He went down to the police station with CJ and the arresting officer while Dabney took Agnes to the emergency room. It ended up being a very long night. CJ was charged with aggravated assault, and Agnes received thirty-five stitches in her scalp and was held at the hospital overnight for observation.
When Clen and Dabney finally met back at Clen’s cottage around quarter of four in the morning, Clen poured a shot of Gentleman Jack for himself and a glass of wine for Dabney and they sat at his big oak table in the dark. Clen threw back his shot; he wasn’t feeling that great himself. CJ had bloodied his lip, bruised his cheek, and given him a nasty black eye. On her way home from the hospital, Dabney had stopped at the grocery store for a bag of frozen peas and a porterhouse steak.
“For your face,” she said.
He said, “And maybe tomorrow night, it will be dinner.”
Dabney sipped her wine. “The beautiful young woman you’ve been seeing? It’s Agnes?”
Clen poured himself another shot, but let it sit in front of him. He slowly spun the glass.
Yes,” he said. “She came out to the house looking for you, and she found me.”
Dabney’s eyes were shining with tears. Happy ones, he hoped, although he wasn’t sure. “And how has it been…between you and her?”
Clen knew that his answer was important; this had been an emotional steamroller of a night. There was no road to take but the true, straight one.
“Things between us have been lovely,” he said. He threw back the shot. “You have raised an intelligent, thoughtful, kind human being. She is your daughter, Dabney. I have absolutely no claim to her.”
“Box is an excellent father,” Dabney said. “I couldn’t have asked for better. But there are things about Agnes that are purely you.”
“I’ve seen those things,” Clen said. “Even in the short time I’ve known her.”
“Well, now that you’ve found her, don’t let her go.”
There were no words he could offer in response to that, so Clen took Dabney’s hand and led her to bed.