Reinventing Leona by Lynne Gentry Page A

question, somehow holing up didn’t feel normal either. As much as Maddie hated to admit it, having the house filled with people they knew and some they didn’t—that was home.
    “What about our tradition?” Maddie clasped her mother’s knee, hoping Momma would pick up on her silent pleading to put an end to Grandmother’s evil plan. “Does everything have to change?” She waited, hoping for eye contact despite the blur her own tears had caused.
    Momma sniffed, then slowly raised her head. The hint of an understanding smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She used her thumbs to brush away the streams wetting Maddie’s cheeks, dried her own eyes, then lifted her chin to her mother.
    “The kids help me wrestle the bird into a roasting bag the night before. Then early Thanksgiving morning, J.D. pops the heavy thing in the oven so that I wake up to the smell of roasting turkey.” Momma blinked away the moisture rimming her lower lids, excitement mounting in her voice. “About noon folks without much family start showing up. We set up card tables everywhere. The women talk while the men watch football.”
    Feeling the need to get into the game and run interference for Momma, Maddie joined in with all the enthusiasm she could muster. “And then we eat until we think we’re going to pop. Late in the afternoon, Daddy announces it’s time for the parade.”
    “All of us file down to the corner of Church and Main.” Momma’s eyes glistened.
    “For Mt. Hope’s Thanksgiving extravaganza.” Grandmother’s sarcastic tone burst the hot air balloon Maddie and Momma’s reminiscing had filled. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re forgetting that you’ve dragged me to that blasted parade for years.”
    Maddie hoped her cutting stare would slash the ungrateful woman wide open. She’d pack the incision full of the comeuppances forming on the edge of her tongue.
    Momma placed a restraining hand on Maddie’s leg. “Face it, Mother. You love seeing which half of the trailer house Spinner Mobile will have behind their semitruck this year.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    Seizing the opportunity to rub salt in the wound, Maddie added, “And don’t forget the Story sisters riding double and popping wheelies on their lawn and garden tractor.”
    Bursting into laughter, Maddie’s mother clutched her side, then fell back on the opened couch. Tater and Maddie jumped onto the bed and joined in the raucous howling, the fold-out’s springs squeaking agreement.
    “You two laugh while you can, but whether you want them to or not, things are going to change.” Irritation radiated from Grandmother’s lacquered face.
    Reality ripped across Maddie’s chest and silenced her laughter. The words never, never, never charged up her throat, but no sound issued from her lips. All she could do was turn to her mother.
    Momma sat up slowly. The laughter had vanished from her face, her sobered mouth a thin straight line. “I’m sure they will. But not today.” Rising, she swiped the tears gliding down her cheeks, then squared her shoulders for business. She turned to Maddie. “Young lady, get both card tables from the garage. We’ll send David to the church for more chairs in the morning. I’m going to dig that smaller turkey out of the freezer. If we soak it in cold water overnight, we can get up early and get the bird in the oven in time for a late lunch.”
    Admiration swelled Maddie’s heart. Her momma did walk on water, and tonight’s impressive effort was not just some cheap sandbar trick. Grinning ear to ear, she jumped up and kissed her mother’s cheek. As she and Tater Tot pranced past Grandmother, Maddie fought the childish urge to stick out her tongue.
    The family car may have careened over a bridge, but it should come as no surprise to anyone, including Roberta Worthington, that Momma was holding her own against the current.
    * * * * *
    Leona forced open her heavy eyelids. She removed the pillow covering her