Life After Wife (Three Magic Words Trilogy, #3)(8)

As sweat ran down Sophie’s neck and into her bra that summer evening at the Baird cemetery, she recalled the day that Kate had said that Fancy was the pretty one, Sophie was the smart one, and she was the borderline fool. Sophie dang sure didn’t feel so smart right then.

There had been a slight breeze to rustle the leaves in the pecan tree above Maud’s grave, but it died. Sophie ran her hand across her forehead and pushed back a few errant hairs. Summertime sweat was as sticky as superglue. Her kinky hair kept sneaking out of the ponytail and plastering itself to her neck. Come evening time, it might take acetone to get her bra peeled off her skin. Even her denim shorts were sticking to her thighs like flies on the remnants of a snow cone.

She leaned forward and ran a finger over Maud Jones’s name.

The funeral service had been exactly what Aunt Maud had told her to arrange.

“I don’t want a big church funeral with all that snot slinging. Just let everyone meet at the cemetery, sing ‘I’ll Fly Away,’ and let the preacher pray over my dead body. The song is for closure, and the praying is to make him and everyone else feel better about me going. Remember, Sophie, I’m dead. Go on with life. Enjoy it. Savor it. When the end comes, go out with a shout and slide up to the pearly gates with no regrets. That’s what I’m going to do,” she’d said that last week of her life.

It was as if Sophie could hear Maud’s voice behind her, repeating the words she’d said the day before she died. “Don’t you put me in no brand-new suit. I never wore a suit to anything in my life. Barely could abide a dress at funerals and for church. You bury me in my jeans and shirt, and don’t forget my boots. That old pair with the scuffed heels. I’ve got some work to do up there before my friends arrive, and besides, Jesse is waiting to dance with me. I can’t dance barefoot. He loves to dance, but he steps on my toes pretty often. And I sure can’t dance in new boots. I’d have blisters for sure. Promise me.” Aunt Maud had held her hand tightly until she got the promise.

Sophie touched the tombstone. “What am I going to do? Why didn’t you just leave the whole thing to him instead of giving me your half? I’m not strong enough to do this.”

A hot wind stirred up a dust devil on top of the new grave. Sophie was mesmerized as she watched the miniature tornado in front of her. Then she recalled Aunt Maud’s speech from when Matt died. Maud had flown from Dallas to Tulsa for the funeral. She’d arrived a few hours ahead of Sophie’s parents and her two sisters. Sophie had poured out the story, and Maud had taken control.

“God has a special place reserved for men who are in the preachin’ business for the glory and the money. Matt didn’t have no calling to the ministry. He had dollar signs and power in his eyes. You are going home with me and getting over this with some good old, hard, physical work. Let him have his final minutes of glory and you play the bereaved widow for the cameras. There’s a strong woman in you, Sophie McSwain. We’re going to find her. That man might have stomped you down for a few years, but you can come back with some help and I’m here to help you.”

After the funeral she’d gone home with Aunt Maud, and the past year she thought she’d found that strong woman, until that morning when she’d squared off with Elijah. Now she wasn’t so sure about any of it. The strong woman might only be there when there were no storms, and the first sign of a strong wind would knock her flat on her butt.

“No, I will not,” she said vehemently. She couldn’t let Aunt Maud down, not even if she was dead and gone. She had to show her that she could still be strong.

She touched the tombstone once more and got to her feet. She squared her shoulders and headed for her truck. The storm that hit after Matt died was an emotional hurricane, and she’d survived it. She would come out on the other end of the one ahead of her with a ranch and even more strength. If it don’t kill you, it’ll make you stronger. She forgot who said those famous words but she’d live by them, and when it was all said and done Elijah Jones would be riding out of Callahan County with his pride hanging from his handlebars.

He’d said the moving company would be there by evening, but she was shocked to see the big truck sitting in front of the house when she got back to the ranch. Elijah and two other men were busy taking things in and bringing other things out. A bed, along with the mattress and box spring, was sitting on the porch. A dresser stood like a lonely sentinel in the yard, and they were bringing out another bed.

“What in the devil are you doing?” Her voice squeaked like a little girl’s on the playground at recess.

“I’m moving in. I told you this morning the movers would be here. I decided my two bedrooms could be across the hall from each other. That way you can have the one you occupy now and Aunt Maud’s. I have an ulterior motive. I don’t want to deal with cleaning her things out,” he said.

“Why do you need two?” she asked.

“One for the bedroom, and one for my personal office. We can share the ranch office. If you want a personal one, then you can put it in Aunt Maud’s old room,” he said.

“Have you no shame? She’s barely in the grave.”

“Her last letter said to get on with business after the funeral. Today I’m moving in. Tomorrow we’re walking over as much of the ranch as we can, or we can ride four-wheelers to make it easier. The next day you are showing me the accounts. That’s called getting on with business,” he said.