Even though she seems to practically have nothing, she’s still willing to share with me what little bit she does have in the form of this homemade lemonade.
I smile as I take the cup from her. “Thank you.”
I take a sip and her warm smile widens, clearly pleased that I’m enjoying my drink. “You’re welcome. I’m Adele. I haven’t had a chance to meet you yet, but I’ve heard good things about you from Iris.”
I lift my eyebrows in surprise to learn that Iris still has nice things to say about me even though I treated her like a complete dick.
I don’t reply to that statement from Adele and simply nod in response, but that doesn’t stop her from going on.
“Iris is a good girl, stubborn, but good,” Adele adds, and I laugh.
“I’ve noticed,” I say as I smile and think about how persistent she has been with me.
Adele sits back down in the rocking chair she was in while I was out mowing and motions to the other wooden rocker beside her. “In my opinion there’s nothing wrong with a woman to have some determination about her. Most people ’round here thought she was foolish for taking off to New York City to follow her dream, but not me. I’m downright proud of her for doing that—not allowing herself to get stuck in this little town like the rest of us did.”
She sighs. “I envy that she was brave enough to do that. I wish I had her guts when I was her age. Maybe then I would’ve seen more of the world than just what Ohio and West Virginia had to offer.”
“You’ve never been outside of those two states?” I ask, amazed that she’s allowed herself to be confined so much her entire life.
Adele shakes her head. “Nope. I was born in West Virginia and I met Earl when I was just fifteen, got married when I was sixteen, and we moved here to Ohio so he could get a job. I’ve been here ever since, but I don’t regret putting roots down. There’s a lot to be said about knowing people in the place you live. Take Iris’s grandma, for example. Gee-Gee and I were the best of friends since I moved here in the late seventies after Earl passed. We helped each other raise our girls, and then when they each had a girl of their own and decided they no longer wanted to stick around and be mothers, we raised their kids.”
I take another drink as my curious brain begins wondering if Iris’s mother was like mine—too into partying to be a mom. “Whatever happened to Iris’s mom?”
Adele curls her fingers under the front of the armrests as she continues to rock in a slow, steady rhythm. “She passed when Iris was about six from a drug overdose. They found her in a bathtub in a hotel somewhere in Florida.
“I worried about Iris for the longest time. Poor thing was heartbroken over her mother. I just thank the stars above that Gee-Gee had already been raising Iris from the time she was in diapers or she might not’ve turned out so great. That can really mess a kid up, you know, watching your mother sink into a downward spiral.”
Isn’t that the truth? I know far too well about that scenario.
Adele waves her hand dismissively. “Enough about all that sad stuff. I want to know more about you. Where’re you from and what’s your story?”
I laugh, knowing there’s no way to get around giving this direct old woman information. “I grew up in Columbus. I didn’t have a biological mother either, she was a lot like Iris’s mom, I guess, but thankfully I was removed from her care and eventually placed with the woman I consider to be my mother.”
“Ah.” She nods. “A foster family. How’d that work out for ya?”
I shrug. “At first I was sent to live with some people who simply looked after orphaned children for the money and didn’t have their best interests in mind. Those homes—they weren’t pleasant in the least, but when I was twelve I met Sarah, and she was the first person who ever took an interest in helping me cope with the loss of my biological mother and refocus my emotions in a positive way.”
“How’d she do that?” Adele asks.
“By showing me that I was an intelligent kid with a future, and she also pushed me to discover my creative side.”
Adele smiles, clearly pleased with my answers. “So you’re attractive, smart, and an artist. I can see why our little Iris has taken a shine to you. If I were a few years younger . . .” She cackles. “You should do right by her, you know. She’s a good girl.”
“I know that,” I say in a low voice. “That’s why I’m keeping my distance. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Son.” Adele leans forward and pats my knee. “You’ll hurt her more if you don’t tell her how you feel and give whatever’s going on between the two of you a chance.”
My lips pull to one side as I consider what she’s saying. Maybe she’s right. I do want to be with Iris more than anything right now. She may accept the fact that I’ve hidden my identity from her fairly easily. Hell, she might even be okay with going on the run with me if Jane Ann and the media get too close on my trail. She might be willing to be my Bonnie if I ask her.
It’s almost as if just by sitting here with Adele and talking, I see things a little clearer. I need to open up with Iris, tell her about me, and then give her the chance to decide for herself if she can handle everything that comes with being with me.
Just then I spot Iris in the window of her trailer, watching me as I sit next to Adele. There’s an odd expression on her face, like she’s doing more than just looking at me. It’s more like she’s studying me . . . like she’s seeing me for the first time.