Betsy shook her fist at him. “Don’t you joke about this. It’s serious stuff. We’ve got to think about the future. Did Ginger tell you that we’re going to bury her folks’ ashes in Cottonwood? We’ve decided to give her two of our plots. Grandpa bought too many for our family, so we’re going to put her mama and daddy in with us.”

“She told me.” Sloan smiled. “That’s pretty nice of y’all, and it’ll put them pretty close to my family.” Hopefully, that meant Ginger would stick around for a long time.

“Yep,” Connie agreed. “The gravediggers will be there on Monday. That’s the day you spend at the cemetery, so you can oversee it. They said they don’t have to dig six feet for ashes, but you make sure it’s deep enough. We want it done right.”

“Eighteen inches is how deep it has to be.” Sloan seated Ginger and turned to help Betsy, but she and Connie were already sitting. “I’ve been out there when they buried remains before. What kind of stone do you want?” he asked Ginger as he sat down.

“Just one of those little flat ones. Nothing big and fancy,” she answered.

“We’ll take care of that later,” Kate said. “Right now, we want to hear all about your journey. Did Ginger tell you that when the baby is old enough to make a trip, we’re all going to California to see the ocean? You’ll have to come with us. Ginger can’t take care of three old women and a baby all by herself.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sloan agreed. “The trip was tiring, but I’m glad I went. I’ve got closure now, and I feel like I can move on. I need to do something meaningful with my life. My old commander talked about a job where I’d teach teamwork and about defusing bombs.”

“That’s amazing, but what will we do without you?” Betsy asked.

“Oh, darlin’,” he said in his sexiest voice, “that job would have to be worked around the hours I work for you.”

“Long as the general or commander or boss-lady understands that,” Kate joked as she dipped ice cream for everyone.

Sloan looked around the table at the three senior citizens and the woman that wasn’t even old enough to buy a drink in a Texas bar. The five of them were all misfits in their own way, but somehow they made a perfect family.

Reality and fear hit Ginger smack between the eyes.

She was letting people take charge of her life again, just like Lucas had done. “Move into this apartment I found for us,” he’d said. “It’s not much, but I’ve got some deals going that’ll put us in a nice home in six months. Trust me, darlin’.”

She’d vowed that she’d never let that happen again, and here she was, living in the lap of luxury, letting people make choices for her. She loved all of them, especially Sloan, but if she didn’t pack her parents’ ashes into her ragged old suitcase and leave pretty soon, she’d be right there in Rooster forever. After all the sisters had done for her, she wouldn’t be able to tell them no. The way she felt when Sloan got back to Rooster made her realize that she was falling in love with him. No absolutely wonderful man like Sloan would fall in love with a woman that was eight months pregnant, so she would just get her heart broken if she didn’t cut the ties.

No. She fought with the voices in her head. I am making my own choice right now. I’m choosing to stay with these wonderful people, and I’m choosing to see where this attraction between me and Sloan might go. These folks might want the same thing for me, but that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

Sloan nudged her. “You sure look serious. What’s on your mind?”

“My parents’ ashes.” She admitted part of the internal fight she was having with herself. “Maybe I should just scatter them somewhere. It might have been easier to not know what happened to them. My father was dead before I was even born, and my mother died when I was in my first foster home, so it’s kind of silly to . . . ,” she stammered, “. . . have them close by, isn’t it?”

“Nothing that brings you peace is ever silly,” Sloan said. “I’m living proof of that right here tonight.”

Kate stopped bickering with her sisters and asked, “Did I hear the word ‘peace’?”

“Yep,” Sloan answered. “I’m finally letting go of the guilt trip.”

“I really hope that means you aren’t thinkin’ of reenlisting,” Betsy told him. “We’d miss you so much.”

“I would go back in if they’d let me, though as I understand it, they won’t.” Sloan held out his plate for a second slice of cake. “But this new idea of working for them in a civilian capacity is sure something to think about. Even if I took the job, I’d have to pass the psych evaluation.”

Kate cut a wedge of cake and slid it over onto his plate. “Anyone else want more?”

Betsy shook her head. “The munchies are happy now.”

Connie nodded. “Only half as much as you gave Sloan. I’ll save the other half for dessert after supper. Are you going to have time to wash the car this afternoon, Sloan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Soon as we finish here, I’ll get right on it. I can’t be falling down on the job, or y’all might hire someone else.”

Betsy snorted, and Kate giggled.

“Like that would ever happen,” Connie said.

A wave of sorrow swept over Ginger. Leaving these sweet people would be worse than walking away from any foster home she’d ever been in.

So why are you going? the voice inside her head asked.

I just have to control my own life, she answered.

Sloan polished off his second piece of cake, took his plate to the kitchen, and was on his way out to the garage when a loud rap on the door made him stop. “Want me to get that?”

“I’m going that way.” Ginger raised her voice. “I’ll answer it.” She opened the door, half expecting to see Flora, coming by with a couple dozen eggs to exchange for a jar of moonshine, but it was Gladys instead.

“Come right in.” Ginger wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing in inviting her in, especially after that incident with Edith.

The woman handed her a pan that was ice cold. “That’s baked pasta, and it’s frozen. Thaw it out, and then follow the directions on the top about how to heat it. I bet y’all are starving for good homemade food since Betsy has that busted arm. Poor dear, I came by to see how she’s doin’.”

“She’s in the kitchen.” Ginger led the way with the pan in her hand, reading the tape on the top as she went. “Preheat oven, then bake for thirty minutes.” Maybe she should lace the casserole with some of Betsy’s pot, then pass it off to Edith as a peace offering. She giggled at that idea. Peace bitch, she thought as she carried it into the kitchen.

Betsy was sitting at the table with a glass of sweet tea in front of her. “Hello, Gladys. Oh, my! Did you bring one of your baked spaghetti casseroles?”

“I sure did. I thought maybe y’all would like something homemade since we all know neither Kate nor Connie can boil water without settin’ off the smoke alarm.” Gladys laughed at her own joke.

“Well, that’s right sweet of you,” Betsy said in a sugary tone. “Won’t you sit down and have a piece of cake and some tea?”

“I’d love to,” Gladys said. “Who brought the cake?”

“Ginger made it.” Betsy flashed a saccharine smile.

“With Betsy’s recipe.” Ginger cut a wedge of cake and filled a glass with ice and tea. “Ice cream?”

“Just cake.” Gladys’s tone was a bit flattened. “So you can cook?”

“More now than when I arrived.” Ginger set the cake and tea on the table for Gladys, then handed her a folded linen napkin. “Betsy is a great teacher. I’m going to take Sloan a bottle of water. Holler right loud if you need me, Betsy. I can hear you through the door.”

“I’ll be fine. We don’t have anything else to do until supper, and Gladys has brought us that. Connie has walked up to see Flora, and Kate is in the cellar, so you go on and take a little break,” Betsy told her.

Ginger got a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and left the two old gals to their gossip session. As she was leaving, she heard Gladys say that Flora had offered to bring the snacks for Sunday school the next day, and a bit of a chill chased down her back. Betsy was up to something, sure as shootin’, and Ginger intended to find out what it was before she went to bed that night.

The garage door was up. A nice breeze kept the place from being too warm. Sloan had already filled a bucket with soapy water and was busy going over the top of the car.

“Why do you do that every week?” she asked.

“Because it’s my job,” he answered. “Before I took it over, they had an old guy from up the street taking care of it, but he died not long before I came home. Kate did it until they hired me. If they wanted me to wash it every day, I’d do it. They pay me well even though I don’t need it—Granny left me well taken care of. But they knew I needed something to do with my days other than let guilt eat me up.” He finished the top, rinsed it with a garden hose, and used a chamois cloth to dry it off. “Did you think about the baby’s birth certificate?”

Ginger opened up a lawn chair and sat down. “I’ve got mixed feelings about staying here, Sloan.”