Jasper smiled.

Sugar hit the button again as Jolene said, “Okay, I can talk now. Is it just spring fever that makes me . . . how do I put this?”

“Put what? Don’t beat around the bush. Spit it out,” Jasper said.

“Here lately I’m really attracted to Tucker.” Jolene sighed.

“Oh, dear,” Sugar squeaked. “Does he feel the same?”

“I don’t know, but he seems happy. Maybe that’s just me wanting to see something. I was guilty of that with Mama a lot of times. And God knows I gave Johnny Ray all those chances to straighten up and he didn’t. I’m afraid of getting disappointed or hurt again.”

“Did Elaine ever stay sober for ten whole days?” Sugar asked.

“Not even one time,” Jolene answered.

“Did the boyfriend?”

“He made it two days one time,” Jolene said.

“Then there’s your answer. Don’t judge Tucker by your mama’s or that other man’s half bushel,” Sugar told her.

“What does that mean? I’ve never heard that expression before,” Jolene said.

“It means that your mama’s half bushel of problems stay in her basket. Johnny Ray’s stay in his. Don’t pull out any of those and use it to judge anyone else. The way they handled their issues has nothing to do with Tucker, so don’t judge him by your experiences with those two,” Jasper chimed in.

Jolene laughed. “And never the bunch of them shall meet unless they share a bottle of cheap whiskey. Then I can throw them in a burlap bag together, right?”

“You got it, darlin’,” Jasper said.

“Okay, I guess I just needed to hear y’all’s voices. Travel safe today, and I love you both. Where are you now?” Jolene asked again.

“In a rest stop having lunch, and then we’ll get back on the road,” Jasper answered.

“Well, be safe.”

“We will,” Jasper said.

The call ended without any of them needing to say goodbye.

“Sounds like you handled that real good,” Jasper said. “And, if I was hearin’ right, we might get them grandbabies sooner rather than later.”

“We just might at that.” Sugar nodded.

The windshield wipers had to do double time to keep up with the sheets of rain hitting Tucker’s truck like a sandblaster. The fifteen-minute drive to the lumberyard took half an hour, and he had to sit in the parking lot ten more minutes until the rain slacked up enough that he could jog inside. When he carried the five-gallon bucket out to the truck, there was still a slow drizzle coming down, but at least most of the storm had passed.

He laid his hat on the passenger seat and started back to Jefferson. But when he drove past the road leading to the cemetery, he turned that way. That first year after Melanie died, he’d gone to her grave every single day. The second year he forced himself to only go once a week, but it had been two weeks this time, and he felt guilty about staying away so long. He wondered if Luke had already been there today and felt guilty that he hadn’t gone to the party. With Luke’s problems, he probably wouldn’t be alive another year to celebrate with them.

Tucker parked and sat there for a while, just looking out across the brown lawn. Soon spring would arrive, bringing with it pretty green grass. Melanie had loved spring, but summer was her favorite season. That meant three months when she didn’t have to teach and she could spend more time with her Tucker.

Finally, he got out and, taking cover from the drizzle under a tall pine tree not far from her grave, tried to get into the zone that he always felt when he visited her. Maybe it was the rain, or the fact that he’d wanted to kiss Jolene that morning, but something wasn’t right. He took a step forward and dropped to his knees.

“You were serious in the dream, weren’t you, Melanie? You’re not going to talk to me anymore, are you?”

Nothing, not a clap of thunder or a bolt of lightning, came from the clouds. He shifted his gaze from the tombstone to the skies, and be damned if they hadn’t parted enough to let a ray of sunshine filter through. When he looked back at the tombstone, it sparkled in the fresh sunrays.

“I had the urge to kiss Jolene this morning,” he whispered.

More sunshine, but nothing, not even a faint whisper, from Melanie.

He touched the tombstone. “I guess that means you aren’t jealous. You’re okay with it?”

The clouds covered the sun, casting everything back into grayness—like shades of a black-and-white movie.

“Okay, I get the message. I’ll do my best.” He removed his wedding ring from his finger and his knife from his pocket. Digging a small hole at the base of the tombstone, he buried the gold band. “You gave me yours back in my dream last night. I’m giving you mine this way. I love you, Melanie. I’m not sure where this is going with Jolene, but I’ve got a good feeling about it. She’s a good woman. You’d like her a lot if you . . .”

A loud clap of thunder rolled across the sky, and huge drops of rain began to fall. He rolled up to a standing position and started to run back to his truck when a horn blasted right in front of him, much closer than where his vehicle was parked. He shaded his eyes against the rain and could see an arm waving to him to come that way.

He dashed over there as Melanie’s dad pointed for him to get into his truck. Tucker hopped inside and shivered.