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Mia grinned. “I was going to get her with those a long time ago at the ghost town, but the timing was off. I just wish I could have been there to see her face.”
“You should ease up. Gram’s getting up there. You’re going to give her a heart attack one of these days.”
“Nah,” Mia said, waving her hand in the air as she trotted up the steps beside him. “Sugar Britches loves it when I mess with her. It’s all part of our twisted and wonderful relationship. I prank her, she treats me like her indentured servant—it all works out.”
“She’s still dumping the ghost town stuff on you?” Pike asked, holding open the door for Mia before following her into the lasagna-scented house. His mother looked up from the island in the kitchen, as they walked in, and smiled. His dad was already parked at the table attacking a salad, obviously intending to eat dinner with the family after all.
“Totally, but I don’t mind,” Mia said. “The benefit concert was a lot of work, but it was also a lot of fun. It was amazing to see Bubba up on stage.”
Pike and Mia joined their mother in the kitchen, pouring wine, while she carved up the lasagna, and helping to bring the side dishes to the table. Over dinner, they talked about the concert and the wedding, Mom’s volunteer work at the hospital, Dad’s new ideas for the ranch, and Pike’s flight down from Arizona after his vintage Mustang died just outside of Phoenix. They avoided talk of baseball or baseball injuries, and at the end of the meal, his father walked him to the door and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.
It wasn’t a hug or an apology, but it was as close as Jim Sherman ever got to “I’m sorry,” and as Pike followed Mia down the steps, he felt guilty all over again.
His family wasn’t perfect, but he had a mother who adored him, a father who loved him in his own frustrating way, and a sister who was one of his best friends. Meanwhile, Tulsi had a disapproving father she’d been intimidated by for most of her life, a mouse of a mom who lived in her husband’s shadow, and a sister who’d run off when Tulsi was fourteen never to be seen in Lonesome Point again. Thank God for Mia, or Tulsi might not have made it through having a baby at eighteen. His sister was an amazing woman and a wonderful friend, but when Mia dropped him at her store and left to go see Tulsi, Pike couldn’t help feeling that it should be him.
It should have been him who stood by Tulsi all those years ago, and it should be him going to her now. As he stood on the front porch of Lavender and Lace, watching Mia’s truck drive away, the truth suddenly hit him—hard, making his chest ache.
He was still in love. He was still in love with Tulsi Hearst, after all these years, after all the water under the bridge. He didn’t want to leave the past behind and move on; he wanted to reach back across time, take eighteen-year-old Tulsi’s hand and never let go. But it was impossible. She wanted nothing to do with him. She’d made that clear this afternoon.
It was like his coach said—you can lay down and quit or you can get up and fight, but there’s no going back. There was no way back to the Tulsi he’d known, but maybe there was a way to get close to her again, to bridge the distance between them and reclaim the friendship he’d lost. The truth was he wanted more than friendship, but he’d count it as a victory just to be able to look into Tulsi’s eyes and know she didn’t hate him anymore.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Tulsi
It wasthe worst night ever and it was all Pike Sherman’s fault.
If he hadn’t come to town, Tulsi wouldn’t have spent half her afternoon crying, lied to her best friend about why she needed cheering up, or been forced to endure a fifteen minute lecture from the director of Bibles and Bunk Beds, detailing all the ways she was failing to bring her daughter up properly. If Tulsi hadn’t needed to make sure Clementine and Pike saw as little of each other as possible during Pike’s visit, she wouldn’t have sent her daughter to camp in the first place. Clem was too young, and obviously had too much intelligence and personality for the stuffy old women running Bibles and Bunk Beds.
Tulsi had been prepared for a phone call about Clem sneaking off to explore or trying to jump off the big diving board, even though only the older kids were allowed to use the high dive. She hadn’t been prepared for a lecture on teaching Clem to keep her mouth closed and her ears open.
“It’s like they hate her for having a brain!” Tulsi sobbed, swiping another tissue from the box Mia had fetched from the bathroom moments after she came through the door and saw the state Tulsi was in.
“They don’t hate her,” Mia said, patting her knee. “How could anyone hate Clem? She’s the best.”
“It s-sounded like they hated her,” Tulsi said. “Mrs. Beatrix made it seem like she was some sort of a monster. I know calling God a jerk face was bad, but she just wanted to know why he killed all the innocent babies in the flood. That’s not being a monster; that’s having a sweet heart!”
Mia’s brow furrowed sympathetically. “Of course it is. And it’s a valid question.”
“Well, apparently the church camp people don’t like kids who ask questions.” Tulsi wadded up the tissue in her hand. “I should go pick her up right now. I don’t care if she begged to stay.”
“And then she would give you no end of grief and you’d both be even more miserable than you are now,” Mia said, pinning her with a hard look. “If she wants to stay, she’s obviously doing okay and having fun. And Mrs. Beatrix can’t mess up all the good parenting you’ve done in a week.”
“But Clem must be so confused,” Tulsi said with another sniff. “I’ve always encouraged her to speak her mind and think for herself.”
Mia held up the tiny trashcan from the bathroom for Tulsi to toss her tissue. “She’ll be fine. She’ll be home for the wedding on Saturday and we can talk to her then before she heads back to camp for the last night.”
“But what do I say?” Tulsi asked. “That part of the story’s always bothered me, too.”
“Tell her that parts of the Old Testament are weird and violent and it’s okay to be creeped out,” Mia said with a shrug, making hard answers seem easy the way she always did. “I mean, the Noah story is scary. I don’t know why people think it’s so perfect for kids. Cute two by two animals do not make up for wiping out the rest of creation in a big scary flood. I guess most kids don’t get that, but Clem’s advanced for her age. We’ve known that for a while.”
Tulsi sighed. “She’s so much smarter than me.”
Mia laughed. “She is not. Don’t be crazy. You’re smart!”
“Not the way she is,” Tulsi said, but the words didn’t bring on another round of tears. Talking to Mia was working the magic it always did, making her feel better even though talking didn’t change any of the things that had gone wrong. “I’m not always going to have answers to her questions, you know? No matter how hard I’ll try.”
“And that’s okay, too,” Mia said gently. “It’s okay for Clem to know that we’re all searching and trying to do the best we can. The only people who think they’ve got life all figured out are the ones who’ve stopped paying attention. And those people are the real jerk faces.”
