wearing a completely different dress. I thought I saw Cammie running back and forth from her trailer with a black dress, but I had no idea it was for Jo. What did my sisters do to her?
She looks shaken up, so I cross over to her, offering her a beer.
“What happened to the yellow dress?” I ask, eyebrow raised. “Did my sisters do something?”
“I spilled spaghetti sauce on it,” she says, but I know there’s more to that story she isn’t telling me.
I take her hand. “You okay?” I whisper.
“I’m fine,” she says, but there’s an edge to her voice that wasn’t there earlier.
“You can tell me if you’re not,” I say. “I know my sisters can be a little hard to take in a group like this. If you want to go, we can scoot anytime. Just say the word.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “I would never ask you to leave your family’s party,” she says. “You’re the guest of honor. Besides, it’s honestly no big deal.”
“Well, you look beautiful in black, too,” I say, kissing her cheek.
The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. The family gathers around the picnic tables, the fire roaring and the stars above us decorating the sky. Everyone is drinking and laughing and having a good time, and I’m glad to see Jo begin to relax into the evening.
Whatever must have happened earlier with my sisters seems to have left her mind now, and she’s laughing and getting to know my family better with each passing hour.
Eventually my sister Caroline brings out a guitar and begins to play.
My mom stands next to her and puts a hand on her shoulder, their voices mingling in two-part harmony, the only other accompaniment the sound of the fire crackling a few feet away.
Under the table Jo takes my hand and squeezes. She leans against my arm and I kiss the side of her temple. Everyone grows quiet, listening as the women finish out a popular hymn.
Jack brings out his banjo when they’re done and West grabs his drum. I blush when Jo looks over and raises an eyebrow.
“Is it always like this?” she asks.
“On birthdays and special occasions? Yes,” I say. “Should we just go?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says. She snuggles closer, wrapping her arm in mine. “I like it.”
We sit together, swaying to the music as my family sings all our classic songs. It’s a mix of church music, country, and a few classic oldies like The Beatles and Bob Dylan. I realize how eclectic and strange my family must seem to her, but Jo is happy and smiling, her cheeks pink from the cool night air.
There’s a lull in the music and my sister Cammie begins singing an old gospel hymn.
“Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me, and that thou bidst me come to thee, Oh Lamb of God, I come. I come.”
To my surprise, Jo joins in, her voice quiet and soft, like an angel.
“Just as I am and waiting not, to rid my soul of one dark blot, to thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, Oh Lamb of God, I come. I come.”
When I glance over, there are tears in her eyes, as if the words mean more to her than I can comprehend. My mother joins in harmony, walking over to where we sit. She places her hand on Jo’s shoulder and together, all the women sing the song that reminds me of years gone by, hours spent out here by the fire with family.
I think of my grandfather and how I wish he could be here with me this year on my birthday. How I wish I could tell him one last time just how much I love him. How much he did for me growing up.
I don’t feel worthy of this moment. This happiness. What have I ever done to deserve such a good life?
Later, when the singing is done and Jo has once again disappeared inside to help clean away the plates and say goodnight to my sisters, I sit staring at the fire, wondering what my future holds. How long can I really keep this up? This role of the perfect boyfriend, always supportive and loyal and committed?
I want to be my best self, but there’s a part of me that suddenly feels anxious and scared.
Jo fit right in with my family, and they’ve all been so eager to pair me off. To figure me