me wonder, John”—she turned away to heat up her big cast-iron skillet—“is how they managed to help make someone like you.”

  “And I wonder sometimes if I’d be who I am if Cora Lannigan hadn’t sat down beside me and smiled.”

  “Meant to be,” Lucy reminded him.

  “Meant to be.” He toasted her with his coffee, and drank. “She stopped letting what they thought or felt matter, which is a relief to me. And she started pining for you, her brothers, for what she knew she had with all of you and tried too hard to make with them. Family time, closer ties.”

  “She needed to make her own before she really wanted what was always there. I’d say we’re giving each other a gift. Now, I hear more stirring up there. You call them down, and I’ll get these pancakes going.”

  He came around the counter first to hug her. “I love you, Lucy.”

  “John.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re one of the bright lights in my life.”

  * * *

  They had breakfast at the kitchen table as they had dinner the night before. The kids helped with the dishes, as that would be a daily chore during their stay, as would making their beds in the morning, helping with the laundry, and tending the animals.

  They would help, as their mother and uncles had before them, weed the gardens, mow the grass, keep the house clean, and learn to cook some simple dishes.

  Lucy pressed a container with a generous slice of apple stack cake on John.

  “You take a taste of Kentucky with you.”

  “You know I will. Okay, Foxy Loxies, bring it in, and pretend you’ll miss us.”

  “I’ll miss you, Dad.” Giggling, Thea snuggled in. “A little bit.”

  He laughed, hauled her up for a kiss, then did the same with Rem.

  “I don’t have to tell you to mind Grammie.” Cora squeezed them hard enough to make them squeal. “I know you will. Y’all have fun now.”

  “Call when you get home,” Lucy said, “so we know you got there safe.”

  When she hugged them, she felt a clutch in her belly. When it fisted over her heart, she hugged harder. “I’ll miss you both, more than a little. Drive careful now, and look after each other.”

  She made herself let go. “I’ve got these two hooligans in hand, don’t you worry.”

  With waves and blown kisses, they got in the car. Cora looked back as they drove away, then turned, looked forward.

  “You and me, babe.” John flicked a glance in the rearview, then smiled at her. “What should we do when we get home to a quiet, empty house?”

  “I think we should open a bottle of wine and have really loud sex.”

  The smile turned into a grin. “Great minds.”

  With a kid on either side, and three dogs panting, Lucy watched the car until it drove out of sight.

  She willed the pressure on her heart to release, then looked down at the kids. And quoted from a favorite book of hers, and theirs.

  “Let the wild rumpus start!”

  With a cheer, Thea executed a very solid cartwheel. Rem settled on making monkey noises.

  Since she’d write in her journal that night, Thea paid attention to everything they did during the day.

  They weeded the garden first because the mountain air held cooler than it would after noontime. If they forgot some of the names of the plants, Lucy helped them remember using rhymes.

  “I had a friend named Hazel.”

  So that was basil.

  “I try to imagine what will be.”

  And that was astilbe.

  It made it all fun, and they all wore floppy hats.

  Then they made butter, better than anything in the store, from the cream from Aster’s milk. And Thea got to pour off the buttermilk to save it.

  They both got to wash it in cold, cold water, then knead it—Rem said Oooey-gooey a lot.

  And Grammie took some of it and added honey for what she called a sweet spread.

  For lunch they had leftover chicken, and biscuits with the sweet spread they made themselves.

  They took a walk in the woods and the hills with the dogs. Lucy carried spray she made to chase bears away if they needed to. But they didn’t.

  They stopped at a house that was really a kind of cabin even Thea knew had seen better days. A scrawny gray cat raced up a tree and hissed at the dogs from a branch but they didn’t pay him any mind.

  A boy younger than Rem sat on the saggy front porch playing with a little car. He was what she’d heard Grammie call a towhead because his hair was so blond it was nearly white.

  “Hi there, Sammy. Is your mama home?”

  “Yes’m, Miss Lucy.” He yelled out, “Ma! Miss Lucy’s come around.”

  A woman came to the door with a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her pants leg. The toddler had red, scaly rings on both arms.

  “Afternoon, Miss Lucy.” She shoved at her hair—a darker blond than the boy’s. “These are your grandbabies? Lordy, the girl looks just like you.”

  “My pride and joy. Thea, Rem, say afternoon to Miss Katie.”

  “Afternoon,” they said in unison while Thea tried not to stare at those weird red circles.

  “I heard Sharona there had a problem.”

  “Picked up the ringworm. I’ve been trying to keep it clean. Got it on her scalp, too.”

  “I brought you some special soap. You want to use this.” Lucy took a wrapped bar from her pack. “You wash her arms, her scalp with this, and dry it good. It’s the moisture helps it spread, so dry it good with a clean cloth. Then take this.”

  She produced a small bottle. “And mix it with just a little water. You want to make a paste of it, and spread it on until it dries. It’s turmeric,” she added, “and won’t do her any harm. It should help.”

  “I sure will. I thank you, Miss Lucy. I don’t have—”

  “You don’t worry about payment. Next time Billy makes up a batch of his special, you send me some. And if what I brought you doesn’t fix this pretty girl up, you send word to me.”

  “I’ll do that. I’ll do all that. I’ve got some catnip tea brewing in the sun out the back if y’all want to come in, have a cup.”

  “Oh, that sounds good, but we’ve got other calls to make. You go on, wash that sweet baby up. Let me know how she does.”

  “Bless you, Miss Lucy.”

  When they’d walked on, Lucy said, “Katie lost her daddy to the black lung some years back, and her mama this past winter to pneumonia. It’s hard when you don’t have people to lean on.”

  “What’s the special?” Thea wanted to know.

  “Oh, that’s moonshine, honeypot. Billy does make some fine moonshine. He works hard, Billy does. Drinks a little too much of his own special, from time to time, but he works hard. He’s a good husband and a good daddy.”

  They made more calls, a bar of soap here, a candle there. She took payment when the item had been requested, or a barter if payment wasn’t ready.

  By the time they got back, the dogs were ready for a snooze. Thea sat with her brother and Lucy on the back porch with cold lemonade and some sugar cookies.

  “Do you know everybody in the mountains, Grammie?”

  “Most hereabouts I do. Some want to keep to themselves, so I leave them be unless they come down for something or other. If somebody needs help, like Katie or old Carl with his bursitis, I help as I can. If I were to need help, help would come.

  “I’ve got half a cord of wood over there for when the cold comes. And somebody’ll bring more when I need it. That’s how it works, and should.”

  * * *

  Every day brought its own adventure. The chores remained the chores, but they were fun. Only at Grammie’s could Thea milk a cow or watch Rem milk a goat. They fed the chickens and gathered eggs. Lucy taught them how to make redeye gravy to go with ham and eggs and grits.

  Every night they could stay up past even their no-school bedtime and sit outside. Lucy knew all about the constellations, and Rem got really good at pointing them out by name.