Page 11 of The Way Back Home

“Really?” he asks, studying my face closely. It’s unnerving, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m wearing remnants of my breakfast when he says, “How are you finding our beautiful town so far?”

“It’s nice. Of course, this is only my fourth day.” I lean in so the woman and her trio of friends who’ve moved in beside me won’t hear. “But the most beautiful roses often have the sharpest thorns.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about this town’s southern hospitality, but I’m yet to see it. So far, I can’t tell if you wanna run me outta town, take me back to your cabin in the woods and chop me up into itty-bitty pieces, or if you’re just genuinely being polite.”

“Well, I was aiming for polite, but I apologize if I’ve come off like a serial killer. While I do own a cabin in the woods, I assure you I’d likely only take you there for a quiet weekend away. I’m not one for killing things.” He winks. “Too messy.”

“I’m sorry,” I say with a smile, glad that not all the men in this town are as serious as August. Then again, I suppose not all the men in Magnolia Springs have lived through a war zone.

“Jude du Pont,” he says offering his hand. “They’ll come around. Give it time.”

“Olivia.” I reach out and shake his hand, but then the parade starts, and silence falls over us only to be completely eradicated by hoots and whistles. There’s a small regiment of soldiers, scouts and cadets that file past on foot or in wheelchairs, and a tractor or two, and then little Bett’s daycare center comes along, their teacher proudly holding the banner and the children are all dressed in their finest, despite the heat.

Bett’s wearing the midnight-blue dress she wore the first day we met. A ribbon bar and a purple heart medal are pinned to her dress. I dare a glance at August, who seems to have moved forward into the crowd now that it’s almost over. He watches his sister carefully, and then when she screams my name and breaks away from the parade, barreling into my legs, I wrap my arms around her and give her a tight squeeze, though my eyes never leave August’s and his never leave mine. Bettina’s teacher calls her name, telling her to keep up, and I give her a wave as she skips back to her place in line. I glance back at August, but he’s melted away from the crowd and is nowhere to be found.

“Friend of yours?” Jude asks, nodding to the little ones as they march past with swinging arms and eager faces.

I don’t know if he’s talking about Bettina or the man I can’t take my eyes off of, but I smile and say, “Yeah.”

Of course, I’m lying through my teeth. While Bettina may want to be my friend, her brother appears to outright detest the idea. I’ll talk him around, though. I’m sure of it.

“You’re staying at Tanglewood?”

“Uh-huh,” I say, clapping as a farmer slowly putters past on his tractor. Red, white and blue streamers tied with aluminum cans trail behind him and make a godawful racket. My gaze darts all around the parade, but I can’t find August anywhere.

As the fire brigade slowly drives down the road with its lights flashing, and its siren whooping loudly, people start packing up their belongings and head along Oak Street behind it. A woman with perfectly coiffed auburn curls and bright red lipstick sidles up to Jude and says, “There you are, I been looking for you all over.”

“Hello, Ruby,” he says, and the rest of their conversation is lost to me because as the crowd pushes forward, I get separated from the couple. I don’t mind too much. While Jude may be gorgeous in a southern gentleman kind of way, I’m too busy wondering where August went to pay the man any mind.

I follow the herd, and it isn’t long before I find myself at the fire station. It sits on the edge of Magnolia River and is surrounded by trees. Beside the big old brick firehouse there are stalls on the manicured lawns decorated in red, white, and blue selling hotdogs, cotton candy, cold drinks, and more American flags than you can poke a stick at. I’m a little lost at first, but it doesn’t take me long to find my bearings. It doesn’t take long for curious minds to start talking either, if their furtive glances are anything to go by.God bless small towns.

Once I collect a Coke and a hot dog, I’m set upon by a group of women—all about my age—who practically drag me away from the hot dog stand and force me to lose my appetite with their horrified looks at my supper of processed meat and carbs.

“We heard you’re new in town,” a woman with a shock of strawberry blond curls and pale pink lipstick says. She looks like she just stepped off the set ofThe Stepford Wives. I cast my gaze around the group of well put-together women., They all appear to be from Stepford.

“Sure am,” I say, setting my pop down on a nearby picnic table and wiping the condensation from my palm onto my sundress.

The woman thrusts a dainty manicured hand out in front of me and says, “I’m Katherine Abernathy.”

I take Katherine’s proffered hand and shake, wincing when she glances down at the ketchup I just smeared over her milky white skin. She retrieves a God’s honest handkerchief from her purse and wipes away the mess as if a toddler had just attacked her with sticky fingers.

“Olivia,” I say sheepishly.

“Well, Olivia, this here is Elizabeth, Georgia, Della, and Alice.” She points to the women gathered around me as if she’s a hostess on a game show.

“Hi,” I say, choosing not to shake hands after the way Katherine looked at me. I nod to each woman respectively and become a little more nauseated by their beaming smiles and perfect hair and makeup. By the time I’ve reached Alice’s overly cheerful face, I feel small and grubby, like a rat scurrying around their feet, desperate for a way out.My God, you couldn’t even make these women up.

“I saw you talking to Jude du Pont at the parade,” Alice says, flipping her long blond hair back from her shoulder. “Do you two know each other?”

“Oh, no. We just met today.”

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Katherine says, her laser focus zeroing in on my cowboy boots and cornflower blue dress.

“I’ll say,” another woman—Della, I think—pipes up. “Some of us have been living right under his very nose for years, and he’s never uttered a word.”

I grimace and cast my gaze toward the rest of the townsfolk, longing for something ... someoneto come and save me.

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