Page 68 of A Love So Sweet
“It was Mom.”
Rex stepped onto the porch and sat beside Savannah. “What was Mom?”
“She was the one who started the barbecue tradition,” Savannah answered.
Rex took off his hat and ran his hand through his thick hair. He set his hat back on his head and wiped his face with his hand. “Remember that? She said we were only nourishing our bodies if we ate inside all the time and that we also had to nourish our souls.”
A warmth softened Rex’s hard exterior, and for a brief moment Treat saw the gentler little boy Rex had been before their mother became ill. Had he changed too? Was there a before- and after-Mom-was-sick Treat? If so, he had no recollection of that person.
“‘Because that’s what the sun, wind, snow, and rain are for,’” Treat added, quoting their mother.
“I wish I’d known her the way you guys did.” Savannah tried to mask her frown, but she fell short.
Treat put his arm around her.
“You’re just like her.” Rex pushed to his feet and headed for the door. “You doing night chores with me?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Treat answered.
“Why isn’t Max with you?” Savannah asked. “Dad said you haven’t brought her over at all.”
“Because I’m selfish,” Treat admitted. “I wanted every second I could have with her without the pressure of the family.” He picked up a rock and tossed it into the yard. “She had to take care of a few things out of town and Dad got sick, so…”
“Shereallylikes you.” She scooted closer to him again. “I want that for you. I want you to be with someone who adores you. Someone who would go anywhere to be with you, like she did.”
“That makes two of us. I want that for you, too.” Remembering what Savannah had said about reading between the lines, he asked, “Do you want Connor to follow your bread crumbs?”
A breeze swept her long auburn hair away from her face, and for an instant she was the spitting image of their mother.
A shadow passed over her eyes, and she said, “I’m not sure. Most of the time I think I do. Sometimes, though, I’m not sure if I’m setting myself up to be hurt.”
“Please tell me you don’t mean physically hurt, because I’d hate to be known as the guy who killed Connor Dean.”
“He’s a butterfly, really. He’s not a fighter.”
“Well, you are afeistything. Is that the problem? That he’s not a fighter?”
“It’s just schedules and craziness.” Savannah put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s analyze you instead.”
“Let’s not.” He’d done enough analyzing for a lifetime. All he wanted was for Max to call and say she was safely back at her apartment. If it weren’t for her, he might never have dealt with the guilt that had hung over him for too many years.
He stood and reached for her hand, helping her to her feet. “We’d better help get dinner on the table.”
They helped get the food ready, and Treat carried a jug of apple cider out to the table, stopping when he caught sight of his father and Rex walking down by the barn. Rex had a pinched look on his face. Their father put his hand on Rex’s shoulder. Treat could practically feel that secure weight on his own flesh. He knew the look his father was giving Rex, and he would bet the discussion had something to do with him.
He’d better go face it head-on.
Savannah touched his arm before he could take two steps. “Leave them,” she said.
“I’m sure it’s about what I said last night.”
“No, it’s not. Let them be.”
Treat narrowed his eyes at his sister. “How do you know?”
Savannah took the cider from his hands and set it on the table, ignoring his question.
“Savannah?”
