“Don’t need it.” Matthew stopped and turned around. “I know who I am, what I like, and what I’ll do next time when I’m tired of this one. Like the old saying goes, you can’t change a leopard’s spots, and, Son, you might look like your mother, but you’ve got a big dose of my DNA.”

“Do you ever think about those sacred vows you make when you get married?” Flynn asked.

“Not since I broke the first ones with your mother. They’re just words, but they sure help a fella seal the deal.” Matthew chuckled, and then he disappeared down the path leading back to the house.

Flynn wondered what had happened in his youth that would cause Matthew to be the way he was. Had he inherited some of Nanny Lucy’s ways, so that he liked the euphoric days better than plain-old-living times? Did he even realize that was why he was the way he was? Maybe that preference was why he could never seem to be a real father to Flynn. He had never seen Flynn as a “good time” but as more of a huge, unwanted responsibility.

Flynn stretched out on his back and watched the dark clouds cover the sky for the second day in a row. “I don’t want to be like him,” he whispered, “and I can change. I know I can.”

Nessa had come to Blossom to find peace, and there was the absolute opposite of that standing before her in the form of her father.

“I’ll go outside,” April whispered.

Nessa shook her head and mouthed, “No!”

“Y’all come on in and sit down at the table. I’ve got biscuits in the oven and was just about to scramble some eggs. Even if you have had breakfast, you can have a cup of coffee with us.” Nessa whipped around and headed back into the kitchen.

“I’ll be glad to pour y’all a cup,” April said.

“Yes, please.” Cora pulled out a chair and sat down. “How in the world are all three of you living in this tiny place?”

By the look in her hazel eyes, Cora was tired, embarrassed, and more than a little on edge, but even when she was angry with her husband, she would be submissive, even if it went against every nerve in her body. Nessa knew the signs from her earliest memories.

Just like she remembered, her mother’s narrow shoulders slumped, and she clasped her hands together. No doubt that was to keep them from shaking with anger. True enough, she was a religious woman, but after living with Isaac O’Riley for more than thirty years, she could probably rewrite the book of Job.

Nessa crossed the small place and laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “We manage pretty well.”