Carolina Moon

bottles.
    Unoffended, Faith slipped the top on the lipstick tube and dropped it in her purse. “You’re just cross because you’ve been holed up in your cave all day. You’re going to thank me when we get out on the road and I open up that beauty of Cade’s. Get some wind in your hair, it might actually have a little style.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”
    “Not a thing. If you want to look like an old-maid librarian.”
    “That’s a ridiculous cliché, and an insult to an entire profession.”
    Faith stood another moment at the mirror, fluffed her own sleek blond mane. “Have you seen Miss Matilda down at Progress Library lately?”
    Despite her best intentions, Tory’s lips quivered. “Oh, shut up,” she suggested, and shoved the Coke bottle into Faith’s hands.
    “That’s what I like about you. Always the snappy comeback.” She gave her hair a toss, then started to leave. “Well, come on.”
    “You changed things.” Tory scanned the shelves, the cases, noted the small shifts in stock.
    Snappy comebacks, Faith thought. And an eye like a damn hawk. “So?”
    She wanted to complain, nearly did on principle. But honesty got the better of her. “It’s not bad.”
    “Excuse me. I’m so overwhelmed with flattery I feel a little faint.”
    “In that case, I’ll drive.”
    “The hell you will.” Laughing, Faith danced out the door.
    As she followed, locked up, Tory realized she was enjoying herself. Dealing with Faith made it impossible to brood. The idea of a fast ride in an open car held a great deal of appeal. She’d focus on that, just that, and worry about the rest later.
    “Fasten your seat belt,” she ordered, as she slid into the passenger seat.
    “Oh, right. The air’s so thick you could chew it.”
    Faith clicked her belt on, took out her sunglasses, then turned the key. Gunning the engine, she gave Tory a mischievous grin. “Now for some mood music.” She punched the CD button, flipping through until Pete Seeger wailed out about rock-and-roll. “Ah, classical. Perfect. We’re about to see what you’re made of, Victoria.”
    Deliberately Tory took out her own sunglasses, slipped them on. “Stern stuff.”
    “Good.” Faith waited for a break in traffic, then shot away from the curb in a screaming U-turn. She nipped through the light at the square seconds before it turned red.
    “You’re going to get a ticket before you get out of town.”
    “Oh, I bet the FBI’s keeping our locals plenty busy. Jesus! Don’t you just love this car?”
    “Why don’t you buy one of your own?”
    “Then I’d miss the fun of nagging Cade to death about borrowing it.”
    She crossed the town limits, and poured it on.
    The wind whipped over Tory’s face, tore at her hair, and thrilled her blood. An adventure, she thought as they streamed around turns. Foolishness. It had been a long, long time since she indulged in simple idiocy.
    Speed. Hope had loved going fast, riding her bike like it was a stallion, or a rocket ship. Daring the devil as she threw her arms high in the air and gave herself to the moment.
    Tory did the same now, throwing her head back and letting the speed and the music pour over her.
    The smells were summer, and summer was childhood. Hot tar melting under the searing sun, still water going ripe in the heat.
    She could race through the fields when the cotton had burst from its bolls and pretend she was an explorer on an alien planet. Do cartwheels across the road and feel the tar go soft under her palms. Into the marsh that was any world she wanted it to be. Running there, running with the ground spongy under her feet, with the moss tumbling down and mosquitoes singing for blood.
    Running. Running away with her heart pounding and a scream trapped in her throat. Running—
    “There’s Cade.”
    “What?” Tory jerked back, light-headed, clammy, her eyes wide and nearly blind as she swiveled her head.
    “There.” Carelessly Faith gestured toward the field where two men stood in a sea of green cotton. She gave the horn a cheerful toot, waved, and laughed. “Oh, he’s cursing us now, giving Piney an earful about his crazy, irresponsible sister. Don’t you worry,” she added smugly. “He’ll just figure I’m trying to corrupt you.”
    “I’m all right.” Tory forced herself to breathe in, breathe out. “I’m fine.”
    Faith gave her a longer, more considering look. “Sure you are. You sure go pale though. Why don’t you—oh shit.”
    The