low-slung sports car. A flashback of him coming into the house wearing a similar coat, only a much cheaper brand, came to her mind. He’d been driving an SUV in those days, and back then he’d been a father, even if it was, for the most part, in name only.
She got out of her car, and he held up a gloved hand in a wave. She ignored him and went on toward the house.
“Are the kids ready?” he yelled.
“I’ll see,” she answered without turning around. She could almost see her mother’s disapproving expression. No southern lady treated anyone with such cold hatefulness, but she ignored the thought.
She had just opened the door when she heard the rumble of the school bus coming up the lane. That’s when she turned and pointed, but Wyatt had already heard it and was looking that way. The kids got off the bus with Holly in the lead. Neither of them ran to hug him. Holly stopped and talked to her father and then came on toward the house.
“He wants to know if he can wait for us inside,” she told Lily. “I said I’d ask you about that, and reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour and that I had to take care of Star before I could leave.”
“Of course he can wait inside.” Lily just couldn’t be hateful in front of Holly. “Are you packed and ready to go?”
Holly nodded and ran through the house, out the back door, and across the yard and pasture to the barn. Braden came in behind her with his father in tow, and followed his sister outside.
Wyatt nodded at Lily and said, “Cold out there today.”
“Yes, it is. You can either sit right there”—she pointed to the empty ladder-back chairs—“or you can go to the barn with Braden.” She glanced down at his expensive loafers. “Your choice.”
Wyatt removed his topcoat, took a seat, and folded his coat on his lap. “Are you ever going to forgive me? Can’t we be friends for the kids’ sake?”
“I can be civil and let you come in out of the cold for the kids’ sake. I will never be your friend.” She went upstairs and left him alone in the foyer.
Her hands shook with anger as she got out the journal to calm herself.
Jenny Medford O’Riley, December 1919:
That surprised Lily since there hadn’t been as many entries from one woman. There were usually several years between each recording, but this one was only two years after the last. She read through the page the first time, but Wyatt was still on her mind, and she was feeling a little guilty about reading it without Holly. She vowed that she’d backtrack when Holly got home and go over it again with her.
The flu epidemic made its way to Oklahoma. We lost Mama last week, and she’s been on my mind ever since. I was young when my daddy left with that other woman. We never saw him again. I’m still a little bitter, but my precious mama used to tell me that there was no room in a heart for both love and hate. She said that hate would soon eat up its half of the heart and want more and more until soon there would be no love left for anyone. I’m in mourning still, but I’m so glad I got to be with her all the way to the end when she took that final step from this world into a better one. I only hope that the flu doesn’t take any more of us. It seems like we do nothing but attend funerals these days.
“Okay, Mama.” Lily closed the book. “You might not be here to tell me in person, but you spoke loud and clear.”
She marched back downstairs. Wyatt was still sitting in the same place. He looked up at her with eyes the same clear-blue color as Holly’s. “How much longer do you think they’ll be? I was hoping that we could meet Victoria for dinner this evening.”
Lily sat down on the bottom step. “Wyatt, they know that Victoria doesn’t like them and hates being around them. They’d far rather spend time with you in a burger shop than eating in a fancy restaurant. They don’t care about museums or the Alamo. They’ve been to those places on school trips at least a dozen times. What they’d rather do is play a board game with you, or watch one of Braden’s collection