Miss Janie's Girls - Carolyn Brown Page 0,73

a car with Denver in the middle of the night, and the two of them had driven south. They’d thought they were doing something really wild until they had to use all their savings to rent a travel trailer in a park outside San Antonio. Reality hit strong a few weeks later, when Kayla was the only one holding down a steady job. She realized then what a mistake she’d made in leaving Miss Janie’s house and packed her bags to go back, but Denver scared her into staying. He said that if she left him, he’d hunt her down, and no one would ever find her body. She believed him because the Bailey boys, Denver and Bowie, had a reputation for being downright mean. Thank God he hadn’t come looking for her when she finally decided that being dead would be better than living with him.

She turned on the radio, more to ease her own jitters than to listen to the music, but the words of every song seemed to be aimed right at her. She needed to let go of all the pent-up anger, but it had been with her so long that she’d feel empty without it.

“And now,” the disk jockey said, “we have news in brief. The Senior Citizens on Broadway in Sulphur Springs will have a domino tournament tomorrow from one o’clock until five. A reminder that the church on Seventh Street has a food bank for anyone who is in need . . .”

He went on, but Kayla’s mind stayed on what he’d said about the senior citizens. If she and Teresa did start a little place for the senior citizens in Birthright and the surrounding area, the old folks would have a place to come and play dominoes. They could serve them a healthy lunch each day, and they could catch up on all the gossip and news about the town.

She was so excited about the idea that suddenly she was parking Miss Janie’s car at the school, and she didn’t even remember driving there.

Go on inside and knock ’em dead, the voice in her head whispered.

“Knockin’ ’em dead is for the popular girls, not me,” Kayla told her reflection in the rearview mirror.

A six-foot-long table was set up inside the lobby, with two high school students sitting behind it. “Good evening, and who are you?” a cute little brunette with a name tag that read Emily asked.

“Kayla Green,” Kayla answered. “Starting off like I figured,” she said under her breath. “They don’t even know me.”

“Hey, you came,” Will Barton yelled from twenty feet down the hallway.

“You know my uncle Will?” Emily asked.

“Yes, I do,” Kayla answered, but her eyes were on Will. He wore khaki pants, a light-blue shirt the color of his eyes, and a smile that was so bright it lit up the long hallway.

“He’s my favorite.” Emily laughed. “He’s so funny and sweet. Mama says he was a nerd in high school, but I don’t believe her.”

In a few long strides, Will was right beside her. “Come with me, and I’ll show you where the party is.” He grabbed Kayla’s hand and led her down the hallway. “I’m so glad you decided to show up—you look amazing. Did you read that story about Prissy in the paper?”

Kayla felt a little—no, it was a helluva lot of—heat rush through her body as they walked toward the cafeteria. “I couldn’t believe it. She’s always had the whole world falling down in front of her just to get to kiss her feet.”

“She’ll pay a fine and won’t do a day’s worth of jail time, but she’s lost her husband and child because of it,” Will said.

Kayla raised a shoulder slightly. “Makes a person wonder if she ever loved him.”

Will’s head bobbed in agreement. “She probably married him for his money.” He opened the door to the cafeteria and stood back to let her enter first.

“Well, hello, Will. Who is your plus-one?” Amanda, one of Prissy’s good friends and a member of her posse in high school, turned around and spoke to them.

“It’s Kayla Green, darlin’.” Kayla put on her best Texas drawl and pointed to her name tag. “And whose plus-one are you?”

“I’m Amanda Carson. I was voted prom queen our senior year.” Her face registered pure shock that Kayla didn’t know her. “I drove a cute little red sports car. I still have it, and I drove it here tonight.”

“Sorry.” Kayla shrugged.

“We only graduated eighty kids that year.” Amanda seemed determined

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