“Becky...” he sighed as she rolled down her side window. “Girl, what’s gotten into you? You drivin’ like a fired-up banshee-woman.”
“Oh, Uncle Roy,” she started. He saw the salt-stained cheeks and the dewy eyes that she raised to him and took a step back. “Why do boys have to be the way they are?” and she dipped her face behind cupped hands and convulsed.
Her Uncle Roy stepped up to the window, suddenly feeling like he was on more comfortable ground and shook out a handkerchief that was close to the size of a tablecloth.
“Now, Becky,” he comforted, pushing the square of cotton into her hands. “You and Eric just workin’ things out is all. You listen to your Uncle Roy now, you hear?”
Uncle Roy was her dad’s brother and she loved him dearly. He’d been with the small Sheriff’s Department f
