Page 47 of Second Start: Family
She grinned. “Well, bless your heart.”
“Now that sounds real North Carolina.”
“Oh, it is. Very handy, too.”
He side-eyed her at that, but they didn’t have far to walk to her door so he kept his focus. “I got thinking about you saying you’re from North Carolina before … But you never said what brought you to Wyoming.”
“A chance to teach shorn of so much of the bureaucracy.” She’d used that in her application and interview here. It helped that it truly was a draw for her.
“I wondered if maybe you had connections around here. I know some Smiths.”
She eyed him. “Are you seriously going to ask if I know your friends named Smith? Do you have any idea how many Smiths there are in this country, in the world?”
“Top ten, last I heard, but not the top five.”
She blinked at him. “How do you know that?”
“I read things when I have a chance, listen to things on the tractor. And it so happens I know a Boone Dorsey Smith and his wife— Whoa.” He grabbed both her elbows. “Are you going to pass out? What happened?”
“Of course not. I just … just caught my heel on a hole.”
“Yeah?” He supposed a gentleman would accept that at face value. Not him. He released her, but watched her carefully as he added, “Boone married Cambria Weston. I’ve known the Westons all my life. They’ve got a place northwest of here a way, up past Bardville a bit. Boone and Cambria and their kids have a house there now.”
Kids. He saw her lips form the word, but no sound came out.
She pushed her hair back from her forehead.
Did she know that revealed more of her expression?
Apparently realizing after a bit that he was watching her and she’d been staring vacantly somewhere in the vicinity of his upper arm for well past normal, she said, “Interesting. Though I imagine there are all sorts of Smiths between here and there.”
He shook his head. “Not all sorts of people of any name between here and there, much less Smiths. You want to tell me what the connection is?”
“There is no connection,” she said stiffly.
“You going to tell him you’re here?”
“No.” He saw her recognize the mistake of that syllable almost immediately and try to retrieve it. “There’s nothing to tell. There’s nothing…” She fell back on repeating, “There’s no connection. So don’t go starting talk when there is none.”
He pushed his hat back. “Won’t be me, but somebody’s going to talk eventually. It’s what happens here. If you ask me, I say tell him. Tell him fast and tell him straight.”
“I didn’t ask you. And there’s nothing to tell.”
She walked away before he could ask the most important question.
*
“Mommy wanted another baby.”
Lizzie dropped that into a duologue with her sister about their birthday books, the lifecycle of tadpoles introduced in class today, dog behavior, riding horses, the sky, and lunch. They leaned on Kenzie’s desk, side by side, facing her, occasionally kicking out their feet behind them.
“Did she?”
“Oh, yes. That’s what she was talking about in the truck right before…” Lizzie tailed off.
“Before the crash,” Molly filled in for her. “Not a big crash. The truck just kind of slid into the ditch.”
“And then all sorts of people came to help and it was very confusing, but we held onto Bobby and then Daddy came to the hospital and brought Dan. And then—”
