The Forgotten Daughter. Lauri Robinson

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СКАЧАТЬ this party swell?” Twyla asked excitedly as she and Forrest crossed the room.

      “Just swell,” Josie muttered under her breath. Remembering—as if she’d been able to forget—Scooter stood beside her, she pulled up a brilliant smile. “Yes, it is,” she told her sister. “One people will long remember. Who could ever forget Babe Ruth?”

      “He’s so funny,” Twyla said, using Forrest’s shoulder the same way Josie had used the chair to hold her balance as she fiddled with one and then the other shoe. “He told me every woman should love baseball for the pure fact it’s played on diamonds.”

      Josie merely grinned. Babe had been saying that to women all day. She almost found an ounce of comfort knowing the shoes were hurting her sister’s feet as badly as they were hers, but didn’t. It was Twyla’s wedding day, and nothing, not even tight shoes, should dampen her enjoyment.

      “I was on my way to the kitchen,” Josie told Twyla, glad for the opportunity to escape Scooter. “Want to come with me? We can get something for our heels.”

      Twyla laughed as she graced her new husband with a somewhat sheepish grin. “That’s exactly what I came inside for.”

      “I told her she should have bought a larger size,” Forrest said teasingly.

      “It’s not the size,” Twyla insisted. “It’s the style. These were the only ones that were the same color as our dresses.”

      “Lucky shoes,” Scooter drawled.

      Josie twisted her neck to hide the laugh that caught in the back of her throat, but Scooter caught it. His grin, as well as the glint in his eyes, said he thought the dresses were as ugly as she did. That made her want to smile, but she wasn’t about to let him think they shared the same thoughts on anything—not one tiny iota. Josie reached over and grabbed Twyla’s free hand. “Come on. Moe has bandages in the kitchen.”

      Dramatic as Twyla always was, her sister held on to Forrest’s hand as she started walking, stretching her arm out as if Josie was pulling her away from her new husband. When she finally let go of Forrest’s hand, Twyla said, “Don’t let him out of your sight, Scooter. I don’t want to have to go looking for him.”

      Josie’s ability to keep her thoughts to herself momentarily disappeared. “Good heavens,” she whispered. “You’ll only be gone a minute.”

      “I know,” Twyla whimpered. “But a minute away from Forrest feels like hours.”

      Josie bit her lips together to keep her from pointing out that little over a month ago Twyla had been selling kisses for a dime apiece to any man who walked past the cotton candy stand at the amusement park.

      She’d barely taken another step when a solid grip wrapped around her elbow.

      “Actually,” Scooter said, “Josie wasn’t on her way to the kitchen. She and I were discussing something and weren’t finished.”

      Dumbfounded, it took Josie a moment for her mind to kick in. “Yes, we were finished,” she said. The undercurrent of tension surrounding them could sink a ship.

      Twyla and Forrest obviously sensed it, too. “Did something happen to the fireworks?” Twyla asked.

      “No,” Josie and Scooter answered simultaneously.

      They hadn’t broached the subject of fireworks. There had been no need. Scooter was as reliable as Father Time. He said he’d handle the fireworks, and he would, without fail or complications.

      Twyla always had to dig deeper. “Are you sure?”

      “Yes,” Scooter said.

      “The fireworks will go off as planned,” Josie assured her. At least once a day, usually more often, for the past week Twyla had talked about how Forrest was taking her up in his plane to watch the fireworks, cooing about how romantic it would be. Josie had to admit it did sound romantic, but right now, it made her want to be sick. Probably because of the way Scooter’s hold tightened on her arm. It plainly reminded her romance would never be a part of her life. Ignoring Scooter, she said to Twyla, “It’s almost time to cut your wedding cake. I was on my way to see if the ice cream was ready.”

      “Twyla and I can do that,” Forrest said, glancing between her and Scooter. “Sorry to have interrupted you.”

      Josie clenched her back teeth together so hard her jaw stung. She took several deep breaths through her nose as Twyla was led off by her new husband. Once they were out of sight, she wrenched her arm free from Scooter’s hold. “That was terribly rude,” she spat out.

      “So?”

      “So?” she repeated, even more furious at his callous attitude. This was not the Scooter of yesteryear. The one she could have laughed with over the color of her shoes.

      He shrugged, as if being rude made no difference to him in the least. “Our conversation wasn’t finished. Why’d you get yourself arrested?”

      Huffing out a breath, she used the time to gather her wits. Flying off the handle would only make matters worse. If that was possible. She’d already told him more than she should have. He had the uncanny ability to get things out of her like no one else. “That is none of your business,” she said, sounding much calmer than she was. Catching a glimpse of Norma Rose on the balcony, Josie took a step in that direction. “And our conversation is finished.”

      “I’ve made it my business, Josie,” he said.

      The conviction in his tone made her spine shiver, but she didn’t turn around.

      “There you are,” Norma Rose said, pausing in the open doorway. “We need to move a table into the center of the dance floor for the cake.” Waving a hand, she continued, “Scooter, we could use your help.”

      Josie held back her opinion on that as she crossed the threshold and followed Norma Rose across the balcony. When a hand settled on the small of her back, sending fire and ice up and down her spine, she willed herself not to flinch. Half the country was watching them.

      “Smile,” Scooter whispered.

      “Shut up,” she replied, seething.

      He laughed.

      She planted a smile on her face for the onlookers while elbowing him in the ribs.

      At the bottom of the steps she gladly separated herself from him, and took a spot on the sideline to keep people back while Norma Rose cleared the dance floor and gave directions as to which tables needed to be carried over. When Moe, the assistant cook, appeared, he was followed by several serving girls carrying trays of little glass bowls holding scoops of ice cream drizzled with chocolate syrup and topped with a mint leaf. Josie stepped forward to ensure he had a clear pathway to the tables. The last in line was Silas, the head cook, carrying a cake so tall he could barely see over it.

      “I still can’t believe Twyla agreed to ice cream,” Moe whispered as they walked. “But Silas says it’s not the Fourth of July without ice cream.”

      “Twyla’s so in love she’d eat mud pies today,” Josie replied. Silas was a bit temperamental, but Moe was always smiling and was the real one in charge of the kitchen.

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