Page 5 of Shine On Oklahoma

Thatsmile was real. “Sixty-two, redand white drop top. It’s my most prized possession.”

“I bet it is.” He wondered what poor slobshe’d taken for such a sweet ride, but he took the keys withoutasking and headed out to the parking lot to get her bags. Notbecause he was falling into her sticky, deadly web again, butbecause he hadn’t been raised to tell a girl to go get her own damnbags.

And because he wanted to get a look at thatcar.

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Kendra drove out to the place where she’dgrown up playing in wildflower meadows with her twin sister andthinking life would always be just that sweet.

She barely remembered her mother. Kileydidn’t either, but she’d built a pretty convincing version in herimagination—equal parts sixties sit-com supermom and angel. ButDiana Kellogg hadn’t lived to see her twin daughters’ fourthbirthday, and she couldn’t have been too angelic. She’d marriedJack, after all.

Kendra’s heart twisted up a little as shethought of her father. In her head she saw his smile, the one thatcould charm the panties off a nun, the deep dimples, the sparkle inhis light blue eyes.

He’d better be okay.

She glanced into the rearview mirror. Dax’sangry, snarling Charger came right behind, like a bright orangetiger stalking a deer, ironically, driven by the sweetest guy inAmerica. Or at least he used to be. He seemed bitter now, wary, butwhose fault was that? She firmed her jaw, caught a gear, pressedharder on the gas.

A few miles west of The Long Branch, she tooka right onto Pine Road. She’d never seen the irony in the nameuntil she’d lived in the northeast for a while. You couldn’t getfive minutes outside NYC before the majestic conifers showed up,carpeting every rolling hill and tall enough to tickle the sky.What passed for a pine tree here was like a New York pine tree’sbotched GMO experiment. One of the freaky ones that would have tobe mercifully put down.

It was different here. Flatter, and wider,and hotter. And the pine trees were crooked and short, likearthritic old men.

The road was familiar, unwinding between widemeadows and harvested fields. The grasses were tall and spottedwith orange Indian Paintbrush and yellow dandelions, even inmid-November, all of it swaying in the breeze like a slow-motiondance. The sun hung low. Every now and then, a sunbeam bounced offthe Cimarron, at the far edge of the green dancing meadow, andflashed bright yellow in her eyes. It was fall. And she washome.

“What a sentimental pile of horse shit.” Sheturned left into the driveway, under the big HOLIDAY RANCH arch,past the barns, all freshly painted red with white trim. They’dcleared out the barnyard that used to be in front of the smallerbarn, dozed it flat and added gravel to make a parking areasurrounded by a split rail fence. The big barn had been modified,and looked almost new. There were horses grazing in the fields thatstretched between the barns and the river, colts kicking up theirheels where Kendra and Kiley used to play.

They’d painted the house too, white with redtrim, and a white picket fence surrounded it now.

“It must’a looked so pretty once,” a littlegirl’s voice said in her memory. And she was there, right there,near that corner fencepost, with Kiley, who held up a rotted pieceof rail that was still clinging by a single nail. “I bet it wentall the way around.”

“We could fix it, maybe,” Kendra had said,her head full of visions of how nice it would look. Visions thathad been quickly shattered, when her father put his two cents in.“And how you gonna get the funds for it, Kendra? Who’s gonna buythe boards and the nails and the paint? Not me, I’ll tell you that.You gotta start thinking about things like this now, so you don’tgrow up all dependent and needy. You gotta figure out how to makeyour own way in this world. No one’s ever gonna do it for you.”

She sighed and snapped her attention back tothe present, to the white picket fence around the house, and theshutters with the little heart-shaped cutouts. They’d replaced theold, rotting window boxes with new ones, painted red to match thebarn, all of them overflowing with orange and yellow flowers.

It was as pretty as two little girls had oncedreamed it could be.

The front door opened, and Kiley cameoutside. Her belly was as big as a beach ball. Her hands rested ontop of it, and its weight pulled her back into a gentle arch.

Kendra hit the clutch and brakes and satthere in a cloud of red Oklahoma dust, staring. “What the—”

A softbeep beepfrom behind made herblink. Swallowing hard, she eased the stick into first gear andfound a spot to park.

Her sister was pregnant and she hadn’t toldher.

Kendra didn’t like the way that hurt. Shedidn’t do emotional shit, so it was uncomfortable to feel as if ahot blade had just slipped cleanly between her ribs and rightthough her heart. A blade held by Kiley.Kiley! Thegoodtwin.

She shut the car off and got out, taking aridiculous amount of time to adjust her handbag over her shoulder,and clip her keyring into its spot inside.

Then, vaguely aware of the Charger rumblingto a stop nearby and shutting off, and of its door opening andclosing again, Kendra walked toward the house where her sisterwaited.

Kiley looked worried behind her welcome-homesmile.

Kendra walked a little faster, her anger likea weighted blanket, laid over the hurt. Anger was much morecomfortable to her. No way was she going to let the sunshine, thebreeze, and the combined smells of horse, hay, and river sooth herindignation away.

When she got close enough, she stopped,crossed her arms over her chest involuntarily. “How could you nottell me?”

Kiley’s smile died. She looked down, lookedup again, sighed. “You want to do this now? Don’t even want tocatch up first? See what we’ve done with the place? Tell me whatyou’ve been up to?”

“Why, Kiley?”

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