She moved fluidly down the stairs, jewelry jingling softly as she did, and made her way right to my open window. I sat up, too tired to care that I hadn’t seen her in years and I was showing up in my underwear with her son. When she reached the passenger door and bent down to the window, I knew it didn’t matter.
She smiled, gentle and warm, took my face in her hands, and said softly, “We’ve been expecting you.”
16
I closed my eyes and let the warm water stream down my face, hoping it would carry any traces of tears away with it. The look on Celia’s face, and her hands on my cheeks, and what she’d said, had left me so near undone I actually did ask right away if I could take a shower. And she’d been happy to oblige, because that’s what you do with people who are so upset they’ve lost their manners. I’d barely gotten the water on before the first tears, all full of fatigue and relief, spilled over onto my cheeks. I watched them swirl down the drain, wondering how in the world Celia had been expecting me when I had absolutely no business being where I was at the moment. I probably didn’t have enough money to fix the car and make it home, let alone get to California and Kyra Kelley in time. Lilah had to be wondering why I hadn’t returned her calls, and Gina probably had all of Texas searching for me, yet here I was.
What felt the worst, though, was that being this far away and this out of touch was exactly what I wanted right now—needed, even, because back home Finn was gone for good. Buried in the town cemetery. But in his car, with Rusty next to me and memories of him shared between us, it was like he wasn’t so far away after all.
I breathed in the steam, wishing I could stay in the shower forever and not have to deal with any of it. I could only imagine the conversation happening about me between Rusty and Celia out in the living room. But I actually did remember my manners, and I couldn’t let go of my curiosity about how she’d known we were coming, so I finished up and shut the water off, then took a few deep breaths as I put my fresh clothes on. At least I’d be fully dressed to give her a proper greeting and meet Bru.
Which I did, as soon as I swung open the bathroom door. I ran right smack into him in the middle of the hallway, almost knocking both of us down.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see . . . I . . .”
“That’s all right, darlin’.” He laughed. “You didn’t hurt me none.”
Rusty hadn’t been kidding about the crusty mountain man thing. Bru stood not much taller than me, his faded jeans and western shirt almost completely covered in red-brown dust. He tipped his head and smiled warmly, past his scruffy white beard, all the way up to a pair of sparkly blue eyes. “You must be Honor.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Bru. Pleased to meet you.” A scraggly gray ponytail slipped over his shoulder as he leaned forward. “My condolences about your brother.”
“Thank you,” I said, shaking his hand and hoping he’d leave it at that. “And . . . thank you for having us here. Sorry to just show up like this, but—”
He waved a dismissive hand. “We’re happy to have you two,” he said with a wink. “You all done in there? Cece doesn’t like me to show up to the table all dusty.”
I nodded, still fumbling around for something more to say. “Yeah. I’m finished. Thank you.” I stepped aside and motioned that the bathroom was all his.
“All right then. Kitchen’s down the hall and through the living room. Just follow the smell of whatever crazy thing she’s cookin’ in there.” He winked again, then stepped past me. “Lord knows what it is this time.”
“What is that?” Rusty said as I stepped down into the kitchen. Now dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he leaned over the pan that sizzled on the stove, face scrunched up at the smell of it.
Celia reached up to his shoulders, which made her look even tinier, and steered him toward one of the kitchen chairs. “That is our dinner—organic quinoa with sprouted nuts and leafy kale. You just sit down and don’t bother yourself about it now.” Rusty did as she said, with a look that said he probably wouldn’t bother with it at all.
Celia was about to say something else but noticed me and crossed the kitchen in about two steps, then stood looking me over, shaking her head. “Oh, Honor darlin’, look at you all grown. You’re every bit as beautiful as your mama was.”
I looked down at my toes on the wood floor, a mix of self-conscious and happy at the comparison. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said, looking up into her hazel eyes. “You look just the same as I remember you.” And she did, with her long curly hair and olive skin that made her look more like she could be Rusty’s sister than his mother.
She waved a dismissive hand, then smiled as she brought it to my arm. “Aw, sweetie, I’m just happy you’re here. Happy Rus went down there after you. I knew it would work out for the best.” My eyes went straight to Rusty, but he didn’t meet them, and Celia’s sentence hung there in the space between us.
She gave my arm a pat, then turned her attention to the pan on the stove, which was starting to smoke. “Oh, lord!” she said, hurrying over to it.
Went down there after me?
Rusty still wouldn’t meet my eyes. I looked to Celia, about to ask her what she meant, but she was too busy fussing over the pan that was now filling the room with putrid-smelling smoke. Went down there after me . . . For what? And how did she know that? And why wouldn’t Rusty even look at me?