Page 13 of Long Time Coming

“The man’s got jokes.” I open the front door for her. “It won’t be too late,” I reply, hoping he doesn’t stay up worrying about her.

“He always does.” She slips into the car.

I’m standing there, suddenly realizing we might be going on a date. No. Beck is with us. There won’t be any romance or alone time at all, except the drive home since he’ll be in bed by then. Shit.Is this a date?

I load Beck into the back seat and then slowly walk around. I know what this looks like, what it feels like . . . walks like a duck. Quacks like a duck. It’s a fucking duck.

Running my hand through my hair, I take a breath. It’s not a duck.

She’s coming over because Beck wanted her to. My mom was thrilled to hear she gets to host and see her again. I’m just the driver of the vehicle. Nothing more than a chauffeur. Yeah. That’s good.

I pull open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. When I start the car, I look at her. She whispers, “It’s not a date.”

“Old friends.”

“Speak for yourself, old man. Just friends works better for me.”

“Just friends it is, then.” I put the car in drive and start for the house. Fifteen minutes. What’s fifteen minutes between friends? “Do you want to listen to some music?”

She laughs but keeps her eyes out the window. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Am I that obvious?

I don’t know how I’m going to explain to my best friend that I accidentally took his sister out on a date, but I do know one thing.Baylor’s going to kill me.

CHAPTER 5

Christine

“So pretty,”Tagger’s mom, Mary, says, taking my hands in hers as soon as we walk into the house. “You look so much like your mom.”

Being told I remind everyone of my mom usually feels like a burden since I didn’t want to carry the torch of her life alone. I wanted her to be here with me, and a part of me hasn’t reconciled she’s gone.

If I could have her braid my hair once more, to cradle my face in her hands as she tells me I’m more than she could have wished for, or even just to catch a glimpse of her watching me run my horse in that cloverleaf pattern around the barrels at the rodeo and to feel her comforting arms around me when I made a mistake that lost me the competition.

She was my loudest cheerleader and my broken heart’s confidant. No, it’s not fair she’s gone, and I’m left with features that remind everyone of not only her life but also that she’s gone too young.

“Thank you,” I reply, accepting the compliment. It might still hurt to hear, but I’m glad I have some of her features.

I always saw Mary as someone’s mom, but there’s no pretense or vibe of hierarchy standing with her now. At some point, the kids grow up, and maybe it’s because I have, but I see her as the woman she is as well.

She and Tagger share their grassier green eyes, and her smile is kind, her voice softer spoken, which makes me feel at home in her kitchen. The chill of Mary’s hands after wiping them on a dish towel is in opposition to the warm welcome that lies in her eyes and greeting. Reminds me of my mom when she’d be cooking, washing her hands, and moving to the next task before they could warm up again. “It’s so wonderful to spend time with you again, Christine.”

Her words pull my mind out of the past and into the present.

“It’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been a while. Was it the church potluck or . . .?” My memory might not be serving me well. I thought I saw Mary around sometimes, but now I’m not sure, which makes me feel bad for not checking in on them or even inquiring. We may be a small town at heart, spread out over the county, but I’m usually better at knowing these things. “Last year’s Peach Festival?”

“I think it was the farmers’ market last fall.”

“Oh, that’s right. I don’t work the Greene Farms stand often, but I covered last November when we were short-staffed.”

Spying pots on the stove that appear to need attention, I ask, “Can I help you with dinner?”

“Actually,” she starts with a grin that reminds me of Beck’s when he’s about to get into a little good trouble. “We’re going to let Tag and Justin take over from here.” She goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. “His dad will be out in a minute, and I’m confident my son can manage it until then. As for us, I thought we could catch up out on the porch. That sunset looks to be a beauty tonight.” Looking at Tagger, she asks, “You can handle it, right?”

“Like a pro.” Not a second of hesitation came with his response.

As soon as his mom shuffles Beck out the door with the bribe of a hopscotch, Tag says, “Hey, Pris?”

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