Jace had thought that he might go to the bar with Brody that night, but then Paul called. He and the guys were getting together at Fred’s house for a poker game and needed a couple more guys to sit in. It didn’t take much to talk Brody into going with him rather than going to the bar that Friday night.
But family came first and Jace had to read the kids their bedtime stories. That gave Brody a whole hour after supper with nothing to do but think of Lila.
He paced back and forth across the porch, checked the time over and over, and finally forced himself to sit down on the steps to wait. Patience was not written in the bright stars and the moon that night. Pretty soon he was back on his feet and walking around to the back side of the house. Maybe a walk to Hope Springs, the watering hole at the back of the ranch, would clear his mind. He headed that way and then heard a coyote howling over toward the adjoining ranch, the Texas Star—Henry Thomas’s old place. If the varmint was thinking of attacking one of his calves, he’d put it running.
When Brody reached the barbed-wire fence separating the two ranches, the coyote had found a friend because he could hear two distinct coyote voices. Brody leaned on a post for a moment and wondered where Henry had gone when he left the place. He had a sister who lived somewhere over in the eastern part of the state and now leased out the whole section of land to Paul McKay, but the house hadn’t been lived in since Henry left more than a decade ago.
He set his hand firmly on the top of the wood post and jumped over it. Paul was his friend and Kasey’s father-in-law. He wouldn’t mind if the Dawsons walked across his land to the old hay barn where the kids used to hang out. It was only about a quarter mile from the fence and with Brody’s long strides, he got there in a few minutes.
Sitting down on a bale of hay, he let his eyes adapt to the semidarkness in the big, old weathered barn. He’d kissed Lila while she was sitting in the seat of the old green John Deere tractor parked right over there. He could visualize her perched on the seat. She wore cutoff jeans so short that the pockets hung down below the frayed out bottoms, and her long legs looked as if they went on forever. Barefoot, a gleam in her eye as the sun set, and those bright red lips begging to be kissed. Later, she’d told him that it was her first kiss ever.
The last time he’d kissed her was at the barn door just before they went their separate ways on a starlit night just over a dozen years ago. That was the night he’d asked her on a real date—their first date—dinner and a movie in Amarillo. He’d promised that he’d pick her up at six-thirty. The thought of living in a big place terrified her. Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, was by no means a big city, but compared to Happy, population less than seven hundred, the place seemed huge with almost eight thousand people. He didn’t tell his brother or his family that he was going out with Lila—didn’t see any use in starting a war right there in Happy.
A huge white cat startled him when it jumped into his lap and headbutted him until he started petting her long fur. In a few minutes she jumped down and disappeared into the hay, leaving him alone.
He’d left Lila alone that night. He just couldn’t face the tears he knew would be coming—combined with the fit his parents and Granny would pitch when they found out he’d gone on a real date with the notorious Lila Harris. So when his buddies invited him to the Silver Spur, he’d taken the chicken’s way out.
With fake IDs they’d had a few beers and danced with a lot of girls. He’d been a jerk and was absolutely miserable all night. Nothing, not illegal beers or other girls, would ease the pain of what he’d done to his best friend and secret girlfriend. He’d tossed and turned until morning and rushed to the café to see her before she and her mother left town. He’d known that he’d screwed up really badly and was prepared to tell her that not seeing her again forever was worse than seeing her cry. That he was hurting every bit as much as she was and to beg her to call him when she got to Pennsylvania.
He’d gotten there just as they were getting into the van. He tapped on the window but she wouldn’t roll it down. Instead she’d looked straight ahead while tears rolled down her cheeks and left wet circles on her T-shirt. He’d never forgotten her mother’s words that morning before she got into the vehicle and drove away.
“I’ve told her for years that you were just toying with her, that you’d always feel like you were better than her and that she was in for heartache. You finally proved me right, Brody.”
It wasn’t going to be easy to shake the memories or the yearning he still felt for Lila.
He checked the time and started toward the fence at a slower pace. When he had his hand on the post, ready to jump, he heard something in the distance that sounded like a motorcycle, but he didn’t know anyone in Happy who owned one. He glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing.
“Most likely an old truck about to bite the dust,” he muttered as he lengthened his stride. Jace said they were leaving at eight and he had only fifteen minutes. They usually played in the tack room at Henry’s old barn but sometimes Fred insisted they come to his house. Brody had to admit that the snacks were usually better at Fred’s place than they were when they met at the barn.
Lila finished unpacking, took a shower, and quickly found she was too restless to stay in the small apartment her mother had built behind the café.
It was at least an hour until dusk and she’d been inside all day. Swiping her keys from the hook by the front door, she went out to the garage and revved up her motorcycle.
Feet still on the ground, she tucked her black hair under the helmet, popped the face mask down, and then walked the bike backward out of the garage, leaving the door open. The sun was sinking slowly out where land and sky met in the flat land of the Texas panhandle when she roared out to the cemetery. She went straight to her father’s tombstone, dismounted, and was busy pulling weeds when her phone rang.
“Hi, Mama,” she said.
“How’d the first day go?” Daisy asked.
“It went fine. And fast. I’m sitting in front of Daddy’s grave right now. Decided I needed some fresh air, so I rode my bike out here,” she said.
“What are you doing in the cemetery at dark?” Daisy asked.
“Texas is an hour behind Pennsylvania, remember? It’s not even eight o’clock yet, so I can still see without turning on the bike’s lights.”
“I worry about you on that thing. I wish you’d sell it,” Daisy said. “Just last week I read about a girl who was killed because she hit a pothole and went flying through the air. I know what those roads are like in Happy and—”
“Mama, quit worryin’,” Lila interrupted. “I’m careful and I wear a helmet.” She changed the subject. “Would you believe that everyone is trying to figure out what happened to Henry Thomas? You’d think they’d be talking about Molly and Georgia, right?”
“Molly is still there and no one believes she’ll really leave. Georgia was last week’s topic when she retired and moved,” Daisy said.
“But she worked here and leased this place for more than a dozen years,” Lila said. “And there’s very little talk about the café bein’ for sale. But nearly everyone who comes in mentions Henry. What was so great about him anyway? I don’t hardly even remember him except that he came in the café a few times and always ordered jalapeños on his burgers. I wonder if they even realized that you and I left.”
“We didn’t just fall off the face of the earth like Henry did. That makes him their go-to topic when all the other gossip has gotten old like Georgia leaving Happy and moving to Florida. I’m surprised that you aren’t the center of the rumors right now,” Daisy said. “Comin’ into town with a Harley. Flirting with Brody Dawson.”
“I’m not flirting with him and tonight is the first time I’ve taken the bike out,” Lila protested.
“Okay, okay, have it your way. Has anyone even asked about buyin’ the café?”
“Not yet. Word will get out that the place is for sale and I did put a sign in the window. We may have to go with a Realtor.” She braced her back on the tombstone.
“We might have to do that. I need to get back there for a visit,” Daisy said. “I haven’t been to your daddy’s grave in all these years and...” There was a long pause. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.”
“Why?” Lila asked.
“Your aunt Tina and I aren’t getting any younger and I don’t want to spend my elderly years in this cold climate,” Daisy said. “And yet I’m not so sure I want to live in Happy again, either. I guess as long as the café was mine, I kept a connection to your dad, even though he never did know I’d bought the old building and put in an apartment and a café. I don’t know, I’m rambling.”
“I understand. I’m undecided about going back to Florida. I might start looking around at other places,” Lila said.
“I thought you were happier there than you’d been in Memphis or in Little Rock.”
Lila shut her eyes tightly but all she could see was Brody in that tight, sweaty T-shirt. Her therapist said that she kept moving to hunt for happiness but she had to find it inside herself first. Maybe it wasn’t Brody that drew her back to Happy but the whole big picture where she had to prove to everyone that she was no longer that wild kid who was constantly in trouble. When she did that, she could move on.
“Lila?” Daisy raised her voice.
“I was thinkin’,” she said quickly. “I was happy in Memphis and in Little Rock and I do love teaching in Panama City Beach. Maybe I’ve just got a travelin’ bug that begins to bite me after a couple of years.”
“Or maybe Happy is the only place that feels like home for both of us.”
“I kind of doubt that, but who knows? We’ll see what happens this summer. I’m off for a little country ride and then I’m going home to read a boring book until I fall asleep,” Lila said.
“Promise me you will be careful on that thing. I hated it when your daddy rode one and even more when he put you in front of him and took you all over the county,” Daisy said.
“I promise.” She took a long, deep breath. “Good night, Mama.”
As Lila hung up, she caught a movement in her peripheral vision. A black cat with a white blaze on his face was sitting on top of a tombstone and staring right at her.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she called to him.
He didn’t budge. She held out her hand and called out to him again. Finally, she got up slowly and started walking that way. “You’re a pretty boy. Where do you live?”
When she was close enough, she reached out to pet him but like a lightning streak he jumped down and in seconds he’d disappeared, knocking over a fresh wreath of daisies in his hurry. She straightened the flowers, made sure the metal tripod was secure in the ground, and then noticed the name on the tombstone—Weston Dalley. Birth and death dates recorded right there. Brody’s grandpa had died June 1, twelve years ago. On the other side of the granite tombstone was Hope Dalley, birthday engraved but no death date.
“I know how much you loved him, Brody. I’m so sorry that you lost him.” She went back to her father’s grave and laid a hand on his tombstone. “I miss you, Daddy. I miss those afternoons when you took me for a ride down through the canyon, so this ride is for you.”
Helmet on and a kiss blown toward the skies in hopes that her father would know that she was thinking of him, she headed off to the east. Her idea was that she would ride through the canyon, but when she got to the lane leading back to Henry’s ranch, she slowed to a crawl and turned. The white picket fence around the yard shined in the moonlight. The long, low house felt empty even from that distance, but then it probably hadn’t been lived in for years. Molly said that Henry’s sister left it as it was in hopes that he’d come home someday.
The old barn drew her in. Heeding her mother’s warnings, she drove slowly, keeping her eyes open for potholes. Scraggly weeds grew between fresh tire tracks left by trucks. She parked the bike close to the side door, which squeaked when she opened it just as it had done years ago.
Sitting on a bale of hay, she imagined a big green tractor between her and the door. That’s where she’d gotten her first kiss and it had been from Brody. It had plumb set her insides on fire and every one after that had had the same effect.
A big, white cat made its way from the stacked hay toward her, rubbing around her legs and purring until she picked it up and held it close to her chest. Two cats in one night—one wary of her, the other wanting to be loved. Was this one of her mother’s omens? And if so, should she pay attention to the cemetery cat or the one that liked her?
She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. She sniffed again and then one more time. The cat smelled just like Stetson, the cologne that Brody used to wear back in high school. She glanced around the barn but didn’t see anyone—most likely another kid used the same kind of cologne and had been out here earlier waiting for his girlfriend.
The cat hopped down and disappeared into the dark shadows, leaving Lila alone. She brushed the white hair from her dark T-shirt and jeans and inhaled again. The smell still lingered, so someone had been there. It couldn’t have been Brody, because at thirty, he’d be taking his women to something a little more upscale than an old barn.