Page 54 of Infinite

“We’ll have to set up interviews in Charlotte. Maybe even New York, once we get a few head shots. Oh, Becca,” she gushed. “You’re going to be a model!”

I laughed, giddy. Until she said what she did.

“When word gets out you are a professional model, you’ll have your pick of any young man at the club.”

“What?” I asked.

She stopped listening. “You know that political function we’re invited to every year in Washington? The one the wives of GOP congressmen and senators put together? They’re normally so tired and overdone, but it’s good for connections. One never knows when one might need a favor.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, already fearing where she was headed.

“Families are always invited,” she stressed. “Sons, especially, who are interested in political careers.” She glanced at me. “I never thought you were ready to interact among political giants. But you’ve proved me wrong, Becca June. Now, you have something to offer.”

She meant she had someone worthwhile to offer them.

“This could be your chance to meet your future husband.” She gasped. “One day, you could even become First Lady. Can you imagine?Mydaughter, the wife of the president of the United States.”

My gaze drifted away from my mother and it took all my strength not to break down. Modeling wasn’t my future. I knew it then. In those few minutes in the car with my mother, it became another talent to add to my resume, to make me attractive for a man and a future I didn’t want.

“I don’t want to be a model, Momma,” I told her, immediately crushing her dreams and mine. “Trin and I were just playing. It was a project. Nothing more.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Becca June,” she said. “This is obviously something you’re good at.”

“It was just a stupid game,” I said. “Something to do to pass the time.”

Momma looked back and forth from me to the road. Her shoulders slumped dramatically. “Then why did you waste my time?”

“Your Momma didn’t mean to be so cold,” Trin says, hauling me away from another painful memory. “She just never knew any better. In her mind, she was being a good momma by trying to give you the best chance to meet a good man.”

“But Nana June wasn’t like that,” I tell Trin. “She was more like your momma, caring more about her family than what anyone thought of her.”

“I know,” Trin says. “Our parents have the strongest influence on us. They’re there from the start, molding us into what we’ll become or helping us become something entirely different. The life your momma chose was the right and best one, as far as she was concerned. And because it was, she wanted that life for her child. It didn’t matter that you deserved better. In her mind, she was doing right by you.”

“I understand what you mean, but because of what happened that day and how I gave it all up, I held you back and I feel terrible about it.” I’m not exaggerating. Trin dropped her pursuit of modeling once I told her what happened with Momma.

“No worries, Becca,” Trin says. “It was all for fun and I only had fun when I was doing it with you. Besides, they usually prefer tall women, less freckles, and fewer squats down the runway.”

I want to laugh, but my focus lifts toward the tiered ceiling and the alternating tones of blue and white. Kiawah was supposed to stir memories for Hale. But here I am, watching as they circle my mind. I don’t have great memories of my family, but I always do of Trin.

“Thanks, Trin.”

The front door opens and shuffling ensues as Hale and Tootles load up the van. It’s only when it shuts that I tell Trin about the ring.

“He gave you his momma’s ring?” she asks, her voice quiet and her thoughts drifting her away. “The one his daddy gave his momma the day he was born? Goodness, Becca.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say.

“It was like something,” Trin points out. “You’re getting closer. More so than either of you probably thought.”

“I hope you’re right. I can’t stand the thought of losing him again.”

“Becks . . . you sound so sad.”

“I am. Mostly I’m scared. Hale’s intense. That carefree boy we knew is long gone.”

“Hale was always intense,” Trin reminds me. “I mean, for the most part he was laid back and level-headed, unlike Sean, bless his heart. But when things were serious, be it on that football field or when push came to shove and one of us was hurting, that intensity always slammed its way through like a herd of wild horses.”

“This time it was different.” I try to explain. “You weren’t there, Trin. You didn’t see how he . . .took me.”

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