Madison’s eyes were huge. “Wow,” she said. “There were cameras when you were a little girl?”
Kendra laughed. “Yes,” she replied, “there were cameras. There were cars, too, and airplanes and even TVs.”
Madison pondered all this, the turning gears in her little brain practically visible behind her forehead. “Wow,” she repeated in awe.
After supper, Madison had her bath and put on her pajamas, and Kendra popped a favorite DVD of an animated movie into the player attached to the living room TV.
Madison snuggled on the floor with Daisy, one arm flung companionably across the small dog’s gleaming back, and the two of them were quickly absorbed in the on-screen story.
Kendra, relieved that she wouldn’t have to sit through the movie for what must have been the seventy-second time, set up her laptop on the freshly cleared kitchen table and booted it up.
She’d surf the web for a while, she decided, and see if there were any for-sale-by-owner listings posted for the Parable/Three Trees area. She was, after all, a working real estate broker, and sometimes a well-placed phone call to said owners would produce a new client. Most folks didn’t realize all that was entailed in selling a property themselves—title searches and tax liens were only some of the snags they might run into.
Alas, despite her good intentions, Kendra ended up running a search on Hutch Carmody instead, using the key word wedding.
The page that came up might as well have been called “We Hate Hutch.”
Kendra found herself in the odd position of wanting to defend him—and furiously—as she looked at the pictures.
Brylee, the discarded bride, heartbroken and furious in her grandmother’s wedding gown.
Hutch, standing straight and tall and obviously miserable midway down the aisle, guests gawking on either side as he held up both hands in a gesture that plainly said, “Hold everything.”
The condolence party over at the Boot Scoot Tavern, Brylee wearing a sad expression and a T-shirt that said Men Suck.
Beware, murmured a voice in the back of Kendra’s mind.
But even then she knew she wouldn’t heed her own warning.
After all, what could happen in broad daylight, in a cemetery, with Madison and half the county right there?
“DOES THIS SEEM a little weird to you?” Kendra asked Joslyn on Saturday morning as they helped Opal and a dozen other women set out tons of home-prepared food on the picnic tables at Pioneer Cemetery. “Holding what amounts to a party in a graveyard, I mean?”
Joslyn, who looked as though she might be having trouble keeping her center of gravity balanced, smiled and plunked herself down on one of the benches while the cheerful work went on around her. “I think it’s one of the best things about small towns,” she replied. “The way life and death are integrated—after all, they’re part of the same cycle, aren’t they? You can’t have one without the other.”
Thoughtful, Kendra scanned the surrounding area for Madison, something that came automatically to her now, and found her and Daisy industriously “helping” Hutch, Shea and several of the older girl’s friends from school pull weeds around a nearby scattering of very old graves. The water tower loomed in the distance, with its six-foot stenciled letters reading “Parable,” its rickety ladders and its silent challenge to every new generation of teenagers: Climb me.
“I guess you’re right,” Kendra said very quietly, though by then the actual substance of her friend’s remark had essentially slipped her mind. An instant later, though, at some small sound—a gasp, maybe—she turned to look straight at Joslyn.
Joslyn sat with one hand splayed against either side of her copiously distended stomach, her eyes huge with delighted alarm. “I think it’s time,” she said in a joyous whisper.
“Oh, my God,” Kendra replied, instantly panicked, stopping herself just short of putting a hand to her mouth.
Opal stepped up, exuding a take-charge attitude. “Now everybody, just stay calm,” she commanded. “Babies are born every second of every day in every part of the world, and this is going to turn out just fine.”
“G-get Slade,” Joslyn managed, smiling and wincing at the same time. “Please.”
No one had to go in search of Joslyn’s husband; he seemed to have sonar where his wife was concerned.
Kendra watched with relief as he came toward them, his strides long and purposeful, but calm and measured, too. He was grinning from ear to ear when he reached Joslyn and crouched in front of her, taking both her hands in his.
“Breathe,” he told her.
Joslyn laughed, nodded and breathed.
“It’s time, then?” he asked her, gruffly gentle. His strength was quiet and unshakable.
“Definitely,” Joslyn replied.
“Then let’s get this thing done,” Slade replied, straightening to his full height and easing Joslyn to her feet, supporting her in the curve of one steel-strong arm as they headed for the parking lot.
Opal took off her apron, thrust it into the hands of a woman standing nearby and hurried after them, taking her big patent leather purse with her.
Shea materialized at Kendra’s side with Madison and Daisy and leaned into her a little, her expression worried and faintly lost.
Kendra wrapped an arm around the teenage girl’s slender shoulders and squeezed. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she said softly. “Just like Opal said.”
“They forgot all about me,” Shea murmured, staring after her stepparents and Opal as they retreated.
“No, sweetheart,” Kendra said quickly. “They’re just excited because the baby’s coming and maybe a little scared, that’s all.”
Shea bit her lower lip, swallowed visibly, and rummaged up a small, tremulous smile. “A baby brother will be hard to compete with,” she reflected. “Especially since he really belongs to them and I don’t.”
Kendra knew Shea adored Slade—her mother, his ex-wife, was remarried and living in L.A.—and she also knew that Slade loved this girl as much as if he’d fathered her himself. And Joslyn loved her, too.
“You belong to them, too, Shea,” Kendra assured the girl. “Don’t forget that.”
Madison, perhaps sobered by Shea’s mood—the two had been hanging out together since Madison and Kendra had arrived with Hutch—slipped her hand into Kendra’s and looked up at her with wide, solemn eyes.
“Are babies better than big kids?” she asked very seriously.
Kendra’s heart turned over. “Babies are very special,” she answered carefully, “and so are the big kids they turn into.”
As she spoke, Hutch stepped into her line of sight, and something happened inside Kendra as she watched him watching Slade and Joslyn’s departing vehicle. Opal sat tall and stalwart in the backseat.
What was that look in his eyes? Worry, perhaps? Envy?
Back in high school, Kendra recalled, Joslyn had been Hutch’s first love and he hers. Most people had expected them to marry at some point, perhaps after college, but they’d grown apart instead, from a romantic standpoint at least. They had remained close friends.
She, Kendra, had been his second love.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t stepped