David took the food his mother had sent home with him straight through to the kitchen and set the box on the counter he’d redone in ceramic tile two winters before, after he and Karen Sanchez quit hanging out together. With a considering look at both animals, he picked the box back up, set it inside the cold oven and closed the door. No point in taking unnecessary chances.
Not with his mother’s cooking.
Flipping through his mail, he took a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top and poured a good part of it down his throat. He figured limo duty to the airport and back had earned him a brew or two.
There was nothing in his mail except a couple of bills, a home repair magazine and a check for a saddle he’d sold. Sipping the rest of the beer more slowly, he grabbed a baseball cap and went back outside. He crossed the yard and driveway that separated the house from his mother’s old studio. Beyond the small structure where she had restored rare books were the stable and corrals.
A breeze had come up to stir the hot, dry air, so he leaned on the fence that separated him from his horses and watched them graze while Lulu plunked her butt down beside him, panting softly.
David didn’t usually dwell on the past, but Kim’s arrival had stirred up a slew of memories. For a long time he had blamed the move to Waterloo on his parents’ divorce, and he had blamed that on his mother. Eventually he’d figured out that a combination of things had brought them here and that David himself had been at least partially responsible.
Mothers tended to freak out when you got expelled for taking a gun to school, even when it belonged to your father and you’d only borrowed it for self-protection after being shot at by someone you refused to identify when you were out jogging.
It hadn’t been his fault that some dude from a different high school thought David had been hassling his girl, which he hadn’t. Before he knew what was happening, his mother had decided L.A. was no longer safe, so she had bought the Johnson place, a baby-blue pickup truck and a Stetson with a flowered band.
Well, maybe he was wrong about the hat.
What followed was too-cool teen rebel meets rural hicks and hayseeds. The local kids had taken one look at David’s dyed orange hair with the sides shaved, his pierced ear and retro wardrobe, and avoided him like a bad case of hoof rot.
While he put aside the memories and drained the last of his beer, one of his mares moseyed close enough to see if he’d brought her any carrots. Polly was marked like one of Adam’s Appaloosas, but she was actually a breed called Colorado Rangers.
“Sorry, girl.” He rubbed her outstretched nose. “Maybe next time.”
Her colt, a miniature copy of its spotted dam, approached David warily, its scruff of a tail flipping comically while its ears swiveled back and forth.
Lulu started to rise, so David signaled her with his free hand. She obeyed instantly, haunches lowering back down to the ground, but the slight movement had already spooked the colt. With a squeal of apprehension, Bandit spun away on spindly legs, followed at a more matronly pace by his mama. She looked back at David reproachfully.
“See what you did?” he teased Lulu. “Come on. Time for dinner.”
After he had fed his furry roommates, putting Calvin’s dish up where Lulu couldn’t reach it, he set about microwaving the casserole for his own dinner. Usually eating alone didn’t bother him, but tonight when he sat down at the table, the silence seemed hollow instead of peaceful. Refusing to analyze his feelings, he got up and turned on the TV news so that voices filled the room while he finished his meal.
Kim glanced around self-consciously as she followed her father out of the school auditorium where Sunday services were being held until the new church on Dammer Road was completed. She’d forgotten how most of the congregation always stayed around outside afterward, weather permitting, in order to show off their nice clothes and visit with their friends while their kids ran loose.
The Winchesters were no different. All of them, right down to Uncle Charlie’s new baby in a pink lace dress and booties, were slicked out in their Sunday best.
While Kim stood hugging herself and wishing she was back in her room, unchanged since she’d been a teenager, an elderly rancher in a Stetson and a bolo tie approached her father. He had reminded Emily twice on the drive over that he had a doctor appointment first thing tomorrow, and Kim knew he was counting on being able to ditch his crutches.
“Not without a written note,” Emily had retorted as she parked the car.
A pregnant woman with two toddlers in tow greeted Emily as Jake and Cheyenne joined a group of children in a noisy game of tag. After an hour of sitting still, they had energy to burn. Kim’s cousin Steve and another boy his age were ignoring two girls who strolled by in minis and cropped tops. One of them tossed back her streaked blond hair and they both giggled.
How was it possible that little Stevie was old enough to be interested in girls?
Kim raised tentative fingers to her own short hair. The last time she’d been here, it had been long and straight. She’d worn it that same way all through school.
Despite her father’s strictness, she’d always had a lot of friends, taking her popularity for granted. When David came along, so different from the kids she’d known all her life, she’d felt sorry for him. Soon the two of them were friends and allies.
Now that was all changed, their friendship, her ability to fit in and certainly her confidence. Seeing Steve and his buddies made her feel old and worn-out at twenty-five.
She resisted the urge to touch the scar she had covered with concealer, fiddling instead with the belt of her rose-pink dress. At least the fitted style turned the weight she’d dropped into an asset, but she still felt a wave of unexpected shyness as she darted glances at the knots of people scattered across the expanse of dry brown lawn. Most of them she remembered, of course, but she wondered if anyone recognized her behind her trendy sunglasses.
Melinda Snodgrass, a girl Kim had never liked, was walking purposefully in her direction. Before Kim could figure out an escape, one of her aunts headed Melinda off. The same thing happened when a young couple from her class approached with a towheaded boy riding on the man’s shoulders. Uncle Travis drew them into a conversation before they reached her.
Slowly Kim realized that the other adults in her family had formed a protective ring with her in the center. Apparently they’d somehow gotten the impression that she was still too fragile to deal with people.
Why would they think that unless her dad had been talking to them about her? She stared at him, still deep in conversation. As if he could feel her gaze, he glanced over and raised his eyebrows.
She ought to be annoyed, but instead she felt as though she were standing on the prairie circled by wagons guarding against a renegade attack. Somehow she didn’t figure the people here would appreciate the comparison, but the image made her want to laugh. Quickly she pressed her fingers to her lips before anyone could notice her grin and wonder about her.
“What’s so funny?”
The question, muttered directly into Kim’s ear, spun her around to see David lurking there. Unlike most of the men present, he was bareheaded, the bright sun bringing out the auburn streaks in his dark hair.
“You missed the service,” she said. “Do you always sneak up on people or just me?” Still feeling embarrassed by her melodramatic collapse two days before, she had breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t join them earlier in the family pew.
“I got caught up in something, but I figured you’d all still be here,” he replied. “Now fill me in on what you were grinning about just now, and don’t try to tell me it was old Mrs. Baker’s new flowered hat.”
For some reason Kim found herself blurting out her impression of the Winchesters circling their wagons