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Friend wasn’t the word Elsie would’ve used. Carson was Kye’s friend. Elsie was a bad memory. She wondered if Kye had told his parents about what happened between them. He probably had. Mrs. McBride had most likely shaken her head in a sad, understanding way about Elsie’s schoolgirl crush. Or worse, Mrs. McBride had become indignant that a trollop of a girl had tried to seduce her son.
Elsie forced a smile. “I’m Elsie Clark.” She tried to say her name as though she had nothing to hide. It still came out hesitant and unsure.
“You’ve come for the wedding?” Mrs. McBride said pleasantly. No flicker of pity or indignation went through her eyes. Maybe Kye hadn’t told his parents after all.
“Yes,” Elsie said, “I’m just here for a fast trip.”
The sound of a walker clunking into the room announced Mr. McBride’s arrival. “Who’s come for the wedding?” He was a big man with bright blue eyes that peered from a sun-worn face. His hands, gripping the walker, were scarred from years of ranch work.
“This is Elsie,” Mrs. McBride said. “She’s Kye’s friend.”
The wordfriendhit Elsie’s ears with the same tinny discordance it had the first time. Still, there was nothing to do but smile politely at Mr. McBride.
“Well,” he said, “you’re a good deal prettier than most of Kye’s friends. His taste must be improving.” He laughed at his joke, and it was a booming, friendly sound. His gaze swept around the room. “Where is Kye?”
“Out in the stables,” Elsie said. “He’ll be here soon.” She didn’t want to say why she was here and wondered how much explanation was required.You see, your cattle trapped me in a standing stampede…
“So what do you do?” Mrs. McBride asked, still smiling politely at Elsie.
“I’m a senior at UM. I’m studying business.” For the first time, Elsie wondered if Kye’s parents recognized her. Certainly, they knew who she was. She’d told them her name. They’d sat in the same church every Sunday for years. They’d dropped Kye off at her house and Carson had been over to theirs countless times. They were asking about her schooling to be gracious.
Mrs. McBride nodded at Elsie. “Are you staying for dinner? It’s nothing fancy. Just some soup, potato salad, and ham sandwiches.”
Elsie shook her head. “No, I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
Elsie hadn’t realized Kye had come inside until she heard his voice behind her. “It’s no trouble. We eat dinner every night.”
Elsie turned to him, her mouth opened to protest.
“I insist,” he added in the tone he used to tell the class to settle down and get to work.
What else could she do? Sit there and watch them eat? Stay in the living room and pretend they were all strangers? So she smiled, waited for Kye to put his coat in the closet, and went with him into the kitchen.
Well, this was ironic, Elsie thought as Mrs. McBride put a sandwich on her plate and poured her a bowl of tomato soup. When Elsie had been growing up, she’d glanced at the McBrides sitting in their pew and imagined this moment a dozen times: being invited over to dinner, Kye’s parents chatting happily to her as though she mattered. It was proof prayers were answered. Unfortunately, they weren’t answered promptly. Elsie had taken this dinner off her wish list years ago.
After a few minutes of conversation, Mrs. McBride glanced between Kye and Elsie. “Tell me again—where did the two of you meet?”
Elsie stiffened, mid bite. So it was every bit as bad as she’d feared. Kye’s parents didn’t recognize her. They thought she was dating Kye, that she was his equal, and now Elsie would be forced to listen while he set the record straight.
Kye stared blankly at his mother, then seemed to understand her confusion. “This is Elsie Clark. I’ve known her all my life.” He turned to Elsie. “Didn’t you tell them who you were?”
“Yes, of course I did.” The words came out more defensively than she’d intended. She didn’t want Kye to think she’d pretended there was something between them.
Mrs. McBride stared at Elsie in amazement. “Clark? I thought you said Parker. Good heavens.” The wrinkles at her eyes deepened as she laughed at her own mistake. “You’re little Eloise Clark? It can’t be.” She shook her head. “When I saw you there in the living room, I assumed you were Kye’s date for the wedding.”
“An easy mistake,” Kye said evenly, “except I told you my date’s name was Lisa, and she doesn’t get to Lark Field until tomorrow night.”
Mrs. McBride ignored her son. “Look at you,” she went on cooing at Elsie. “You’ve grown up into such a pretty young woman.”
“She’s always been pretty,” Kye said, stirring his soup in a matter-of-fact way. “You just never noticed before.”
Well, that made it a family trait they shared, since Kye had never looked twice at her either. Elsie wondered what Lisa looked like and how serious they were.
Elsie stirred her own soup, and her gaze locked on Kye’s for the first time since she’d sat down at the table. “You don’t remember how we met, do you?” She asked the question to prove what she already knew—that despite Kye’s polite attention now, things weren’t any different between the two of them.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, since we’ve both lived in Lark Field all our lives, I assume we met when you were a baby and I was five years old. My mother probably stopped yours in the hallway at church to congratulate her on your arrival.”
“That sort of meeting doesn’t count,” Elsie said.
