Page 3 of Ocotillo Kisses
What if he’d gotten Claudia out of the bus first before he went after Britt? Would he have been able to get out of the bus?
What if he’d been able to get back in the bus, or open the back, or...
What if, what if, what if.
He couldn’t sleep because he kept replaying the scenario. He finally convinced the doctor to give him something to knock him out, but his dreams were just as troubled.
Being at home was worse. The weight of his parents’ grief was more overwhelming than the weight of the water that had pushed him down. He didn’t know how to deal with it, didn’t know how to deal with the darkness of the house without his sister’s light. His father had been so close to Claudia, like his heart had been walking outside his body, and now that she was gone, he was just a shell. He continued going about the business of the ranch, though he was hunched and had aged ten years since the accident.
Claudia had died along with Bridget Tippler, the daughter of the woman who ran the diner in town, and Mrs. Driscoll, the bus driver, Austin’s mother. The entire town was in anguish over the losses, but his father was the one who led the outrage toward Mrs. Driscoll.
“She should have known better than to drive into water that was over the road.”
“She should have never taken that road.” Even though it was the only way to get to the Conover place, which was their next stop.
Lacey and Poppy led the defense of Mrs. Driscoll, who they had adored, saying she had stopped, that the water had come up to the bus, the bus hadn’t gone into the water.
Con’s dad would not be swayed, though what he hoped to accomplish by blaming a dead woman was unclear. Okay, well, maybe not that unclear. He didn’t know how to deal with his grief except through laying fault at someone’s feet.
And when he got no satisfaction from blaming Mrs. Driscoll, he turned his ire on Con.
“Tell me again what happened. Why you got out of the bus and she didn’t.”
“The bus spun and everyone fell into the water.” He’d told his dad this from the first. He didn’t add that he’d jumped in the water to save Britt.
Had barely even spoken to her since.
“But you said you saw her in the bus.”
“I tried to get back to it, back to her, but it was too late. By the time I got to where she was, she was already gone.”
And he would never forget that image as long as he lived.
“You should have been looking out for your sister.”
Con wanted to shoot back that if he hadn’t been grounded, he wouldn’t have been on the bus. None of the three of them would, and Claudia would be alive right now. But he was pretty sure his dad had already thought of that, because the following week, he drove Con’s pretty red truck to the dealer and traded it for an ugly utilitarian white truck. When he got back to the ranch, he handed over the keys without a word.
The first place Con went was to the Fraser ranch. Mrs. Fraser greeted him with a long hug. Weird because she’d never been particularly affectionate with him before, and, God, while his mom had hugged him a couple of times since the accident, he felt like she was taking comfort instead of offering it. Mrs. Fraser was offering it, and he leaned into the hug until it started to feel a little awkward.
He pulled back and looked down at her. “Britt here?”
“She is, but honey, she’s having a real hard time.”
“I haven’t heard from her since the funeral.”
Mrs. Fraser shook her head slowly, frowning. “Con, she’s just not handling her grief real well. She’s never lost anyone close to her before.”
“No, ma’am, neither have I.” Well, his grandpa, but that wasn’t unexpected like this had been. “Can I just go see her? I just want to say hi.” He wouldn’t ask her why she had just stood behind him at the funeral, not really said anything then, either. But that he could understand. None of them had said much, all of them still banged up, shell-shocked, horrified that someone they’d known had died.
That it could have been any one of them.
Her mother considered him for a bit. “Wait here, I’ll go see if she’s up to company.”
He wasn’t company though. He’d been dating Britt for two years. They’d talked about living together when they went to A&M, had talked about marrying after he got out of vet school. Had even talked about how many kids they’d have. They thought maybe three would be the perfect number.
But he didn’t say any of that to Mrs. Fraser as she turned away and left him in the living room.
She returned a short time later, her expression somber. “I’m sorry, Con. She’s just not up to it today. But since you’re here, I’ve made some casseroles and cookies I wanted to take over but just haven’t known when is a good time. Why don’t I just send them with you? Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
