dad?”
“Different. Not always better. We’re still figuring that out.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just that I think we spend our whole lives trying to figure out those relationships with the people we care about the most. My mother and grandmother are like oil and water, and yet they clearly love each other.”
“Do you think you would have figured things out with Brent, if he’d lived?”
He had no right to ask the question, and he thought she wouldn’t answer it. But after a moment, she said. “I hope so. I like to think we would have, but I’ll never know. That’s a hard thing about death—you never get to find out how life would have turned out.” She shouldered her purse. “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for answering my questions.”
She left as a quartet of girls and their dates descended on the punch bowl. Josh moved aside to give them room, and lost sight of Amy in the crowd. The sadness of her last words tore at him. He wished he could replace her regrets with good memories and hope for the future, but he supposed only time could do that. Time, and finding whatever it was she was looking for. Whatever they were all looking for.
CHAPTER SIX
In a world full of high-tech wonders and modern shortcuts, the prom stands out as a retreat to old-fashioned tradition. On the verge of graduating to the “real-world” pressures of college and careers, these senior students travel back in time to a society of formal clothing and corsages.
For some, the events of this night are a fun interlude before the renewed stress of graduation. For others, the decisions they make will be life-changing: a boy defends his family’s honor with his fists. A girl dances with the young man who will be her life partner. A student casts off the role of class jock for a more serious place in society.
In the swirl of music and lights, surrounded by friends old and new, members of the senior class of Hartland High are changed by this night, in ways large and small. Cinderella had her royal ball; these students have the prom to aid their transformation from children to adults.
C HARLA FINISHED READING and laid aside the latest issue of the Hartland Herald.
Amy shifted from foot to foot, her stomach in knots. “What do you think?” she blurted.
“I think it’s beautiful. Probably the best thing the paper’s ever published.”
Relief made Amy’s knees weak. She braced one hand against the front counter. “Thanks. I worked really hard on it. All Ed would tell me was that it was different, but he’d print it.”
“He won’t tell you it’s brilliant, because then he’d have to pay you more,” Charla said.
The sleigh bells on the door of the coffee shop jangled and both women turned to see Josh enter. He was backlit by the sun, so Amy couldn’t read his expression, but she recognized the broad shoulders and athletic bearing.
“Do you even know how to tell the truth?” he demanded. “Or is lying part of the curriculum in journalism school?”
All the breath rushed out of Amy. She stared as he crossed the space between them and loomed over her, his eyes blazing. “You had to use the kids to further your career—even after you promised me you wouldn’t write about them.”
“Now wait just a minute!” She drew herself up as tall as possible, which brought her eyes level with his chin. “I didn’t use any names in my article without permission from the people I interviewed.”
He snatched the paper from the counter and stabbed a finger at her article. “‘A boy defends his family’s honor with his fists.’ You don’t think everyone reading this will know who that is?”
“If they already know, what does it matter if I write about it?”
“There’s a difference between gossip and having it confirmed in black-and-white.” He raked a hand through his already-mussed hair. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was labored. The strong emotion on behalf of the kids
“Different. Not always better. We’re still figuring that out.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just that I think we spend our whole lives trying to figure out those relationships with the people we care about the most. My mother and grandmother are like oil and water, and yet they clearly love each other.”
“Do you think you would have figured things out with Brent, if he’d lived?”
He had no right to ask the question, and he thought she wouldn’t answer it. But after a moment, she said. “I hope so. I like to think we would have, but I’ll never know. That’s a hard thing about death—you never get to find out how life would have turned out.” She shouldered her purse. “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for answering my questions.”
She left as a quartet of girls and their dates descended on the punch bowl. Josh moved aside to give them room, and lost sight of Amy in the crowd. The sadness of her last words tore at him. He wished he could replace her regrets with good memories and hope for the future, but he supposed only time could do that. Time, and finding whatever it was she was looking for. Whatever they were all looking for.
CHAPTER SIX
In a world full of high-tech wonders and modern shortcuts, the prom stands out as a retreat to old-fashioned tradition. On the verge of graduating to the “real-world” pressures of college and careers, these senior students travel back in time to a society of formal clothing and corsages.
For some, the events of this night are a fun interlude before the renewed stress of graduation. For others, the decisions they make will be life-changing: a boy defends his family’s honor with his fists. A girl dances with the young man who will be her life partner. A student casts off the role of class jock for a more serious place in society.
In the swirl of music and lights, surrounded by friends old and new, members of the senior class of Hartland High are changed by this night, in ways large and small. Cinderella had her royal ball; these students have the prom to aid their transformation from children to adults.
C HARLA FINISHED READING and laid aside the latest issue of the Hartland Herald.
Amy shifted from foot to foot, her stomach in knots. “What do you think?” she blurted.
“I think it’s beautiful. Probably the best thing the paper’s ever published.”
Relief made Amy’s knees weak. She braced one hand against the front counter. “Thanks. I worked really hard on it. All Ed would tell me was that it was different, but he’d print it.”
“He won’t tell you it’s brilliant, because then he’d have to pay you more,” Charla said.
The sleigh bells on the door of the coffee shop jangled and both women turned to see Josh enter. He was backlit by the sun, so Amy couldn’t read his expression, but she recognized the broad shoulders and athletic bearing.
“Do you even know how to tell the truth?” he demanded. “Or is lying part of the curriculum in journalism school?”
All the breath rushed out of Amy. She stared as he crossed the space between them and loomed over her, his eyes blazing. “You had to use the kids to further your career—even after you promised me you wouldn’t write about them.”
“Now wait just a minute!” She drew herself up as tall as possible, which brought her eyes level with his chin. “I didn’t use any names in my article without permission from the people I interviewed.”
He snatched the paper from the counter and stabbed a finger at her article. “‘A boy defends his family’s honor with his fists.’ You don’t think everyone reading this will know who that is?”
“If they already know, what does it matter if I write about it?”
“There’s a difference between gossip and having it confirmed in black-and-white.” He raked a hand through his already-mussed hair. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was labored. The strong emotion on behalf of the kids
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