She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine thirty. Bowie would be there soon, and she still needed to finish her makeup. She’d left her hair loose, letting the soft curls fall on her shoulders. All she needed was a little mascara and some lipstick, and she would be ready.
She had just put the cap back on her lipstick when she heard footsteps on the front porch and then a knock. She hurried to let Bowie in.
The moment she opened the door and saw him, the anxiety of the day disappeared. The black pants he was wearing made his long legs look longer. The white shirt against his dark tan was stunning.
“Come in, come in. The car from the funeral home should be here shortly. I just need to get a light jacket and I’ll be ready.”
Bowie couldn’t quit staring.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I wore yellow to match this glorious day. Dad always loved this dress, so I’m wearing it for him.”
“It’s perfect, and so are you,” Bowie said.
Talia was still smiling as she hurried to get the white jacket she always wore with the dress. By the time she was back, the car had arrived to pick them up. She grabbed her purse on the way out the door.
Bowie took her hand as he walked her to the shiny black Lincoln. Even though they were going to a funeral, a part of Talia felt like she was walking away from the past and into a future with Bowie.
She shivered as she settled into the seat, and he saw it and took her hand.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
She turned.
“You’re not alone. Lean on me when you feel the need. I’m here for you.”
Her eyes welled, but she didn’t cry.
“It’s just harder than I expected it to be,” she said.
Bowie squeezed her hand.
“Together, Talia. Remember that.”
*
Justin Wayne was leaving the bank and on the way to his car when he paused at the crosswalk. He adjusted the sunglasses he was wearing to hide his black eyes and, as he did, recognized the big black Lincoln passing in front of him as the one from the funeral home. The back window was down, and as they passed he saw the passengers and smiled.
Bowie Youngblood and Talia Champion.
After what had happened between him and his sister’s sons, he’d made it his business to learn the name of the woman who lived in the white frame house. At the same time, he’d also learned her father had recently died, which explained the car. They were on the way to the funeral, which meant she was out of the house and not due back for quite a while. It was the chance for which he’d been waiting.
He crossed the street at a lope, got in his car and headed to the residential area where she lived; then, when he got there, he made one pass through the neighborhood to check out the other houses on the block. He saw a pickup parked behind her car and recognized it as the one he’d seen Youngblood driving. Except for those two vehicles, there was only one other car parked on the street, and it was at the end of the block. None of the houses had garages, so if there wasn’t a car in plain sight, he took a chance and assumed the people who lived in those houses were either at church or had jobs that took them away during the day or they were at their neighbor’s funeral.
He made a second pass to check for traffic, but when there was nothing in sight, he wheeled into her driveway and pulled up behind Youngblood’s truck.
His pocket knife was open as he jumped out on the run. He went to her car first. When he realized it was unlocked, he quickly popped the hood, located the brake line and made a small cut in the hose, then dropped the hood, wincing at the noise. He glanced around once more to make sure no one was watching, then moved to the truck. The driver’s-side door was locked, so he dropped down, slid beneath the engine and then had to search to find the brake line before he cut it, too.
In only minutes he’d set up a scenario for disaster. The pissed-off feeling he’d had toward Bowie Youngblood was now a burgeoning sense of satisfaction. The cut on his nose was healing, and his black eyes would fade. Now the unknowns in this scenario were if they would be together or apart when their brakes failed.
*
Talia hadn’t expected many people to be at her father’s service and was surprised at the number already waiting at the gravesite when the driver pulled up behind the hearse.
“I didn’t expect this,” she whispered.
“The obituary was in yesterday’s paper,” Bowie said.
“I know, but I guess Dad and I were alone for so long that I thought people had forgotten him.”
“More likely they knew he had forgotten them and didn’t want to cause you trouble.”
“I never thought of it like that,” she said.
As soon as the casket was carried beneath the canopy, the driver opened the door for them to get out.
Bowie slid out first, then took Talia’s hand to steady her as she stepped out.
“This way, please,” the driver said, and led them to a pair of chairs.