Facing the wall, she unwrapped another piece of gum and poked it into her mouth and tried to ignore the squeak of the bed and her father’s sighs and grunts.
“Yeah,” Cutter interjected. “Little girls shouldn’t be playing with such big weapons.” He held the shotgun at crotch level and waggled his tongue suggestively.
Josie wished that she would have given her mother a long embrace. That she would have taken the time to remember the tickle of her mother’s curtain of hair tumbling over her as she pulled Josie close. But she didn’t.
It was as if they were little again when nothing mattered except for that very moment when being with your best friend was enough. There were no worries about boys and family arguments and growing up.
She figured she had no more than twenty-five minutes to get to the barn and back to the accident site before the woman was seriously in danger of hypothermia.
Matthew asked, using the nickname he had given Josie as a toddler when she would follow him around everywhere. “Shoo fly, shoo,” he’d tease, and Josie would giggle and buzz after him.