I knew he meant that as well as I knew anything in life. But still, I said, “I insist,” because I was starting to understand that saying yes to Diesel, even when the things he suggested were crazy—heck, especially when the things he suggested were crazy—didn’t just make him happy, they’d made me happier than I’d ever been in my life too.
Diesel spun me around in a circle and pressed another quick kiss to my lips. “Thanks, baby.” He adjusted the straps on my overalls, then patted my chest and tossed me a wink as he walked out the bedroom door. “I’ll grab Biscuit and make sure he’s had his walk before we get in the car. You got Marigold?”
“Absolutely. Diaper bag is packed, and I’ve got her costume ready to go,” I assured him. “Be down in two minutes.”
But after Diesel left, I took a second to look around the quiet room before I followed him down the hall. Early afternoon sunlight poured through the double windows, turning all the trees flame colored, and beyond the tall fence that ringed our enormous yard, I could just make out the roofline of the little house by the junkyard where we used to live, which Diesel was repurposing as an office. In front of the window sat the giant wrought-iron bedframe Diesel had rescued from his own salvage yard and refurbished to fit a king-sized mattress, and on top of that was the double wedding-knot quilt his aunt Dot had sewn just for us.
Taking it all in, I smiled. The room was a perfect representation of Diesel and me. A little bit who we had been, a whole lot of who we were now. A little bit of junk other people had thrown away because they hadn’t seen its value, and a whole lot of beauty stitched together by our family and friends… not to mention, the friends who’d become family.
I grabbed my straw hat off the bedpost, grinned at my own dopey reflection in the mirror, and went to find my daughter.
As I walked down the hall, I could hear her talking to her stuffed animals, which was her usual habit after waking up from her morning nap. It was safe to say Marigold had adjusted better to her being in her own room than Diesel or I had. There were still occasional nights when I felt Diesel get out of bed just so he could check on her, and even more nights when I did the same.
“Hey, girlie!” I said, pushing open her door to find her standing in her crib with her hands on the front rail.
“Pa!” she said delightedly, tiny genius that she was, and she held out her arms for me to grab her.
“’Kay, no fussing now, ’cause we’re on a schedule,” I said seriously, nevertheless taking a moment to inhale the sweet baby smell of her and press a dozen little kisses to her neck. “We’ve gotta get your pretty outfit on, so you can see Uncle Beau, okay, little chickie?”
Marigold Partridge, future Oscar nominee, had learned the importance of looking her best for her public and stayed perfectly still while I changed her diaper and put her Halloween costume on her—for the second time in two weeks.
“Only in this town,” I said, picking her up and sliding the diaper bag on my shoulder, “would they have a second costume holiday halfway between Halloween and Thanksgiving. They’re crazy, but we love them.”
Especially because, as Red Johnson had explained to me a few weeks ago when I thought he was kidding, the whole point of the costume parade at the Gobblin’ was because the kids got so disappointed when Halloween was over.
“Why only have Halloween once a year?” he’d asked me, like this was a perfectly reasonable question, and I supposed in a town where people wagered money on how fast they could run through the woods with a milk pail, it kind of was. “That’s why it’s called the Gobblin’. ’Cause there’s goblins, like the scary things from Halloween, but also gobble gobble, like what turkeys do, and gobblin’ like we’ll all do with all the pecan pie and corn pudding and pumpkin bread the town’ll cook up!” He’d rocked back and forth on his feet, clearly proud of his forebearers’ ingenuity. “That there’s what they call a triple entendre, Parrish.”
“Wow,” I’d said. “That’s…”
“Sophisticated? I know,” he’d said modestly. He’d patted me on the shoulder. “And just think, you’re one of us now!”