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At first she hadn’t believed it and refused to listen when Galen spouted that it was Norma Rose’s fault that Forrest had left town. As time went on and no one heard a word from him, Twyla had to start believing, especially when Norma Rose voiced her hatred of Forrest.
A flicker of hope had been lit inside Twyla when she’d heard he’d returned to town last fall. For weeks she’d stared out the window, waiting for him to visit, but he never had. He’d refused to talk to her, too, when she’d called about hiring Slim. Last weekend, when he’d come out for Big Al’s anniversary party, she’d purposefully stayed clear of him.
Hating him had been much easier when he’d been gone. The thrill of spying him from afar at the amusement park or seeing his airplane overhead, soaring around like an eagle in the sky, did something unique to her insides.
Flying had to be the ultimate freedom. Up there, you weren’t attached to anything. The closest she’d ever come to that would have been years ago, when they used to go swimming. Forrest had tied a rope to a tree branch hanging over the water, and she’d loved those few seconds that occurred between the time she let go of the rope and when she landed in the water.
She’d told him that once, when it was just the two of them jumping off the rope—her sisters had been afraid of it, even Josie—and Forrest had agreed with her. Maybe that was why he took up flying.
Her mind had gone full-circle. Turning to look at him again, she asked, “Why do I care?”
He nodded.
Her stomach tightened and her throat grew a bit thick. Her answer had to be about her. That way, Forrest would believe her. It also was the truth, even if it didn’t feel as important as it had before. “Because I want more excitement than hosting a kissing booth out of the back of the cotton candy shed. While you’ve been out seeing the world, flying planes, I’ve been stuck here.” Pushing off the ground, she rose to her feet and waved a hand toward the resort on the other side of the water fountain. “I live at the biggest, most fabulous speakeasy in the nation, but I’ve never been able to enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“Because of Norma Rose,” she snapped.
“Why are you blaming Norma Rose for that?”
“Why?” Twyla planted both hands on her hips. She had her reasons, and was sticking to them. “Because of what you did. Because of the way your father acted and the things he said, Norma Rose became fixated on making sure that none of us would become doxies.”
“It’s all my fault.”
It was all his fault. He’d left when she couldn’t stand losing something else. Yet, with the way he said it, with such meaning and implication, something jabbed at Twyla. Something invisible, but with as much power and pain as anything real could ever have.
Forrest climbed to his feet and used one hand to push aside the wayward hair that had flopped over his forehead. “Is that what you want, Twyla? To be a speakeasy doxy?”
He made that sound immoral, which added to the sting inside her. Twyla spun around, not liking the hint of disgust in his eyes. “No, and I’m not a doxy.” Twisting back around, she added, “But I am twenty-three. Too old to be told what to do and when to do it.”
He stepped forward, and for a moment Twyla couldn’t move, was barely able to breathe. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a faint, enticing shimmer that held her attention. When he took her hand and squeezed it gently, her knees quivered. Years ago he’d looked at her like that once, and it had frightened her. Not tonight. This time it made other things happen inside her. She felt anticipation. Excitement. All the things she’d longed for, and still did.
“I have a feeling, Twyla,” he whispered, “age has nothing to do with it.”
A knot formed in her throat, preventing her from responding. Not that she had a reply. Her mind had gone uncommonly empty. Because she knew what was about to happen.
He was going to kiss her.
Forrest was going to kiss her.
Her.
The knot in her stomach disappeared as a great sense of exuberance rose up. Her heart started racing and she had to part her lips in order to breathe.
Her lips quivered as Forrest leaned down. He tugged on her hand, forcing her to lean toward him. For a split second Twyla feared toppling to the ground.
That couldn’t happen.
Could.
Not.
Happen.
Not when she was this close to experiencing paradise.
It didn’t.
She didn’t topple.
But as relieved as she was, Twyla was so overly disappointed her shoulders slumped clear to her elbows.
Forrest’s lips had barely brushed against her forehead.
“Thanks for the party, doll,” he said, letting loose her hand.
