“Okay?” she asked, placing her hand on his arm and lightly squeezing.
Saying no was the right thing to do. He should say no, smile, and walk away. Instead, he nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” She squeezed his arm lightly. “No need to call.” She let go of him, already headed inside. “You and Diana are welcome anytime, Graham.”
He stood, watching until she disappeared inside—her long auburn hair and light-blue dress swallowed up by the automatic hospital doors—taking the brief sense of lightness with her.
Chapter Four
The last four days had convinced Felicity that everyone she knew had secretly decided the last eighteen months of her life hadn’t happened. No, Matt hadn’t married Amber, but he hadn’t been married to her when he died, either. Once word of Matt’s death got out, something changed. He was once more her beloved husband, town doctor, pillar of the community, and Honor and Nick’s adoring father. Honor took it in stride. Nick did not.
Once the funeral was over, the kids deserved a break. She wasn’t sure where or how, but it might do both of them some good to have a change of scenery. Maybe Charity could take them someplace exciting, let them laugh, grieve…be.
But first they had to survive the funeral.
The day was hot and rainy and gray, so oppressively humid her black dress stuck to her back. By the time family and friends were done sharing their fondest memories of Matt, hostility was rolling off Nick. She took his hand, needing the contact as much as he did. Between the throb in her head and the stifling heat, she was just as ready for this to be over as Nick.
Well, close to it.
Once the service was over, the town descended on the house to continue their support. No one seemed to realize that all Felicity and her kids wanted was to be left alone. She kept smiling, accepting food and hugs of sympathy. Nick was surly and rigid, while Honor did her best to intercept and divert.
Charity, thank God, made running interference for the kids her top priority. Hopefully, Nick wouldn’t blow up on one of the well-meaning citizens of Pecan Valley.
She carried another tray of food into the kitchen, searching the laden counters, island, and table for room. She gave up, gently laying the tray on top of a cake plate and rifling through the kitchen cabinet for two aspirin. The band of pressure around her temples was expanding—and tightening. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, some wine, and lots of peace and quiet.
“I think these have pecans,” Charity said, backing into the kitchen toting a massive dish. “Pecan raisin cookies and some zucchini bread—with pecans.”
Pecans were important to Pecan Valley—so important that most residents figured a way to incorporate them into everyday recipes. Sometimes it was delicious. Sometimes, it wasn’t. Felicity cocked a brow at her sister. “It’s nice.”
“It’s weird,” her sister countered. “Was there some sort of time warp I missed on the flight? I mean, I’m not going to turn down the food, but how did this happen? You aren’t married to Matt anymore, right? You’re single. Available. Unattached to Dr. Douchebag. Sorry, guess I can’t do that now that he’s…” Charity broke off, her smile dimming. “Well, sorry.”
Dr. Douchebag. Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s the town, I think. Someone dies, the town feeds their family. Since Honor and Nick are his only family—and Jack—they’re doing what they feel is right.” Felicity wiped down the sink faucet, finding things that needed to be done in the kitchen to escape the curious, if well-meaning, residents of Pecan Valley. “We take care of one another—through good times and bad. One of the reasons I love this place.” It was a reminder—for herself.
“I say we kick everyone out and you indulge in some seriously hard liquor.” Charity slid onto one of the bar stools. “Nick definitely looks like he could use a drink.”
“My sixteen year old?” Felicity sighed, wiping the marble countertop with vigorous strokes. “I think that might be a bad idea. Besides, I need to head back to the hospital soon, anyway.”
Charity frowned. “No, you don’t, Filly. You need to stay here. Your kids need you. Grams is with baby Jack. She has it under control. As long as she’s got her knitting basket, she’s happy.”
Felicity leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter. “Maybe.” But there was no maybe about it. Charity was right. “How did my little sister get so smart?”
Charity’s eye roll was epic. “I’ve always been smart. And since you’re actually listening to me, I’m going to add that you need a rest.” Charity took her hand. “And, probably, alcohol. If I remember things correctly, a couple of drinks and you’re out like a light. Might do you some good.”
Felicity pushed off the counter, stretching her back and arms. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Why? If Jack wakes up and you’re asleep, we’ll wake you up.” She sighed. “Seriously, Filly, how much sleep have you had in the last five days?”
Felicity didn’t answer.
“You’re not going to be much help to anyone if you’re a zombie.” Charity kept on. “You’d probably scare the shit out of Jack, too.”
“Girls.” Their mother came in. “We have guests. You two can run and hide later.”
Charity rolled her eyes again, slid off the stool, and waited for Felicity. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re not taking a nap because I’m not going out there alone.”
Felicity led the way, her cheeks aching from her pinned-in-place smile. She had to. Yes, everyone was here to be supportive, but they were watching—closely. She’d been on the receiving end of sympathetic looks and whispers before Matt’s death. Now, she’d progressed to murmurs of “poor Felicity,” followed by lots of “bless your heart.” Matt’s death was shocking, but she’d lost him eighteen months ago. It was the kids she was worried about.
“Stay strong,” Charity whispered, hooking arms.