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I adjusted my posture, flicking my gaze over his shoulder to ensure no one from the ceremony was headed in my direction.
“No, it’s fine. I was just lost in my thoughts.”
The man’s expression stayed even but he took a step closer.
“I’m Earl Staton, your father’s lawyer. I saw you rushing off and wanted to stop you before you left.”
Oh.Lawyer meant he had legal matters to address.
“I just need a few minutes of your time tomorrow. There’s a few signatures I need from you.”
I tucked my arms in close as a phantom chill found its way to the back of my neck even in the sweltering heat.
“I planned on leaving this evening actually …”
Earl shifted in his suit. It was too big for him, but he still wore it with confidence.
“My office opens at eight, and the meeting won’t take long. There isn’t much to go over.”
No, there probably wouldn’t be.
I nodded my agreement. One more night wasn’t going to make or break me.
Earl handed me a business card with his office info on it and sauntered off, winding his way along the headstones that littered the grass.
I gripped the edges of the card and continued toward my car. Right before I unlocked the doors and slid inside, I peered over my shoulder one last time. I hated the tug in my belly that demanded I turn around and go cry in front of my father’s coffin. One last look, and I’d let him go. But it wasn’t the casket that drew my gaze, it was the man standing next to it with his face upturned in my direction.
I hadn’t seen Wesley Ryan in seven years, but the letters sitting in my top drawer at home suddenly came to mind. He’d started sending them about three years ago, once a month. I hadn’t opened a single one, not after that first letter, nor did I return to sender. I just collected them and hated myself for caring enough to keep them.
What could he have possibly wanted to say?
The last letter he’d sent, two weeks after our breakup, was still fresh in my mind.
I don’t love you… I’ve only ever pitied you.
The tight ball of emotion lodged in my throat, rekindling the burning in my nose. I had to get out of there.
I turned around, got into my car, and sped away without another glance back.
TWO
WES
AGE 9
It was too hot.
I had told Mom and Dad that there wasn’t enough air up on the second floor, but they just told us to sleep downstairs or outside. My sisters kept hogging the living room, and I wasn’t about to sleep on the floor.
So, I had the idea to head outside and sleep in my tree house. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of it before. Some nights, we’d try to sleep on the trampoline, but the bugs would always drive us back inside. In the tree house, there were sheets over the windows to keep them out, and I could light one of those bug candles to keep them away.
I tugged my blankets and pillows up over my head as I climbed the planks nailed into the bark of the tree. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, so the stars were out, bright and dotting the dark with a million glowing dots. Crickets sang loudly all along the tall grass past the yard, but the sound carrying on the wind from down the road nearly rivaled them.
It was the same thing every weekend. Distant music, the revving of engines and loud yelling. Dad said it was just a bunch of people partying and to not pay attention to it. Mom said it was a bunch of sinners who needed Jesus. My brothers said not to get caught near them because the men and women making all that noise were the most dangerous group of people in Virginia.
Once, we were driving home late one night, and I saw the group outside in the yard in front of the old Stone house. I’d seen some of them around town, and they always looked nice enough. They smiled at people, helped old ladies with groceries, and even helped build a house for the Barclays after theirs burned down. I didn’t understand why them being loud on weekends meant they were dangerous, but I suppose it didn’t matter much.
Not when it was so hot that I wanted to crawl out of my skin and trade with a snake or a frog. Anything that would feel cooler than this.
