Liars (Licking Thicket 2)

I sighed. Apparently thirty minutes was as long as I was capable of going without thinking about Diesel Church. This did not bode well for my future.

Miss Sara stabbed her trowel into the ground and dusted off her gardening gloves. “Right, then. That last sigh was gusty enough to do wind damage. What’s going on, Parrish?”

“I told you—”

“Nope. You didn’t.” Miss Sara turned around so she was perched on the edge of the planter box, facing the spot where I was still kneeling. “You marched in here looking like your dog had died, and Diesel sat in his old truck and watched you walking like he wanted to reach out and snatch you back—”

“He did not.”

“And then you tell me some cockamamie story about how you and Diesel are married—”

“We are! Technically.”

“—but your details are scarcer than hen’s teeth, and you’re being all quiet and mopey, which is not the Parrish I know and love. So either you sit here and tell me what in the heckity is happening—without acting like you’re sending a telegram and being charged by the word—or I’ll call your uncle Beau to come and sort you out.”

Whoa. Miss Sara could be a hard-ass. Who knew? Then the penny dropped about what she’d actually said, and I stared at her in horror. “You know Uncle Beau?”

“Yep. He stopped by here the other morning looking for you, and we had a lovely chat.”

“Oh, right.” I rubbed my forehead. Uncle Beau couldn’t find out the truth. Not now. Not until the whole custody thing was finished. I didn’t think he’d tell the judge on us or anything like that, but managing his hurt feelings and disappointment was gonna be hard. One crisis at a time.

“So?”

“So, it’s just like I said. Uncle Beau’s attorneys are handling our custody case, and we went to sign paperwork. And it turned out that we accidentally got married. And Diesel was so horrified, he dropped me off here and left to get Marigold.” And go home.

To his home.

Which was not my home and never would be.

I shrugged.

“I can see I’m going to have to do this the hard way,” Miss Sara muttered. “Let’s work backward. You think Diesel was horrified to find that you were married. Did he tell you that?”

“What? No! He’s far too polite to say it out loud. He said…” I cast my memory back to our little toast at the Stillery and swallowed hard. “He said, ‘I wish you nothing but love and happiness for the rest of our days.’”

She whistled. “Laws, I’ve never heard of anyone so appalled.”

“Well, he was,” I insisted. “Especially when he read the paper that said custody of Marigold would be given to both of us.”

“Ahh, now we’re getting down to it.” Miss Sara made a face and narrowed her eyes. “Trust Merchant, Greene, and Chandler to make sure that got in there. Sneaky little so-and-so’s.”

“But it’s not real,” I insisted. “No more real than the marriage, I mean. It’s just a piece of paper. It’ll go away as soon as our marriage goes away.”

“But does Diesel know that?”

“I don’t know what Diesel knows,” I snapped. “Because he won’t talk to me about a darn thing.”

I flopped back to sit and folded my legs up pretzel-style. A nice cool breeze blew through the yard, and I swore I could almost hear wind chimes jangle, though Miss Sara didn’t have any wind chimes. “What do you s’pose Diesel and Marigold are doing right now? Bet they ate dinner.”

“Getting close to sunset, so maybe so,” she agreed.

“I was supposed to make dinner.” I sounded petulant, like a kid whose toy had been taken away, except Diesel and Marigold weren’t toys, they were… they were everything. “I was gonna make my chicken casserole again. It’s his favorite.”

“Diesel’s?” Miss Sara frowned. “Really?”

“It’s a very good casserole,” I informed her. “It has cheddar bacon biscuits on top.”

“Oh.” She frowned harder. “But I thought Diesel—”

“He’s probably giving her a bath by now. She sleeps so much better when she’s had one.” Another breeze blew through the yard. “Wonder if it’s gonna storm again. He should probably put the white noise app on, just in case.” I made a motion to grab my phone from my pocket so I could text him, but at the last minute, I remembered why I shouldn’t.

“I’m sure Diesel knows what to do,” Miss Sara soothed. “He seems like a great dad, from all you’ve said. I’m sure he can handle it.”

“Of course he can! He always could. He never actually needed me. He just thought he did.” And it had been nice to feel needed. And wanted. “I don’t care what kind of idiot this judge is, there’s no way he won’t look at Diesel and see he’s the best choice, even without my name on the marriage certificate.”