Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(23)
Woodman raised his chin, looking down his nose with wide, furious eyes. “Well, that is just a sorry f*ckin’ coincidence now because I am finished cleanin’ up after you, buddy. Sink or swim startin’ tomorrow, but you’ll do it on your own. I ain’t steppin’ in for you ever again. You ain’t my problem no more, Cain.”
“Josiah—”
“No more,” Woodman repeated firmly, then he turned and walked away.
***
As he pulled into the circular driveway in front of his parents’ white plantation-style mansion, Belle Royale, Woodman looked at the clock on the dashboard. Six fifteen. He had but forty minutes to shower, shave, dress, and find some flowers in his momma’s garden before driving back to McHuid’s. And though, yes, he knew that some part of Ginger might be disappointed that he was taking her instead of Cain, Woodman’s excitement grew with every passing minute because tonight was their first date. And though he wished it had happened a different way, he couldn’t deny that there was no one on earth with whom he’d rather spend his final night at home.
But first, he had to break the news to his parents that he wouldn’t be joining them for dinner. Walking into the house, he beelined through the breezeway to the back patio, where he found his parents sipping a chilled chardonnay and watching the sunset over the rolling pastures behind their estate.
“Josiah!” greeted his mother. “We expected you an hour ago! Go change, dear. Our reservation at the country club is for six thirty. You’ll have just enough time for a cocktail with us before we go.”
She tried to smile at him but sniffled a little, her eyes sad.
“Aw, Momma,” said Woodman, walking through the open French doors and sitting gingerly on the arm of her wicker chair. “Don’t, now.”
Drawing a handkerchief out of her sleeve, she dabbed at her eyes. “I just don’t understand why you’d go and enlist.”
“We’ve been over this,” he said, seeking his father’s eyes for solidarity, but his father took a sip of his wine and looked away, ashing his cigar on the patio bricks. “I wanted to serve. I missed my shot at Annapolis, and I—”
“You could’ve gone to college and done ROTC,” his mother half wailed. “You could’ve gone to Officer Candidate School after you got your bachelor’s degree. But enlist? Like a common—”
“Now, Sophie,” said his father, letting his rocking chair rock forward so he could pat his wife’s knee gently. He looked up at his son. “What your mother’s tryin’ to say is that enlistin’ is fine for someone like Cain, what with his low character and all those danged stunts he pulled in high school, gettin’ suspended every other month and such, but you? You could’ve done your service another way.”
“A safer way,” put in Sophie.
Woodman scowled. “And here I thought you’d be proud of me for servin’ my country.”
“Dang it, Josiah, we are proud of you, boy! Just wanted better for you, that’s all. We’re worried about you.”
Woodman nodded at his father, then put his arm around his mother’s trembling shoulders. “I’ll be home for a few days after boot camp, Momma. And it’s not like I enlisted in the Army or the Marines—they’re on the ground in Iraq. At the very worst, I’ll be on a boat in the Gulf.”
“Pastor Mitchell said a s-suicide bomber could c-crash a plane into a-a boat,” answered his mother, sobbing into her handkerchief.
“Then Pastor Mitchell’s a jackass,” grumbled his father, huffing in annoyance. “What’s he about, puttin’ such ideas in your head? Ain’t he supposed to comfort his danged flock?”
“I know you’re not insultin’ Pastor Mitchell!” said Sophie, clasping her hands together with indignation.
“Don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Sophie,” said his father. “Just sayin’ it ain’t no good puttin’ maudlin thoughts in the boy’s head with him leavin’ tomorrow. Gotta think positive, now.” He stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine out of the bucket where it chilled and refilled her drink before looking at his son. “Go on and change now, son. We’ll head over to the club in a—”
“I’m sorry,” said Woodman, dropping his arm from his mother’s thin shoulders and standing up between them. “I’m not goin’ to be able to join you for dinner.”
“Why, Josiah!”
“But, son, we were expectin’—”
“It’s homecomin’ tonight, and Ginger’s date canceled on her, so—”
His mother’s face darkened. “So you’re takin’ Ginger to the dance. Instead of spendin’ your final night home with your momma, who loves you.”
“Momma, try to understand—she got stood up and has no one to take her. I’m sorry to miss dinner, but I can’t let the young lady sit at home alone if I’m able to be her escort.” His mother’s brows furrowed deeply, but Woodman had made the perfect argument, and he knew it. She gave him a thin smile, and he turned to his father. “Can I borrow your tux, sir?”
“Course, son.”
His mother sniffled delicately, reaching up to wipe away the last of the wetness on her cheeks. “I just hope that gal knows what a treasure you are, Josiah.”