“Oh wait… I need to return your pie plate,” Hunt said, and picked it up from the sideboard. “It was delicious…and so was lunch. Next time, the meal is on me.”

Ava sighed. Next time. It was something to look forward to. She saw a pad and pen on the counter and picked it up.

“This is my cell number. I’m still off tomorrow, but I’ll be going back on the day shift so I’ll be at the hospital from seven to three after that.”

She started to pick up the pie plate, but Hunt wrapped his arms around her instead and gave her a hug.

“Thank you. You’re the welcome home I never expected.”

She looked up, searching his expression for something more than gratitude, but it wasn’t there.

“Well, we’re even then, because I never thought I’d see you again. I’m sorry Marjorie had to die for it to happen, but I’m really glad to see you again.” Then she picked up her pie plate.

“I’ll see myself out,” she said, and left him in the kitchen with the remnants of their meal.

Hunt stood until he heard her driving away, then gathered up the trash and carried it out to the garbage can. The house felt empty after he returned, and he wished they’d parted on a happier note. But he didn’t lie…not for anyone.

Chapter 5

Ava was in shock. The urge to drive straight back to Emma’s house and demand the truth was huge, but again…she wasn’t real family. Just the friend they grew up with, so she went home instead, sad for Hunt and sad for herself. No use daydreaming about him all over again. He didn’t want anything from Blessings but a ticket out of town, and that would come when he’d fulfilled his promise to his mom.

* * *

Hunt was thinking about tomorrow, and the southern rituals regarding a funeral, but he was staying out of it. There would be the traditional family viewing…where everyone came and stared into the casket, remarking upon how nice Marjorie looked and what a sweet woman she’d been, and then they’d shake hands with Emma, Junior, Ray, and Birdie and leave their condolences.

Later, they would remark upon who seemed to be taking her death the hardest, and then if there was any scandal attached to the family in generations past, it would be mentioned in whispers behind closed doors.

Hunt would attend the funeral, but he wasn’t in the mood to put himself on display and field all of the usual questions about where he’d been and why he never came home. His siblings obviously had their own story in place about his fifteen-year absence, and there was no need to bust it wide open by saying something that didn’t fit.