Jodi Thomas - The Widows of Wichita County

She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard him laugh.

"You sound just like Helena Whitworth."

Crystal smiled. "Maybe I do. Maybe the old girl and I have a lot in common. I'm finding out I'm more of a fighter than I ever thought I was. Who knows, in a few years I may be running this town and everyone, even folks I meet on the street will call me Mrs. Howard."

"But Trent promised you-"

"I don't care about the money. I never have, but I couldn't convince anyone of that before the accident, not even you. Now, if I stay, you'll know it's because I want to. The day I got called to the hospital, all I could think of was myself. I guess maybe if Trent had made the offer then, I'd have run. But that was before you needed me. Before the accident I'm not sure you really knew I was alive. Before we began to work together like a team I didn't feel like I was good at anything."

"I'll never be the man you married."

"You're already more than you were before the accident. I see it in how you take the pain without complaint. In how strong you are when I get frightened. You're my hero now more than you ever were before."

He slowly moved his hand and touched her fingers. "You know, I think I'm falling in love with you, Mrs. Howard."

Crystal smiled. "Well, it's about time."

Around old boomtowns weeds now grow over the foundations of derricks that changed lives and land forever. Once in a while someone notices a faded sign of a flying red horse or a wildcat brand carved into wood and remembers how the hunger for oil blew across Texas like a powerful wind.

As Crystal Howard predicted, there was a changing in the wind blowing across the prairie town of Clifton Creek, Texas. It whirled through the narrow streets and blasted down Main, as if trying to mix directions until there was no north or south, no east or west.

Somehow it seemed fitting that the plastic, lamp pole reindeers Helena had always complained about were blown down before her funeral procession moved past the courthouse.

Though the roads were icy, the polished black funeral limos glistened in the morning light. Everyone who did not attend the service lined the road in their cars, bumper to bumper, all the way out to the cemetery. As the casket moved past, each car turned on its lights and left them on until the last car had cleared the street.

Helena Whitworth was buried in her new wool suit with her cashmere coat folded over her arm and her favorite scarf in her hand. Paula insisted on that, saying her mother would never want to be caught unprepared for the weather.

Helena's Choice bore a huge wreath on the door and was closed until one. The twins thought of closing all day, but Mary reminded them it was the Christmas season and their mother never would have missed the entire day's sales.

The townspeople considered Helena their friend, but there were four special pallbearers who walked behind the casket. Crystal Howard in classic black, Anna Montano with her arm tucked into a sling and a hat shadowing her face, Randi Howard in a pleated prairie skirt and black Lucchese boots. and Meredith Allen in the same simple navy dress she had worn to every funeral for the last ten years.

Though most of the women cried, Crystal, Anna, Meredith and Randi did not shed a tear. Someone whispered it was because they had so much sorrow to bear, but the women knew different. They all decided Helena was exactly when she wanted to be. She was with J.D.

At the graveside, most people stayed in their cars. They all watched as Helena's daughters said their last goodbye. Paula clutched a page from a yellow legal pad in her hand. Patricia was too busy trying to corral her children to remember to place the rose Pastor Wayne had handed her on her mother's casket.

When the family moved away from the grave, Meredith expected the cars to leave, but no one did. Then she realized they were waiting for them, the widows, to finish their farewell. She chose to believe it was out of respect and not curiosity.

Randi stepped forward first. She spread her gloved hand out on the casket.

Anna was next. She placed her fingers on the box and whispered a prayer.

Crystal brushed a few snowflakes from the mahogany.

Meredith added her ungloved hand to the others atop the casket. She wanted to say something, but words would not come. Slowly, the four hands came together over Helena's coffin. They crossed as true as points of a compass from four different directions.

No one said a word. No one had to.

The wind circled snow in the air and blended with the fragrance of flowers from beside the grave. Slowly, each stepped away walking past the huge Whitworth stone where Helena had had her name carved beside J.D.'s months before.

Randi looped her arm in Crystal's. "How about I go home with you for Christmas? We'll split all those presents you piled beneath that huge tree and open them like they were all bought just for us."

Crystal grinned. "Sounds great."

Zack stepped forward and put a gentle arm around Anna. They had a flight to catch in a few hours to Italy. She wanted to spend a week with her family and then the new year seeing Rome with Zack. They planned to stay away long enough to give Carlo time to pack. They had agreed not to press charges and to give him a dozen broodmares if he would be gone when they returned.

Meredith watched them leave, knowing they would be married by the time she saw them again.

She turned toward her car. Sheriff Farrington waited halfway between her and the Mustang. As she passed him, he removed one of his gloves and took her hand, then fell into step with her as if he had done so a thousand times.

"I knew you'd be freezing," he mumbled as his warm hand covered her fingers.

Meredith smiled, realizing the whole town was probably watching. "You're holding my hand."

"Well, it was either that or follow behind you picking up frozen fingers as they fell off."

Meredith stopped walking and faced him. "You're holding my hand, Granger."

He smiled down at her. "That I am."

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