Better (Too Good series) (16 page)

“Oh, come off it, Gypsy,”
LouAnn replied. “Everyone at this table knows you drop the “f” bomb like it’s goin’ out of style.”

The “f” bomb?
Cadence thought.
Did she really just say that?

Gypsy grunted and sipped her tea.

“I gossip incessantly,” Marybeth offered. “It’s the only sin that seems to be widely accepted in the church.”

The ladies burst out laughing.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Mrs. Connelly chimed in.

“That, and judging the hell out of someone,” Gypsy added. She turned to Cadence and said, “I have m
y issues with the church, dear. I wouldn’t go at all if these ladies didn’t drag me.”

“We drag you because it’s not all bad,” Martha said. “How many times do I have to tell you to just focus on the lesson, Gypsy? Who cares about Laurel?”

“Who’s Laurel?” Cadence asked before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “It’s none of my business.”

“Oh, let me tell the story since I’m the gossip,” Marybeth said.

The women nodded.

“Laurel has a problem with Gypsy’s tongue,” Marybeth began. “And when Gypsy signed up to organize a luncheon for the senior women at church who are part of a group that puts on holiday events for the nursing homes in the area, Laurel took it upon herself to spread the word that Gypsy might not be the best representative of the group.
Since she cusses like a sailor.”

Cadence listened politely while she finished off her cucumber sandwich.

“And when Gypsy called the first meeting, everyone in the room acted stiff and uncomfortable.”

Gypsy shook her head, remembering.

“And when she finally called them out on their weird behavior, one woman said that the group felt she wasn’t the best Christian example and that they wanted to vote in another leader.”

“You can probably guess who
I was usurped by,” Gypsy said.

“None other than Laurel herself,” Marybeth explained. “She’d wanted that position since the day the women voted in Gypsy. And she figured
out a way to get it—by discrediting Gypsy’s character.”

So this was church politics, Cadence thought.
She made mental notes: Do
not
mess with the senior women at Cornerstone Community Church.

“I love Jesus as much as anyone!” Gypsy cried, slapping her hand on the table and rattling everyone’s teacups. “Just because I say ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘hell’s bells’ doesn’t mean I don’t love the Lord!”

“We know, honey,” Martha said soothingly.

Gypsy harrumphed and looked at Cadence.

“Sweetheart, these women at this table taught me that just because I do things a little differently from your standard fundamentalist, it doesn’t mean I have to be an outcast.”

“Aren’t we all outcasts to a de
gree anyway?” Mrs. Connelly asked, and the women agreed.

“I wish you’d recognize that,” Gypsy went on, addressing Cadence.

Cadence stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“We know you don’t go to church anymore because you feel like you can’t,” Gypsy explained.

“I can’t,” Cadence said. “Plus, my parents go. I can’t see them. I mean, they wouldn’t want to see me. It would be weird.”

The ladies looked at each other.

“What your parents did to you was wrong, honey,” Mrs. Connelly said. “So wrong. But that doesn’t mean you have to hide from them.”

“You have your own soul to nurture, Cadence,”
LouAnn said. “And we’ll help you if you want.”

“What do you mean?” Cadence asked.

“We’ll be your little angels protecting you if you ever wanna come back to church,” Martha said.

“You can bring along your beau, too,” Marybeth offered. She glimpsed Mrs. Connelly who smiled sadly.

Cadence didn’t know what to say. She felt odd discussing Mark with these ladies. Everything about her history so far with him seemed messy and unacceptable.

“I’m so glad you’re with my son,” Mrs. Connelly sa
id softly, noting the uncertainty on Cadence’s face—like she knew exactly what Cadence was thinking and wanted to squash the negative thoughts. “You couldn’t be more perfect for him.”

Cadence smiled. Mrs. Connelly’s words, her tone—they were much too sincere to be misinterpreted.

The ladies spent the afternoon trying their hardest to draw out as many details as possible about Cadence’s relationship with Mark. They peppered her with questions, but she was successful at dodging most. Mrs. Connelly tried to temper the ruthless interrogation, but the ladies wouldn’t have it. They had a right to know, Martha had said, and Cadence still couldn’t figure out that one.

Once everyone was gone, Cadence offered to help Mrs. Connelly clean up.

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Connelly replied. “You’re my guest. And please, Cadence, call me Naomi.”

“I can’t do that,” Cadence said. “That’s disrespectful.”

“I don’t think it is at all. If I did, I wouldn’t invite you to call me Naomi.”

Cadence bit her lower lip before blurting, “I just can’t! That’s not how I was raised.”

Mrs. Connelly smiled. “For heaven’s sake,” she mumbled. “Then call me Ms. Naomi. Better?”

Cadence grinned and nodded.

Mrs. Connelly sat back in her seat and studied Cadence’s face. She could tell Cadence wanted to talk about something, and she waited patiently for her to open the conversation. She already knew what it was about.

“Are you really okay with me dating Mark?” Cadence asked. She averted her eyes, fingering the n
apkin still in her lap.

“Very okay with it,” Mrs. Connelly replied.

“My parents aren’t,” Cadence said softly.

“I know.”

Cadence looked up and shrugged. “I know we should have waited until I graduated, but I still think my parents would have gotten angry.”

“I do, too,” Mrs. Connelly replied.

“Are you embarrassed about the way we met?”

Mrs. Connelly chuckled. “No, honey. And what does it matter what I think anyway?”

“Because I want you to like me.” She wasn’t even bothered that she bared her honesty in such a vulnerable way. For some reason, she trusted that Mark’s mother wouldn’t abuse it.

“Cadence, I like you very much. I mean, I don’t know you that well, but I’m confident that’ll change as we spend more time together. But I already know I like you very much because you make my son deliriously happy.”

Cadence smiled and then her face clouded over. “He has things about his past that he won’t share with me.”

Mrs. Connelly
looked concerned. “I can’t tell you those things, honey.”

“I know. I wasn’t asking you to, but I wish he’d open up to me.”

“He will.”

“When?”

“I suspect sooner rather than later. My question is, will you listen and be understanding when he does?”

Cadence’s heart skipped a beat. What the hell was in his past?

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Honey, don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I know it’s southern and polite and all that, but we’re not going to have that kind of relationship. At least
, I don’t want to have that kind of relationship. ‘Ma’am’ puts us at a distance, don’t you think?”

Cadence nodded. “
Ms. Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“I miss my family. I miss my parents even though dad hit me and mom walked away from me. Is there something wrong with me that I miss the people who hurt me?”

Mark’s mother stood up and walked around the table to Cadence. She took
her arm gently and pulled her to her feet. The two women walked arm in arm towards the house.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Cadence. They’re your parents. And up until a year ago, you had a good relationship with them. It’s normal to miss that. It’s normal to grieve for them.”

Cadence listened.

“I cannot take your mother’s place, but I’ll be the best substitute I can. If you ever need anything. If you want to talk. If y
ou just need someone to listen, I hope you know you can call me.”

“Thank you.”

They reached the back door, and Mrs. Connelly unlinked her arm to open it. Cadence suppressed the urge to reach for her. She didn’t want the connection broken. She felt instantly cold as soon as Mrs. Connelly was no longer touching her.

“Your parents are wrong, honey
,” Mrs. Connelly said, ushering her in. “I think they’ll come to this realization, but I think it’ll take time. Your father has too much pride. Your mother has no backbone.”

“Did Mark tell you—
”

“He told me enough. Please don’t be upset with him,” she replied.

“I’m not.”

“What you have to decide is what
you’ll do once they come knocking for forgiveness.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.” Cadence thought back to Fanny’s advice in the car on their way home from graduation many months ago: “Be quick to forgive. Slow to anger.” But was it wise to forgive her father for hitting her? Was it prudent to forgive her mother for
walking away?

“You need a laugh
,” Mrs. Connelly said, interrupting Cadence’s thoughts.

“I do?”

Mrs. Connelly chuckled and led Cadence to the living room.

“I have all kinds of pictures to show you.”

Cadence brightened. “Of Mark?”

“Oh yes. I’ll show you his childhood, and I’ll let him take care of college and beyond.”

Suddenly, her parents were unimportant. She wanted to focus on Mark’s childhood instead. She and Mrs. Connelly laughed long and loud into the evening, perusing photo album after photo album of a little bug collector, and scientist, and skateboarder, and swimmer. Mrs. Connelly shared stories that Cadence knew would mortify Mark. She tucked them safely inside her heart. They didn’t need to be discussed when she returned home. She was quite content to have them for herself—little treasures that acted like puzzle pieces. She started fitting them together in her mind, happy to see a more complete picture of the man she loved.

“So how was it?” Mark asked
Cadence when she arrived home. “I thought for sure I’d hear from you.”

Cadence grinned. “It was fantastic.” She plopped down beside him on the couch.

“Fantastic?” He looked genuinely shocked and confused.

“Mmhmm,”
she replied.

“Um, lemme get this straight: Hanging out with my mother and her friends was fantastic?
I’m just not sure I heard you right.”

“Y
ou heard me right. Fantastic.”

Mark shook his head and chuckled. “All right then.”

“They’re funny,” Cadence explained. “Plus, they’re sweet.”

“I notice you gravitate towards older people,” Mark said.

“Do I?”

“Well, yo
u made friends with Fanny,” he replied. “Avery is no typical nineteen-year-old. I mean sure, she’s still incredibly immature in some ways, but for the most part, she acts older than her years.”

Cadence nodded, listening.

“You wanted to meet my mother’s friends. Regardless of how scared you were, you still wanted to hang out with them.”

Cadence screwed up her face. “You’re right. Why do I like hanging with older people?”

Mark was quiet for a moment. And then he lightly smacked her thigh once realization dawned. “I know.”

“Share.”

“You’re curious. You constantly want to learn things. I think you’re hoping that if you spend your time with older people, they’ll teach you stuff. You’re like a sponge,” he said.

“Hmm, I never thought of it like that,” Cadence said.

“I like you that way,” Mark went on. “If you weren’t curious about things or didn’t care to learn, I don’t think I could be with you.”

“I don’t think I’d like myself very much,” Cadence added. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not a sponge with everything,” she said. “Remember calculus? I think I stared off into space more than I paid attention
in class.”

Mark chuckled. “Well, that’s because you knew I’d go out of my way to help you. Get you caught up.”

“Not at first I didn’t,” Cadence pointed out. She took his hand.

“Well, maybe not at first
. But Cadence, come on. When I think back to it, my feelings for you were blatantly obvious.”

“No
, they weren’t,” she argued.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Hmm. Well, how are they now?” he asked.

“Blatantly obvious.”

He smiled.

“I gravitated to you as well,” Cadence said. “You didn’t include yourself in that list.”

“You’re right. I forgot all about me.”

“I think I’ve learned a lot from you,” she went on. “I know I’m much younger than you, but I hope that maybe you’ve learned some things from me.”