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walked through the wide door and hugged her mother.
    Doris June tried to keep the anxiety out of her eyes as she gave her mother a once over. To her relief, her mother didn’t look like she’d lost weight and her eyes were clear of the confused look Doris June had fearedshe’d see. Maybe all of her worrying had been unnecessary, Doris June hoped.
    â€œWe’re parked in the lot over there.” Her mother pointed vaguely to the right as she seemed to develop a sudden fascination with Doris June’s suitcases. “That green’s a nice color. Easy to spot on the luggage carousel. They look heavy, but that won’t be a problem. Curt said he’d keep an eye out for us and bring the pickup around front when he sees you’ve come out of the airport.”
    Doris June froze. Her mother knew that Curt was the last person Doris June ever wanted to see again. Her mother couldn’t have forgotten what had happened, could she?
    Maybe her mother really was getting senile, Doris June thought as she looked up. She hadn’t really believed it was possible until now. But that was the Nelson pickup all right. She recognized it because it was what Charley always drove to church when Doris June visited Dry Creek. Curt never came on those days. Doris June felt they had a truce of sorts. She avoided him and he avoided her. He would never violate that by expecting her to ride with him from Billings to Dry Creek. Her mother must be wrong. “Don’t you mean it’s Charley who came with you?”
    â€œOh, no, dear. Charley doesn’t drive long distances anymore. The road from his ranch to Dry Creek is as far as he usually goes.”
    It was a warm spring night, but Doris June felt cold.
    â€œIsn’t Charley’s grandson—what’s his name? Ben—isn’t he about the age when he can drive?”
    The pickup was turning into the lane and making its way toward them.
    â€œBen’s only got his learner’s permit.”
    The pickup was still coming toward them. “Maybe I could find a cab.”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” her mother said as she waved at the pickup. “That would cost a fortune.”
    Doris June nodded. She needed to think more logically. There was a solution. “I could get a rental car though.”
    A car passed the pickup and the light from its headlights let Doris June see through the windshield of the pickup. She could tell it was Curt at the wheel. She hadn’t seen the man for twenty-five years, but she’d know his face in her sleep. Not that she ever saw him in her dreams, of course. She might have glimpsed him a time or two in her nightmares, but that was all. She was completely over him.
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    Curt wished he was anyone else. It might be night out, but Doris June was standing under a security light and he saw the dismay on her face before she turned to say something to her mother. She had obviously just heard who had driven her mother to the airport to pick her up. When you’ve been childhood playmates with someone, you learn to read their body language. And Doris June was holding herself so stiff she looked like she would break.
    It was because of this very thing that he’d asked Mrs. Hargrove to take his pickup and go to Billings. Mrs. Hargrove had been a rancher’s wife and Curt had been sure the older woman would remember how to drive a pickup with a stick shift, but she had looked so confused when she asked which pedal was the clutch that he hadn’t dared encourage her to drive. He’d gone over to the café and offered to pay Linda and tend her place in her absence if she would only drive in with Mrs. Hargrove for him. Linda had shown little remorse as she let him down, even when he offered to sweeten the deal with an extra fifty-dollar bill.
    So here he was pulling up to the curb beside Doris June and her suitcases. She had changed since the last time he’d stopped to pick her up