My father had told me that the administration had practically forced the English teacher out of her job after she turned seventy. I figured the volunteer role was probably some kind of compromise.
“How long are you planning to stay in town, Flynn? I’d love to hear about where-all you’ve been. I follow your pictures in the magazines. Makes me proud. I show them to my students and tell them, ‘See what hard work gets you?’”
“Hard work, huh? Weren’t you the teacher who told my parents I was lazy?”
Mrs. Pruitt rolled her eyes. “Youwere.Smart as whip, but didn’t want to do the work unless it suited you. You remember when I assigned y’allA Farewell To Armsand you refused to read it?”
I did remember. Hemingway was never my favorite, and I’d tried to sweet-talk the teacher into letting me read Kerouc’sOn The Roadinstead. It hadn’t gone over well.
“You’ll be happy to know I did read it eventually. But I still don’t much care for Papa.”
“I’m proud of you, Flynn.” She patted my cheek. “If you get a chance, stop in and see me before you leave.”
“I’ll try. And thanks for being here today, Mrs. Pruitt.”
She touched her eyes with the handkerchief. “And where else would I be? Your daddy and I were buddies. I’m going to miss that man.” She sniffled dangerously, and I prayed that she’d move on before the tears came.
Just before she stepped away, she turned back, her brow furrowed. “Flynn, have you been in touch with Alison yet?”
I froze. I knew this was bound to happen, and I’d have been lying if I’d said I hadn’t been scanning the crowd, wondering if she’d come by. But no one had mentioned her name until now.
“Ah, no. I haven’t, uh, seen her.”
Mrs. Pruitt nodded, her face clouding. “I was very sorry when I heard the two of you didn’t work out. As you can imagine, I saw a lot of high school romances in my time, and most of them I could tell weren’t going to last. But after what that girl went through, and how you were always there for her . . . I thought maybe . . . well.” She patted me again. “These things happen. I see her every now and then. Not often, since she doesn’t come into town too much.” She regarded me steadily. “Her little girl is very pretty. Quite a charmer, too.”
That suffocating feeling was creeping back. “That’s great.” I glanced over my former teacher’s shoulder, hoping she’d get the move-it-along message. The last thing I needed was to hear or think about—her.
“I’m sure I’ll see you later.” Mrs. Pruitt smiled a little as she moved past me. I caught Reenie’s eye, and she hugged my arm.
“Hanging in okay, little brother?”
I covered her hand with my own. “Sure. How about you? Need anything? Water, tissues?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks, I’m—oh.” She frowned, and I followed her gaze to the doorway of the church, where a tall man with brown hair had just come inside, holding the hand of a red-headed woman who was at least a foot shorter. Behind them, another man trailed. His dark blond hair was perfectly styled, and his clothes screamed that they had not come from any of the stores in Burton.
The first guy turned to speak to the second, and recognition sparked.Sam Reynolds.Older, a little more filled-out than when I’d seen him last, but no doubt it was him. I didn’t know the woman whose hand he held, but the second man—yep, it was Alex Nelson. My eyes darted back to the door before I could stop them, but no one else followed them inside. Not her. She wasn’t here.
Of course she wouldn’t come. I’d left no doubt in her mind during our last conversation, when I’d laid down the ultimatum: leave Burton with me, or we were over. At the time, in the moment, I thought I’d meant it. A few months later, I hadn’t been so sure, but by then, she’d apparently gotten over me, since it was about that time she’d married Craig Moss.
Reenie laid her cheek against my shoulder, bringing me back to the moment. “She’s not with them. I didn’t think she’d come.”
“She was your best friend.” I didn’t try to hide the anger in my voice.
“She was yours, too. And your girlfriend. And . . .” Maureen raised one eyebrow. “More.”
“That was a long time ago. Lot of water under the bridge.”
Before she could answer, Sam was in front of us, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth tight. I watched him embrace my mother, carefully, kiss Iona on the cheek—that’s right, she’d been in his class—and then envelope Maureen in a hug.
“Reenie. I’m so sorry.” He stood up again, looking down into her eyes. “Your dad . . . he was one of the best men I ever knew.”
My sister, who thus far today had been stoic, bit her lip as tears slid down her cheek. “Thank you, Sam. Thanks for being here.” She leaned to the side to take the hand of the red-haired woman next to Sam. “Meghan. Thank you. I’m so glad you came.”
The younger woman had wide green eyes, which now swam with tears. “Maureen, I’m so sorry. I know . . . it’s hard. If there’s anything I can do . . .”
Reenie folded her into a hug. “You being here is enough. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” She stood back and glanced up at me, just the slightest edge of trepidation in her eyes. “Flynn, you remember Sam, of course. And this is Meghan, his girlfriend.”
“Meghan Hawthorne.” She extended her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
