“Nothing.” He shook his head, gripped the car seat a little tighter and headed across the street. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Great attitude, by the way,” she muttered under her breath. But he ignored her, trudging up toward the house with such determination that she had to jog a few steps to catch up with him.
A moment later, the door was being opened by a lovely young woman. Wendy guessed she was in her early twenties. She had Marie’s dark glossy hair and the Bagdon green eyes. There was only a moment’s hesitancy in her expression before she threw her arms around Jonathon. “Uncle Jonny! It’s so good to see you!”
Shock registered on Jonathon’s face, then slowly, he wrapped his free arm around her back. “Hey, Lacey.”
Lacey pulled herself out of his arms and gave him a once-over. Nodding in apparent approval, she said, “You haven’t changed a bit.” Jonathon looked as if he wanted to disagree, but she didn’t give him a chance. Instead she moved on to Wendy, giving her a hug that was just as enthusiastic. “You must be Wendy. Welcome to the family.”
Then she darted off into the house, calling out, “They’re here! Momma, why didn’t you tell us she was so cute?”
Jonathon—looking shell-shocked—just stood there for a moment. So Wendy pushed past him to enter the house. “You coming, Jonny?”
His gaze narrowed. “Shut up,” he muttered, but his tone was playful, which she figured was the best she could hope for under the circumstances.
Wendy met so many people in the next hour, she quickly lost track of them. There was Lacey, the oldest of Marie’s three kids. Or was it four? Then there were two additional step-kids as well. Neither of Jonathon’s brothers had come—though Marie insisted she was still working on them and hoped they would be there for the big reception the next afternoon. His other sister came by and brought three of her four kids. Even Lacey’s boyfriend was there.
Everyone greeted her warmly and oohed and aahed over Peyton. But Jonathon spent most of the evening standing stiffly in the corner, giving monosyllabic responses any time someone talked to him and looking deeply uncomfortable.
Photo albums were brought out and pizza was ordered. Someone brought soda and beer. Someone else brought cupcakes. Wendy could see why none of them would have wanted to go to a party at the country club and she was glad Marie had spoken up and told them so.
She was talking to Marie’s husband, Mark, when Lacey came up and coaxed Peyton out of her arms. “I have to cuddle with babies whenever I can,” she explained. “Mom’s forbidden me to get pregnant until I’m at least three years out of college.”
“Useful rule.”
Lacey, however, was already ignoring Wendy in favor of rubbing her nose against Peyton’s.
Wendy glanced around the busy living room and noticed that Jonathon was nowhere to be seen. She asked around and finally, one of the many children huddled around the video games being played on the TV yelled over his shoulder that Jonathon had gone out into the backyard.
She grabbed a sweater that was draped over one of the kitchen chairs by the back door on her way out into the darkened backyard. Slipping her arms into the sweater, she shivered as she waited for her eyes to adjust. The night air was cool against her skin. The unfamiliar landscaping cast deep shadows over the lawn. She skirted the furniture scattered around the tiny patio and stepped out onto the grass. In the light from the half-moon overhead she could barely see Jonathon.
Picking her away across the lawn around horseshoe sets and toy dump trucks, she crossed to where he stood beside a sapling tree.
He turned as she approached, studying her in the moonlight.
“Are they really so bad you had to come out here to escape?” she teased.
“I wanted to see if it was still here.” He nodded toward the tree. “I planted an acorn here on the day we buried my dad. I picked it up from the lawn at the cemetery.”
Though the tree was taller than he was, it still looked gangly and young. “That tree couldn’t be more than ten years old.”
“Almost twenty years now,” he said softly. “Trees grow more slowly than people do.”
She nodded, but looking at him, wondered if that was true. Sometimes, it felt as if people didn’t grow at all. “I don’t know about that,” she admitted. “Here I am at twenty-seven, making the same mistakes I made at seventeen.” She let out a dry bark of laughter. “And at seven.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. “You seem to be getting along with your family pretty well these days.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “My mom said something the other day that surprised me. She said the reason Mema is so against single mothers is—”