Trouble's Brewing (26 page)
I looked up at him. “I know.”
When Dad walked back into the kitchen, Wade said, “That goes for me too, Donna. Loving you, I mean. I’ve never stopped. I know I don’t have the right to ask. But if there’s a chance for us, then … do you think there’s a chance?”
“I have too many emotions to answer you tonight, Wade. But I’ll think on it.”
He smiled and gave my shoulders a squeeze. “Don’t think too long. I’m ready to make up for my lost life.” He hesitated for a moment, then looked me in the eye. “I know about that baby in Boulder.”
Donna My eyes snapped to his. “You do?”
“Yeah, I saw the original story about it in the Boulder
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. Clay showed it to me down at the café. Then, again today, while I was painting at the hotel, the paper spread on the floor was from the
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too. It said, ‘Boulder County Sheriff ’s Department Named in Lawsuit.’ It was about the baby you tried to save. The story named you in the suit as well.”
I nodded. “I’ve been in contact with the Boulder County Sheriff ’s Department, and I’ve scheduled a meeting with Chris Lowe. I don’t know where all this is going yet.”
“Wherever it goes, I want to be by your side,” Wade said. “If you’ll let me.”
I looked up at him. Why did he have to look so much like Brad Pitt? He smiled, and his cheeks dimpled. “Okay?” he said.
“I can’t promise anything tonight,” I said. “But we’ll see.”
“That’s all I can ask. But I’ll be praying for you.”
“I appreciate that.”
Together, we sat side by side, thinking about the past and wondering about the future. I felt too numb to know if I’d found peace, but I did know one thing. My family loved me, and tonight, even though I didn’t know if I could love myself, their love made it possible for me to hope that I could.
Clay was slipping. It took him a few hours before he realized what Donna had said about going over to the Westbrooks’. Even if he wasn’t invited, it surely didn’t mean he couldn’t follow her there—unnoticed, of course—if for no other reason than to find out what the big mystery was about. It was practically his job, wasn’t it?
He looked down at his Timex. It was nearly 6:00. Donna would probably be heading over to the Westbrooks’ any minute. He reached for his down jacket, thrown hastily over the back of his chair, but didn’t bother to put it on. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time with it looped over his arm. It wasn’t until he reached the frigid outdoors that he put it on, then jumped into his jeep, turned it toward Donna’s bungalow, and drove as fast as the speed limit would allow.
Her Bronco was already out of the driveway. Clay checked his watch: 6:14. He’d probably just missed her. Or maybe she and the Westbrooks were already sitting down to dinner.
He pulled into Donna’s driveway, using it for a turnaround.
Minutes later, he was pulling into the Westbrooks’ neighborhood. As he came around the turn toward their home, he slowed his jeep, then rolled it to a stop in the middle of the road.
Not a car in sight.
His shoulders sagged. Something was up. Hadn’t Donna said something about snow boots? If they’d gone on one of those sleigh ride dinners so popular with the tourists, he was really out in the cold. Without another clue to follow, he might as well go home.
I determined to break up with Bob. The whole thing—the dating, the engagement—was foolishness to begin with. As anyone who knows me can attest, I am a private person—as private a person as anyone in Summit View can be. The fact that Bob had gone directly to Lisa Leann without ever discussing it with me was more than I could live with. The shame and humiliation were nearly unbearable.
Lisa Leann Lambert, of all people.
Then, yesterday, when I was forced to tell Vernon that I was engaged, and to Bob Burnett of all people, and to see the expression on his face. Oh my, it was awful. Just awful.
“Why?” he said. “Just tell me why?”
I put my face in my hands and stammered out an answer. “I don’t know. I just don’t …”
Vernon stood without saying a word; pulled his cap over his head. “I have to go. I have somewhere I have to be … something I have to do.”
I stood with him. “Vernon, don’t leave. Not like this. I … I’m sorry. I acted in haste, and I …” I took a step toward him. “You asked for a chance to explain, and now I’m asking for the same thing.”
He laughed, though I could tell he was not amused. “I’m not sure you can explain this one, Evie-girl.”
Then he turned and walked out the door, leaving me alone to collapse on the sofa and cry until there were no tears left. When I was finally spent, I stood, wiped my eyes, and walked into the kitchen to make a phone call.
“Burnett Realty,” sang the voice on the other end. “This is Bob.”
“It’s Evie.”
“Hello, my wife-to-be.”
Ugh. “Bob, I … I need to talk to you about some things.”
“Wedding plans, no doubt. Now, here’s what I’m thinking. Lisa Leann Lambert has that new boutique in town, and it would be wise, I think, to let her take care of the whole shebang. What do they call that? A wedding person … whatchamacallit …”
I took a deep breath. “Wedding coordinator.”
“That’s it. Now then, I went in there the other day and checked things out. Flowers, music, the food, the gown. She can do it all. What do you think? … Evie? What do you think?”
“Yes. Lisa Leann Lambert. Well, now. Before I can really talk about that, I need to talk to you about some other … things.”
“Well, sure, sugarfoot. I’m thinking dinner tomorrow night. We’ll start the weekend out with a bang.”
I took another deep breath. “What about tonight? Or this afternoon?”
“Nah. No can do, Evangeline. I’ve got a Chamber of Commerce meeting tonight. Tomorrow night though. I’ll pick you up at 7:00.”
I couldn’t wait until the following night. “Bob-I’m-ending-ourengagement!” I said so fast it sounded like a one-word sentence.
There was a palpable silence from the other end. “I see,” he finally said.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I … I should never have come to your office like that.” I drew myself upright. “And you had no right to go to Lisa Leann Lambert and tell her of our engagement … of how I asked you first. I don’t appreciate that, Bob Burnett.”
“So now it’s my fault?” he stormed.
“Yes! No! Bob, it’s just not right.” I sobered. “It’s just not right.”
“It’s Vernon, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
“I knew it. You’re not really over him. Well, let me tell you something, Miss Benson. There are more fish in the sea than you. Maybe even better fish.”
“I’m sure there are, but—”
“Take that Dee Dee McGurk, for example.”
“Dee Dee McGurk?” I laughed out loud.
“Don’t be so uppity. You don’t know her. You don’t know anything about her.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “And I suppose you do?”
“I know she’s new in town. Could probably use a friend or two. Don’t think I won’t go after her, Evie. Don’t think I can’t get on with my life in spite of you.”
I didn’t answer for a moment.
Dee Dee McGurk.
Doreen Roberts, out to gain another of my beaus. So be it. “Bob, let’s not argue. We were … friends before this thing happened with us. We should remain friends.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, then hung up on me.
It took me several hours to get up the nerve, but I finally called Vernon to ask him to have dinner with me on Friday night. Sure, I could have said tonight—meaning Thursday evening—but I didn’t want to sound too desperate.
“You don’t have a date with your fiancé?” he asked.
“No date,” I answered. “And no fiancé.”
“What does that mean?”
“There is no engagement, Vernon. I can’t marry Bob Burnett. Not when I love you like I do. So … tomorrow evening? I’ll make orange roughy.”
Another pause. “With tarragon?”
My heart began to soar. “Yes.”
“What time?”
“Six?”
“I’ll see you then.”
Vernon arrived at ten till six, carrying a small bouquet of flowers and making apologies as he entered the front door. “I’m early, I know.”
I gave him my best smile. “That’s okay.”
He took a moment to eye me. “You look wonderful this evening.”
Earlier in the day I’d dipped deeper into my bank account and had gone back to Lindy’s store and bought yet another becoming outfit for my dinner date with Vernon. Lindy took a moment to ask about Bob, and I delighted in telling her that I was no longer engaged to him but would be having dinner with Vernon later in the evening. She looked as happy for me as I was for myself.
“Thank you,” I now said to Vernon. “You also look nice.”
Vernon stared down at himself. He wore dark pants and a longsleeved shirt with a complementary sweater. “Thank you.” He extended the bouquet. “These are for you.”
I took them, pursing my lips as I contemplated how lovely they were, even in contrast to the large arrangements I’d received over the past weeks from Bob. “They’re perfect,” I said. “I’ll go put them in water.”
Vernon followed me into the kitchen, where I found a vase and filled it.
“The roughy smells delicious,” he said.
I dropped the flowers into the vase, leaning my hip against the counter as I did so. Smiling, I said, “Are we going to just compliment each other all night? I look wonderful, you look nice, the flowers are perfect, and the food smells delicious …”
Vernon laughed. “I guess so.”
I handed him the vase. “Put these on the dining table, will you?” He took the vase from my hands. “Would you like something to drink before we eat?”
“I wouldn’t mind some water,” he answered. “My throat’s a little dry.”
“Water it is, then,” I answered, then turned to open a cabinet to get a glass.
Vernon reentered the room, and I gave him his water, then watched him drink it. I don’t remember ever in my whole life feeling this nervous around him, but I surely was. “So, how’s Donna?”
He nodded. “She’s good. Better now, I think.”
“Better? Was she sick?”
Vernon shook his head. “I can’t really talk about it. But … she’s better.” He eyed me for a moment before going on. “Can we go into the living room? I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure,” I said and allowed him to escort me there. When we had sat on the sofa, he set the glass of water on the coffee table and then cracked his knuckles a few times before continuing.
“Evie … I’ve been thinking …”
“Yes?”
“About a couple of things, actually.”
“Yes.”
“Pastor Kevin Moore, for one.”
“Pastor Kevin Moore?” I studied Vernon’s eyes. Something inside them was different, but I didn’t know exactly what it was. “What about Pastor Moore?”
“He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”
“He’s a very nice guy. Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking … and just thinking, mind you … that maybe … maybe I’d like to go back to … to church again.”
“Are you serious?” I scooted toward him. “Oh, Vernon, that’s wonderful.”
“Evie, I don’t want you to think I lost my religion when Doreen took off like she did. I was just …”
“Humiliated?”
“Yeah.”
“Embarrassed?”
“Yeah.”
“Shamed? Mortified? Disgraced?”
Vernon pinked. “Okay, that’s enough, Evie-girl. I think I’ve got the point you’re trying to make.”
“Mmm. I remember feeling the same way when we were twelve.”
Vernon leaned against the back of the sofa. “Oh no. Not that again.”
I scooted even closer to him. “Okay, not that again. You were saying?”
Vernon pushed himself upright. “I’m thinking about going back. Once you stop going, you know, it’s just so hard to get going back. But Pastor Kevin … well, I saw him for a bit last evening and … he’s just a very kind man, I think, and I’d like to hear him preach.” He paused for effect. “That is, if …”
“If?”
“You’ll promise to sit with me.”
I beamed. “I think I can arrange that.”
“And you’ll hold my hand,” he said, taking mine in his.
I blushed, but only a bit. “I think I can arrange that too.”
“And you’ll wear this,” he said, turning his hand over with mine and revealing a diamond ring slipped onto his pinky.
“Oh, Vernon,” I breathed. “It’s … it’s … just …”
“Wonderful? Nice? Perfect?” he asked with a wink, then slid the ring off his finger and onto mine.
I looked at it for a moment, allowing the light from the table lamp to catch its prisms and send rainbows into my heart. Sighing, I slid my arms around Vernon’s broad shoulders and leaned in for a kiss.
It was the kiss of a lifetime.
When we finally broke, I said, “Delicious.”
Clay was sitting in his usual place at the café on Saturday morning when he saw Donna’s Bronco bob into the parking lot next door. He pulled his shoulders back a bit, heard the bones in his spine crack, then glanced down at the seat of the chair beside him. The photo album, completed, wrapped, and tied off with a big blue bow, was there—on the chance she’d come in for one of Sally’s breakfast specials.
As for Clay, he was having poached eggs and bacon. Hold the toast and no thank you on the muffin. A protein dieter’s delight.
He drew his eyes toward the window again, just in time to see her mop of blond curls sticking out of a thick wool cap. She had a matching scarf wrapped around her neck and her regulation black leather jacket.
She was beautiful.
He kept his eyes focused on his half-eaten breakfast, listening for the sound of the door opening, then closing. He shot a look that way. She spotted him and smiled.
“Care if I join you?”
Clay felt as if someone had knocked the breath out of him.
“Be my guest, Deputy.”
Donna peeled off her jacket. She was wearing black jeans and a red sweater that fit like a second skin. “Hey, Sal,” she called over her shoulder, smiling in a way Clay had not seen her smile in a very long time. “I’ll have what he’s having.” She pointed to him, and he beamed up at her. “And you can put it on his tab too.”
“That a girl,” Sal called back.
Donna sat across from him.
“Cute,” Clay said. “What do you think I’m made of? Money?”
Donna folded her arms on the table, leaned in, and asked, “What do you pay for that rattrap you got across the street?”
“’Bout half your rent. Why?”
“And, let’s say you make a pretty decent salary.” Clay leaned over, mimicking her. “Let’s say I do.”
“Then, to my way of thinking, you’re way ahead of me in the money game.”
Sal appeared just then, dropping a mug in front of Donna, who now leaned back a bit. Sal poured a hot cup of coffee from about two feet up. Not a single drop missed its mark. “More for you, Clay?” she asked him.
“Thanks,” Clay answered and pushed his mug toward her.
Sally refilled it, then walked away without a word.
Donna locked eyes with his and held them for a few moments before he asked, “So, where’d you eat last night?”
She took a sip of her coffee. “I told you. Vonnie’s.”
Clay noted a fleeting twitch as she said the words. “Oh.”
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“Thought I might surprise you last night, and I drove out that way,” Clay answered, dropping his fork onto his plate. He was no longer hungry.
“Well, you’re the one who would have been surprised,” she mumbled, but Clay understood each word.
“Oh, yeah? In what way?”
Donna’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to pull out your notebook?” she asked.
Clay shook his head. “Not this time.”
Sally returned to the table with her order. “Thanks, Sal,” Donna said, picking up her fork.
“No problem.”
Clay waited until Sal had left before he pulled the wrapped photo album from the chair. “This is for you,” he said. “You don’t have to open it now. You can eat first.”
She dropped her fork. “What is it?”
Clay shrugged. “Eat. There’s plenty of time for this.”
Donna beamed. “No. A present for me? Is it my birthday?”
“Wouldn’t you know?”
“I’m teasing you.”
“Oh.” Clay’s chin jerked a bit. Behind Donna’s back, beyond the window, Wade Gage’s blue truck slid by.
Keep going,
Clay willed it.
Keep on going.
He saw Wade’s head whip around, and Clay frowned. He’d spotted them.
“What’s wrong?” Donna asked him.
“Gage will be walking in any minute.”
He thought he saw both a smile and a wince cross her face simultaneously, but she said nothing. Instead, she tore into the paper, exposing the photo album. “A photo album?”
“Open it,” he said, looking at her, then cutting his eyes over at the front door. Wade had yet to walk in. Maybe, Clay hoped, he wouldn’t find a parking place.
Donna pulled back the front cover and hunched over his handiwork. “Oh, Clay. Where’d you get these?”
“My mother took most of them. Later ones—the ones in the back—those were taken by me with my Canon and the ones before that with one of those 110 cameras.”
Donna looked up. “I remember. You had a blue one with funky green stripes.”
Clay paused. “Yeah, I guess it was. How strange you would remember that and I wouldn’t.”
Donna tilted her head like a little girl in wonder. “How about that?”
Clay cut his eyes over at the front door again. Still no Wade. He jerked when he felt Donna’s hand touch his.
“Clay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Stop worrying about whether or not Wade is going to walk in. This is our time, okay?”
Clay visibly relaxed. “Mean it, Deputy?”
She nodded. “I mean it.”
“What if he wants to sit with us?” Clay narrowed his eyes at her and playfully cocked a brow.
Donna looked back at the album, flipped another page. “I’ll tell him to go away for now,” she said.
Clay took another sip of his coffee. For now, she’d said. Not forever, but for now.
For Clay Whitefield, it was good enough.
