“You’re just saying that to make me feel better because my parents died.”
No beating around the bush with this one. “No. I’m saying that because it’s true.” Then decided since they were all going to be together in this for the duration, he’d better let her know what she could expect from him. “I’m guessing you won’t always like everything I say. Some of it might piss you off. Or embarrass you.” He remembered Buck having done just that to Austin a time or two. “But one thing you can always count on is that I mean whatever I say.”
“Okay. Then here’s a question.”
And didn’t that cause the same churning in his gut that sitting in the chute atop Desperado had caused? “Ask away,” he said with fake bravado.
“Are you going to marry Austin?”
“Oops.” Sawyer was saved by a sudden flare-up on the steak side of the grill. Grabbing a bottle of water, he was spraying the flames when Austin showed up.
“Hey, Sophie,” she said. “Would you mind giving Rachel and me a hand with putting the side dishes on the table?”
“Okay,” she said. “Just so you two know that I know what you’re doing. Mom and Dad did the same thing when they didn’t want to talk about something.”
That said, she tossed Sawyer a look. “Later.”
Austin and Sawyer watched as she headed off toward where Rachel had begun carrying the bowls of salads, baked beans, grilled corn, and macaroni and cheese over to the long tables covered in red-and-white-checked plastic tablecloths clamped down at the corners.
“Thanks for the save,” he said.
“You looked as if you’d just drawn Bodacious. I figured someone had to come to your rescue.”
Referred to as both “the greatest bull to ever buck,” and “the most dangerous bull in the world,” Bodacious had been infamous for lowering his head and bringing his rear up, which would force a rider to shift his weight forward. Then he’d lift his huge head up full force, head-butting the rider and smashing his face. After two particularly dangerous incidences, one of which shattered every bone in a rider’s face and required six hours of painful surgical reconstruction, he’d been forced into early retirement. But was later inducted into the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame.
“You know how we thought Jack was going to be the problem?” he asked.
“I believe you thought that. I, however, having been a teenage girl, suspect otherwise.”
“I bow to your superior knowledge and wisdom.” Which he did, with an exaggerated sweeping gesture with the hand holding a pair of barbecue tongs.
“I hope she wasn’t flirting too badly.”
“No. I think you may be right about the crush, but she’s nothing like her friend.”
“Who, in my opinion, is no friend at all but a mean girl. So, what was the problem?”
“She wanted to know if we were going to get married.”
“Oh. Well. I’m going to have a little talk with her tonight. About her mom. I have a gift I want to give her before tomorrow. But if she asks me, I’ll simply tell her that we haven’t even discussed the possibility.”
“Okay.” He began taking the T-bones and rib eyes off the grill to rest.
As he watched her walk over to help Rachel and Sophie, Sawyer assured himself that the fact that she’d so easily brushed the topic of marriage off was a good thing. Still, he found himself wishing that she hadn’t been so damn quick about it.
33
T
HE HOUSE WAS
quiet. Proving herself to be the best friend in the world, Lexi had driven Madison home, Winema had gone home, and Buck had retired to his bedroom. Jack had conked out, proving that even dynamos could eventually wear down, and Sophie had hidden herself away in her room.
Seeing the light still on beneath the door, Austin knocked lightly.
“Come in,” Sophie said.
She was lying in bed, reading a paperback book featuring a teenage girl standing in the middle of what looked to be the rubble of a city, surrounded by flame and smoke. Wondering if dystopian fiction was the best thing to be reading the night before your mother’s funeral, Austin wished she’d thought to have Jenna suggest some YA romances.
“I’m just dropping in for a minute,” Austin said. “I don’t want to keep you up.”
“Like I’m going to be able to sleep the night before we stick my parents in the ground.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk with you about.” Austin took the white box from behind her back. “I brought you something.”
“A funeral present?” Unsurprisingly, she didn’t sound all that thrilled at the idea.
“No. More of a legacy.” She handed Sophie the box. “From your mom.”
Sophie lifted the lid. Lying on a bed of ivory satin that had once been white was a pearl necklace and earrings. “My mom wore these for her wedding.”
“I know. They were the same ones her mother wore. And I happen to know that she hoped that someday, when you got married, you wouldn’t think they were too old-fashioned.”
“Mom said Jackie Kennedy said that pearls were always appropriate.”
“I’d guess that Jackie would’ve known better than most women. Being such a fashionable first lady.”
“Mom said that she was an icon.” Sophie picked up the necklace and ran her hands over the gleaming pearls.
“I thought you might want to wear them tomorrow. In memory of Heather.”
Her young face fell. “My ears aren’t pierced. Mom said I had to wait until I was thirteen.”
“No problem.” Austin lifted them from the silk. “Lexi got the posts taken off for now and replaced with these magnetic clips. You place one on the back, then put the earring on, and voilà. Let me get you a mirror.”
She went over to the small dressing table that had belonged to her mother, which she’d kept in her own bedroom for years after Britta’s departure. The matching silver brush and mirror set had been a wedding present from one of her wealthy Swedish friends. Sophie had always wondered if she’d left it behind because she didn’t want any memories of her marriage. Whatever the reason, every night, until she’d entered high school, Austin had brushed her hair with that brush and felt a little closer to the mother whose face she could no longer remember.
“Oh.” Sophie breathed out a little breath as she took in her reflection. “They’re beautiful.”
“Just like your mom. And you.”
“I wish I hadn’t cut off my hair.”
She wasn’t alone there. “It’ll grow back,” Austin assured her. “And that short pixie cut Lexi gave you really shows off the earrings. And your long neck, which accentuates the pearls.”
“Madison calls it my heron neck.”
Madison is a mean girl who’ll grow up to be a mean bitch
. “It’s a ballerina’s neck,” Austin corrected mildly. “Madison’s probably just envious because she’s so much shorter than you.”
“That’s what Mom called it when I told her what Madison had said.” She ran her fingers over the pearls, which just rested on her collarbone. “That I have a ballerina’s neck.”
“See? I told you that your mom and I think alike. Great minds. And you look so beautiful. I know she’s looking down and feeling so proud.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Sophie broke into deep, gulping, gut-wrenching tears. Austin sat down on the bed, wrapped her arms around Heather’s daughter as she had in the truck by the river, and stayed with her until she’d cried herself out.
After putting the necklace and earrings back in the box and leaving the box on the bedside table in case Sophie would want to look at them again during the night, Austin kissed the top of her head and, trying to walk on silent cat feet, left the room. She paused in the doorway and looked back. Sophie had already fallen asleep.
*
S
OPHIE WAS DREAMING
of riding a dragon across the skies, like Princess Cimorene, youngest daughter of the king of Linderwall from The Enchanted Forest series her mother had bought her for her twelfth birthday.
She was off to fight evil wizards who had stolen her magic pearls and planned to use them to claim the dragons’ Caves of Fire and Night, when she heard someone saying her name.
“Go away.” She had a world to save. She couldn’t be bothered with younger brothers.
“I
need
you.” Jack had taken her arm and shook her so hard she fell off her dragon, landing with a crash onto her mattress.
“What do you want?” she snapped, still caught up in avenging-princess mode.
“You have to help me.”
His plaintive cry for help cut through the dream fog. Sophie pushed herself up. “Are you lonely? Do you want to sleep with me?”
“N-n-no.” He was stuttering. Through tears, she realized. “I w-w-wet the bed.” Looking at his carrot top hung in shame and embarrassment caused Sophie’s heart to melt on the spot. Just like the way evil wizards in her dream had melted when she’d dumped soapsuds on them.
“Don’t worry.” She gathered him to her and hugged him. Hard. “Let’s go back into your room and get you some dry pajamas. And I’ll change the sheets.”
Austin had shown her the linen closet at the end of the hall when she’d first arrived, in case she or Jack might want any more pillows or towels.
She was in the laundry room, hoping to get the sheets washed and dried before Winema arrived in the morning, when Austin walked in. “Jack had an accident,” she said. “But you don’t have to worry. I changed him and the bed, and now I’ll just wash these—”
“You go back to bed,” Austin cut her off. “I’ll start the wash, and Winema can toss the sheets in the dryer in the morning. Is Jack all right?”
“He’s upset. I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Then it’ll be our secret for now. But if it becomes a habit, I will need to know. Not because I’m worried about the bed but because the books I’ve read the past few nights say it’s a typical sign of stress in a boy his age. So, we’ll want to get him help.”
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. She still wished her parents hadn’t died. And she was still mad at God, or fate, or whoever had dropped that stupid boulder on them. But at least she wouldn’t have to take care of Jack on her own. And that, she decided, as she didn’t pull away from Austin’s hug, was something.
34
S
OPHIE HADN’T THOUGHT
she’d be able to sleep the night before her parents’ funeral. Especially after Jack had gotten into her bed with her, crawling beneath the covers, snuggling so tight against her she hadn’t been able to move so much as a toe. But when she woke up, she realized the sun was slipping in through the gaps in the wooden blinds. And she was all alone.
Worried about her brother, she got out of bed and went over to the door, which hadn’t been open after she’d gone back to bed after the bed-wetting incident, and could hear Jack’s voice drifting up from the kitchen. He was, as he always did, bombarding everyone with questions.
And didn’t she have a bunch of her own? All about why her parents had to die. Questions she suspected she’d never get any answers for. It was the suddenness that made things so much worse. She remembered a girl, Amber Cunningham, who’d been in her Brownies troop back in second grade, whose mother had died after a long illness. It had been a long time ago, and Sophie had forgotten what had been wrong with her, if she’d ever even known, but she vaguely remembered Amber missing a lot of meetings to spend time with her mother at the hospital.
At the time, she’d thought it sad and had, like the other girls in the troop, made sympathy cards after the mom had finally died, but the enormousness of it hadn’t sunk in. Because how could it? Because she’d been like Jack, unable to fully appreciate how Amber’s life had so horribly changed. But, although she got it now, at least she thought, Amber had had time to adjust to the idea of losing her mother. It hadn’t come out of the blue, like, literally, a boulder falling from the sky.
Amber’s dad had moved the family back to Vancouver, Washington, shortly after that, and eventually Sophie forgot about her. Now she wondered how Amber was doing. Did she have a new mom? Stepsisters or stepbrothers? Were they just one big happy family like the Brady Bunch?
At least, she thought, Austin didn’t have any kids she’d have to try to get along with. Sophie supposed that was something. But if Austin married Sawyer, they’d probably have kids of their own. Then she and Jack could end up the extras. She knew Austin would try to treat the kids all the same, but wouldn’t she secretly prefer her own to those she got from her friends’ will? Like some stupid random prize in a Cracker Jack box?
Thoughts continued to circle around and around in her head as she got through the morning in a brain blur. It was like those near-death movies, where the person was floating above their body watching things happen. She was aware of people talking to her, and she guessed she was answering them back okay, but none of it seemed real.
Austin had helped her get dressed, and Lexi had put some stuff in her hair that she said would “give it definition,” and brushed some mascara on her lashes, blush on her cheeks, and some stuff on her lips that tasted like cherries and was more gloss than real lipstick. But, as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, she decided that she didn’t look as dead as she felt inside.
“You look beautiful,” the wonderfully familiar voice assured her. The voice she’d kept hearing in her head as she’d rerun seemingly every conversation she could ever remember having with her mother. Even the bad ones. Especially those. “And so grown up.”
She spun around, blinking furiously at her mother, standing beside the bed, dressed in the wedding gown Austin had taken to the funeral home.
“Mom? Is that really you? Are you really here?”
Her mother held up a hand and studied it. Her plain gold wedding band flashed in the sunlight. “It appears I am.” Then she smiled, that slow, beautiful smile that always made Sophie feel like the most special girl in the whole U.S.A. Even the entire world. “We didn’t get a chance to talk before . . . well, you know,” she said. “What happened to your dad and me. So I was hoping that I’d be able to come here today. Just to let you know how much your dad and I love you, and how I know that you’re going to have a wonderful life.”