“We couldn’t.” Audrey kept her voice as gentle as the touch she used to guide Tess into her own arms. “He’s lived with his family for a long time, and he would miss all of them a lot.”
“But... I miss...him.” Tess sniffed, her voice catching on her stuttered breaths.
“I know you do.” Audrey kissed her daughter’s forehead.
Mark’s insides twisted as the hidden memories of that touch fought to break free. He shifted his attention back to Tess. “So it upset you when I said you could bring a picture of your pet to put on the wall? It made you miss Bobcat?”
Tess’s bottom lip jutted out and she nodded.
He smiled and wiggled her nose with the tip of his finger. “Well, having a picture of him with you might help you not miss him so much. Or—” he added some excitement to his voice “—remember I also said you could bring a picture of a pet you’d like to have. Anything you want. A cat or a dog or a seal or a zebra.”
Tess’s eyes widened. “Or a dolphin?”
He nodded and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Or a dinosaur! Any animal you want. Think you can find one?”
She nodded and reached for Audrey’s hand.
“You don’t need to bring it until next week, so you have plenty of time to look and decide on one. Okay?” She nodded again. “Okay then. See you tomorrow.” He allowed his eyes to travel from the child to the mom with the same message.
Tess let go, then ran back to her desk and started rummaging through it.
Mark took the moment to ask the question that had been on his mind since that morning. “Could we, ah... Could we talk sometime? In private?” He scanned Audrey’s face, watching for the true reaction that would come right before she settled the mask of hatred in place.
“You can talk to me anytime.” There it was! Just a brief glimpse of wistfulness, but enough that his heart surged with a hope—right before the guilt tamped it down. “As long as it has to do with Tess,” she added pointedly.
Tess ran back to them and thrust a piece of paper toward his face. “I made this for you.”
The shape of a heart drawn with a child’s unsteady hand, colored with a hurried scribble of bright red.
“Thank you, Tess.” He patted the child’s mass of red curls and from the corner of his eye caught the tight look of displeasure on Audrey’s face. Whether it was Tess’s ready affection for him or his pat on her head that caused it, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. “I’ll hang it on my wall.” He pointed to the space behind his desk that proudly sported all sorts of drawings the other children had made for him.
Audrey turned toward the door and was leading her away. The child turned back to wave. “See you tomorrow.”
He waved and nodded.
This was going to take a very long time. But today was the start. With nine more months of school, he had approximately one hundred and eighty more days to win back Audrey’s friendship and the forgiveness he desperately longed for.
Labor Day
“I STILL CAN’T get over how much Tess looks like you, Audrey. Every time I see her, I’m back in grade school again.” Bree Barlow shifted the toddler in her arms to her other hip. “She getting along okay? She seems to have adjusted well to the move.”
Audrey craned her neck to check on her daughter’s whereabouts, finding her at the picnic table with a group of children whose faces were shiny and wet—and no doubt sticky—with watermelon. “Yeah, she’s doing great. And I can’t deny she’s a mini-me although I see a lot of her dad’s personality in her.” She reached out and stroked a finger down the tiny face resting on Bree’s shoulder. “Isaiah’s precious, too, and what a big boy!”
Bree nuzzled her nose into his hair and kissed the top of his head. “He’s a handful—literally. I may have to grow another set of arms when the other one gets here.” She patted the bump on her tummy.
“Two children under the age of two.” Audrey shook her head in mock sympathy. “What were you thinking?”
Her friend laughed and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Thinking had no part in it.”
Audrey laughed, too, and fanned her face, which flushed at the innuendo and the heat of the late-afternoon sun. It was nice to have time with Bree again. Although a couple of years older, she’d taken Audrey under her wing when they’d been cheerleaders together in high school. And she’d been a godsend when Win died. Having lost her dad two years earlier, she knew exactly the right things to say.
But today wasn’t the time to dwell on sad events. Days like this, full of celebration and mingling with old friends at the park in the center of town, confirmed to Audrey that she’d made the right decision moving back. The resort where they’d lived in Florida had been a small community, but it wasn’t the same as being home. Everyone there had relocated from somewhere else—an eclectic blend of accents from around the world, which was great. But people from Taylor’s Grove sounded mostly alike—Southern drawls with a heaping side of western Kentucky twang for flavor. Today, it tasted especially delicious.
She checked to make sure her mom was still doing okay and spotted her sitting on the bench under the gazebo, surrounded by women whose faces were probably familiar though most of the names forgotten. They’d all been so wonderful the past couple of weeks, volunteering to keep an eye on her mom while Audrey moved in and got things set up. She’d even been able to get a little work done—but not much.
When she’d started keeping the books for the RV resort owned by her then-husband Alex’s family, she hadn’t meant for it to become a vocation, but picking up a few other businesses as clients had turned it into a part-time job. Since everything was done on the computer anyway, all her clients had chosen to stay with her when she told them about the move to Kentucky. The business-from-home setup was working out perfectly so far, even if much of it was done during late-night hours when Mom and Tess were asleep.
“I think I’m ready for some ribs.” Bree sniffed the air. “You hungry yet?”
Audrey nodded, suddenly aware of the smoky flavor that was making her mouth water. “I’m always ready for barbecued ribs.”
The rib competition had grown to fourteen competitors this year, with barbecue grills set up along the outside edge of the park, all in a row, and each one manned by someone who boasted that his were the best.
Tank Wallis had won the competition for the past seven years with his secret recipe of dry rub that made you want to lick your fingers, yet burned your tongue when you did. But that he claimed domination didn’t stop the others from trying. Word was Bree’s father-in-law, Cyrus Barlow, might just topple the crown from Tank’s head this year.
“Are you hungry, Mom?” Audrey made a stop on the way to the grills.
Her mom tilted her head in question. “Must I order now?”
“Only if you’re hungry.”
“I’ll have spaghetti with two meatballs then, please.” Her mom folded her hands demurely into her lap.
“I think we may be all out of spaghetti and meatballs today, Helen.” Patti Stroud, owner of the Grove Diner, spoke up. “We’ve got some really good ribs and potato salad, though. How does that sound?”
“I’ll have two racks of ribs, a pint of potato salad and a pint of slaw. To go, please.” Her mom’s hand rested at the base of her throat. “My family has such big eaters.”
Audrey met the surrounding sad looks with a shrug. Nobody had said