I chuckle. “One of the most common and simplest foods known to humankind, and my girl thinks she’s having a delicacy.” I stuff another one in my mouth and watch as she carefully picks up the perfect bite while hovering a few extra seconds, her gaze fixed on her ring.
I wanted to take her to a fancy restaurant, but we’re only four days into our relationship, and so far we’ve consumed every meal off one plate. I remembered this Mexican restaurant from when my family came here years ago. I was so glad it was still here.
The nachos are spectacular, and even though I hate that my girl is sitting next to me and not on my lap, this way she can eat as many as she wants and stop when she’s full.
She grins up at me. “Thank you.”
I lean over and kiss her. “You’re welcome. After lunch, we’re going shopping.”
She frowns. “What do you need to buy?”
“You need a lot of things. We’ll return the stuff that didn’t fit and get more clothes. More toiletries. More of everything.”
“It’s going to take me a while to get used to wearing a new outfit every day. I’ve never known anyone to do that.”
I shrug. “All we have to do is toss the laundry in the washing machine and turn it on. No need to wait weeks to do a load.” I glance down and pluck playfully at the front of her skirt. “It seems you like the dress, yeah?”
“I feel like a princess.” She beams.
“Then, let’s get you more dresses.”
Her brow furrows. “Why? No one will ever see them.”
“For one thing, even if we rarely leave the property, I bet there will be a lot of people living there soon. Now that my brothers are all settling down, they will get married and start families. That’s eleven adults you’ll see on a daily basis. But more importantly, what matters is how you feel. If getting dressed up makes you feel pretty, then you should do it as often as you want. I like the way your face lit up when you put that dress on this morning. You’re glowing.”
She smiles. “I do feel pretty.”
“Then we need more dresses.” I tap the edge of the plate. “But first you need food in your tummy. Eat some more, sweetheart. You’ve only had a few bites.”
She carefully chooses another chip and pops it into her mouth. When her tongue peeks out to lick the corner of her lips, I’m so captivated that I want to drag her out of here so we can make out in the truck.
I’ll do my best to restrain myself for a few more hours. This is my wife’s special day. I won’t cut it short because of my raging hormones.
She needs this escape. All of our time has been spent dealing with the aftermath of her father’s tirade and his death. In the early morning, the sheriff came out after his deputies, and the three of them determined the actual cause of death.
Evidence would suggest that Sharp stomped into the shed with the intent of burning it down. He obviously hadn’t intended to go down with the fire or cause a premature explosion with his own homemade bomb. But the universe had other plans. For one, there were several animal traps in there. Sharp must have knocked one off the wall and then stepped on it, trapping himself among the rising flames. On top of that, he had a box of ammunition with him.
He’d obviously meant to take every possible opportunity to kill us off one at a time. He had enough shotshells for a small army. He’d planned to reload until his shotgun got knocked out of his hand. Instead, he stepped in that trap and was literally trapped after he lit his premade cocktail. He probably died in the initial blast, but he burned in the fire. In addition, when the flames got hot enough, those cartridges melted, and the shotshells went off like popcorn. Sharp got pummeled with shrapnel.
I haven’t told Rebekah the gory details. I simply told her he died quickly and didn’t suffer. Even though he was a mean old bastard, she wouldn’t want to picture her father suffering.
None of us believes that was the case. Had he been on fire, he would have screamed. Had he simply been trapped, he would have screamed. That means he had to have died in the explosion. Not a great way to die, but faster than burning alive.
At some point down the road, we’ll discuss what Rebekah wants to do about her childhood home and property. I decide to broach this subject while we finish eating. “When you’re ready, we need to talk about what you want to do with your homestead.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is a deed in the box you brought from the house. Your father owned it, so now it’s yours and Hannah’s. You could keep it or sell it off. I don’t think the house itself is worth saving. It’s in very bad condition. Someone could get seriously injured if the roof collapsed while they were inside. We should probably tear it down eventually. You can either sell the land or hang on to it.”
She stares blankly ahead for a few minutes, thinking. Finally, she says, “Do you think we could leave it for a while? I’m worried about Hannah. What if she comes home someday and no one is there?”
I nod. “That’s a good point. Why don’t you write her a letter and leave it on the kitchen table? That way, if she shows up, she’ll know where to find you.”
Rebekah smiles. “Brilliant.” She sits taller. “I’ve been wondering how she would ever find me. I pray for her to come home all the time. I hate thinking she’s alone in the world. Do you think she might have died?” This last part is whispered.
I set my hand over hers. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but I can certainly put out feelers.”
“What does that mean?”
