Jessica walked down the lawn-green aisle between the admiring crowd as she headed toward her father. It was her, then Aunt Gina, then Monica Baxter, the bride. “Her Mom the Bride.” She’d be truly grateful to never have to hear that phrase again as long as she lived.
But for the moment it was just Jessica and her father beneath the sun-dappled coast pines. For a man in his late fifties, he cut a dashing figure. Strong from the fishing and the projects he was always doing. He’d stayed fit. His best man, Danny McCall looked small and rumpled by comparison.
What would it be like to go walking toward the man waiting for her? Walking on her dad’s arm up this same pathway to trade vows with—
Erase! Eradicate! Extirpate!
But her commands to herself didn’t work and she glanced aside from the mo
