Page 49 of Downpour

Mom brought over two plates piled high with pot roast, potatoes, and carrots, and set them in front of Brooke and me.

“Thank you, Mrs. Griffith,” Brooke said with the prettiest smile I’d ever seen.

Mom beamed. “Oh honey, just call me Claire or Momma Griffith.”

Brooke’s smile widened. “Momma it is.”

Cassandra gagged. “Oh god. She’s one of those.”

Christian elbowed her, and my nieces laughed, but I kept my head down.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Conversation around the table died when I reached for the fork.

I hated people watching me. It was like waiting for rain. The downpour would let loose sooner or later. Whatever was anticipated was always a disappointment.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. But unlike getting on the back of a bull in a packed arena, I couldn’t block it out.

I heard the little gasp from my mom when I touched the smooth silver fork. I heard Christian stroke his beard. I heard Gracie and Bree whispering to each other, and Cassandra scolding them. I could hear CJ picking at the label on his beer.

It made my skin crawl. My neck tensed. I wanted to get out of there.

Then I felt her.

Brooke squeezed my left hand under the table. Her slender fingers were so soft as they wrapped around mine. She picked up her fork and speared a carrot but never looked at me. “This smells so good. Thanks for saving us some.”

I chanced a look at my mom. She was crying.Just great.

Mom dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “I always set a place for all my kids and make enough just in case. That includes you for as long as you’re with us.”

Behind the privacy of the tablecloth, Brooke’s fingers slipped between mine. “The ranch is so cool. I love seeing all the animals. Mickey’s the sweetest. Why does he have pool noodles on his horns? Do all the cows wear them?”

Christian chuckled, and the feeling of everyone’s attention being on me shifted to Brooke.

I ate quietly while Christian and Gracie told the story of how Mickey became her accidental pet. Gracie told her how Mickey would always escape the herd and wander up to someone’s porch. Brooke’s responding laugh sounded like wind chimes dancing in the breeze as a storm passed.

Her thumb stroking across the top of mine was the break in the clouds. It was the promise of sunshine on the other side.

So I kept my head down and finished my plate. But Brooke never let go.

Mom set a pecan pie on the table and started slicing it up. Bree and Gracie joined in to distribute the plates around the long table.

“Hi, Brooke!” Gracie chirped as she set a piece in front of her.

“Hey, Gracie,” Brooke said, copying her tone.

Bree put a piece of pie in front of me but kept her eyes down and didn’t say a word.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. The fork slipped out of my fingers when I stabbed the pie.

“Bree, I love your hair,” Brooke said as she took a bite.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Bree smiled softly. “Thanks. Cassandra did it.”

“Well, you look amazing.”

Why was the fork so goddamn flat? Why wouldn’t my fingers just fucking work? I felt Christian staring at me as I struggled to pick up the fork.

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