Tough Talk

by Jessie Gussman

  In the back, someone began clapping. He had started to descend the steps, but he looked up to see his brother, Torque, standing with Cassidy. Their whole table stood up, clapping. Except...

  Soon the entire audience was on its feet.

  But his eyes were on Kelly. She stood beside Cassidy, her back to him, her arms around...Preston. She was hugging Preston like she’d never let him go.

  While Tough watched, Kelly grabbed her purse, Preston grabbed her hand, and they hurried out the back door. Together.

  He was asked to go back up and answer questions, but he declined, slipping out a side door. His tongue had worked, and he had faced the crowd of people, but he had reached his limit, and he needed to go somewhere quiet and nurse his broken heart.

  Chapter 20

  Kelly walked into the activity center. Kids ran around playing freeze tag on the unfinished gym floor. Her eyes searched for Jasmine. There. Smiling and chasing another girl. Kelly’s heart warmed. Maybe Jasmine would be okay.

  A teenaged girl sat on a low chair at a little table surrounded by toddlers who all had a big chunk of playdough. On the other side, middle school kids sat at tables with their books spread out in front of them and at the kitchenette. Mr. Sigel stood in front of the coffee maker.

  Wait, what? Mr. Sigel?

  Kelly hurried over. She had wondered what Al and Mr. Sigel and the other half-dozen or so less-regular retirees would do without being able to hang out at Tough’s garage. She didn’t think they’d move with him. She grinned. Apparently, they were going to hang out here.

  Before she reached him, her phone buzzed, and she dug it out. A text from her banker.

  I have a donor for you. Can you come to the bank and sign papers today?

  Her pulse quickened. She texted back quickly. I’ll be there soon. If she hurried, she could make it before five.

  “Mr. Sigel.” She held her arms out, and he wrapped her in a warm embrace, smelling slightly of bengay and coffee. She missed the grease and exhaust smell that had always been a part of him, too, but shoved that thought aside.

  “Kelly. Good to see you. Want coffee?” he asked in his grizzled voice.

  “No thanks. I’m heading home for the day.”

  “Al already left. Can’t stand me beating him at checkers.” Mr. Sigel winked.

  Kelly looked over at the checkerboard, which sat on its barrel among the desks. Tough had moved it over without asking, which was fine with her. It was his way of taking care of Mr. Sigel and Al, she supposed.

  “I see.”

  Mr. Sigel touched her arm with a gnarled finger. “The old folks around are really going to miss Tough.”

  “I know,” Kelly said. “But you can let everyone know that they are always welcome to come here and hang out.”

  “You’re not going to fix our cars for free, are you?”

  “No, of course not.” Kelly hesitated. Had Tough fixed everyone’s car for free? “What do you mean, free? Tough never charged anyone?”

  “Just senior citizens. He didn’t advertise or anything, but we all knew he wouldn’t charge us for any work we got done in his shop. He didn’t charge anything, not even parts.”

  No wonder there were always so many elderly people. She’d wondered about that. “I see.” Tough, of course, had never let on, never said a thing, and that’s the issue she most had trouble getting over. Just like Preston, who hid his longtime girlfriend for over a decade, Tough had hid not only the fact that he apparently did work for free for anyone who was retired, and who knew who else, but that he also had a very famous, very popular, very profitable advice column. That she’d written in to! Her temple throbbed every time she thought of it.

  It wasn’t exactly fair to compare him to Preston. She knew that.

  Mr. Sigel leaned in closer and lowered his voice, like he was delivering state secrets. “I think he even did free work for poor people too. He’s nice but not a very good businessman. You can’t give away stuff for free and make money.” He patted her arm. “He’s a good fellow, though. I thought maybe you’d...well, he just seemed to come out of his shell, so to speak, when you showed up. I thought you might see the real Tough, you know? People only see what they want to, and no one ever bothered to look at him before.”

  Kelly pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to be served a guilt trip on top of everything else, but Mr. Sigel was right. She saw the real Tough, and she really shouldn’t have been surprised about the free work he did. The advice column, though? No way. She should not have seen that.

  That had shocked her clear to her toes and back.

  “Well, I have to run to the bank before it closes, so I’m heading out.”

  “Keep the old folks in mind if you find another good, cheap mechanic.” Mr. Sigel picked his coffee up and shuffled over to the checkerboard.

  Kelly drove to the bank, deliberately trying not to think about Tough or the depths that she hadn’t even realized he had. Had she truly been blind? And did it matter?

  Her phone rang. She pressed the button to use the car’s speaker. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Cassidy said. “How’s Mrs. Fitzsimmons?”

  “She’s doing much better.” Poor Preston had been so overwrought when he’d found out during the charity gala that his mother had driven herself to the ER with chest pain that he’d forgotten all about Bonita. Maybe because he was so used to reaching for Kelly in public, out of habit, but whatever, he’d grabbed Kelly in a hug before snatching her hand and running out. Kelly had felt bad for him, and of course, she’d been concerned about Mrs. Fitzsimmons, too. “It was a bad case of heartburn. But I’m glad she got it checked out.”

  “Too bad she missed the gala,” Cassidy said.

  “Yeah. It’s the first one she’d missed in twenty years.” Kelly felt bad that she’d never even noticed. She’d been so wrapped up in Tough.

  Crying erupted in the background. Cassidy said, “I have to run, but I wanted you to know that Torque said Turbo ran over Tough’s phone when they were moving his stuff out of the garage.”

  “On purpose?”

  “It was Turbo, so that’s a legitimate question,” Cassidy said with a laugh. “But, no, Turbo insists he didn’t mean to. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if maybe you might have been trying to get a hold of him...” Her voice trailed off.

  Kelly didn’t answer. That made sense. Why Tough wasn’t taking her calls. Why they didn’t even go to voice mail. A little blossom of hope stirred in her chest.

  More crying. “I have to go.” Cassidy hung up.

  Kelly tapped the steering wheel. Maybe because Tough lost his mother, maybe because he was poor growing up, but somehow, he’d gotten it in his head that he wasn’t good enough for her. Of all their problems, that one was ridiculous. But it was so real to him.

  Could the problems that she felt were so huge between them be the same? Ridiculous? Did she have to be in Brickly Springs? Weren’t there kids that could use her help in Berryville, too? Why couldn’t she be with Tough in Berryville and find people who needed her there?

  Still contemplating those questions, she walked into the bank and greeted Tina, her banker. Tina led her to her office. Kelly sat at Tina’s desk in front of a stack of papers.

  “My mother had a car accident. She’s fine, but it’s been a crazy day. I would have gotten a hold of you sooner...” Tina bustled around her desk, grabbing a pen. Her normally neat hair flew around her head, and her shirt was partially untucked in the back. She was also missing an earring.

  Tina’s phone rang. She threw a couple more papers on the pile in front of Kelly.

  “Here, look these over. I need to answer this.” She turned toward the window and answered in her professional banking voice.

  Kelly picked up the pen and papers. She’d done this before, and usually it was very straightforward. She perused the papers, noting the exceptional amount, donated weekly and deposited directly into her checking account, which caused her chest to buzz. She would have enough to
pay the rent for the activity center every month!

  She also noted that the donor desired to remain anonymous. But stuck in the middle of the pile were papers that were unfamiliar. The donor papers, apparently, that Tina, in her haste, had accidentally added to her stack. Before she could shove the papers aside, her eyes caught on a name. A familiar, beloved name. Tough Baxter.

  She pushed away from the table and walked out.

  Chapter 21

  Tough sat on a five-gallon oil bucket outside his new shop. Darkness had fallen hours ago, coming early as it did this time of year. He fingered the cigarette in his hand, flipping it around, back and forth, through his fingers. He didn’t need it anymore. Heck, anyone who could stand up in front of hundreds of people and talk as long as he had couldn’t fault their tongue for anything.

  Shifting, he pulled the lighter out of his pocket, snapped it open, and clicked. The flame burst out, bright and hot, before settling down to a steady glow. Wasn’t that like love? Like relationships, where they burned hot and strong for the first while, before settling down into a steady and predictable routine. Wasn’t that the natural order of things? He couldn’t believe Kelly was right that passionate love didn’t matter because it didn’t last.

  His lighter sputtered and went out.

  He almost laughed. There was an answer. According to his lighter, Kelly was right.

  But people, couples, didn’t run out of energy. Not unless they chose to, right? What if he chose to never give up on his relationship and he was with someone who chose the same thing? Never give up. No matter what. He wouldn’t walk away. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t quit loving Kelly, even if that love didn’t look the same ten years from now as it did today.

  He shoved the empty lighter back in his pocket and tossed the cigarette out into the street. None of it mattered, and he was wasting his time trying to figure it out. Even if Kelly believed in love, in his love, he’d betrayed her by hiding his column, answering her anonymously, and he couldn’t blame her for finding him easy to walk away from.

  He couldn’t forget, either, that loving someone was painful, too. He’d loved his mother and lost her. He’d never really recovered from it. Maybe that was the real reason that he hadn’t pursued Kelly harder but had walked away so easily. Maybe it was really fear that clutched his heart and made him think he wasn’t good enough.

  He leaned back on the bucket, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at the stars. At least here, in Berryville, which was a smaller town, the stars were brighter. That was one good thing. Still, he hadn’t found his niche yet, and he was used to the hustle of a full shop and tons of work, not to mention he missed the old guys who hung out in his shop. He closed his eyes, knowing he wasn’t fooling himself. He missed Kelly.

  The hum of a motor cut through his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to headlights swinging around the corner. A car, a Prius, very similar to Kelly’s, pulled into the curb. It couldn’t be Kelly, but his heart leaped from its comatose position in his chest and jumped up and down. Couldn’t kill hope.

  The headlights shut off, and he saw the blond head through the windshield. His bucket slammed down on the pavement, but he waited for her door to open and for her to step out before he stood.

  She closed her car door and folded her hands over her chest.

  Not a good sign. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned a shoulder back against the building.

  “You told me.” She tapped her foot on the pavement.

  He wanted to just stand there, since he had no idea what she was talking about, but he forced his mouth to move. “What?”

  “In your column. The answer to my question. You told me that you were hiding things.”

  A cool breeze blew, and Kelly shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Tough wanted to go wrap his arms around her and give her his heat.

  “I deceived you. I’m sorry.” Apologizing wasn’t hard, because he meant it.

  “Preston deceived me too.” She tilted her head. “He’s had a girlfriend since we were in ninth grade.”

  Tough’s chest constricted at the pain in her voice. But his heart also hurt because she seemed to be lumping him in the same group as Preston.

  Maybe because of the dark, maybe because he’d been practicing, maybe because he needed her to see, but the words somehow tumbled off his tongue. “There’s never been anyone for me but you.”

  “You’re not like Preston.” She continued in a softer tone, “That’s not the only secret.”

  He looked back up at the stars, knowing she was right and having no defense.

  She ticked them off on her finger. “The column. Giving free service and repairs from your garage. Moving out of your side of the garage so I didn’t have to.”

  His head snapped up, and she nodded fiercely. “Oh, yeah. I know about that. Mr. Millard came in, and we had an interesting conversation. Then there are the papers at the bank with your name on them. The ones I wasn’t supposed to see that named you as the donor of enough money to pay my rent every month. Tell me, Tough.” Her foot tapped staccato bursts on the pavement. “Is that money from your column?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, closing his eyes.

  Beats of silence passed, broken only by distant rumbling of a Cummins motor on the interstate and the tapping of Kelly’s foot.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked, her voice hinting at pain and anger.

  He jerked his shoulders off the wall and sauntered over, getting right in her face but not touching, his breath coming in short pants, the veins in his neck feeling ready to burst. “You weren’t mine. You were never mine. You wore Preston’s ring. I can’t bare my heart and soul to you when you’ve got another man’s ring on your finger.”

  She held her hands up, all her fingers bare. “Preston’s out of the picture. I told you when it happened. Are there more secrets?”

  The lack of a ring was a good sign; his heart wanted to sing. But she wanted his secrets. He fisted his hands in his pockets and forced himself to meet her eyes, the words heavy and slow at first, but at least they came out. “Every day, every hour, I stop myself from begging you to take a chance on me. That’s what’s in here.” He hit his chest. “I lie awake at night trying to figure out how I can convince you that what I feel for you isn’t some passing fancy that’s going to be gone in a year or fifty. At the same time, I fight myself constantly because I’m not good enough for you and I don’t deserve you and I’ve never given a flip about money, but I was tempted to move here and keep the money from my column and start charging everyone who walks into my shop full rate so I have the cash to buy a house and provide the life you deserve and I might have a snowball’s chance in hell of being able to give you a fraction of what Preston could.”

  His nose was millimeters from hers, but he had his hands shoved deep in his pockets so he wasn’t tempted to grab her and shake her or, more likely, kiss her.

  “Anything else?” she asked in a more subdued tone.

  He backed off, just a hair, and said softly, “I tell myself not to be afraid just because the only other woman I’ve ever loved—my mother—died. Because sometimes love hurts.”

  She blinked and bit her lip. “Is that it?”

  “I’m not hiding another blasted thing.”

  Her head tilted, and a little smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Do you want to know what I’ve been hiding?”

  The question, spoken softly, drained some of his righteous anger. He searched her face in the dim light, hoping for a clue as to whether it was something he really wanted to know. He already felt like he’d gone through open heart surgery. But he didn’t have a chance to think before his mouth moved. “What?”

  “I know you’ll love me to the end of time, because that’s the kind of man you are.” His breath caught. “The problem is I don’t know what kind of woman I am.”

  “Isn’t that for me to take a chance on?” he asked, trying not to allow the hope in his heart to bloss
om.

  “Don’t you see? The problem isn’t are you good enough for me. The problem is whether I’m good enough for you.” Her voice raised, and her hands flew up in the air. “All those things you were ‘hiding’? They were all for my good. You would never do anything to hurt me, and I know it. But me...” She hung her head. “I know I’m not good enough for you. Not even close.”

  “Do I get any say in this?” He used a finger to brush back a stray hair from her face before allowing it to track down her cheek.

  Her hand came up and twined her fingers with his.

  “I want to protect you from the wrong choice,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  “Then you’d better stick pretty close. If you marry me, that might be close enough.”

  “If you’re willing to settle for me...”

  “I’m not settling,” he interrupted. He couldn’t stand hearing her say that. “I haven’t had anyone drop my column. I might keep making money at it. I could keep the money and buy us a house...”

  She put her fingers over his mouth. “Shh. I don’t mind any of that. Everything I’ve done, all the work for kids and charity, has never been about needing money for material things. It’s always been about trying to provide the family that I didn’t have.”

  That hurt. Thinking of little Kelly so many years ago, dirty and sad, just wanting someone to love her. His heart cracked a little. If it was the last thing he did, he would be there for her, be the family she never had, be the rock she could depend on. If only she would accept and believe. “I’m not leaving you, Kelly.”

  “I know.” She held his face in her hands. He turned his head slightly to kiss her fingers. “I love you, Tough.”

  His heart almost exploded with happiness, and a thrill jolted down his body. He smiled. “I need to hear that about thirty times a day for the rest of my life.” He bent down and kissed her.

  A lot of time later, he sat on the bucket, Kelly snuggled in his lap. She needed to go home. He needed to get to bed.