Page 57 of Sinners Reunion

“We have to try,” Jim says.

Saying nothing more, I head toward my RV with the Carter children’s childhood photos tucked beneath my arm. It’s time to go relive other people’s memories.

The weight of what Jim and I have done presses on my shoulders as I trudge toward the bonfire. I looked at those pictures—a means to send a message to their father—and I can’t help but feel the sting of regret for looking at them at all.

I have no right.

Bennett chose an image of him and his mother. He couldn’t have been older than three. He was seated on her lap, both of them covered in mashed potatoes as they smiled at the camera.

Frankie’s picture featured her, standing all alone as she received an award at some school function. She wasn’t smiling. She was so small.

Ezra’s and Aven’s photographs might have been the most heartbreaking. Being so far from their native lands, they were unable to provide a photo at all. Their lives have been so tumultuous that no evidence of a childhood remains. In their places, they provided a drawing.

Two sketches featuring small, sad stick figures.

Ezra’s picture depicted him and his father on a set of cliffs. That would be the Dover trip, if I had to guess. Aven’s picture showed one stick figure stabbing another, much larger figure. I guess that’s supposed to represent his father.

This is going horribly.

These four were handed a sorry lot in life, and none of them is to blame for how they turned out. Not even their mothers or stand-in fathers are to blame.

The blame lies with Jim and me and that stupid experiment.

As I near the fire, I look for my redheaded distraction. She’s easy enough to spot as she prepares a body shot for Ice Pick. Right between her breasts.

I think the fuck not.

Before he can lower his lips to her cleavage, I grab his arm and ease him away from her. “Why don’t you go fill your mate’s ass crack with liquor? This filthy crack is mine, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t mean nothing,” he says with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, which is precisely why I’ll let you keep your tongue this time. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Lighten up, old man,” Josie says as she continues to cup her breasts together, forming the perfect shot glass in the middle.

I lied. Her tits aren’t at all filthy. They’re what my most delicious dreams are made of. I’d eat every meal off them if I could.

I bend and slurp the clear liquid from inside, then look up at her. “Don’t let it happen again.”

She rolls her eyes and releases her breasts. The cleavage drops back into her halter top, where it belongs. For the time being, at least.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Ice Pick asks. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

So much for Jim making my excuses. I make my own, telling the group I needed to use the facilities. Let them think I was off taking a healthy shit for thirty minutes. Then I take a seat beside the fire. That’s when I notice the two strangers seated on a log beside Ezra and Kindra.

“What’s all this bother now?” I whisper to Josie.

She doesn’t need me to elaborate. She leans closer so that no one else can hear her. “The Halloween Harvesters. Ezra needed to deliver something from a friend of theirs.”

Ah, yes. That Samuel chap. “Do these people lack cell phones?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, but they seem nice enough. Rayna even brought a surprise for all of us.”

I’m about to ask what that might be when the woman in question stands and raises a plastic shopping bag. She gives it a wiggle, quieting the group. All except for Chef, who’s begun passing out sticks and hot dogs.

“As a way to say thanks for letting us crash at your farm tonight, I brought a few party favors. Just pass the bag around. There are enough gifts for everyone to take one.”

“I apologize in advance,” the strange man says.