Tandy smiled at Click in the rearview mirror, loving the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“Keep your eyes on the road, son,” Miss Francis said, patting Click’s hand on the steering wheel.
Tandy laughed. The road was wide open and empty as far as the eye could see, but she wasn’t going to say a word to challenge Miss Francis.
“Ta-dee?” Pearl said, leaning forward in her seat.
“Hi, Pearl.” She rummaged through the box on the floorboard. “How about we read a book?”
Pearl nodded, so Tandy read her a book all about penguins. Pearl was sound asleep before she reached the halfway mark.
“Well, what happens next?” Miss Francis asked.
“I think Pearl dozed off,” Click said, chuckling.
“I’ll read the rest of it on the way back,” Tandy offered.
Miss Francis laughed. “You two are doing a fine job with her.” She paused. “I never doubted it once, mind you. Now that you’re staying put, seems like you should make it all proper. A big wedding, with all the fixings. You don’t want people talking.”
Miss Francis’s words were like a cold shower. Words like you two and big wedding and staying put implied things. Things she and Click hadn’t talked about. Things that could hurt her all over again.
Pearl wasn’t her daughter. She was Click’s. And Georgia’s.
Tandy stared out the window, her pulse kicking up.
“You young people wait too long to settle down and start a family. You want to be young enough to run after your grandkids, take it from me. Nothing worse than a grandma that’s stuck in a rocking chair.” Miss Francis shook her head. “You could have it at the old fort. Makes for pretty pictures. Or the observatory—at night. My, that would be quite the thing.”
“We’d have to talk to our wedding planners,” Click said. “They’ve already got it all worked out.”
“Wedding planners?” Miss Francis asked.
“He’s teasing you, Miss Francis,” Tandy spoke up. “Click’s being kind enough to let me use a spare room, that’s all.” She could feel Click’s gaze on her in the rearview mirror but couldn’t look at him.
“Click Hale.” Miss Francis sighed. “You shouldn’t tease a woman my age about things like that. I was about to get the quilting group started on a wedding-ring quilt for you. And talk to Mabelle about putting aside some bulbs for flowers. And to the Buchanan family about the printers they used for their daughters’ weddings. Such nice invitations.”
Tandy shook her head and frowned at Click. This was how stories got started. Stories that people in a small town would spread like wildfire. And when things fell apart, all those people would be looking for the reasons they fell apart, making it that much worse—that much harder to get away from.
She pressed her eyes closed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Francis.” Click chuckled. “You’ll be the first one to know when Tandy and I decide to make things proper.”
“See that you do,” Miss Francis said. “Now, I have my list...”
Tandy listened to the old woman list off the stops they’d need to make before they could head back to Fort Kyle.
“I figure Tandy will want to stop there, pick up some clothing. Might find a few things for Pearl, too, since she’s likely growing like a weed.” Miss Francis kept on going.
Tandy smiled at Pearl, sound asleep in her car seat, and took Pearl’s little hand in hers. She had no claim on this child, but Tandy loved her all the same. Would she get the chance to see Pearl grow up, run on sturdy legs, speak in full sentences and sing like a songbird?
Click was worried. He tried to act calm, but she’d seen the fear in his eyes. He was worried about losing his daughter.
There wasn’t a thing she could do to help him.
It wasn’t fair.
He’d already lost one daughter, he shouldn’t lose Pearl, too.
She rested her head against the car seat and studied Click’s profile as he talked with Miss Francis. They were discussing the costs of Click irrigating part of his land for crops. And, if he did irrigate, what he’d grow. With the frequent drought-like conditions in this part of Texas, investing in crops was a risk. If he did irrigate and plant crops, the local wildlife would find his spread too good to refuse. Whatever he decided, he’d make it work. That was the way Click was, determined—committed.