For You
Page 119
She caught sight of someone approaching and finished, “We’ll leave you to your guests.”
“Thank you for coming, Alexander, February,” Mr. Harris said.
The return of Colt and Feb firmly established for the Harrises, Colt led Feb away.
When they were out of earshot, Colt asked, “You okay?”
“Feel stupid,” she muttered. “What do you say?”
“What you said.”
Her head tipped back to look up at him, she gazed at him a moment and then she smiled. It wasn’t big, but it was enough and Colt decided, if they were still watching, he’d give the Harrises a bonus. He stopped Feb, bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. When he lifted his head, she curled into him and gave him a hug, a hug that wasn’t for the Harrises, it was for Colt and Colt alone. He hated being there and he hated why he was there but he sure as f**k liked that hug.
Beyond them, standing by herself, Colt saw Julie McCall. She wasn’t quick enough to avert her eyes before he saw her taking them in, avarice and hunger plain as day on her face.
Colt also saw an end to her days more bitter than even Amy’s. Amy hadn’t asked for her hand to be pulled away and reshuffled and couldn’t do much with the cards she’d eventually been dealt. But Julie McCall kept calling for new cards instead of playing the ones she already had. Good or bad, she wanted more, not understanding she should raise, call or bluff, because the next hand was coming her way and it could be a hand where she won big. Instead, by asking for new cards, she kept giving it all away.
“Colt?” Feb called and he saw she was looking up at him, he was still in her arms and she twisted her neck and looked over her shoulder to see Julie slide into a seat. “Who’s that?”
“Friend of Amy’s.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, she found Amy.”
Feb studied Julie. “I’ve seen her around.”
“Probably, she works at County Bank.”
“Oh,” Feb muttered then she looked at Colt and asked, “Do you want to say hey?”
“Nope.”
Feb tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth to speak but Colt kept talking. “She asked me out after she found Amy’s body.”
Feb’s eyes grew twice their size, she leaned into him and whispered, “What?”
“No joke.”
“She asked you out?”
“Yep.”
“After she found Amy?”
“Not right after, she waited about half an hour.”
Feb’s mouth dropped open and she looked back at Julie. “Wow, Amy really didn’t chose friends very good.”
“Nope.”
Feb’s gaze came back to him. “What’d you say when she asked you out?”
“She asked if I’d meet her for a drink later and I said I’d be with my girlfriend.”
Feb pressed her lips together but a brightness lit her eyes and Colt reckoned the lip press was to stop her from bursting out laughing.
Then she mumbled, “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s not nice, her gettin’ shot down and all, not to mention we’re at a funeral, but, for some reason, I think I’m gonna laugh.”
Colt gave her a squeeze and advised, “It isn’t nice and neither is she but save it, baby. You can laugh later.”
Feb kept pressing her lips together but now she was nodding.
Her eyes went over his shoulder and she pulled partially away, keeping on arm around him, whispering, “Dave Connolly’s headed our way.”
Colt turned in her arm and saw Dave moving in their direction. He noted instantly that Dave had learned the lesson that the drama seemed exciting until it became real and people were dead. Dave looked crushed.
“Colt, Feb,” Dave said when he hit them.
“Dave,” Colt replied.
“You all right?” Feb asked.
“She worked for me,” Dave told Feb like she didn’t know. He looked at the casket and continued, “Amy,” then he looked back at them and finished, “what a waste.”
Feb took a small step forward and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze before she dropped it again.
“Never find someone like her to work a station,” Dave muttered. “These days, folks don’t have Amy’s work ethic. They sneeze, they take three days off. Findin’ someone will be a pain in the ass.”
Feb pressed her lips together again and tipped her head back to look at Colt. Like Colt, she was uncertain how to react to someone who considered the loss of a human life a “waste” because it was an inconvenience to them.
Feb looked back to Dave and said, “Hopefully, you’ll luck out.”
“Yeah,” Dave muttered, saw folks moving to seats, nodded to them with a small wave of his hand and said, “Later,” before he headed toward Julie.
Feb exchanged another glance with him, it communicated volumes and Colt communicated back without words, instead he shook his head.
Then he guided Feb to a seat and whispered, “You gonna be able to sit down?”
“Just be prepared to offer me your jacket if this skirt gives way.”
She took her time aiming her ass into the seat while she held her breath and Colt couldn’t stop his smile even as he held back his own laughter. Once she accomplished this feat, he sat beside her and slid an arm around the back of her chair. She cautiously let her weight fall to the side until it hit him and she settled with her hand on his thigh.
The pastor headed to the podium but Colt’s eyes caught on something and he looked to his left.
Mrs. Harris was turned in her seat. She didn’t smile, she didn’t nod, she didn’t do anything, just looked at him and Feb. Then he watched her turn back when the pastor started talking and he wondered what was on her mind. Colt and Feb being back together was no balm to her soul, he knew, nothing would be.
Colt’s eyes moved to a casket containing the body of a woman who lived half a life. Pressed to his side was a breathing woman who’d done the same. Both, he figured, in one way or another, did this because of Denny.
He lifted his arm from the back of Feb’s seat, curled his fingers around her shoulder and bent his head so his mouth was at her ear.
“Love you, baby,” he whispered, her head tilted back, her eyes caught his and then, with that February Owens light pouring out, she smiled.
* * * * *
Doc waited until after the funeral and everyone was walking to their cars from the graveside to make his approach.
“Thank you for coming, Alexander, February,” Mr. Harris said.
The return of Colt and Feb firmly established for the Harrises, Colt led Feb away.
When they were out of earshot, Colt asked, “You okay?”
“Feel stupid,” she muttered. “What do you say?”
“What you said.”
Her head tipped back to look up at him, she gazed at him a moment and then she smiled. It wasn’t big, but it was enough and Colt decided, if they were still watching, he’d give the Harrises a bonus. He stopped Feb, bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. When he lifted his head, she curled into him and gave him a hug, a hug that wasn’t for the Harrises, it was for Colt and Colt alone. He hated being there and he hated why he was there but he sure as f**k liked that hug.
Beyond them, standing by herself, Colt saw Julie McCall. She wasn’t quick enough to avert her eyes before he saw her taking them in, avarice and hunger plain as day on her face.
Colt also saw an end to her days more bitter than even Amy’s. Amy hadn’t asked for her hand to be pulled away and reshuffled and couldn’t do much with the cards she’d eventually been dealt. But Julie McCall kept calling for new cards instead of playing the ones she already had. Good or bad, she wanted more, not understanding she should raise, call or bluff, because the next hand was coming her way and it could be a hand where she won big. Instead, by asking for new cards, she kept giving it all away.
“Colt?” Feb called and he saw she was looking up at him, he was still in her arms and she twisted her neck and looked over her shoulder to see Julie slide into a seat. “Who’s that?”
“Friend of Amy’s.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, she found Amy.”
Feb studied Julie. “I’ve seen her around.”
“Probably, she works at County Bank.”
“Oh,” Feb muttered then she looked at Colt and asked, “Do you want to say hey?”
“Nope.”
Feb tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth to speak but Colt kept talking. “She asked me out after she found Amy’s body.”
Feb’s eyes grew twice their size, she leaned into him and whispered, “What?”
“No joke.”
“She asked you out?”
“Yep.”
“After she found Amy?”
“Not right after, she waited about half an hour.”
Feb’s mouth dropped open and she looked back at Julie. “Wow, Amy really didn’t chose friends very good.”
“Nope.”
Feb’s gaze came back to him. “What’d you say when she asked you out?”
“She asked if I’d meet her for a drink later and I said I’d be with my girlfriend.”
Feb pressed her lips together but a brightness lit her eyes and Colt reckoned the lip press was to stop her from bursting out laughing.
Then she mumbled, “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s not nice, her gettin’ shot down and all, not to mention we’re at a funeral, but, for some reason, I think I’m gonna laugh.”
Colt gave her a squeeze and advised, “It isn’t nice and neither is she but save it, baby. You can laugh later.”
Feb kept pressing her lips together but now she was nodding.
Her eyes went over his shoulder and she pulled partially away, keeping on arm around him, whispering, “Dave Connolly’s headed our way.”
Colt turned in her arm and saw Dave moving in their direction. He noted instantly that Dave had learned the lesson that the drama seemed exciting until it became real and people were dead. Dave looked crushed.
“Colt, Feb,” Dave said when he hit them.
“Dave,” Colt replied.
“You all right?” Feb asked.
“She worked for me,” Dave told Feb like she didn’t know. He looked at the casket and continued, “Amy,” then he looked back at them and finished, “what a waste.”
Feb took a small step forward and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze before she dropped it again.
“Never find someone like her to work a station,” Dave muttered. “These days, folks don’t have Amy’s work ethic. They sneeze, they take three days off. Findin’ someone will be a pain in the ass.”
Feb pressed her lips together again and tipped her head back to look at Colt. Like Colt, she was uncertain how to react to someone who considered the loss of a human life a “waste” because it was an inconvenience to them.
Feb looked back to Dave and said, “Hopefully, you’ll luck out.”
“Yeah,” Dave muttered, saw folks moving to seats, nodded to them with a small wave of his hand and said, “Later,” before he headed toward Julie.
Feb exchanged another glance with him, it communicated volumes and Colt communicated back without words, instead he shook his head.
Then he guided Feb to a seat and whispered, “You gonna be able to sit down?”
“Just be prepared to offer me your jacket if this skirt gives way.”
She took her time aiming her ass into the seat while she held her breath and Colt couldn’t stop his smile even as he held back his own laughter. Once she accomplished this feat, he sat beside her and slid an arm around the back of her chair. She cautiously let her weight fall to the side until it hit him and she settled with her hand on his thigh.
The pastor headed to the podium but Colt’s eyes caught on something and he looked to his left.
Mrs. Harris was turned in her seat. She didn’t smile, she didn’t nod, she didn’t do anything, just looked at him and Feb. Then he watched her turn back when the pastor started talking and he wondered what was on her mind. Colt and Feb being back together was no balm to her soul, he knew, nothing would be.
Colt’s eyes moved to a casket containing the body of a woman who lived half a life. Pressed to his side was a breathing woman who’d done the same. Both, he figured, in one way or another, did this because of Denny.
He lifted his arm from the back of Feb’s seat, curled his fingers around her shoulder and bent his head so his mouth was at her ear.
“Love you, baby,” he whispered, her head tilted back, her eyes caught his and then, with that February Owens light pouring out, she smiled.
* * * * *
Doc waited until after the funeral and everyone was walking to their cars from the graveside to make his approach.
