A California Christmas (Silver Springs #7) - Brenda Novak Page 0,25

He knew it couldn’t be her. His sister, older by seven years, was gone. As much as he wished otherwise, there could be no doubt of that. He was the one who’d crawled to her after their father, dripping blood from when he’d attempted to shoot himself, dropped the gun and ran from the house. Dallas had known she was dead well before the police and paramedics arrived. He’d never forget her pretty eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

That image haunted him.

And yet, in a cruel trick of his imagination, there were moments when Dallas could swear he caught glimpses of her. Other times, he thought he could hear her whispering in his ear, usually when he was just waking up.

Run, Dallas! Hide! And don’t come out until I call you!

It was as if his mind reverted to when she was alive, and he had to accept the fact, again and again, that her life had been brutally and needlessly cut short by their own father. If he had to name the most heartbreaking thing he’d ever had to endure, it would be that. He missed his mother, Dora, but what he felt for her was complicated. Love and longing, certainly, but plenty of anger, resentment and a sense of betrayal, too—for not getting away, for not protecting them as a mother should.

That wasn’t the case with Jenny, however. She’d been strong where their mother was weak, had always been there for him when he was frightened or hurt. And in the end, she’d paid the ultimate price.

He’d give anything to be able to go back and make that day unfold differently.

“Hello? Dallas? Are you listening? I’m talking here.”

Dallas jerked his gaze away from the blonde girl with the long hair and the pink ski coat, the sight of which was what had taken him back twenty-three years, and once again focused on Eli as they crossed the campus. He’d just spent the afternoon substituting for PE on the boys’ side of campus and now his brother was hitting him up to take over after-school practice for the girls’ basketball team. “What?”

“I said you’ve never played much basketball. Do you feel comfortable coaching?”

It wasn’t easy to shake off the nostalgia triggered by the sight of that girl, who, from the back, looked so much like Jenny, and who would’ve been about the same age as Dallas remembered her. “No.”

Eli’s eyes widened. “What?”

The girl went into a classroom and disappeared from view, making it easier for him to focus. “I’m going to invite them over to climb the wall. The boys who are there right now would love that.”

With a startled laugh, Eli caught his elbow and pulled him to a stop. “When were you going to tell me about your plans?”

“I don’t know. It just occurred to me that I should stick to what I do best,” he admitted. “And I promised some of the kids who were having fun with the wall at lunch that I’d be around to help them after school.”

“I’ll tape up a notice that you’ll be there from four to five, because you need to work with these girls on basketball for that long. They have a game tomorrow,” Eli pointed out.

That changed things. Eli was right; Dallas couldn’t let them go into a game unprepared. “Oh. Hmm. Okay.” He wiped a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. It was cool and overcast and smelled of rain, but whenever he remembered his sister, he grew hot and clammy. “I guess I can attempt to teach them something about basketball.” He grimaced as he tried to decide what that might be. “There’s a YouTube video for everything, right?”

“The girls are only thirteen. Help them focus on improving their defense by boxing out. That could easily take up the whole practice.”

Dallas glanced toward Aiyana’s house, a two-story, sprawling farmhouse, sitting way off at the edge of campus. With all the buildings and trees in between, he could see only the chimney and part of the roof. But he wanted to return there, to learn if Emery had messaged Ethan, and if Ethan had indeed tried to call her, as he’d predicted. “Why can’t you handle this practice?” he asked as they started walking again.

“Because I have a staff meeting in ten minutes.”

“Right. You told me that. But you didn’t say why you couldn’t reschedule it.”

“I need to make sure we have enough donations to be able to provide Christmas for those who would