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Authors: Jodi Thomas
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Smith.”
He stepped closer. “How many Smiths we have in town?”
“I already checked. Eight families with homes, two singles in apartments, and three with businesses.”
The dispatcher yelled. Someone wanted to speak to the sheriff.
“I got to get to work.” Her eyes said far more than her words.
“Tonight,” he whispered, and turned away. If he looked at her much longer, they both would have forgotten all about work.
Her place was so small, half the time when they tried to make breakfast in her closet of a kitchen they ended up making love instead. Loving her was as easy as breathing, but getting her to marry him seemed more like trying to plow with a spoon.
Hank climbed into his truck and decided to drive by the cemetery. Surely, Mrs. Biggs wouldn’t be out there in weather like this. For once the wind wasn’t blowing, but icy rain fell straight down, making the town look like a melting painting of small-town America.
A few minutes later he was surprised to find that Tyler Wright had put up one of the funeral tents over her bench, and Mrs. Biggs was there, waiting as she had been all week.
He climbed out and ran to the bench. “Mind if I sit a spell with you?”
“No,” she said, but her smile was as sad as always.
He knew she wouldn’t talk much. Wouldn’t answer any personal questions. She wanted to just be there in silence, her slender form as unbending as the iron fences surrounding some of the graves.
Sitting down next to her, he watched the rain dripping off the tent, curtaining them from the world. He had a hundred things he needed to do, but right now nothing seemed more important than being here on this bench. He held no illusion that he was keeping her company. Mrs. Biggs would still be very much alone even if half the town turned out to huddle under the Wright Funeral Home tent.
Tyler came by with Stella McNabb, who acted as one of the hosts at the funeral home on family viewing nights. While Hank and Tyler moved to the back of the tent, Stella, in her sweet way, talked Mrs. Biggs into coming back to the funeral home with her. They’d all tried to take her to lunch without success, but when Stella said she needed help with a family meal after this rainy-day funeral, Mrs. Biggs agreed to leave for a few hours.
Hank helped Tyler walk the ladies to the Cadillac. After climbing into his truck, he called his sister Liz to try to book another lunch date.
Her line was busy.
He decided to just drop by. They’d been close as children, even though Claire had been between them in age. Liz liked to follow him around and ask questions about everything she saw. She’d always been smart, in a dingy kind of way. She could make the dean’s honor roll, but she couldn’t remember to put gas in her car. She could make him laugh, and she could make him furious.
The past month Hank wasn’t sure how she was doing. He had a feeling she was trying to prove something to herself and he wished her well, but as her big brother he still felt the need to keep an eye on her.
Chapter 10
OFFICE ON THE SQUARE
LIZ LEANED AGAINST HER LONG WINDOWS AND WATCHED Mrs. Patterson try to open her umbrella as she climbed out of her ’98 Lincoln. No other woman in town had her name used more with “I’ll tell you what she should do” than Martha Q Patterson.
For as long as Liz could remember, she’d heard people giving Martha Q advice—not to her face, of course, but behind her back. Years ago most women hated the flaming redhead, and most men watched her because though she wasn’t a beauty, she was one of those rare women who drew men as if by smell.
About the time age turned Martha Q’s hair more brown than red, the hate that folks felt toward her also dulled. Maybe partly because she lived with Bobby Earl and took care of him, but slowly the women of Harmony accepted her back home with the same kind of tired shrug with which they might have accepted a bothersome creak in the flooring. They didn’t include
He stepped closer. “How many Smiths we have in town?”
“I already checked. Eight families with homes, two singles in apartments, and three with businesses.”
The dispatcher yelled. Someone wanted to speak to the sheriff.
“I got to get to work.” Her eyes said far more than her words.
“Tonight,” he whispered, and turned away. If he looked at her much longer, they both would have forgotten all about work.
Her place was so small, half the time when they tried to make breakfast in her closet of a kitchen they ended up making love instead. Loving her was as easy as breathing, but getting her to marry him seemed more like trying to plow with a spoon.
Hank climbed into his truck and decided to drive by the cemetery. Surely, Mrs. Biggs wouldn’t be out there in weather like this. For once the wind wasn’t blowing, but icy rain fell straight down, making the town look like a melting painting of small-town America.
A few minutes later he was surprised to find that Tyler Wright had put up one of the funeral tents over her bench, and Mrs. Biggs was there, waiting as she had been all week.
He climbed out and ran to the bench. “Mind if I sit a spell with you?”
“No,” she said, but her smile was as sad as always.
He knew she wouldn’t talk much. Wouldn’t answer any personal questions. She wanted to just be there in silence, her slender form as unbending as the iron fences surrounding some of the graves.
Sitting down next to her, he watched the rain dripping off the tent, curtaining them from the world. He had a hundred things he needed to do, but right now nothing seemed more important than being here on this bench. He held no illusion that he was keeping her company. Mrs. Biggs would still be very much alone even if half the town turned out to huddle under the Wright Funeral Home tent.
Tyler came by with Stella McNabb, who acted as one of the hosts at the funeral home on family viewing nights. While Hank and Tyler moved to the back of the tent, Stella, in her sweet way, talked Mrs. Biggs into coming back to the funeral home with her. They’d all tried to take her to lunch without success, but when Stella said she needed help with a family meal after this rainy-day funeral, Mrs. Biggs agreed to leave for a few hours.
Hank helped Tyler walk the ladies to the Cadillac. After climbing into his truck, he called his sister Liz to try to book another lunch date.
Her line was busy.
He decided to just drop by. They’d been close as children, even though Claire had been between them in age. Liz liked to follow him around and ask questions about everything she saw. She’d always been smart, in a dingy kind of way. She could make the dean’s honor roll, but she couldn’t remember to put gas in her car. She could make him laugh, and she could make him furious.
The past month Hank wasn’t sure how she was doing. He had a feeling she was trying to prove something to herself and he wished her well, but as her big brother he still felt the need to keep an eye on her.
Chapter 10
OFFICE ON THE SQUARE
LIZ LEANED AGAINST HER LONG WINDOWS AND WATCHED Mrs. Patterson try to open her umbrella as she climbed out of her ’98 Lincoln. No other woman in town had her name used more with “I’ll tell you what she should do” than Martha Q Patterson.
For as long as Liz could remember, she’d heard people giving Martha Q advice—not to her face, of course, but behind her back. Years ago most women hated the flaming redhead, and most men watched her because though she wasn’t a beauty, she was one of those rare women who drew men as if by smell.
About the time age turned Martha Q’s hair more brown than red, the hate that folks felt toward her also dulled. Maybe partly because she lived with Bobby Earl and took care of him, but slowly the women of Harmony accepted her back home with the same kind of tired shrug with which they might have accepted a bothersome creak in the flooring. They didn’t include
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