If You Don't Know By Now. Teresa Southwick

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СКАЧАТЬ peanut butter knife in the sink, she noticed the mug Jack had used just a short time before. She rubbed her finger around the rim. It was cold; his mouth was warm. She remembered from last night. She’d never for got ten.

      “Faith Elizabeth, we’re going to be late.”

      The sound of the slider made her turn around. “What were you doing outside?” Maggie asked.

      “Jensen is next door talking to Jack.”

      Her daughter stood in front of her, the clean denim shorts and powder blue T-shirt she’d put on a short while ago now sporting dirt stains.

      “How do you know this?” Maggie asked.

      “I heard them talking,” she answered vaguely, digging the toe of her sneaker into the vinyl kitchen flooring.

      “Have you been climbing the tree between the yards and spying on him?”

      The child shook her head and Maggie marveled at how well she did the wide-eyed-innocent act. Did the ability come from herself—or Jack?

      “I didn’t have to climb the tree, Mom. He was talking really loud. Something about the damned will. What does that mean?”

      “First of all, that’s not a word we repeat, young lady.”

      “Will?”

      “You know good and well that’s not the one. Second, he was talking about his grandmother’s will, what she wanted to happen with her things after she died.”

      Faith’s blue eyes suddenly filled with shadows, so like the way her father’s had just a short while ago. “I miss her, Mom.”

      “Me, too, sweetie.”

      “Do you think Jack is sad, too?”

      “I’m sure he is. He was very close to her when he was younger.”

      “I wonder why he didn’t come back,” Faith said.

      Because finding something he was good at was more important than his grand mother. Or me, Maggie thought sadly.

      “I couldn’t say.”

      “While I was in the backyard,” the child continued, careful not to in criminate herself, “I heard them say something about selling the house.”

      “It makes sense. Jack’s job is in the army. He doesn’t need to keep it,” Maggie explained.

      “Sure he does.”

      “Why? Because a person can’t have too many houses?”

      “Yeah,” Faith agreed. “I hope he doesn’t sell it.”

      “Even to someone who might have a little girl just your age?”

      “I’ve already got friends my age. Kasey and Stacey are my best friends—ever.”

      “I can’t imagine Jack hanging on to the house. Like you said—he hasn’t come back until now. Why wouldn’t he sell it?”

      Faith shrugged her thin shoulders. “I dunno. But I hope he keeps it. I wish he’d stay, Mom.”

      Uh-oh, Maggie thought. Incoming—as in heart break. Faith couldn’t possibly have any clue about her relationship to the mysterious stranger next door. Yet she’d begun a bond. No doubt because he’d plucked her out of the stock pen last night. In her daughter’s eyes, he was the proverbial man in the white hat. And she didn’t know what to say to insulate the child’s fragile feelings.

      “C’mon, sweetpea. We have to get going. And there’s no time for you to change out of those clothes you got tree dirt on. If I’ve told you once, I’ve said it a hundred times—stay out of the tree. You’re going to get hurt.”

      “Aw, Mom, climbing trees is as easy as pie.”

      “Here’s your lunch box.” When the child took it, Maggie touched her shoulder. “No argument. No editorializing. Just do as I say—no climbing trees.”

      “Yes’m.”

      They hurried out the front door and Maggie turned to lock it. Then she moved down the steps and to the car. As she opened her door, she noticed Jensen walking to her BMW parked at the curb in front of the house next door.

      “Hey, Jen,” she called. “How’s it going?”

      The other woman turned, then smiled and waved when recognition hit. “Hi, Maggie.” She put on her sunglasses. “I’m fine. Did you hear? Taylor and Mitch got engaged last night.”

      “Give them my best wishes.”

      “I will, but right now Jack could use a friend.”

      “What’s wrong?”

      Jensen tucked a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear. “You’ll have to ask him. If he wants to say anything, he will. Attorney-client privilege.” She shrugged. “You off to work?”

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