Page 96 of Tumbleweed Temptation
“How about restaurants?”
“I stand by ours as being better, but they have some different ones, a pizza place, a burger place. Since the high school is there, and they have more games, they have more variety for game days.”
“Good. I’m ready for variety.”
They drove a few miles in silence.
“Has anyone said to you how she’s doing?”
Ginny didn't have to ask who “she” was. “I haven't heard. I’m sorry.”
“I just thought maybe someone would know.”
“No one I’ve talked to has said anything. I’m prepared for the worst.” She hoped he was, too.
“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Yeah, I think I am, too.”
She wasn’t, though. Ginny had been prepared for tears, even hysterics. What she wasn't prepared for was the wooden way Susan stood beside her weeping husband before the tiny casket. Ginny didn't know if she was medicated, or just broken. She saw Susan’s friends go up to her, wrap her in their arms, and Susan just stood there, blindly staring, to the point where Ginny got chills.
“You don't think she’d hurt herself, do you?” she leaned over to ask Austin.
His jaw was tight, eyes grim. “Not the woman she was before. But I just don't know.”
“Should you say something?” He was her doctor, after all. She scanned the rest of the group, tried to figure out who was family. Maybe he couldn't say something to Mrs. Bryant or her husband, but maybe he could say something to her mother or sister or someone. “I think you should try to say something.”
Everything in him was tense, and even his sharp nod looked like it might snap his neck. “After the service. I’ll say something.”
She knew he didn't want to, but wouldn't they both feel terrible if they didn’t? She reached over and squeezed his hand, meaning for it to be a gesture of support, but then he turned his hand over and laced his fingers through hers, holding on.
Ginny couldn't stop her own tears as the service began. She wasn't an emotional person, usually. She’d learned to shut those off years ago. But the words of the preacher combined with the broken dreams of the family in the front row pierced her shield. She held on the best she could, not letting the sobs escape, but she couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her cheeks.
She was surprised to see the handkerchief Austin held out to her.
“A hanky?” she asked, releasing his hand to take it.
“Mom always insisted.”
Well. That didn't help her emotions at all, and she covered her face with the handkerchief instead of dabbing daintily as she should have done.
Almost the whole white surface was covered with her makeup when she lifted it away, and her nerves along with her heightened emotions almost made her giggle at the sight.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Don't worry about it.”
She had to shut down these feelings, so she made a point of figuring out who the family was, someone they could speak to when the service was over to make sure Mrs. Bryant was going to be safe.
She thought she had it worked out. One woman seemed to be in charge, the go-between for the family and the funeral director. She seemed to keep herself between Susan and anyone who might cause her distress. She pointed the woman out to Austin, wordlessly, and he nodded his agreement.
As the funeral home service ended and the crowd headed out, many of them going to their cars, the woman that Ginny had targeted passed by. Ginny stepped in front of her.
“I’m sorry to bother you. Are you Susan’s sister?”
“Sister-in-law.” The woman’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“We’re former students,” Ginny said. “And Austin is her doctor. We live in Broken Wheel?”
A shadow passed over the woman’s face. “Dr. Fredrick?”
