Page 8 of The Second Dance
“Oh. Yeah. That was…” Words dry up. My gaze slides back to the front of the church, where her pure white coffin sat under a cascade of flowers.
“I felt bad about missing the funeral. Skyler and I were overseas when we heard about it.”
I tilt my head, staring up at him. Why would the Thomas boys feel compelled to go to my mom’s funeral? Sure, we were classmates. But her car crash had nothing to do with them. Just a deer and icy roads. The wrong place at the wrong time.
“She was the most reluctant Sunday school teacher we ever had. And both of our favorite. Hands down.”
“Oh, right.”
“That accent.” He chuckles softly.
My mother was born and raised in Germany. I mimic her voice. “Ich zahl jetzt bis drei!”
“That’s the one. Skyler and I heard it all the time. What was she saying, anyway?”
I smile. “She was counting to three.”
He grins with a familiarity that I find infuriating.
He doesn’t have a right to look at me like that.
After all these years, he shouldn’t still have an effect on me.
My dad finally breaks away from his buddy. I give Bo what I hope passes for a smile. “Well. It was nice catching up with you.” It wasn’t. “I’ll see you around.”
When hell freezes over.
5.
Bo
My truck bounces down the dirt lane. Twenty-four hours later, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her.
Andy Reed.
I never did find out why she was back in town. It’s not like I’d forget that face, but seeing it right in front of me again doesn’t exactly help.
It’s pretty pathetic. All these years and I just can’t move on.
I tear my thoughts away and try to focus on the lane ahead of me.
The hard winter wreaked havoc on the road. We’ll have to resurface it before planting.
My thoughts stop short. We won’t be planting this field.
When my truck hits the next deep gouge in the lane, I smile viciously. Let the bird people resurface the lane if they want to.
I pull up next to a little silver sedan.
I would literally rather be anywhere else.
But my dad refused to meet the bird lady and so here I am.
I climb out of my truck and pause to look down over the valley. We had already converted ten acres to pasture land. A little ravine cuts through the ground, following the meandering path of a creek. It’s beautiful after a fresh snow. The sun crests the butte to the north and spills over the hill like melted butter.
I wanted to build a house right here. I was going to sit on my deck and watch the sun come up.
Not anymore