Page 2 of The Affair
“Yeah,” I lied, feeling unsteady. “Just the heat.”
Following the girls’ gaze, I looked back up to see that the boys had disappeared. I assumed they’d gone in to check out their new house with their parents, and I felt a wave of disappointment, as did Macy and Sarah.
“Well, I guess we can say we were the first to see them at least,” Macy said, always trying to stay on the good side of Sarah, who appeared to be slightly annoyed that the two boys hadn’t rushed down the street to bow down before her.
I mean, that was what most people at school did, so it wasn’t totally irrational.
“I think I’m going to head inside and get something to—”
Before I could finish my sentence, I saw Sarah’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas morning. I turned just in time to see two boys flying down the street on bikes, their faces so similar that I wondered if they were twins.
But before I could contemplate it further, one of the boys seemed to lose control, his face contorting and panic crossing his features.
I knew he was shouting.
I knew he was saying something … to me.
But I couldn’t move.
I was frozen, and the last thing I saw was his face careening toward mine.
Chapter One
Nothing quite saidI’m sorry your dad diedlike a casserole.
Standing there in the industrial-style kitchen of my family’s church, I took a long look at the abundance of casseroles that had been neatly lined up in rows on the stainless steel counter. I couldn’t help but wonder if my father’s death had caused a massive shortage of basics supplies at the local grocery store.
Did the store have any flour left? Any shortening? What would we do if someone else had a major emergency and needed sustenance in the next twenty-four hours?
It was excessive—the amount of food that had been brought—but despite the craziness that was going on, I knew in my grief-stricken brain that they meant well.
They all did—each and every casserole-giver.
My dad had been a well-loved guy around these parts—strong and simple with a heart of gold.
My eyes stung a little at that realization—the idea that his name would now forever be linked to the past tense, like one of the antiques in our family store.
“Is everything okay, dear?” one of the church volunteers asked as she entered the kitchen I’d hidden myself away in, trying to get away from all those casserole-making well-wishers.
I immediately recognized her—Mrs. Baker. She wasn’t just a volunteer for the Second Baptist Church of Pine Hurst, North Carolina; she also happened to be my fourth grade teacher from way back when.
“Yes, Mrs. Baker,” I answered politely. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for our family today. We appreciate it—”
She was waving her hands in front of her and shaking her head before I had a chance to finish. “Oh, I’m happy to help Eloise; you know that. Your family has been part of this church for years, and I’m so sorry for your mom, hon. I know how difficult it must have been for the two of you, watching your dad fade like that.”
I tried not to flinch at the memories she was threatening to bring back. So far today, I’d been the pillar of strength for my mom. I’d kept it together through the service as friends and relatives spoke of the amazing man my father had been. And then, during the burial, I’d held on to her hand as she shook and said her final good-byes to the man she’d loved for more years than I could fathom.
As if she could see the memories churning under the surface, Mrs. Barker reached out for my hand. “I understand,” she said softly.
I simply nodded. I knew she did. We might have drifted apart since my elementary school days, but this was a small town. I knew through the grapevine that she’d lost her own husband just a few years prior. I could see the same pain emanating from her that I saw in my own mom.
And felt in myself.
There was a sad sort of club I’d now joined—the one no one wanted to belong to because the price for membership was surviving the death of a loved one.
“Can I help you bring some of these into the fellowship hall?” I asked, hating this useless feeling that had manifested since we lost Daddy.
Before, I’d had a never-ending to-do list. With my mom constantly at his side, I’d made it my mission to take care of everything for both of them—the house, the store, whatever they needed. I was the loving and devoted daughter.
