She wanted to argue and get the hell out of there. But how could she? Miss Francis was right. She could do this—for Lynnie.
“Yes. Of course.” With a glance at Scarlett and Renata, she made her way to the piano. She sat, running her finger along the newly polished surface before sliding the lid back. She took a deep breath, stretched her fingers and began. No one needed to tell her what Lynnie’s favorite hymn was. Lynnie had hummed
“What a Friend We Have in Jesus” all the time. She said prayer was really a long-distance call to Jesus, that he was always listening.
Tandy played, the straightforward notes and simple rhythm flowing from her without thought. She could almost hear Lynnie, knitting in her rocking chair, humming along. Voices joined in, filling the small parlor with song. She sang, too, the words long ago etched into her brain. By the time she was done, there were tears on her cheeks. Happy, thankful tears for the privilege of knowing such a strong and giving woman. Sorrow that such a life force was gone. And yet, she was one of the gifted few to know and love Lynnie Hale.
“That was perfect, darling girl,” Miss Francis said, pulling her into a tight embrace before Tandy had managed to stand. “She loved to hear you play, loved that you loved music so.”
Music was a comfort. Thanks to Lynnie, she’d mastered the piano, the guitar, the banjo and the dulcimer. Creating music and lyrics eased wounds and hurts too deep to ever fully heal. “She didn’t give me much choice,” Tandy said, wiping her cheeks. “I’m not sure I ever thanked her for that.”
Beyond Miss Francis, Renata and Scarlett waited—crying and leaning on each other. Brody Wallace had come inside and had an arm around each of them.
And Click, stony and rigid, watched her from the door.
Black hair. Strong jaw. Tall and broad and muscled. Blue-green eyes that pierced her soul. Nothing had changed. Nothing. Except all the pleasure his presence used to stir was replaced with something jagged and sad and cold. She tore her gaze from his, sheer determination the only thing that kept her from breaking down right there in the middle of Lynnie’s formal parlor.
“I’d say that was the perfect way to end the day. We’d best get,” Widow Riley said. “You need anything, Click? With your baby girl and all?”
The need to leave quadrupled. She didn’t want to think about Click and his baby girl. She couldn’t. It hurt too much.
“Yeah, Click,” Brody joined in. “We’re going into town, to the Tumbleweed, if you want to join us?”
Tandy wanted to sink through the floorboards at her feet.
Scarlett and Renata stared at her, their expressions revealing the horror and dread bouncing around in her stomach.
“He can’t go gallivanting.” Widow Riley’s disapproval was clear. “He’s a father. I’m sure Pearl’s mama wouldn’t approve.”
With a wave, Tandy was out the front door, almost tripping on the wooden steps in her haste to get away. “Banshee, load up,” she called out. Banshee came trotting around the porch, racing her to the truck and jumping into the truck bed and his waiting kennel.
Maybe she was overreacting. Okay, she was overreacting. Still, she didn’t want to hear what was next. She didn’t want to know about Click’s wife, his marriage, his perfect family life. If she was lucky, he’d sell Lynnie’s place and leave soon enough and she’d never have to see or hear the name Click Hale again. She hadn’t been lucky in a real long time.
“I take it you’re ready?” Renata asked, jogging to catch up.
She glared at her cousin, climbing into her truck and turning on the air-conditioning. “Scarlett coming?”
Renata nodded. “You sort of sprinted out of there.”
Tandy’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “He’s not coming, is he?” she managed.
“I don’t think so.” Renata’s hand gripped her forearm, squeezing gently. “I know things fell apart between you, but I’d like to think he’s still a little decent?”
Tandy rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “He...was.” But seeing his daughter made her pause. Fourteen months. What did that say about him? The sting of tears infuriated her. She’d been lost in anguish and guilt so heavy it had almost crushed her. He’d started a family.
More important, what did that say about the love he’d claimed to feel for her? She had yet to date, let alone think about being intimate with another man. If he’d really loved her the way he said he did, how could he? No matter what she said and did, the grief was there every second of every day—a gnawing, aching pain. How could he replace her? How could he replace their...their daughter so easily?
It hurt to breathe.
“You sure you guys want to do this?” Scarlett asked, pulling the truck door closed behind her.
“Yes,” Tandy said, throwing the truck in gear. She no longer doubted the logic behind Renata’s reasoning. “Absolutely sure.” A couple of shots were the only way she’d get any sleep tonight.
* * *
CLICK STOOD, STARING down the dirt road. The stone house was quiet now, too quiet. Only Brody and Miss Francis were left. And, suddenly, Click was in no hurry to see them go.
“What the hell was that about?” Brody asked. “You and Tandy?”