Page 27 of Rhodes

I don't answer.

"Is this really about the car today?"

The kitchen is quiet.

"I almost called Mama first," I say.

"Yeah." Her breath catches, just barely. "I figured. Me too, sometimes. I still reach for the phone when I need someone to talk some sense into me."

Neither of us fills the silence for a second. We just let it sit, both of us letting it breathe.

"He's not who I thought," I finally say. "Our families have been tangled up our entire lives, and I still had him filed as the Stone who never takes a thing seriously. I don't think I ever actually looked at him. And he's over here being the responsible one while I look like a hot mess."

"We've known him forever and never known him at all." A little tease creeps in gently. "Is it weird living with him?"

"I mean, not really." I think about seeing him in that towel and all sense leaving my brain. "Just different."

"Well, he's family. He just wants to take care of you, like we all want to do for each other. Don't read too much into it and go easy on the poor man."

"You're right. Love you, I gotta run. I'm getting so excited about Italy!"

"Me too. I went shopping for dresses. We're staying together in the same villa, right?"

"Yes, I think Cain put us together. I told him he could save money because we would be in each other's rooms anyway. He doesn't care about money, but said he would try to find a bigger one for us."

"It's going to be so much fun," she says.

I hook my keys off the wall as I head outside. "Oh, wait. Did Daddy say anything to you about Easter?"

"Easter?"

"I asked him about doing it out at Oak Moss. I think it would be the perfect place for us to be together for the first Easter after losing Mama. Don't you?"

There's a pause for half a beat, the kind nobody on earth would catch except the person who shared a womb with her.

That's twice now. My father did it on the phone last Friday, and my sister just did it in my ear. Neither one of them will finish a sentence about that property.

"Libba. Is something going on at Oak Moss?"

"Not that I know of."

She says it too fast, and we both hear it. But we both drop it because there’s no use in pushing it.

"He mentioned it," she says again. "I think he's leaning toward doing it at the house, though. Birdie's already talking about a ham and bringing in a large farm table for the yard."

"The house is depressing, Libs. I just feel like it will be so sad to be there without Mom."

"I know, I agree. I'll work on him."

"Make it happen. Okay, I really do have to go. I love you."

"Love you, too."

I grab my keys and my water bottle, and the cardigan I keep in the closet because that fellowship room runs cold no matter the season. My bag's still by the door where I dropped it. I dig the little chip out of the side pocket, run my thumb over the worn edge of it once, and put it back.

Outside, the afternoon has gone gold and soft. I climb into the Cruiser, slide the key in, and turn it. It starts, first try, and the engine drops into the low, even idle I've missed for a week. I sit with my hands on the wheel a second, then back out and go.

The drive is fifteen minutes across town, past the taquería with the hand-painted sign, past the tire shop, past the shotgun houses with their porches full of plants. I roll the windows down and let the warm air push my hair around. There's nobody in the car but me, no one asking how I slept or how I'm feeling or whether I ate. Just my own two hands and a road I know by heart.