Return to Emmett's Mill. Kimberly Meter Van

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СКАЧАТЬ Tasha closed her eyes, blocking out the tears coursing down her sister’s cheeks. What could she say? Nothing would erase the fact that she had been thousands of miles away while their mother suffered through pancreatic cancer. She slowly opened her eyes again as the silence lengthened. Nothing she could say would convey how sorry she felt, so she remained silent.

      Nora wiped at her tears and then pinned Tasha with a look ripe with bitterness and sorrow. “What can I say, Tasha? You simply should’ve been here.”

      “I know,” she answered quietly, though there was an edge to her tone. She accepted Nora’s condemnation…to a point. And that point had been reached. “You’ve said your piece, now let it go, Nora. You’re not the only one grieving, you know. I lost my mother, too.”

      Nora’s jaw hardened and Tasha wearily prepared for another stinging backlash from her youngest sister, but to her surprise it didn’t come. Instead, Nora swallowed hard as if choking down whatever she’d been tempted to say next and gave Tasha a short nod. “I didn’t mean to start a fight. But, the last few months have been hard. Really hard. And it would’ve been nice to have our eldest sister here with us. That’s all.” Tasha gave an almost imperceptible nod and Nora continued softly. “We needed more than postcards, Tasha. Paper is no substitute for flesh and blood.”

      Let it go, for pity’s sake! Frustration swept through her as she stiffened against Nora’s attempt at burying her under a mountain of guilt. Mission accomplished, little sister. A snap retort danced on her tongue, but she didn’t want to spend the brief time she had before returning to Belize fighting. She began to offer a truce, but Natalie, who appeared in the doorway, looking fatigued and exasperated, cut her off.

      “There you two are,” Natalie broke in, peering into the room with annoyance. “Nora, I could use your help with the hors d’oeuvres trays, and, Tasha, could you help me with the guests who just arrived?”

      Suddenly sensing the tension in the room, her gaze darted from one sister to the other. “What’s going on? Are you two fighting already?” She didn’t give either a chance to answer. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I need your help. Whatever squabbles you guys are having can just wait. Besides—” she sent a dark look to them both “—I’m sure you two can agree this is not the time or the place to be airing your dirty laundry.”

      Chastised, Nora left the room without an argument.

      “At least she seems to listen to you,” Tasha said with a weary sigh. “All she wants to do with me is argue.”

      Natalie considered this, then said, “Tasha…she doesn’t really know you. You left when she was sixteen. All she knows is that you weren’t here when you were needed. Her memory of you is shaped by the image she created when you weren’t around.”

      “And now I’m here and the reality of who I am is a disappointment?”

      Natalie rubbed at her eyes, the tiredness there pulling at Tasha’s conscience. What was she doing? Natalie was right. Now was not the time. “Forget it. I understand. Just point me in the direction you need me to go. We’ll table this for later.” And by later she meant never. She really didn’t want to delve any deeper into Nora’s apparent disillusionment. There was enough grief in this house to fill a well. No sense in overflowing the damn thing.

      Natalie accepted her offer and pointed down the hallway. “I need someone to help with the guests. More have arrived and I’m stuck in the kitchen. And—” she paused, rubbing her arms together with a brief glance around the room “—make sure you close this door behind you. There’s a terrible draft coming in from somewhere.”

      “Sure,” she said. The last thing she wanted to do was usher in more people who no doubt wanted to ask about her long absence, but Natalie was in drill-sergeant mode and trying to back out would only cause her to draw the big guns. Besides, Natalie had pretty much single-handedly put together all the arrangements for the day and the least she could do was point people toward the food and accept a few condolences.

      Drawing a deep breath, she followed Natalie and reentered the family room, where people she recognized and some she didn’t milled around or huddled in clusters. Skirting the larger groups, she fielded a few questions, but for the most part, she was left alone. The guests were respectfully brief in their innocent questioning, and Tasha was soon relaxed enough to consider grabbing a bite from the buffet table. Plate in hand, she noted with a start she was standing right beside Josh. Seeing him at the cemetery had been shocking enough, but being in such close proximity that she could smell the crisp scent of his aftershave and see the subtle touch of time in his face caused an irrational longing to lay her head on his shoulder. She knew it was Natalie who invited him, but she hadn’t expected him to accept.

      Moving quietly, she tried leaving the buffet table, but Josh caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and turned.

      They stared, each wondering what to say to each other, until Tasha realized what they were doing was childish. They were adults; time to act like it. She braved a small smile.

      “You look good,” she admitted in a grudging tone.

      He inclined his head, accepting her compliment, and murmured, “I could say the same to you. It seems the jungle agrees with you.”

      “Thanks,” she returned, waiting as he put slices of roast beef and potatoes on his plate and added a slice of buttered bread, then moved away. After loading her own plate, she hesitated and he turned, as if reading her indecision or feeling her reluctance to take a seat beside him. Once they’d been more than friends; now they weren’t even acquaintances. He jerked his head in invitation but she knew it was out of courtesy. “Are you sure?”

      “It’s fine,” he assured her, this time with more conviction.

      He led her into the rarely used sitting room, as if instinctively knowing that she craved some quiet after the emotional events of the day.

      They sat at opposite ends of the loveseat her mother had bought at an estate sale and had considered a steal, and she idly wondered when Josh started liking Mrs. Holt’s roast, if only to focus on something other than the feel of her heart beating painfully.

      He’d always complained it was tougher than an old shoe. He turned and the question must’ve flashed in her eyes, for he bent toward her and whispered an answer out of the corner of his mouth.

      “She knows where I live.”

      Tasha laughed. She’d seen Mrs. Holt watching the buffet line like a hawk, noting who had bypassed her contribution and who had dutifully taken some. A foreign feeling created a warm glow inside her and she had to pop a stuffed mushroom into her mouth before she embarrassed herself.

      “Besides, I’ve realized…it’s not that bad,” he added in a tone that was entirely too high-pitched for honesty or natural for a man of Josh’s considerable size.

      “That’s not what you used to say.”

      “Things change,” he said, sticking a forkful in his mouth with fake relish. “See? Delicious.”

      Tasha chuckled when his act faltered as he swallowed, and for the barest of seconds, it felt natural to sit beside him enjoying a meal. Until she glanced down and caught the pale white line encircling his ring finger, reminding her sharply that they had taken different roads without each other. The absence of the ring made her wonder. “I heard you married Carrie Porter,” she ventured, surprised СКАЧАТЬ