Free Capture the Wind for Me by Brandilyn Collins Page B

Daddy. “She does tend to boss the other kids around,” he said.
    â€œEspecially Clarissa.” I shook my head. “Alma Sue towers over her, and she’s not above using her height to get what she wants.”
    Clarissa took a tiny bite of meat and shrugged.
    Daddy told stories about various customers at the bank. How old Mrs. Watlin, who lived in the country, came in wearing a different out landish hat each time, and how Mr. Hetherbockam always had his miniature poodle prancing around his feet. I listened to Daddy tell his tales with growing dismay. We hadn’t talked this animatedly at the table since . . . well, since Mama had been with us. Now here he was, unfolding in Katherine’s presence like some hearty blossom in the sun.
    The pork tenderloin and sauce lost its flavor. I set my fork down.
    â€œYou done eating?” Daddy asked.
    â€œI did a lot of sampling in the kitchen.”
    Before Katherine could start pestering me with questions, I turned to her with a hostess-polite smile. Know thine enemy, as they say. “So tell us about you.”
    Katherine swept a lock of hair behind an ear. She leaned back in her chair, one forearm on the table. Although I could feel the chilly vibrations rising off my shoulders, she didn’t seem to notice. “There’s not a great deal to tell. You knew my grandma Wilma, I’m sure. And you know my parents and brother.”
    Miss Wilma had been a prayer warrior in our church until her death five years ago. This family information was hardly what I cared about, but since Katherine had brought up the subject . . . “You’re really Derek’s half sister, aren’t you?”
    I didn’t dare look at Daddy, after such a rude question.
    Katherine didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, that’s true. Mama married Jason King when I was six months old, so he’s been the only dad I’ve ever known. They didn’t have Derek for another twelve years.”
    I forced as much friendliness as possible into my voice. “What about when you left Bradleyville? You went to the University of Kentucky for a while, right? But then you started working? What all have you done since then?”
    â€œBet you didn’t know we’d play Twenty Questions,” Daddy remarked to Katherine with a frowning glance at me.
    â€œOh, no matter.” She played with the bracelet on her wrist, pushing it toward her hand, letting it fall, pushing it up again, letting it fall. “I don’t mind answering.” She shifted in her chair, then offered me a small smile.
    I can’t say what it was exactly. Maybe the way she toyed with the bracelet. Maybe her self-conscious smile. Whatever the reason, for the first time I glimpsed a hairline crack in the smooth sheen of Katherine’s poise. I’d hit on something. She didn’t like to talk about those years outside Bradleyville. Now here’s the surprising part. Given my attitude, you might assume I felt glad for her discomfort. But I didn’t. In fact, I felt something far different. The moment I sensed her anxiety about proving herself to me was the moment Katherine May King became human.
    â€œWell, I’ll be honest,” she began. “I left Bradleyville to go to school. But I soon discovered that I really just wanted to experience life.”
    Funny how she made that word breathe with longing and dreams and . . . passion. I understood all that. Suddenly, I realized that Katherine was speaking of when she’d been eighteen, not much older than I. What a thought—that she and I would have something in common.
    After only one semester at the University of Kentucky, Katherine took a job in the office of a radio station. She worked there for two years, loving the music (top forty hits), and even getting free tickets to concerts. Then she worked as a caterer for another two years. At twenty-three, she moved to California with a girlfriend, working in San Diego