Page 4 of The Heir

“Yeah. I know. I was there, too, I found her body, Oak.” I reminded him, causing him to duck his head back. He actually ran out of words for a moment. “Nobody found the time to take me to her funeral… but I was the one who found her. My mother put me through a window because Joplin’s front door was locked that afternoon.”

Oak wasn’t afraid of anything, and he was never one to mince words. So, I wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden ‘deer in the headlights’ expression he briefly displayed.

Rather than continue the conversation, which I was certain he had meant to be a very long-winded one with the way he’d sent my mother and Karlotti packing, he just wiped his face with his hand, dragging it slowly off his jaw. He looked like he had something serious to say, but in the end, he just wagged his finger and nodded. His other hand hugged my shoulder where it had been resting and he never looked more relieved than he did when that van pulled in behind us and Aunt Daisy flew out of the passenger seat.

I hadn’t seen her in over a decade, but I would have recognized her anywhere. She scrambled toward me and snatched me up into a hug that left me clinging to her with my eyes closed.

The soft-floral scents that clung to her long hair brought back so many memories. I’d forgotten how much she loved to garden and work with soil.

I felt something hot and wet on my neck and realized she was silently weeping.

“Oh my God, I missed you,” she finally whispered through her tears before kissing my head a few times.

By the time she untangled herself from me, everyone had gathered around us.

“Daisy,” my mother quietly greeted, accepting her hug as well.

I leaned against the car while Oak took her in his arms when Aunt Daisy turned on him. She finally got around to my sister and reached for her hands, giving them an affectionate squeeze.

“This is Karlotti. Karlotti, this is Blaze’s auntie, Daisy Henshaw.”

My sister gave that timid smile of hers and bobbed her head at my aunt.

“Oak that is all your momma.” Daisy laughed, fussing over Karlotti’s red hair for a moment.

“Sorry we missed your wedding,” I offered, when Daisy’s husband, Montana, rounded the front of the car.

He made a dismissive rumble of a sound and threw an arm around my shoulder, hauling me against him in a side hug of sorts.

“Ah, don’t you worry about none of that, son.” He grunted with a grin. “We knew you guys were with us in spirit.”

“The pictures were beautiful,” My mother hesitantly added.

She almost sounded ashamed, and awkwardly began to steer my sister toward the back of Montana’s van. They sat in the back, leaving me and Daisy to enjoy the middle seats while Oak rode up front with Montana.

Oak adjusted the air and glanced back toward my mom once we were moving again.

“You girls doing okay back there, are you getting any of this?” He wiped his brow and continued trying to angle the vent, so it blew in their direction.

My mother kept her head turned, staring out the back window of the van while she clutched her purse. One hand was resting inside it, and I could only assume that the prominent knot against the leather of her bag was her service weapon.

The lack of response, and my staring at her caused Daisy to look back as well. When her gaze settled on my mother’s purse and her brows weighed with thought, I blurted out, “Wow, this is a nice van. I don’t remember you having a van, Monty.”

“Club vehicle,” He clipped, causing Oak to wince. “We use it for this exact purpose. Breakdowns.”

“Guess it proved handy.” I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

I was suddenly sorry I’d asked; I could feel the temperature rising behind me as my mother’s temper and her will to check out competed with one another.

“So, you graduated?” Daisy tugged on my sleeve, drawing my attention her way again.

“I did! That’s right.” I gratefully latched onto that topic.

She was smiling in an odd, almost bitter-sweet way when I finally lifted my gaze to meet hers, and she reached out and smoothed my hair off my face. The way she stared at me made me feel like she was committing it to her memory. It was as if she thought it were the last time we’d ever see each other, making the words dry in my throat.

“Boy graduated on the dean’s list. He wasn’t playing.” Oak answered from the front seat, reaching back to clap my knee in a proud squeeze. “He went in there and came out with not one degree, but two.”

I looked out the window, never one to grandstand about my own accomplishments.