Watching the strangers scurry past her brother's grave, Abby Trevor felt blessedly numb everywhere?except her feet. The designer shoes she'd bought on a whim last spring with Jason hurt like crazy and pain was the only thing keeping her focused. The pinch in her right instep reminded her of the day she and her brother had shopped themselves silly in New York. At the moment that needlelike sensation was the way she knew the coffin in front of her was not some hideous nightmare as the rain fell in sheets from the dark morning sky.
If she let herself believe for one second the sea of black umbrellas around her was a dream, she'd stand up, kick off those wretched shoes and run screaming from the drowning cemetery. That would certainly set the tongues to wagging, especially here in Washington, D.C.
But she wouldn't disgrace her brother or his memory that way. Her mama's Southern belle training was too ingrained in her, despite the fact that she was one thousand miles from the Mississippi Delta and the small town that had been the cradle of her genteel upbringing.
Still, that home training?and her uncomfortable shoes?kept Abby's butt firmly planted in the soggy funeral home seat under the green awning. She'd never be able to stand the sight or scent of stargazer lilies again. Thunder rumbled in the distance, serving as another reminder that despite the surreal atmosphere, this was no dream.
Jason was dead. Killed by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street on his lunch hour. D.C. police were still looking for the driver.
God, Jason, what happened?
She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the rain was coming down in biblical proportions and almost everyone was gone. She wouldn't be surprised to see frogs falling from the sky soon. She felt nearly alone in the world. Nearly.
Estranged relatives in Mississippi didn't count. But Karen Weathers di