“Never thought of it that way,” Jorja answered.
Taryn kissed Zoe on the top of her head. “Neither have I, until this moment. Maybe I’ll stick around after she and Ruby come back to work. I can live here in the trailer and do my computer work in the evenings.”
Jorja stood up when she saw Clinton coming down the steps. “Not me. I can’t wait to go back to my job this fall. I love Nana Irene, and I’m sorry she’s here without family, but this place isn’t for me.”
“Afraid you’ll run into Ford?” Taryn asked.
“Afraid of doing something that Jesus couldn’t forgive me for if I did,” Jorja answered and went into the trailer.
“Only if you get to him first,” Taryn whispered.
Chapter Eight
Dark clouds covered the sky when the three cousins piled into the company van to drive to the cemetery that Sunday morning. Jorja was glad that Clinton had not mentioned going with them. Since she had opened up to her cousins about what had happened to her, she wanted to talk about it more, but not with Clinton around. That would be too embarrassing.
“You do know where all the graves are located, right, Taryn?” Jorja asked.
Taryn started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. “Not right offhand. It’s been years since I’ve been here on Memorial Day, but I can remember the general area.”
“If we get in a bind, we can always call Nana Irene,” Anna Rose said. “Either she or Ruby will be able to guide us right to them.”
“Has anyone checked the weather?” Just the thought of storms made Jorja nervous. She remembered hoping that God was sending lightning down from heaven to strike Ford dead that horrible night. Later, she figured He was sending it to remind her that she shouldn’t have let her herself be put in that position and that what had happened was her fault.
“I did,” Taryn answered. “I’m not sure you can depend on the weatherman, since Texas has a mind of its own. But we’ve got a fifty percent chance of scattered storms and rain all day.”
“Tomorrow is supposed to be hot and sunny,” Anna Rose added. “That means it’ll be muggy if it rains today.”
“These arrangements are artificial, so they will withstand a little rain,” Taryn said. “And they won’t mind the high humidity.”
Jorja shivered. “I hate storms. That night that”—she paused and swallowed several times, trying to get the lump in her throat to go away—“it happened, it was storming. I guess I associate hard rain and the noise of a storm with the pain and humiliation, and the lack of ability to do anything about what was happening.”
“You really need to see a therapist and work through this,” Anna Rose told her.
“All I would do is sit on a therapist’s couch or chair and talk,” Jorja snapped. “She or he wouldn’t tell me what to do. They would just ask me how it makes me feel. I’ve watched enough shows on television to know how it works.”
“Okay, then,” Taryn said as she drove through the arch and into the Shamrock Cemetery, pulling off near the big O’Reilly tombstone. “How do the dark clouds up there in the sky make you feel? Tell us about your emotions. We’ve got all day, unless you want to get back in time for church services.”
Jorja sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. “Are you serious, or are you being sarcastic?”
“I don’t know about Taryn, but I’m as serious as this danged hangover I have,” Anna Rose answered.
Jorja gasped. “You drove home drunk last night?”
Anna Rose slipped her sunglasses out from her purse and put them on. “I wasn’t drunk enough to let Hank talk me into spending the night at his place. That’s my gauge about whether I should drive or not—but mixing beer with Jack Daniel’s is not a good idea.”
“You should have a designated driver,” Jorja scolded.
Anna Rose slid open the panel door on the side of the van. “Thenyoucan start going with me. You know Nana Irene would be furious if I wrecked my truck on the way home.”
“I’m not going to a bar,” Jorja declared.
“Then it’s on you if I crash into a tree or a telephone pole or even an Angus bull on the way home.” Anna Rose got out of the van and headed toward the back.
By the time Jorja joined her, Anna Rose had already opened the double doors and picked up the saddle for their grandfather’s tombstone. Jorja wanted to ignore what her cousin had just said, but she couldn’t. “I’ve only ever drank a beer and one fruity drink in my life, and look what that got me.”
“Designated drivers do not drink. That’s the point,” Anna Rose threw over her shoulder as she carried the arrangement across the grass to the tombstone. “You can just sit in the corner at a table and glare at people who do. Maybe you could even run off any cowboys that have wedding bands or a white stripe where a ring used to be.”
Jorja gave her a double dose of stink eye. “Taryn can do all that for you.”
