yellow daisies were discolored and dirty-looking. The white ribbons had almost rotted way, the lettering on the cross was illegible, and the toy football at the base had lost its air and faded almost beyond recognition.
“We need to do new crosses for Rosie and Ben and Doug,” Jess said, her voice breaking.
She wiped fresh tears from her eyes, and from the backseat I heard Ruth and Emma softly crying.
And then the clickety-click-click of their keypads.
CHAPTER 3
Instead of cutting through one of the farm lanes directly to my house, I turned onto our hardtop and swung past Zach’s house to drop Emma off first. A.K. was right behind me in his truck and he stopped at the edge of the road to let Lee out before driving on to Seth’s house to take Richard home. My sister-in- law Barbara had just pulled into the yard when we got there. Zach must have called her from school, for she immediately got out of her car without putting on her coat and held out her arms to Emma, who had begun to cry again as she scrambled out of the backseat and hurried to her mother.
“I could have come for my children,” Barbara said tightly when I lowered the window to speak to her. Her tone was as frosty as the air that flowed in over the glass.
“I know,” I said. “But I was right there and—”
The front of her black cardigan was embroidered with clusters of red-berried holly. White snowflakes were scattered across the back. I found myself talking to the snowflakes as she abruptly turned and led Emma into the house. Lee gave an awkward wave and trailed them inside.
I put the car into reverse and headed back onto the road. I did not jerk it into drive. I did not dig off. All the same, Ruth asked, “How come you and Aunt Barbara don’t get along?”
“I get along with your Aunt Barbara just fine,” I told her.
I could almost hear her eyeballs rolling, but nothing more was said until I drove up to her house. A.K. was waiting for her in the carport and he put a protective arm around his younger sister before holding the side door open for her. There was no sign of April, their mother, who teaches sixth grade at the local middle school, and Andrew’s own pickup was not under the shelter.
I continued on through the yard, past the shelters and barns, and down the rutted lane that led to my own house.
“No you don’t,” Jessica said quietly from the seat beside me.
“No I don’t what?” I asked.
“Get along with Aunt Barbara. I mean, you don’t snarl at each other or talk ugly, but it’s like y’all’s hackles rise every time you get around each other.”
She was right. Not that I had ever sat down and given it serious thought.
“You two are like oil and water.”
“Nothing wrong with oil or water,” I said.
“No, but you sure don’t mix.”
“Objection,” I said, trying to keep it light.
“Sustained,” she said agreeably. “Actually, Aunt Barbara’s the one that doesn’t do much mixing, does she? Why?”
When I was silent, she said, “I’m not still a child, you know.”
I reached over to pat her leg and said, “I know,” even though it seemed like only yesterday that she was a kid more interested in horses and dogs than intrafamily relationships. Now she was seventeen, not a full-grown adult, but certainly cresting the hill. Like her mother, Minnie, she was growing into a steady, sensible woman. She would never be conventionally beautiful, not with Seth’s square face and Minnie’s sturdy build, but she had the Knott family’s clear blue eyes, open smile, and sandy blond hair, and she had her share of interested boys even though her heart still belonged to Dollar, her old white horse.
“Maybe it’s because she was raised in town,” Jess mused aloud.
“Your Aunt Amy was raised in town,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but she and Uncle Will live in Dobbs. Maybe that’s the difference. Maybe Aunt Barbara doesn’t really like living on the farm.”
“Can you see Uncle Zach anywhere else?” I asked.
She smiled, but then her tone turned thoughtful. “Actually, I could. He might mess around with his bees, but he’d rather read a book than sit on a tractor, and he doesn’t raise any animals. Yeah, he likes to hunt and fish like Dad and the others, but he doesn’t have to live out here to do that. He could keep bees in town and drive out like Uncle Will does or like Uncle Herman.”
“True,” I said as I turned into my own yard and coasted to a stop by the back porch, “but Aunt Barbara knew when she married him that she’d never get him to live anywhere else. He loves being part of the family’s daily life too much to leave it.”
I shifted into park and opened the door. The icy wind slashed at my face and made my eyes water.
Jessica came around the car with my robe in one hand and her phone in the other, then held the door for me while I fished my purse out from beneath the seat.
“You okay to drive home?” I asked, giving her a big hug. A wisp of her hair blew in my face. It smelled like baby shampoo, sweet and innocent.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “You’d think we’d be used to it by now. I feel so sorry for Mallory’s mom and dad. Mr. Johnson thought she hung the moon. He was so proud that she got into Carolina that he was going to throw this
