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“Mommy, isn’t that the girl who?—”
“Shh!” a mother snaps, holding her hand over the little girl’s mouth.
I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry. If I had a tagline for my life, that would be it.
Isn’t that the girl who lost her parents?
Isn’t that the girl who the mayor’s fostering?
Isn’t that the girl who lives with those mean people on the hill?
Isn’t that the girl who was buried alive?
Yep, that’s me. I am that girl.
“Well, thank the Lord, she’s come back to us!” I smile at the crazy redhead making a beeline to me. “Y’all stop gawking!” Pearl barks at everyone staring. One by one, heads turn away, and a rolling thunder of quiet voices enfolds around me.
Holding my arms out to hug Pearl, I’m instead snapped with a hand towel. “Hey!” I say, grabbing the towel out of her hands so she’ll stop hitting me. “Sheesh! What is that for?”
“I’ve been worried sick to death about you. You could’ve at least called and told me you were okay.” Freckled arms wrap around me. Her musky perfume invades my nostrils, and I wonder why she’s wearing it. She never wears perfume at work.
I hold on to her tight. “I’m sorry. It’s taken me a little time to deal with what happened.”
“Shh. I was joshing. You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m just as happy as a goat jumping around a playground that you’re here.”
I can’t help but laugh. Typical goofy Pearl. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
“Come.” She pulls me to the counter and guides me into the only barstool open. “Guess what kind of pie we’ve got?”
“Cherry?”
She nods, and my mind drifts to Paxton. I stare at the booth he sat in. Pearl would die if she found out that I was dating Mr. Pie Guy. Dated. Because as of right now, we are not together.
“Yours?” It has to be. The pie always sells out by now.
She wrinkles her nose. “Girl, I would give you anything right now. I’m just so excited,” she squeals as she walks through the swinging doors, screaming at everyone in the kitchen that I’m here.
“A Mustang? Really?” I spin in my chair to the right at the familiar, deep voice and watch Chip slide next to me. He adjusts his gun belt so it’s not hitting the side of the chair.
I flash a wide smile, happy he’s not bringing up the elephant in the room. “What should I have bought instead?”
He hums and taps his finger against his lip. “A Ford F150 truck.”
“Is that your joke of the day?” That makes him laugh.
“It’s great to hear your laugh, dear.” His voice turns serious. That didn’t take long. But that’s why I’m here. To ask questions. Not to shoot the shit. The faster I leave this town, the better.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have questions. God, I have so many questions. But first, about the guy in the blue Jeep.”
“You probably know more than I do,” he deadpans with a lift of a brow.
“Do you know he’s a cop?”
He nods.
“Do you know he’s the one who found me?”
Again, he nods.
