point. She tossed the phone over on the passenger seat and figured if she had a blowout, maybe some kind soul would call Miss Janie’s house and Noah could come help her. He had said he would pay her, and God only knew how bad she needed the money, but a fresh wave of guilt washed over her when she thought about charging him to help with Miss Janie.
The truck might be running on fumes, but the radio still worked, so to keep her mind off the thoughts of blown-out tires or no fuel in the tank, she turned the dial.
“And here’s ‘Storms Never Last’ by Miranda Lambert. She sang this recently at the Grand Ole Opry, and I was privileged to be right there on the front row,” the DJ said.
“I hope you’re tellin’ me the truth, Miss Miranda,” Teresa said as the words flowed by, talking about bad times passing with the wind.
An hour later, hungry and hoping that there were some leftovers from dinner, she parked in front of the big two-story house that intimidated her every bit as much now as it had the day she’d moved a box of clothing into it just before eighth grade. Black clouds rolled in from the southwest, and a loud clap of thunder followed a jagged streak of lightning. Teresa didn’t have time to sit there and think.
She could see the sheets of rain coming toward her, and if she didn’t get her things from the bed of the truck and onto the porch, they’d be soaked in a few minutes. She rolled up the window, jumped out, and grabbed the suitcase and one box and jogged across the yard. Her jet-black ponytail flipped back and forth as she ran to the truck for the other boxes. A hard wind blew the first raindrops across her face as she hurried up onto the porch with the last box. Out of breath, she knocked on the door.
After a week of giving herself lectures concerning Noah, she thought that she had things under control, but when he was right there on the other side of the door, her knees turned to jelly.
“Come right in.” He stood to one side. “Can I help you with—”
“Yes . . . ,” she butted in. “Three boxes. I can get the suitcase.”
They’d gotten all her things inside when another crack of thunder brought a deluge with it. Miss Janie came out of the living room and stared at Teresa for the longest time, as if she wasn’t sure who she was; then her frail hands went to her cheeks and her eyes widened. “You found one of my daughters. You did it. You found one of my babies. Come here to Mama, darlin’ girl, and give me a hug. Have you seen your sister? Is she coming?” She opened her arms.
Teresa didn’t mind being called Miss Janie’s daughter. Noah had said that she had developed Alzheimer’s, so that was understandable, but Teresa damn sure didn’t want to be recognized as Kayla’s sister. That girl had been a handful the whole time they had lived together in this house, and all they’d done was argue and bicker.
Miss Janie wrapped Teresa up in her arms and wet her shoulder with tears. “I’m so sorry I gave you away. I thought about you girls every single day and prayed that your adoptive parents were good to you. What did they name you, child?”
“My name is Teresa Mendoza, and I haven’t seen Kayla.” Poor Miss Janie hardly looked like the same strong woman who’d cried as she’d stood on the porch and waved goodbye as Teresa went away to college. That little secondhand car Miss Janie had bought for her had served her well. She almost wished she were driving it back here.
“Oh, no!” Miss Janie took a step back and put her hand over her mouth. “They split you up and put you in different homes. I wanted them to keep you together.”
“Miss Janie, Mendoza is my married name, but I’m divorced now.” Teresa shot a look at Noah.
“That’s good.” Miss Janie dried her eyes. “I’m glad we can be a family again. Maybe your sister will come later. How long has it been since you sisters have seen each other?”
“A long time,” Teresa muttered.
“Are you hungry?” Miss Janie asked.
“Starving,” Teresa admitted. “I drove straight here and didn’t stop for breakfast.” She didn’t say that she was afraid if she killed the engine of her old truck, she