“I’m glad you’ve made that decision.” Lily hugged her again. “Maybe Faith and you have more in common than you and the twins.”

Holly nodded. “Does that make me a freak?”

“No, it makes you smart,” Lily reassured her. “It tells me that you’re growing up and won’t let your friends decide what you should and shouldn’t do. I’m proud of you for telling them no.”

“For real? You’re not still mad at me for the joint?” Holly asked.

“Yes, I’m proud of you, but I’m still a little mad at you, too. I wish you’d had the nerve to stand up to whoever gave you that marijuana like you did with Rose and Ivy,” Lily told her.

“I’m not going to choir practice anymore,” she said. “I’m going to stay home and talk to Faith on the phone. She don’t go to choir practice because she says she can’t carry a tune in a milk bucket.”

“That’s your choice,” Lily said. “Are you ready to come downstairs and have a snack?”

“Are Braden and Mack out of the house?” Holly asked. “My face is a mess, and I don’t want my brother smarting off about it.”

“Hey, Mama,” Braden yelled from the bottom of the stairs, “is it all right if I go to the store with Mack? We need to get a load of goat feed.”

“Of course, and tell Mack to pick up a gallon of milk on the way home,” Lily answered and turned back to face Holly. “Give them a minute, and then we’ll go on down.”

“You won’t tell Rose and Ivy’s mother, promise?” Holly’s eyes widened.

“You’ve got my word, and thanks for telling me what happened,” Lily said.

“Rose called Faith a smart-ass bitch.” Holly slid off the bed. “I had my fists doubled up to hit her when Faith pulled me away. She told me that getting ISS or getting expelled wasn’t worth it, and besides, it would be like getting into the gutter with them. But, Mama, the teachers all think they’re good girls.”

“The truth has a way of surfacing,” Lily assured her. “Let’s go make a banana pudding for tonight’s dessert.”

“Banana pudding is only for special days,” Holly said. “Like Easter and Fourth of July.”

“Today is a special day.” Lily draped her arm around Holly’s shoulders.

“I’m not going to argue. Banana pudding is my favorite.” Holly took a step back and followed her down to the kitchen.

Lily’s feet felt like they were floating on air rather than going down the stairs. It was wonderful—no, it went beyond that into fantastic—for Holly to ask her opinion about things these days.

After supper, Mack turned on the television and found a channel showing reruns of NCIS. He twisted the top off a bottle of beer and tipped it up for a long gulp. When he came up for air, Lily had slipped into the living room and was sitting on the other end of the sofa.

“Well, hello,” he said. “Did you figure out what was upsetting Holly?”

She nodded and proceeded to tell him the whole story. “But we can’t tell anyone, or else it’ll all come back on Holly and make things worse.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mack chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Lily’s tone was downright chilly.

“The cops used to make a run to the river about once a month on a Saturday night. They’d round up the underage drinkers, and their parents would have to come get them at the jail. I’m friends with one of the deputies, and he was bragging last week that their busts had cleaned up the situation,” Mack explained.

The smile on Lily’s face started small, but soon she giggled. “The kids just changed it to Wednesday and Friday nights and used choir practice for an excuse to get out of the house. Wonder what they do on Saturday night?”

“Stay home. Get sober. Go to church on Sunday to make their parents think they have wings and a halo.” Mack offered her his beer.

To his surprise, she took it from his hands, took a drink, and handed it back. “Thanks. I rarely have a beer, but I do enjoy one now and then.”

“What’s your favorite drink? Piña colada? Daiquiri?”

“I’m not a mixed-drink or wine person. I like a beer sometimes, or a shot of whiskey on special occasions, but that’s only once or twice a year, if that often,” she told him.

“There’s a bottle of Knob Creek smoked maple in the cabinet. It was there when I moved in, and I’ve had a shot on the past five New Year’s Eves,” he admitted.

“That was Mama’s favorite. Daddy would hold up his beer bottle on New Year’s Eve, and Mama would touch her shot glass to it,” Lily told him. “When I got married, Mama and I had a shot just before I walked down the aisle. It might be the same bottle since she only had a drink once a year.”

“Well, then, I’d say it’s very well aged.” Mack took a drink from the bottle and offered her another one. He loved spending time with her and listening to her husky voice confide in him. He felt as if he was really part of a family.

She shook her head. “Fourteen is way too young to be drinking or having sex.”

“We have a sophomore who had a baby last year when she was just a freshman, and there are also two seniors who will be mothers before they graduate. It can’t be blamed on race, color, creed, or social standing. They come from all walks of life,” Mack said. “You’re a good mother. Holly talked to you rather than listening to her friends.”

“Most days I feel like the meanest mama in the whole state.” She pulled a quilt down from the back of the sofa, stretched her legs out, and wrapped the quilt around her body.

“You shouldn’t.” Mack tucked the quilt around her feet. “You’ve been tough on them for a reason, and it’s plain as the horns on a billy goat that it’s paying off.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” she said, and pointed toward the television. “I haven’t seen this episode. Ziva is still on the show. I missed her when she left.”

“If you leave this summer, I’ll miss you, Lily.” His drawl seemed even deeper than usual.

She looked up into his eyes. “I promised the kids that if they stayed out of trouble, we’d go back to Austin.”

“I understand that, but what if they decided they wanted to stay here?” he asked.

“Then I’d sure be willing to give up the Austin apartment,” she replied.

Lily woke to the sound of the NCIS theme song playing at the end of the episode. She could hardly believe that it was ten o’clock, or that her feet were now in Mack’s lap. She started to pull them away, but he threw back the quilt and began to give her a foot massage. She all but purred when his big calloused hands gently worked on her toes and then worked their way up to her ankles. He finished her left foot, covered it back up, and started on the right one.

“Why are you teaching school? You could make a million dollars a year doing this,” she moaned.

“I’d rather be teaching wild kids than putting up with most women.” His green eyes locked with her brown ones. “You are special, Lily.”