That evening after work, Lily drove up to her house and slapped the steering wheel. Dammit! She had forgotten all about Wyatt coming at four to get the kids, and there he was in his $1,000 black coat, getting out of his low-slung sports car. A flashback of him coming into the house wearing a similar coat, only a much cheaper brand, came to her mind. He’d been driving an SUV in those days, and back then he’d been a father, even if it was, for the most part, in name only.

She got out of her car, and he held up a gloved hand in a wave. She ignored him and went on toward the house.

“Are the kids ready?” he yelled.

“I’ll see,” she answered without turning around. She could almost see her mother’s disapproving expression. No southern lady treated anyone with such cold hatefulness, but she ignored the thought.

She had just opened the door when she heard the rumble of the school bus coming up the lane. That’s when she turned and pointed, but Wyatt had already heard it and was looking that way. The kids got off the bus with Holly in the lead. Neither of them ran to hug him. Holly stopped and talked to her father and then came on toward the house.

“He wants to know if he can wait for us inside,” she told Lily. “I said I’d ask you about that, and reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour and that I had to take care of Star before I could leave.”

“Of course he can wait inside.” Lily just couldn’t be hateful in front of Holly. “Are you packed and ready to go?”

Holly nodded and ran through the house, out the back door, and across the yard and pasture to the barn. Braden came in behind her with his father in tow, and followed his sister outside.

Wyatt nodded at Lily and said, “Cold out there today.”

“Yes, it is. You can either sit right there”—she pointed to the empty ladder-back chairs—“or you can go to the barn with Braden.” She glanced down at his expensive loafers. “Your choice.”

Wyatt removed his topcoat, took a seat, and folded his coat on his lap. “Are you ever going to forgive me? Can’t we be friends for the kids’ sake?”

“I can be civil and let you come in out of the cold for the kids’ sake. I will never be your friend.” She went upstairs and left him alone in the foyer.

Her hands shook with anger as she got out the journal to calm herself.

Jenny Medford O’Riley, December 1919: