when roasted over an open fire.”
“Popcorn?”
“Well, sort of. I don’t think they’re going to replace Orville Redenbacher anytime soon, but they’re…crunchy and full of protein.”
He stared at her for a moment before breaking into a loud guffaw that took her by surprise. At first she felt defensive, but once she realized he wasn’t laughing at her but rather at the very odd conversation turn, she joined him. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry…that was a really weird thing to say at a wake….”
“Hey, no need to apologize. I totally understand.” The warmth of his voice told her somehow he did understand and she relaxed for the first time since touching down in California. She missed this feeling and it was tempting to sink into it, but she knew it was created out of extreme circumstances. What they’d had was gone. She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that they could ever recreate what they’d both destroyed.
The splash of reality drowned the good feelings she’d been enjoying and brought her back to earth.
He’d married Carrie, and Tasha had run away, afraid of what people would say, think or feel when they found out what had happened to Emmett’s Mill’s sweetheart. An even worse thought would’ve been if they didn’t believe her.
Her own father hadn’t. Why would anyone else?
It’d been easier to run. And, as she sat beside Josh, she realized she’d never truly stopped running.
He didn’t know what happened that night; he’d already left Emmett’s Mill with Carrie to start a new life without her.
Even so, she’d cried his name into her pillow, wishing for his strong arms to calm her quaking body and chase away the nightmares that came every night, no matter how hard she pushed herself, hoping for oblivion.
But that was long ago and she was a different person now.
And she would die before she ever divulged to anyone, much less Josh, what had happened to her.
CHAPTER THREE
TASHA HELPED CLEAR DISHES with her sisters, her mind a jumbled mess, happy to avoid conversation with her father, though a surreptitious glance in his direction where he sat stone-faced and bereft should’ve told her he was in no shape to resurrect old arguments. For that matter, neither was she.
“I think that went fairly well,” Natalie said, loading the dishwasher while Tasha hand washed what wouldn’t fit.
“As well as a wake can go, I suppose,” she murmured, pausing to rub wearily at her left eye with her wrist and sneaking another glance at her father.
“Where did such a weird custom start, anyway? Bringing food to a bunch of grieving people. Stupid, if you ask me,” Nora said, mostly to Natalie, who to her credit only reacted with a long-suffering look. “I, for one, didn’t feel like chowing down after my mother’s funeral. Morbid. Simply morbid.”
The last words were delivered as she stalked from the room to gather the rest of the leftovers, and Tasha was glad for the respite. She hadn’t remembered Nora being such a hothead.
“You sure you don’t mind hand washing?” Natalie asked, drawing her attention.
“I can do this in my sleep. No dishwashers where I’m stationed,” she answered with a sigh, placing the cleaned pot on the dish rack and proceeding to the next. “Besides, it feels good to do something. Makes me feel useful.”
“You were a big help today,” Natalie said, brooking an amused smile on her part. Nat was always trying to make everyone feel better. Tasha accepted the compliment and finished with the dishes. Silence stretched between them and Tasha tumbled into an odd funk that probably had more to do with her jet lag than her grief, as the true measure of that emotion hadn’t quite hit her yet.
Her two younger sisters had grown into strong, capable women while she was away. Not that she’d doubted they would, but Nora was still in high school and Natalie was in her sophomore year at UC Davis when she left, and Tasha hadn’t been thinking about the future, theirs or her own. She’d run away with little thought to anything but escape, and while she’d been running, time had kept moving. She stole a glance at her sister and withheld the bitter sigh trapped in her chest with the rest of the terrible and awful things she kept hidden away.
A tear slid down her nose before she could stop it, and a wave of sorrow threatened to knock the strength out of her legs. Bracing herself against the sink, she prayed for the ability to get through this moment before Natalie noticed the breakdown that was surely heading her way. Breathe. Just breathe. But a sob caught in her throat and an ugly sound escaped.
“Tasha?”
Turning away, she closed her eyes, but the action only squeezed out the tears she was trying to hold back. “I need some air,” she managed to say before bolting from the room. Flying past Nora, who was just returning with more empty plates, she stepped into the darkness and embraced the frosty air as it penetrated her clothing and caressed her skin.
Sinking to the front porch step, she wrapped her arms around herself, more for reassurance than warmth, and fought to stay focused. Her breath came in painful stops and starts as she willed the hurt away. She was too old to keep saying it’s not fair, but that didn’t keep her from thinking it over and over. Wiping at the tears that felt frozen to her cheek, she stared up at the sky and wondered if her mother was up there somewhere. And if so, was she looking down at her eldest daughter with a sad frown on her face? Wondering how her brightest star had winked out within a heartbeat?
She dropped her head to rest on her knees and tried curling into a ball. I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier. I would’ve been here for you. Fresh tears slid down her cheek and her gaze was lost on the darkened landscape of her parents’ home. She drew a shaky breath and buried her face into her arms.
Oh, Mama…I’m so sorry.
JOSH GRABBED A POT HOLDER and pulled the smoking mess out of the oven just as Christopher’s lanky form rounded the kitchen corner to lounge against the wall. Damn.
“Another one bites the dust?”
Pot holder covering his mouth as he coughed and sputtered, he gave his son a short nod. “Looks like pizza again. Sorry, buddy.”
“Fine by me.” Christopher sent a dubious look toward what had started out as Tater Tots casserole but had ended charred and dangerous, and said, “Did that even start out worth eating?”
Josh wrinkled his nose at the concoction and pursed his lips. “Dunno.” He swung around to give his son a grin. “But I get points for trying, right?”
“Sure, Dad,” Christopher said, cracking the first grin Josh had seen on his son’s face since they moved. Christopher pivoted on his heel and Josh followed him out of the kitchen, glad to leave behind the burning wreckage and needing to see how Christopher was adjusting.
“So, you getting used to the new school yet?” he asked, rubbing at the sting in his eyes and blinking hard until his vision cleared. “Everything okay? No one’s giving you any trouble?”
“It’s ,” Fine
