what have you, have scattered and mixed the bones. So my job is to figure out what they are and which ones belong where.”
“Do you assemble them?”
She shook her head. “Not unless there’s an extraordinary find. No, mostly we catalog and put them away for safekeeping and later study. It’s not like we know everything.”
“Matt would probably love a trip to see dinosaur bones.”
She smiled. “I’m sure he would. And this summer there’ll probably be several digs going on around this state. Wyoming is a great place for fossil beds. He could see someone pulling them out of the ground...if he has the patience.”
“I’ve read about that. Just never thought about taking the time. Guess I should.”
A silence fell, and she felt awkward about it. With people she knew, silences could be allowed, but she didn’t know this man that well. “You don’t have to entertain me,” she nearly blurted.
He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. “That goes both ways. Besides, once he finishes his homework, Matthew will take over the entertaining. You’ll probably be begging to go to your room for some solitude.”
A laugh trickled out of her. “I’ve hardly met him, but he seems high energy.”
“I’ve often wished we could tap some of that energy for ourselves as we get older. It’s amazing. He can wear me out sometimes.”
“All kids are like that, right?”
“I would worry if one weren’t.” He glanced at his watch. “Want to move into the living room? I’ve got an hour before I need to start the rest of dinner. We could check in on how bad the storm will be.”
She was agreeable and followed him into another tasteful room. His wife was a living presence here, she realized. In a good way. She had created a comfortable, lovely home.
He flipped on the wide-screen TV to the weather station. Whatever else had been in the programming had given way to a nearly breathless description of the storm that bore down on them, complete with advice not to travel and to stay inside if possible.
“These are going to be killer temperatures,” the woman reciting the weather said. “Not a time to decide to make snowballs, kids, or a snowman. You could leave your fingers behind.”
“Or worse,” Tim said. “Do you remember when you were a kid living on a ranch?”
She looked at him. “Earl’s been talking?”
“Earl knows darn near everything. Like the sheriff. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t share things that are personal. Is it some kind of secret that you lived on a ranch?”
She shook her head but felt the memories jar her again, just as she thought she’d managed to put them away once more. “I just don’t remember very much of it. I was seven when we moved away, so all I have left are snatches. Why?”
“I just wondered how many cold mornings you stood at the end of your road waiting for the bus. Do you remember those?”
“One or two,” she admitted. “It was just me, of course, but when it got really cold my dad would drive me to the stop and we’d wait together. Once the snow was so deep he couldn’t drive me, so he forged ahead of me so I could walk.” She smiled faintly, enjoying the good memory of her father. “I remember how the snow was practically up to his waist. Behind him I was walking through a tunnel.”
Tim smiled. “We don’t often get snow that deep right here. It tends to fall farther east because of the mountains.”
She nodded, not really caring. Her only agenda was to get this house out of her hair and go home. Then she remembered Matthew. “He’s taking a while with his homework. I thought he said it was just a little bit.”
“Compared to what he usually has, it probably is. But he knows I’m going to check it, and he doesn’t want to be sent back to fix his mistakes.”
That drew another smile from her. “He’s a cute kid.” And he was. He could have been included in a Norman Rockwell painting.
“I think so. Of course.” He looked toward the windows, as it sounded as if someone had thrown sand against them. “Ice pellets. It’s begun. I need to go pull the curtains to keep this place warmer.”
He closed the ones in the living room first, a deep burgundy that complimented the dark blues in the furniture and was picked up in the area rug centered on the floor. She sat by herself with the TV weather running at a quiet volume, the forecaster clearly happy to have something interesting to report.
The journey that had brought her here was certainly an odd one. She’d never expected, nor had she ever intended, to see this town or this county again. Not because anything so bad had happened to her, but because of the aftermath of what had happened to her family.
All she remembered of that time was having to move, leaving most things behind, but also leaving her friends behind. She remembered having friends back then. Not the kind of reserved friendships that came later in her life, but she’d known other people, other kids. Whisk—they were gone.
Changing schools, changing lives and listening to her father’s endless bitterness. He’d turned some of that bitterness on this town and county, on the people he had known here, people he was sure were making fun of him or looking down on him.
After that move, and several others that followed, Vanessa had begun to feel like a visitor in her own life, ready to move on at a moment’s notice.
But she didn’t want to think about that now. Anyway, she’d been round and round about it all for years before she decided to put it away. The past couldn’t be changed, and concentrating on it seemed like a waste of time.
So coming back here? That seemed like a step backward, a step in a direction she didn’t want to go. Being here would resolve nothing, but it had sure stirred up a lot of unpleasant feelings and memories.
Whatever had Bob Higgins been thinking? Once upon a time she’d called him “Uncle Bob” and played with his children in that very house. Then her father had told her endlessly and repeatedly what an awful man Uncle Bob was, how he’d stolen everything from her family. She’d learned to hate him.
Now that house. It didn’t make sense, and she guessed she would never understand. She just had to find a way to dump it as quickly as possible. Get back to her normal life.
All of a sudden, Matthew came bouncing into the room. “All done! Daddy says it’s okay so I can come talk to you.”
She shook herself out of her reverie and summoned a smile. “You were going to show me your book.”
“Later,” he said decisively. “Daddy says you work with dinosaur bones. Are they really big?”
She liked his enthusiasm. “Some are huge. As long as this room. The ones I like best are the small ones, though.”
“Why?” He scooted onto the other end of the couch.
Why? How to explain that to him. “Everyone loves the big bones,” she said slowly. “And they’re easier
