“Sure.” I stumble over the word, not sure if that’s what Mom wanted me to say before remembering I’m the one who should make those decisions.
Doesn’t matter. Junie’s dragged Frankie from the room before I’ve finished saying the word.
Since moving back in January, it’s been easy to let Mom parent both Junie and me. She didn’t seem to mind at first, but lately she’s given me a lot of not-so-subtle reminders that she’s already raised me, and it’s not her job to raise my kid. She hasn’t been as quick to respond when Junie chooses her over me.
But Junie chose Frankie today.
I’m not sure what to feel about that. Relief that she’s found one more person to adore? Worry that it’s someone with stories I’m the only one who doesn’t seem to know? Embarrassment atall the conclusions I’m jumping to when Frankie’s been here a total of five minutes?
Mom pats my knee and stands. “Why don’t you help me with dinner? Dad and the boys will be home any minute—including Hayes.”
“I thought he was in Arizona.”
Mom shakes her head on her way to the kitchen. “That was last week. Had a rodeo down south this week and is heading to Northern Nevada and Idaho next. Cassidy’s on her way, too.”
“The whole family…” I mumble.
“You’re not happy about that?” She hands me an apron and flips on the faucet for me to wash up.
“Notunhappy. Just thinking about Frankie.”
Mom’s lip pulls. “You seem to be thinking about her a lot lately.”
My eyebrows go up at her observation. “Notabouther. Just thinking through what it means for her to have the whole family here.” I shake water off my hands a little too close to Mom, a subtle warning to mind her own business.
She wipes at the water spots on her apron while sending me a teasing glare. “It means she’s got a lot of support.”
I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know everything about her?”
Mom lifts her shoulders. “I’ve pieced things together based on what Flo’s told me about Frankie since she’s been here and things I knew before?—”
“—About her acting days?”
“Hmm. That and some of her history beyond her career. But I’m not a gossip.” In a blink, Mom’s in motion again—I’m surprised she stood still as long as she did. “I’ll let her tell you about herself. You want the facts, not a bunch of rumors and tall tales.”
“You think she’ll tell me her story?”
“When she’s ready.” Mom lugs a huge watermelon across the kitchen and rolls it into my arms. “Cut this up, will you? Sandwiches for dinner tonight. Too hot for anything else. We’ll picnic outside.”
And that’s the end of our conversation. Any info Mom has on Frankie, she’s keeping to herself, no matter how hard I try to get it out of her. So, while she pulls all the sandwich fixings from the fridge, I cut up watermelon like she’s asked and tell her about the pink eye outbreak in the Stevens’ herd.
I’ve just finished the watermelon when the door to the mudroom opens, and the sound of a stampede carries into the kitchen.
“Boots off!” Mom yells, like anyone needs reminding.
Well, maybe Hayes who appears for a second before turning back around to leave his boots where they’re supposed to be. He passes Dad, Wes, and Bennett on his way.
“Use the shower in there, too Hayes,” Dad calls after him. “That boy can’t remember a damn thing. He would lose his head if it weren’t attached.”
“He's playing dumb. He just likes to poke the bear.” Mom gives Dad a gentle jab in his belly, then pretend shivers. “Come to think of it, I like poking the bear, too.”
“Mom, Dad please.” I turn away from them as Dad pulls her into his arms.
My tolerance for their lovey-dovey stuff is nonexistent since Kayla died. Not that we had the kind of relationship Mom and Dad have. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to watch.
“It never stops,” Bennett plucks a slice of watermelon from the tray and downs it in two bites while reaching for another piece.
“Wait for dinner.” Mom breaks away from Dad to swat Bennett away from the watermelon.
