Heartbreak Creek by Kaki Warner Page A

tomatoes, and a big pinch of ground mustard into the beans, Pru wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face Edwina with a smile that was both sad and determined.
    “And what if you haven’t? It’s obvious this family needs you.”
    Edwina gave a broken laugh. “It’s you they need. Not me.”
    “Then make them need you.” Pru must have seen the tears Edwina was trying so hard to hold back. Blinking against her own, she walked over and put her arms around her. “And how could they not grow to love you, little sister? You’re sweet, kindhearted, fiercely loyal, smart—”
    “Stop,” Edwina said, laughing in spite of herself. “You’re making me sound like a spaniel.” Putting some space between them, she swiped at her cheeks and put on a wobbly smile. “Just promise me you’ll stay until I get my feet under me. Otherwise, I’m going with you, I swear it.”
    “I promise.” Still gripping her shoulders, Pru gave Edwina a hard look. “But you must promise me that you’ll give this marriage a chance.”
    Edwina sighed. “He doesn’t even like me, Pru. You’ve seen the way he looks at me.”
    “Then make him like you.”
    “How?”
    “By being more likeable. And maybe rubbing up on something other than his furniture.”
    “Pru!”
    Her sister met her outrage with a laugh. “Go on, now.” She gave Edwina a gentle shove toward the door. “Call your family to lunch. I think I saw a triangle dinner bell hanging beside the door when we came in.”
    Shaking her head at her sister’s audacity, Edwina turned toward the door just as it opened and her new family trooped in.
    And they didn’t look happy.

Five
    A s Declan ushered his pouting children into the kitchen, he was greeted with the delicious smell of fried pork, onions, and baking muffins. His dour mood immediately lightened.
    The place was clean, too, he saw, looking around. And the women were smiling in welcome. At least one of them was; his wife looked as if she’d been crying. He hoped it was because of the onions. He didn’t need another scene after what he’d just gone through.
    R.D. and Lucas had taken the news of their new mother well enough. R.D. asked if she was a better cook than Chick, the ranch hand who now did most of the cooking. Lucas just looked at him in silence, that same, sad look on his thin face. As expected, Joe Bill had strenuously insisted he already had a mother and didn’t need another one—a tired refrain. Even after four years, the boy still wouldn’t accept that his mother was dead. Brin had simply echoed whatever Joe Bill said, except at a shout and with tears.
    “Children,” he said now, putting on his best smile while gripping Brin’s and Joe Bill’s shoulders in warning. “This is the new ma I told you about.”
    Brin tipped her head back to frown up at him through the dark tangled curls poking out beneath her tattered slouch hat. “Which one?”
    “The one with the light hair.”
    “I like the chocolate one better. What’s wrong with her hand? Why is it different colors?”
    “She’s not chocolate,” Joe Bill argued. “She’s butterscotch.”
    “She’s Prudence Lincoln,” Declan cut in, feeling his control of the situation already start to unravel. “And she’s not chocolate or butterscotch. She’s Negro. And the other lady,” he went on before they could make any more unmannerly remarks, “is your ma.”
    “I ain’t calling her ma,” Joe Bill said. “I already got a ma.”
    “Joe Bill—”
    “I ain’t calling her ma, neither,” Brin seconded, crossing her arms over her thin chest. “I don’t like her.”
    “Brin—”
    This time his wife cut him off. “Then you may call me Edwina or Pricilla.” She stalked forward with that combative look Declan had come to recognize. “Or Mother, or Mrs. Brodie, or Queen Victoria. I don’t care which, as long as you do it with respect.”
    The children inched closer to his side as she stopped and studied each of them in turn. “I