"Don't try that again." She said with a laugh. Matt and his girlfriend could not hear a word we were saying with the radio cranking.Mrs. James put her...head back against me as we continued down the mountain. It was as dark outside as it was in the car and other than an occasional sip of our drink, we neither moved nor talked. My hands warmed up quickly and they were resting on Mrs. James upper stomach on the outside of her sweat pants. She was wearing a pair of the old draw string sweat pants. It may have been acombination of things. I liked her personality, and weseemed to get along well enough, if only for the shorttime we talked. But what I think most intrigued me wasthat she didn’t know my story or me. She seemed to knowRachel and might know something about the tragedy thatbefell our family. Still, Gayle didn’t know me. Our friends, after my husband’s death, treated me withkid gloves, and, to some extent, seemed to keep arespectable distance, likely their way of. More

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