Jessica’s sweaty palms stuck to the steering wheel as she looked for a place to park. She wiped them, one at a time, on her black skirt. Her short black skirt. When she’d picked it out, she hadn’t been thinking about Big Verde’s fashion trends or how appropriate it might be for a small-town funeral.
There was literally no place to park. Good grief. She was not going to drag out this freak show by circling the block.
Two piercing blasts from a siren cut through the air, causing her to jump and bite her lip, which she’d apparently been chewing in nervous angst. What had she done wrong now?
Casey had pulled into a spot farther up the block. He got out and started waving his arms. At her.
Everyone watched as she slowly drove toward Casey, who was now making motions one might use when guiding a jet liner to a terminal or signaling marine mammals to do tricks. Was he afraid there might be one lone holdout who wasn’t already looking at her? What was next? People gathered in the splash zone to watch her park?
Sweat dripped down her back as Casey proceeded to direct her, inch by inch, into the parking space directly behind him.
Once parked, she sat back with a sigh. She just needed a moment to—
The door magically opened and a big hand extended inside.
So much for taking a moment.
“The funeral’s about to start,” Casey said.
She took his hand. It was warm. Strong. Both foreign and familiar. How many times had she held it at the movies or while walking down the halls of Big Verde High? She blushed, remembering how Casey’s fingers had roamed her body like curious explorers of unknown lands.
He’d been the first to trace her lips with his thumb. The first to brush her nipples with his fingers. The first to cup her ass while pulling her close…
“You okay, Jess?”
She swallowed. Collected herself. And stood up on shaky legs.
He offered his arm, which would seem dramatic in Houston, but in Big Verde it just meant he was a gentleman.
Casey Long. A gentleman.
They started down the sidewalk. People smiled politely, but most were older, and she didn’t see any recognition in their faces. Just interest.
Maybe she’d survive this day after all.
* * *
Casey nodded at everybody who said Howdy, Sheriff, as he and Jessica headed for the door. It would be nice if they’d stop their gawking. Jessica would stop traffic in any town, but in Big Verde, she was damn near paralyzing.
She was nervous. The little things she did with her hair, the fluffing and tossing. She’d been doing it since high school. It was still cute as hell.
“I’m really sorry about your great-aunt, Casey,” she said.
Lots of people had said that to him over the past few days. Some of them had meant it casually. Some had meant it deeply. Some hadn’t meant it at all. What he heard in Jess’s voice was heart-wrenching sincerity. As if she were not only sorry, but also somehow deeply saddened.
Mavis had been well known in the small town. But as far as he knew—and he knew damn near everything—Jessica hadn’t kept up with anyone in Big Verde. How did she even know Mavis had died?
He cleared his throat. “So where are you living now?”
“Houston,” she said.
She didn’t follow it up with what she did or who she lived with or how long she’d been there. Just Houston.
Why had she driven all the way here for the funeral? Other folks in Big Verde had died since Jess had left. Folks she’d probably known better. There’d been no trips home for their funerals. There had to be more to this story.
“Aunt Mavis’s death is a terrible loss for our family,” he said. “But it wasn’t exactly unexpected.”
Jessica stopped walking and looked at him. “She wasn’t even sick. It was totally unexpected.”
How would she know if his great-aunt had been sick?
“Well, she was ninety years old, Jess. That’s what I meant by it not being unexpected. Nobody lives forever.”
Jessica shook her head, as if his response disappointed her, and started walking again.
“Howdy, Sheriff!” Casey looked up to see Matt Hurley loping cheerfully their way. “Beautiful day!”
The only thing about Matt that said “undertaker” was his dark suit. Other than that, he was all smiles and grins.
“Hey, pretty lady. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
And inappropriate comments.
Matt had started going bald in junior high, but the process had stunted somewhere around eleventh grade, leaving him with a few stragglers he grew out and combed across his forehead. The back of his head was left completely unattended, probably because Matt couldn’t see it in the mirror and therefore assumed it didn’t exist.
He didn’t let his appearance dampen his enthusiasm for the ladies, though.
Jessica removed her sunglasses. “Hi, Matt.”
Matt’s skinny face suddenly became animated. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he searched for words. What he finally came up with—loudly and right outside the building where Casey’s aunt lay in a coffin—was, “Goddam, girl! Look at you! Jess is back in town!”
Jess seemed to melt, as if willing herself to disappear.
Matt threw the door open. The small chapel was filled to capacity, and Jessica shrank back against Casey. His entire body lit up like someone had poked him with a cattle prod. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her even closer, but he couldn’t. He needed to get control of himself. This wasn’t the same girl who’d left him twelve years before. She was a grown woman, and he hardly knew her.
He couldn’t quite accept the truth of that.
She was probably nervous, and Matt wasn’t doing anything to help matters, so Casey put his hand at the small of her back. He hoped it would reassure her that she was among friends.
Miss Mills, the organist for the First Baptist Church, sat at the front of the chapel playing “How Great Thou Art” on the funeral home’s electric keyboard. The fact that she did this at a Methodist funeral said something about the importance and station of Aunt Mavis in the community.
Matt hollered, “Look everybody! It’s Big Verde High’s homecoming queen of the class of…” He looked at Casey. “What year was it, Casey? Let’s see, you were two years ahead of me—”
Miss Mills stopped playing.
Everyone looked at them.
“Matt, I think I’ll have a seat up there with my family. I was running a little late due to increased criminal activity in the town.” He winked at Jess.
Miss Mills picked up where she left off, and slowly everybody went back to looking mournful. They were accustomed to Matt’s outbursts.
Matt, as if suddenly remembering where they were, made a rousing attempt at appearing solemn.
“The Hurley family is honored to be here for you during your time of need. Please accept our sincere condolences.”
“Why thank you—”
Matt turned back to Jess. “Where did you get that kick-ass car?”
Casey patted Matt on the back, a little harder than necessary, because that’s what it typically took to shut him up, and then led Jessica by her elbow to the pews set off to the side of the casket where the family was seated.
Jessica trembled. Was she really that nervous? His own knees were a bit shaky, but it was because being around Jess again rocked him to his core.
“Casey, no. I’m not family. I’ll sit somewhere else.”
“There is nowhere else,” he said. “And you came all this way. Everyone will be pleased to see you.”
That might be a stretch. They would be surprised, though. Because Jess being here for Aunt Mavis’s funeral made absolutely zero sense. To lessen the tension, he decided to do the polite thing and inquire about her mother.
“How’s your mama? Doing okay, I hope.”
Jessica stiffened even more. “She passed away two years ago. Heart attack.”
Jesus. He had s
hit timing. “I’m very sorry to hear it.”
And he was too. Even though Jessica’s mom had hated his guts. In all fairness, most girls’ moms had hated his guts.
Gerome Kowalski, owner of the infamous Rancho Canada Verde and a man Casey had known his entire life, came forward with his hand extended. He’d be delivering the eulogy. “Casey, Mavis will be very much missed by this community.”
“Thank you, Gerome. This is such a nice turnout for her. In fact, Jessica came all the way—”
Jessica was headed to the coffin. And she appeared to be sniffing and weeping.
“Is that little Jessica Acosta?” Gerome asked.
“Yes, sir. She’s come back for Aunt Mavis’s funeral.”
Gerome nodded. “That’s right nice of her. I’d expect as much.”
So, there was a reason Jessica was back. But what was it?
There were currents that flowed beneath Main Street in every small town, and the secrets they carried were hidden from most.
Gerome was one of the few who always knew. And like Aunt Mavis, he kept those secrets to himself.
It was infuriating.
Chapter Four
God. She felt like such an idiot. She hadn’t intended to bawl her eyes out at Mavis’s funeral. But dang it, Gerome Kowalski knew Mavis. He got Mavis. And the eulogy had captured her perfectly. Hard and unyielding. Demanding and critical. Almost impossible to please. And yet, also kind and loyal. Generous and sympathetic. Even fun.
Jessica smiled. Hope could make Mavis act silly. A person hadn’t lived until they’d seen Mavis jump out from behind a chair in a power pantsuit, wielding a light-up laser gun.
And she could be fierce. Like when she’d stood between an angry landlord and Jessica’s mom, who’d already paid the rent, no matter what the landlord said.
Their little family had mattered to Mavis Long, and she had mattered to them.
Dang it. The tears started up again.
The service was over, and people were lining up to pay their respects to the family, so Jessica went to the back of the alcove to wait it out. She’d leave as soon as she thought she could get away without having to talk to anybody.
Mavis’s only son, Senator Wade Long, who’d once been the sheriff of Verde County, stood on the front row accepting condolences. Jessica shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. She’d known he would be here, but she was nothing to him. He wouldn’t recognize her, and even if he did, what could he do?
Wade Long was the reason she and her mom had been forced to leave Big Verde. Her mom had been pregnant with Wade’s baby. Pregnant with Hope.
Back then, Wade had his sites on the Texas Legislature, and although he and his wife were well on their way to divorce, he couldn’t have his constituents knowing he’d fathered a child with an undocumented immigrant.
To this day, as far as Jessica knew, nobody had ever found out. Well, almost nobody. Mavis Long had discovered the secret.
Jessica sniffed and willed a new tide of tears away. She’d never forget opening the door of their sparse little apartment in Houston to see Mavis Long standing there, hair perfectly coifed, demanding to see her only grandchild. She’d only wanted to know if Hope’s financial needs were being met. She hadn’t intended to have a relationship with her…to be a grandma.
But one look at chubby little two-year-old Hope had melted Mavis’s resolve. She’d lost a bit of her stiff-spined composure at the sight of Hope’s sweet almond-shaped eyes, and she’d lost 100 percent of her heart.
Jessica hadn’t known her hardworking mom was undocumented. Not until Wade Long had threatened to have her deported if she ever told a soul. He ordered her to leave Big Verde and never come back.
Nothing had ever been the same again. Ever since that day, Jessica had lived her life with the fear that her world could dissolve at any minute. And she’d never dared to dream of coming home to Big Verde. Not if there was even the slightest chance that Wade would make good on his threat and her mom would be deported.
But now her mom was dead. And Mavis was too. Wade Long couldn’t do anything to her family. But Jessica’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
A short blond woman came zigzagging through the crowd. She was heading Jessica’s way, face lit up by a smile.
“Jessica! Hi!”
It was Maggie Mackey. Jessica had always liked her. She’d been a tomboy who didn’t care what people thought. Jessica had cared what everybody thought, so she had admired Maggie’s attitude.
There was a ring on her finger. Who had she married?
Dang it. She was already falling into the small-town pattern of wondering about other people’s business.
“What are you doing here?” Maggie had always gotten straight to the point. No polite chitchat for her. “How long are you staying?”
“Not long. I’m just here for Mavis’s funeral.”
Maggie cocked an eyebrow but didn’t question her further. “I hope you’re coming to the reception. It’s at the Methodist Church Fellowship Hall. Everyone would love to see you.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
Leaving Big Verde had been traumatic. It had taken years to get over it. Why rekindle old relationships? She was heading back to Houston—where nobody knew or cared about your business—on Monday. Houston had never been much of a home, but the anonymity it allowed was good for keeping secrets.
“Well?” Maggie asked, hands on hips. “Are you coming or not?”
“Of course, she’s coming,” Casey said.
Where had he come from? And why wasn’t he up at the line with the rest of the family? Casey was acting as if he was afraid to let her out of his sight. Strange behavior for a man who’d never once tried to find her after she’d left Big Verde.
“Look who’s hovering about,” Maggie said with a grin.
Was Casey blushing? Her own cheeks felt a bit warm. Holy crap, was she blushing? She thought she’d prepared for the inevitable reunion with Casey. She’d spent the last four days fortifying her emotional shields, but all it took to decimate them was a smile and a slight blush from Sheriff Long.
Heck, her shields had disintegrated as soon as she’d heard his voice when he pulled her over.
“There’s a little too much schmoozing going on over there with my uncle,” Casey said, nodding at the Good Senator. Jessica could barely contain a shiver of disgust, and Casey’s slight sneer indicated he didn’t exactly have warm, fuzzy feelings for the man either.
“He’s not your uncle,” Maggie said.
Casey shrugged. “He’s older than me. He’s a relative. He’s not my grandfather. That makes him an uncle.”
“He’s your great-aunt’s son,” Maggie argued. “And that makes him your second cousin once removed. Or maybe it’s your first cousin twice removed…” She furrowed her brow. “You know what? Why don’t you just refer to him as your uncle.”
Or they could all just refer to him as the anti-Christ and be done with it.
Casey put his hand at the small of Jessica’s back and gave a gentle nudge. It sent thrills up and down her spine, but as they exited the funeral home, she still had every intention of heading down the sidewalk to her car.
So why was she crossing the street toward the Methodist Church Fellowship Hall?
Ten minutes later she sat at a folding table, picking at macaroni salad and trying to look small so nobody would talk to her. She kept an eye on Casey while he worked the room. It was so weird to see him patting backs, shaking hands, asking about cattle and crops. She’d seen Wade Long do the very same thing. But unlike Wade, Casey seemed genuinely interested in the folks he talked to.
He was keeping an eye on her too. As if he was afraid to look away for too long. Why? He’d seduced her. And then tossed her aside. Just like a Long, her mom had said.
Jessica hadn’t wanted to believe that Casey was like that. But then he’d ignored her letters. Never tried to find her. She thought she’d worked through it and didn’t care anymore.
Casey finished chatting with an older gentleman and then came and sat down beside her. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s an election year.”
Jessica nodded. The last year she’d spent in Big Verde had been an election year too, and Wade Long had been in full politician mode. Unlike previous elections, he’d had a challenger. He’d left no hand unshaken and no funeral unattended. There hadn’t been any room for even a hint of a scandal, much less a pregnant undocumented immigrant.
Casey poked at a blob of what looked like Jell-O with fruit and nuts in it. It jiggled obscenely. “I prefer the funerals on your side of town,” he said. “Food’s better.”
Jessica stiffened. “What do you mean on my side of town?”
Casey put a paper napkin in his lap and glanced at her, shooting a spark of electricity right through her body with those blue eyes. “The Catholic side.”
Okay. Well, it was true that Jessica had grown up in the neighborhood adjacent to the Catholic church. And that most of the people in that neighborhood were Catholic.
Casey curled his lip at the Jell-O on his plate. “As far as funeral foods go, the Catholics win hands down.”
Jessica looked at the blob of mayonnaise and macaroni dangling on her fork. He had a point. A funeral in her neighborhood had meant barbacoa tacos, trays of enchiladas, Spanish rice, and big, steaming pots of beans made by the Catholic Daughters.
“With the Lutherans and the Baptists, you might get some sausage and whatnot,” Casey continued. “But Methodists are going to torture you to death with tiny little sandwiches filled with vegetables and things they call salads that are mostly Jell-O. Also, they put marshmallows where they don’t belong, and they have a weird thing for mayonnaise.”
Jessica grinned. She and Casey had always gotten a kick out of observing and commenting on the habits of Big Verde’s social circles. It was so easy to fall into those habits. “And what’s with that punch?” she asked. “Why is Methodist punch always green?”
Justified Page 29
