The Midnight Rider Takes A Bride. Christine Rimmer
Jed didn’t waver. “Look, Charity. Tiff wants to be with me. And I can take care of her. And with Adora helping out, we’ll get along just fine.”
Charity glared at him long and hard, trying to break him with a look. It didn’t work. So she brought out the big guns.
“Let’s be frank here, Jed Ryder. You aren’t fit to raise a child.”
Tiff let out an angry cry. Jed soothed her. “Shh...” Then he met Charity’s venomous glare once more and advised, softly as always, “Don’t go too far.”
Charity’s nostrils had gone dead white. She sucked in a big breath through them and then announced sanctimoniously, “I most certainly will go too far. I’ll go as far as I have to go.”
Morton, looking anxious, actually stepped forward. “Charity, maybe we—”
Charity shot a murderous glance his way. “Shut up, Morton. This has to be said.” She rounded on Jed once more, her lip curling in disgust. “It’s an absolute outrage, Jedediah Ryder, that you could even imagine you’d be allowed to take care of my brother’s child. I’m warning you now—”
But Jed had heard enough. “That’s it. Get out.”
Charity barreled right on. “I will not stand by and let you ruin that child’s life.”
Jed took one step forward. “I said get out.”
Charity sneered. “You are a rude creature. A disgusting, irresponsible—”
Morton scooted between Charity and Jed and grabbed his wife’s arm. “Charity. We’ve been asked to leave.”
“Don’t touch me.” She slapped at his hands. “We have a duty to my brother’s child.”
Jed was through talking. He advanced on Charity.
She gasped, whirled and fled to the door, Morton at her heels. Once there, she couldn’t resist a parting shot. “This isn’t the end of it.”
Morton shooed her over the threshold and pushed her down the steps and along the walk. Adora slid forward and shut the door, resting her forehead against it once it was closed, thinking that she had never in her life been so relieved to see anybody go.
“Thanks.” It was Jed’s voice.
Adora turned to meet those cloud-colored eyes and felt warm all over at the pure gratitude she saw in them. “Hey, what are friends for?”
Tiffany looked up at Jed. “I don’t want to go with her. I couldn’t stand to go with her. She always treated Mom like she wasn’t good enough to be married to her precious brother. And she doesn’t really even care about me, I know it. She only cares that you and me don’t get to stay together.”
Jed shook his head. “There’s nothing she can do.”
“But she said—”
He waved her fears away. “Don’t stew about it, Tiff. With Adora looking out for you during the day, we’ve got it covered. Charity’s threats are empty ones, I promise you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m dead positive. Now, we have enough to worry about as it is. So let’s forget about your Aunt Charity.”
Tiff closed her eyes and sighed. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am right. Stop worrying.”
Though no one felt much like eating, Adora stayed to cook dinner. As she put together the simple meal, friends and neighbors started calling to offer condolences and aid. Adora handled most of those calls, soothing people, telling them briefly how Lola had died and promising to call them back if there was anything at all that they could do.
After the dishes were cleaned up, Jed, Tiffany and Adora wandered into the living room. Jed and Tiff sat on the couch, and Adora took one of the easy chairs. They began to talk about Lola, remembering the best things about her: her laugh, her generous heart, how sensitive she’d always been to the way other people felt. Tiff and Adora cried some, as they all tried to deal with the fact that someone who had been so much alive that morning was now gone for good.
“I still feel like she can’t be gone,” Tiff admitted.
“Me too,” Adora agreed. “It seems like any minute she’s going to walk in that door.”
It was well after dark when Tiff rose from the couch. “I think I’ll just go on to bed now.”
Adora pushed herself out of the easy chair and held out her arms. Tiff ran to her.
“I’m glad you were here,” Tiff whispered as she hugged Adora close.
“Me, too.” She cupped Tiffs sweet face in her hands and looked into those soft, dark eyes. “I’m going home now.” Gently she smoothed Tiff’s silky hair. “But I’ll be back in the morning, to fix you some breakfast. Okay?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Once Tiff had disappeared down the tiny central hall, Jed walked out to the porch with Adora. They stood for a few moments, there in the darkness, listening to the crickets and one lonesome frog croaking forlornly somewhere out on the lawn. Eventually Adora felt Jed’s pale gaze on her and turned enough to give him a smile.
He asked, “Do you think I did the right thing?”
She leaned against one of the four posts that held up the porch roof. “Deciding to keep Tiff with you, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
She thought of the Laidlaws, of their settled, middle-class life. They’d already raised two daughters, so it was a job they were familiar with. And Morton was a nice enough man, a retired dentist who had closed his practice in nearby Portola just a few years ago. Adora and her family, like most folks in Red Dog City, had always gone to Doctor Laidlaw when they needed dental work. He knew how to administer a shot of novocaine so you barely felt it.
Jed was chuckling. “Don’t answer. I can tell by your face.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “What?”
“You have your doubts about me.”
“Actually, I was thinking about Morton Laidlaw. That he’s a nice man, even if he is married to Charity.” She grinned. “You know what Reggie Kratt says about him?” Ancient Reggie Kratt ran Kratt’s Hardware, over on Commercial Row.
Jed knew. He put on a voice like Reggie’s. “‘That man is more than henpecked. He’s henhammered, and it’s a cryin’ shame.‘”
Adora laughed, and Jed did, too.
Then they fell silent. That frog started croaking again. Jed hitched a leg onto the porch rail. “So why did you volunteer to help me out?”
She looked out toward the street. “I don’t know, exactly.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Well...”
“Tell it like it is.”
She met his eyes again. “Tiff wants to be with you.”
“And?”
“There’s more to raising a child than being respectable.”
“Good. ’Cause most people would say I come up zero in that department.”
“Charity’s...well, I’d hate to have to live with her.”
“And?”
She sought the right words, but didn’t find them.
He urged her on. “Spill it.”
“Charity reminds me of my mother.” It was out before Adora really considered how it would sound. She hastened to amend, “I