Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(24)

She’d start over again. She raised her chin. Brand had looked at her like he thought that she was something special when she sang for him. Maybe she was.

When she darted across the road and onto Bandit’s Bar’s almost flooded parking lot, she noticed two things.

One, Wayne’s car was there waiting for her, the keys under the mat. The bartender had kept his promise.

And two, her rusty Pontiac, which had been sitting in the back of the lot for two weeks, was missing. Someone had stolen her no-good, gas-guzzling, broken-down junker of a car. She hadn’t even locked it or taken the keys out, thinking it couldn’t go anywhere.

One double-edged thought hit her like the taste of ice cream and brain freeze. She was happy someone got the old car started and it was stolen.





Chapter 17


Pecos


The best day of the week was by far rainy-day Sunday, Pecos Smith decided. He didn’t have to work all night or go to school. Even Kerrie’s grandfather didn’t need help with his bee farm in stormy conditions. All he had to do from the time he finished his Friday shift until Monday morning was sleep and eat and spend time with Kerrie.

He loved dreaming the morning away in bed. He’d wake up to a grand lunch that Mr. Winston served after church. Winston’s old friends usually dropped by and they’d talk about things Pecos had never heard people discuss, like planning out their lives by the stars and having adventures that never turned out as planned. They’d talk about loving others and helping people as if it was something everyone on earth did. And best of all, the meal was always surrounded with laughter.

Kerrie said most of the lunch guests were leftover hippies, but Pecos thought they were sages. Alice, who sold old clothes and called them vintage, claimed she had visions, only they came to her like cartoons. Some were warnings but most were funny. Like the vision about naked fishermen dancing that she’d had Saturday night when it rained so hard.

Tall Tim, who was an artist with a buzz saw, talked little, but just seeing him smile made everyone happy.

One old couple, who often came, had once traveled with a circus. She’d told fortunes and he’d been her barker. He never stopped talking and his wife rarely said a word, but she brought the best peach cobbler Pecos had ever eaten.

Pecos noticed the Sunday lunch at Mr. Winston’s house grew bigger after Kerrie and he started paying rent. The party expanded from the kitchen table to the grand dining room that hadn’t been used in years.

Mr. Winston was sharing the extra money he’d gained by cooking for his friends. They usually had enough for leftovers to last a few nights, and Pecos would always spring for pizza midweek. The rest of the nights might be soup or sandwiches, but Mr. Winston always made it seem like a fine meal.

He had given Kerrie and Pecos a place to live when they got married. Pecos’s parents disowned him for leaving the farm, and Kerrie’s family was mad about her marrying Pecos.

Their place at Mr. Winston’s might just be two rooms upstairs in an old house, but Kerrie loved it and Pecos loved her, so it was perfect. There was a bed in each room, but they slept in one and she used the other for stacks of clothes, and shoes, and endless tiny little boxes.

One night five months ago, Pecos had been sleeping in the bed of his pickup in front of Mr. Winston’s house because he’d left home, and then the next night he was married. Now and then he’d mentally tell himself the details in his mind so he could remember to tell his children someday. He’d say, “On our first date we went skinny dipping. On our second we danced together in the moonlight. On our third date, we got married.” He’d leave out the part that she was already pregnant.

Kerrie’s father blamed Pecos for ruining his only child’s life, but Kerrie said Pecos had saved her. Pecos might not be the father by genes, but he planned to be the kid’s father for life.

His bride of five months and counting rolled over and bumped her big belly into his side.

Pecos put his hand over her middle and waited for the baby inside her to move. Sometimes the baby seemed to thump at his hand as if saying, “I’m here, waiting, Papa. Should be out in a few weeks.”

There was no doubt, Pecos already loved the kid.

“Morning,” Kerrie murmured. Sunshine hair covered half her face.

“Morning,” he said, letting his hand slide gently up to her breasts.

“They’re huge.” She rolled on her back, not seeming to notice that his hand followed.

“They are beautiful,” he corrected. “You’re beautiful.” He spread his hand out over her, loving that she didn’t mind him touching her. He always caught himself holding his breath when he felt her softness. It was like she was giving him a gift. “You feel so good. So soft. So perfect.”

She smiled. “You’re delusional, but you’re my best friend so I’ll accept the compliment.”

He brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her lightly. “I’m more than just your friend.” Wishful thinking, he almost said aloud.

“I know. I like you being my husband. You’re so gentle and kind, Pecos. I love that about you. You may be a year older than me, but it’s more than that. Sometimes I feel like you’re an old soul watching over me. I belong with you, Pecos.”

“Always.”

“Always,” she echoed.