25
Lila matched her stride to Camille’s as they rounded the final stretch of the community center’s track. The late morning air had been crisp when they started, but now the sun had crept higher, warming their backs as they slowed to a walk.
“Felt good to get out,” Lila said, stretching her arms above her head. “I think spring has sprung.”
Camille nodded, but her expression remained distant. She swiped at her forehead with the sleeve of her hoodie, her breathing a little unsteady.
Lila studied her daughter’s face. “You okay? You’ve barely said a word all morning.”
Camille hesitated. “Yeah.”
Lila wasn’t one to hover, but concern prompted her to tilt her head, studying Camille a beat longer. “You sure?”
Camille picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Just…tired, I guess.”
Lila didn’t buy it. Not entirely. But she also knew better than to push too hard. “Didn’t sleep last night?”
Camille gave a half-hearted shrug. “Something like that.”
The trail behind the community center curved gently past newly budded cottonwoods, their branches stretching toward the sky like waking limbs. Clumps of bright yellow balsamroot swayed beside the path, their petals wide open to the warmth of the midday sun.
Lila slowed her pace, glancing at Camille as they neared the parking lot. “Capri’s home now,” she said, trying to sound light in tone. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The doctors say she’ll heal just fine, but it’s been an ordeal. You know Capri—she’s probably already plotting how to get back on one of those rafts the second summer rolls around.” She shook her head with a small laugh. “Stubborn as ever. Yet, I do think the accident softened her some. She seems...I don’t know, quieter in a way. Like she’s thinking things through instead of just charging ahead. Of course, knowing Capri, that won’t last long.”
Lila kicked a stray pebble off the trail, watching it tumble into the grass. “Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to prove she’s invincible by the time the first group of tourists shows up with their paddles in hand.” She paused.
No response.
Not to be deterred, Lila attempted to engage her daughter again. “Did you hear Jason Griffith is engaged? Oma is beyond thrilled.”
Still no response.
A meadowlark darted overhead, its golden breast flashing in the sunlight as it let out a bright, warbling song that drifted across the trail.
“And Charlie Grace—oh, Camille, it’s been hullabaloo central with her ever since that picker show found that valuable pocket watch on the ranch. Now the whole town’s buzzing about what she’s going to do with all that money, and you know how folks love to speculate. Nicola Cavendish is acting like she’s Thunder Mountain’s personal financial advisor, and Reva—well, Reva just keeps muttering ‘Lord, give me strength’ under her breath whenever the subject comes up.” She laughed, nudging Camille’s shoulder. “It’s been wild.”
Camille gave a small smile, barely more than a lift of her lips. “Yeah, sounds like a lot,” she murmured.
Lila frowned. That wasn’t the reaction she expected. Normally, Camille would be laughing, making some sharp-witted comment, but today…something was off. Lila told herself not to read into it. Her baby was pregnant, dealing with all the changes that came with it.
She remembered how it had been for her—how her body had felt like it wasn’t her own when she was pregnant with Camille. And how Aaron, sweet and clueless, had tried so hard to keep up. She smiled to herself, thinking of that time at the grocery store when her cravings hit mid-aisle, and she’d suddenly needed a jar of pickles and a pack of Twinkies right that second. Aaron had gone white as a sheet, taking her seriously. He, no doubt, thought she was about to collapse from hunger.
He’d ripped open the Twinkies, stuffing one into her hand like he was delivering life-saving medicine. Then he’d unscrewed the pickle jar with the kind of urgency most men reserved for defusing a bomb. A store clerk had come rushing over, only to find her eight months pregnant and sitting cross-legged on the tile floor, dipping Twinkies into pickle juice while Aaron muttered something about hormones and survival.
She sighed, shaking off the fond memory, and wrapped an arm around Camille’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay, baby?”
Camille hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, Mom. Just tired.”
Lila glanced over at Camille, searching her face for something unspoken, but after a moment, she sighed and let it go—for now.
They made their way toward the parking lot, their sneakers crunching over gravel. Lila had come to recognize Camille’s silences, the way she retreated into herself when she was wrestling with something. Lila didn’t often push—she’d learned long ago that patience got better results than prying.
Still, she couldn’t help herself. “You do know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
Camille gave a small nod, but her shoulders remained hunched. They reached the edge of the parking lot, where Lila’s SUV was parked among a handful of other vehicles.
Suddenly, Camille stopped. Her body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat.
Lila followed her gaze. Parked near the entrance was a truck, shiny black, its polished chrome grill glinting under the sun.
