“Lyn, Hector told me about those Rangers giving you grief yesterday.”
“No big deal.” I didn’t see why the sheriff thought he needed to share that tidbit of information, but I didn’t say as much to Clyde. He sat on his usual stool at Dixie’s counter, eating his usual lunch, and I saw no reason to discuss Hector or the Rangers. I reached for a stack of menus so I could update them with tomorrow’s special.
“And he told me what you said about Neil.”
I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t realize you and the sheriff spoke much.”
“Some.”
I slapped a menu against the counter, then calmed myself as I removed today’s card, slid in tomorrow’s, and flipped the menu to the bottom of the pile. I stopped for a second, deciding if I really wanted to talk about what I was thinking, and then I huffed and went on to the next menu. “It was a long time ago.”
“What did Neil do to you exactly?”
I shrugged. “Crude humor and innuendo when he saw me in town. Sometimes touching me when no one was looking. But he was good enough, nobody ever caught on.”
Clyde’s cheeks reddened. “Sometimes I want to beat that man senseless.”
“You’d get arrested.”
“I don’t know. The cops might be on my side.”
I shook my head. “Neil has those two wrapped around his pinky finger. I’m not sure about the sheriff.”
“Well … he shouldn’t have treated you like that.”
“He doesn’t do it anymore. Not since everybody found out about all of it and he left the church. Now people are watching him. Curious.” I snickered softly. “He’s a different person—sort of—and it seems he’s trying harder since Nathan came along.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“Give me a break. I can’t stand the man.” I focused on my work but thought about what he had asked.
Every time I pulled out those blasted letters, something tugged at my heart and wouldn’t let go, but it wasn’t Neil. It was more of a lost promise. When he cast me aside, my life never seemed to catch up to the dream. Not even when I married Hoby.
But just because Clyde had kissed me in the kitchen didn’t mean I was ready to shine a light on all my secrets. “So, tell me about this post-incarceration thing Fawn mentioned.”
He studied me for a second, and I knew he didn’t appreciate my changing the subject from my sore spot to his. “It’s nothing,” he said.
I nodded, knowing he would have already told me about it if it was nothing.
“It’s like this,” he said. “While I was in prison, all my decisions were made for me. When I got out, it took a while for me to remember how to do stuff on my own.”
I clucked my tongue. “Like haircuts.”
“I’m still working on some things, but at least I’ve figured out how to treat people.”
“That explains your house.”
He looked up. “What’s wrong with the trailer?”
“It’s old and kinda ratty.”
He walked around the counter in slow motion, then helped himself to a piece of pie from the case and fetched a clean fork. Finally he returned to his stool. “Okay.”
Frustration niggled at the muscles in my jaw, but I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with PICS. “I could have gotten that for you.”
“You’re busy.” He forked a bite into his mouth that was equivalent to a third of the piece of pie, then looked up quickly as if he had just remembered something he wanted to ask me. He swallowed and took a swig of tea. “Can I pick you up for the game Friday?”
I didn’t reply, unsure whether or not he was asking me to sit alone with him on the far side of the scoreboard.
“The view’s not as bad as you’d think.”
So he meant for me to sit with him. My teeth ran across my bottom lip, pinching slightly. Everyone in the stands would see us.
“Or you could come to worship with me tonight.” He shoved another bite into his mouth, but I thought he smiled.
I chortled so loudly, two people at a table near us turned to look. “I’m not going to church with you. Tonight or ever.”
He put his fingertip on the edge of his empty plate and pushed it an inch. “We don’t have to go to the Trapp congregation. We could go to Slaton. Or Snyder.”
“No need.” I slapped another menu on the counter.
Clyde pressed both palms against the counter and pushed himself to a standing position. “Friday then?”
He was bribing me, and we both knew it. “People will talk.”
“Yep. Hester Prynne and Magwitch.”
“Who?”
“Hester Prynne, the adulteress in The Scarlet Letter, and Magwitch, the escaped convict in Great Expectations.”
I rolled my eyes. “Books.”
He bent at the waist until his face was even with mine, and I found myself wishing Dixie didn’t insist we wear brown polyester uniforms.
“What?” I snapped.
His eyes wrinkled as if he were laughing out loud, but he didn’t make a sound. He only stared at me until I looked into his eyes, but then his gaze dropped to my lips.
Warmth spread up my neck as though my clothes had been set on fire, and even though my brain screamed at me to take a step back, my body involuntarily leaned toward him.
He chuckled. “Lyn? I may suffer from PICS, but there are two decisions I’m not struggling with anymore.”
“Oh?”
“First of all, I need God. He’s the only thing that gets me through the hard times, and He’s going to be part of my life no matter what.”
I lifted my chin in defiance, not so much against Clyde but in defense of a million other conversations I’d had about God. “And the second?”
“You.” He took a step back, and suddenly we were in the middle of the diner again. He tapped his knuckles on the counter twice. “I want you in my life.”
When he walked out on the street without looking back, I felt as if a high-powered vacuum was pulling me toward the door, and I had the urge to sprint after him. My heart longed to tell him that I wanted him, too, and I was ready to give in and give up. But my doubt still held me firmly behind the counter, where Dixie’s laminated menus busied my hands with a concrete task that I clung to as a means of avoiding the obvious.
I was falling for Clyde Felton.
And I was falling hard.