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could possibly hit her?
    “Please, it’s something she’s put in the past. Don’t tell her I said anything.”
    “Of course.”
    But later, as Jacqueline drove to the Garland’s house, she was still wondering how she was going to act when she saw Kay. Her hands gripped the steering wheel hard, remembering the night she’d seen Kay and Billy Ray kissing under the bleachers. She should have known then.
    He had her pushed up hard against the railing, holding her there. But Jacqueline had been too consumed with jealousy to notice. All she could see was them kissing, touching. But it was Billy Ray’s hands that were touching. Kay’s hands had been at his shoulders, as if pushing him away.
    “Goddamn! I should have done something, said something.”
    But no, they were just kids. Kids exploring their sexuality. And in a jealous rage, she couldn’t have just gone up and pulled him off her. She shook her head. Tw o days ago, she was in California, not giving a thought to Pine Springs, Kay or her past. Now, here she was, wondering why she hadn’t stepped in fifteen years ago when her best friend was sharing a passionate kiss with her boyfriend.
    “Let it go. It’s none of your business,” she murmured.
    She was going to have a nice dinner with very old friends, catch up on the past and then go home. In a few days, she’d be back to her life, and Pine Springs would go on as it always had. There was nothing she could do to change things.
    She found the Garland’s home without problems, and it looked exactly as she remembered, including the assortment of cars parked in the driveway. Ralph Garland was a mechanic, and there always seemed to be three or four cars around the house that he was fixing up. With six kids, no doubt he’d done that to give them all something to drive.
    Maybe that was just an excuse then or perhaps he was working on his grandchildren now.
    The azalea bed in the front of the house was bursting with blooms, and Jacqueline paused to admire them. She never understood how Mrs.
    Garland could work all day at the café and still have time to tend to her yard. That was one thing Jacqueline remembered. No matter the time of year, something was always blooming.
    From the shadows of the corner of the house, Kay stood, watching Jackie as she surveyed the yard. She still couldn’t believe she was here.
    She had long ago given up hope of seeing her again. But here she was, as familiar to her as she’d ever been. Fifteen years hadn’t changed her that much. Jackie was still taller than she was, but not by much. Her blond hair seemed darker now, her eyes bluer. And she looked every inch the tomboy Kay remembered and not the successful writer Kay knew her to be. She watched as Jackie brushed the bangs at her forehead, smiling as Jackie hesitated before going into the backyard.

    Jacqueline listened to the voices, then followed the well-worn path that led to the backyard and the patio. The barbecue pit was already smoking, and kids were running around, dodging the lit citronella candles. Lawn chairs were placed in the grass and on the patio, and she stood, taking it all in. She’d missed this. This closeness of family, friends. Laughter rang out, and she recognized Sammy, Kay’s kid brother, who was now well over six feet tall. He’d still been a little squirt when she’d left.
    “Scared?”
    She jumped, startled. Kay stood behind her, holding a covered dish in her hand.
    “Just looking.” Jacqueline tilted her head. “What you got there?”
    “Potato salad.”
    “Ah.”
    “Mama intends to treat you to a back home meal, I’m afraid. She said you probably hadn’t had a decent barbecue since you left.”
    Jacqueline fell into step beside Kay. “She’s right about that.”
    “Jackie, there you are. Come, come. Sammy’s been beside himself waiting to see you.”
    “He always had such a crush on you,” Kay whispered.
    Jacqueline blushed as she stood face to face with the now grown version of the kid