Free Surrender To Sultry by Macy Beckett

Schroder
     behind a dusty silk ficus tree in the corner. The ficus was gone, but little else
     had changed.
    Like the old junior high cafeteria, dozens of long plastic tables and folding metal
     chairs claimed the floor in two parallel rows. Right now, the eggshell tile wasn’t
     visible beneath hundreds of shuffling sandals and boots, but Leah knew Ms. Bicknocker
     kept it waxed to a high gloss that would reflect the overhead fluorescent lights during
     clean-up later. The decorating committee had peppered the walls with an assortment
     of photographs of the Lewises, and white paper streamers crisscrossed the length of
     the room, leading to a faded, well-used Welcome Home! banner that hung above the head table.
    A prickle of envy tugged at Leah’s heartstrings. As the daughter of the town preacher,
     this church had been her second home, its people a natural extension of her family.
     If she’d told anyone about her plans to return to Sultry Springs, would they have
     thrown her a party like this?
    She doubted it. Daddy’s congregation was too angry with her for “running away and
     breaking his heart.” But they didn’t know the real reason she’d left. They didn’t
     know her . Nobody did, and it made her feel like a stranger in her own hometown.
    She lost a few inches as she strode toward the punch bowl for a little high-fructose
     fortification. Just as she’d predicted, the air heated the farther she waded through
     the crowd. By the time she lifted a cup of fruity red punch to her lips, she wasn’t
     surprised to find it warm and watered-down. Thank goodness she’d discovered this old
     summer dress at the back of her closet. She only wished she’d brought an elastic to
     lift the heavy waves of hair off her neck.
    “Hey,” June’s voice called from behind. “You made it!”
    Leah turned with a grin on her lips, which immediately fell once she caught a glimpse
     of her friend. Oh, Lord . June looked more bloated than a wet breadstick. Her taut, dewy cheeks could barely
     manage a smile, her fingers so puffy she’d removed her wedding band and looped it
     though a chain around her neck.
    “Are you okay?” Leah asked.
    “Mmm-hmm.” June fanned herself with a discarded church program. “Why?”
    Leah stalled. She couldn’t very well say You look like a tick about to pop . “I noticed your hands are a little swollen. When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”
    “Oh.” With a nod, June touched her face and seemed to blush. It was hard to tell,
     because her skin tone already resembled the inside of a ripe watermelon. “I just saw
     him last week, so I won’t go again for another month. I’m retaining water. It’s probably
     time to lay off the Doritos.”
    “How’s your blood pressure?” Leah didn’t mean to be nosy, but after what happened
     to her mother, she couldn’t help it.
    “A little higher than pre-pregnancy, but the doctor’s not worried.”
    “Any headaches or spotty vision?”
    Laughing, June squeezed Leah’s arm. “No, Nurse McMahon.”
    “Preeclampsia’s nothing to mess around with,” Leah warned. “Keep an eye on your blood
     pressure. And not with one of those machines at the drug store—sometimes they’re not
     calibrated. Come see me if you can’t get in with your doctor. I brought my cuff.”
    “Will do,” June promised, tugging Leah toward the head table. “Come on. I want you
     to meet Trey and Bobbi.”
    As they wove between tables, Leah scanned June’s swollen feet and ankles, wondering
     if she’d made a big deal out of nothing. Most women suffered from edema, especially
     in the third trimester. She certainly had. Birkenstocks were Leah’s best friend during
     her last month of pregnancy.
    It’s probably fine , she decided. June’s doctor knows best .
    Once Leah quit obsessing and glanced up again, it was to the shock of two faces so
     gorgeous she expected to spot a Hollywood camera crew nearby.
    “Hey there,” said a blond-haired,