Page 100 of Boston
“Hey, fellas.” He released Cora’s hand and gave hugs all around. He fell back to her side. “This is Cora Silver. Cora, a handful of my uncles.” He started with Trace, who stood the closest. “Trace, Denzel, Tex, and Blaze.”
“I’m not an uncle,” Denzel said in a dark tone.
“Oh, you are too,” Boston said. “And his wife, Michelle. They’ve got a couple of kids, and obviously one who’s probably going to come tonight.” He grinned at Michelle, who smiled back.
“From your lips to God’s ears,” she said.
“Who are you calling when you go into labor?” Trace asked. “We’re not that far from you, and neither is Georgia.”
“She’s calling Leigh,” Denzel said.
“Leigh’s too far,” Trace said as he pulled out his phone. “I’m going to text Ev and Georgia.”
“Okay,” Otis said as he returned. “Here’s the wheelchair.” He glanced over to Boston and Cora, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Otis.”
“He’s the fun uncle,” Boston said, and Tex scoffed.
“Are you kidding me right now?” he asked. “I amsothe fun one.” He had to be something besides “the tall one.”
“I thought I was the fun uncle,” Blaze deadpanned.
Cora shook Otis’s hand. “I’m Cora.”
Boston grinned and grinned. “Blaze is the dark horse,” he said. “Trace is the silent observer. Otis is definitely the fun one, and Uncle Tex…fine, he’s pretty fun too. It’s a rotating title, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Blaze said as Tex started to help Denzel into the wheelchair. “Because your daddy is pretty fun, too. I mean, my kids beg to go over to your house.”
“My daddy is not an uncle to me,” Boston said as the group of them started across the park again. “Uncle Jem is pretty fun sometimes.”
Blaze scoffed again. “Yeah, he’s a barrel of monkeys.”
Tex could hear the bopping of balloons from at least a hundred yards away, and he looked down the line of his brothers.
“Who has a knife besides Morris?” Trace asked, his voice laced with menace.
“What is that sound?” Boston asked.
Tex laughed then, and what he’d thought was a good idea in the beginning morphed into a nightmare the closer to the red umbrella he pushed Denzel.
“I don’t have a knife, but I’ve got keys,” Blaze said.
The scene opened up before them, and Tex found his father in an oversized camp chair, a bright, wide smile on his face as he watched his grandchildren run around and play with balloons.
He held two-year-old Ridge on one knee and a can of Diet Coke in his right hand, and he seemed to be living his best life. That made Tex’s heart happy, though the bopping balloons definitely had to stop, and soon.
He positioned Denzel next to Wade, who reached over and held out his fist for Denzel to bump. He did, and Tex figured at least they had each other. Scout settled into the shade, and Tex said, “I’ll go get him some water.”
“Thank you, Tex.” Denzel met his eye and nodded. “Yeah, thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said easily, and he scanned for Abby, Cheryl, and Georgia as he went to get some cold water for Scout.
Jem and Sunny had arrived while Tex had been gone helping Denzel, and he caught sight of Cole introducing Rachel to Grams at the food table. He finally spotted Abby, Dani, Sterling, Georgia, and Cheryl on a blanket about thirty yards away, under a tree they’d expanded to last year.
He’d no sooner delivered the red plastic cup and cold bottle of water to Denzel when someone else called, “Howdy-ho, Tex.”
He turned toward the cowboy voice and found Graham, Laney, and Bailey walking toward him. Love and appreciation zipped through him, and he jogged over to the three of them. They’d become so important in his life, and he laughed as he hugged the trio simultaneously.
“You’re here.” He grinned at Bailey as he stepped back.
