by Lisa Smartt
“Well, you don’t need my advice in the relationship department. I’m not the one you should listen to.”
“Maybe you have more wisdom than you know.” Why in the world am I talking to him? I don’t even know this guy.
“Yeah. I know about relationships alright. But I found out too late, I’m afraid. I messed it up real bad and then it was too late to fix it. But that’s none of your concern, ma’am. You’ve got car trouble and that’s what you need to worry about.”
About that time I could see Doug’s truck in the rearview mirror. A part of me felt sad.
Doug got out and extended his hand, “Dusty McConnell. It’s been a long time, man. Are you helping our lady in distress here?”
“I could. But she won’t let me, Doug. Reckon she’s seen too many of those cop shows.”
Doug smiled, “Yeah, I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry. Well, if you could get your tow truck and take it in for us, we’d sure be appreciative. I know you can’t work on it today. But she’s trying to get home to Georgia so if you could work on it tomorrow, that’d be great.”
“Yeah. No problem. I’ll be back in about ten minutes. If you want, you can just go ahead and give me her keys and you can take her back to your house. I’ll let you know somethin’ by tomorrow mid-mornin’ and should have her on the road by afternoon.”
“That’d be good, man. Thanks.”
I opened the car door with embarrassment and handed him my keys, “Thank you, Mr. McConnell. I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t trust you. But you understand why a woman can’t be too careful, don’t ya?”
“Absolutely. A pretty woman like you could get taken advantage of real easy. You’re smart to play it safe. That’s what I think.” His face was friendly and I realized he was probably 30, not 40. He reached out to shake my hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your car fixed up and have you back on the road by tomorrow afternoon. And that’ll give you time to rest up before the next round of matchmaking.” He laughed, took off his cap and did that thing with his hair again, and headed to an old red truck which was parked right in front of the car.
“Thank you, Mr. McConnell. And my name is Clara. Clara Johnson!”
He turned around, tipped his hat and said, “Nice to meet you, Clara. And you can call me Dusty.”
When Doug and I got in the truck, Carlie was full of questions.
“Who was that? Were you freezing to death? Were you scared, Clara?”
“No. I wasn’t scared. He seemed nice really.”
“Well, looks like you’ll be getting a substitute for tomorrow, friend. Just don’t get Mrs. Peterson ‘cause remember how she brought those Tootsie Pops that got stuck in the carpet? Oh, and she let the kids make glitter snowmen with hot glue guns.”
“Thanks, Carlie. I remember.”
Chapter 14 CLARA LOUISE: Dusty McConnell on My Mind
Doug left for the bank early the next morning which left Carlie and me to talk, make muffins, and hash out plans for the day.
“Clara, you might better check your e-mail this mornin’. Jake could have gotten some late night inspiration and decided to write of his undying affection.”
“Doubtful.”
“Look, crazier things have happened. We don’t know he’s not interested. We don’t. I think he just felt on the spot and needed a little time to process it all. I mean, he did take your number and e-mail address.”
“It’s on a Taco Bell coupon and you pretty much forced it on him. He’ll be eating a free burrito by noon today and never give it a second thought.”
“Yeah. I was kinda surprised Aunt Charlotte was willing to give up a free burrito for the cause of love. Bless that dear woman’s heart.”
“Look, Carlie, he’s not interested. You could see it in his eyes. It was obvious to everyone. Besides, we need to be thinkin’ about my car, not Jake Smith. Dusty said he’d have it done by this afternoon. So maybe he’ll call sometime this mornin’ with an estimate. He seems to know what he’s talkin’ about when it comes to cars.”
“Dusty, huh? You guys are on a first name basis?”
“Oh my gosh. Don’t you EVER stop? Even for a minute?” We were both laughing when we heard Aunt Charlotte at the back door.
“Mornin’ Girls! I come bearin’ gifts! Homemade sausage for everyone. Clara, I even brought a pound for you, Darlin’.” She reached out to hug Clara like she thought she was ill and hadn’t seen her in months. “I heard the bad news, Baby. How you was all stuck on the side of the road down there in Bradford. Willie Carlisle saw ya and woulda stopped but Dusty had already pulled over.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Charlotte. Yeah. Dusty stopped right away. Kept me company till Doug got there. He seems real nice.”
“Oh Baby, tell me you’re not takin’ a shine to Dusty McConnell.”
“No, ma’am. I mean, I don’t even know him.”
“Good. ‘Cause that Dusty, he’s had a hard time. Life dealt him some painful blows.” She paused at the sink to wash her hands. “And well, he dealt some back too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bart and I always felt sorry for Dusty. He was a smart young’un but he couldn’t read good and was treated like a dog by his daddy. Meaner than a snake, that man. When he was in high school, his daddy up and left and we never heard tell of him again. Nobody has. He could be in prison. He could be dead for all we know. Dusty’s mama was a sweet woman but she took up with some bad fellas and none of them kids had a decent raisin’. Bart and I tried to love ‘em as best we could, but well, by the teen years, they was long gone and in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” I’m not sure why I felt the need for Dusty McConnell’s criminal history but I did.
“He stole a few cars. Got in with some real bad guys. Did a few years in prison over ‘round Nashville. But about five years ago he was released and he got all straightened out too, got married, had a baby. Ever body was real proud of Dusty McConnell. Chester said, ‘The Lord did a miracle in his life.’ And it was true. He was a changed man.”
“But?”
“But that was before his wife and baby died last year.”
“Died? His wife and baby died? How in the world?”
“It’s a miserable story, Baby. Miserable. Dusty had some debt to take care of so he took this extra job down in Jackson, workin’ in the evenings. He was wore out and decided to sleep on a friend’s couch one night. Word was that he’d had a few drinks after his shift. Didn’t find out til the next mornin’.”
“Find out what?”
“It was February and we’d had some terrible tornadoes, which was a little early. That night there was a warning but Melissa must not have known. She went to bed early. They found the trailer all mangled up in a field early the next morning. She and the baby was dead. Because of his criminal history, the law was pretty rough on him too. Bob Miller was the sheriff at the time and he thought there was something fishy about it all. But Bart and me, we always knew he loved Melissa and that baby girl. It was just a tragedy. A terrible horrible tragedy. His family was gone. The trailer was torn to pieces. Thank God Carl and Betty Jenkins asked Dusty to move in with ‘em or he’d a been dead. Really. I think he’d have drunk himself to the grave…that…or killed himself. He lived with them a few months and then last summer he bought a little house outside Greenfield.”
Carlie and I stood in disbelief. I had rarely seen Carlie speechless. But neither of us knew what to say next.
Finally Carlie said, “My word, Aunt Charlotte. I think that’s the saddest story I’ve heard in a long time. What a wounded soul. Poor Dusty McConnell.”
Now I knew what Aunt Charlotte meant. I needed to steer clear of Dusty McConnell. It didn’t matter that he had white teeth or a ruggedly handsome face. It didn’t matter that he stood in the cold until Doug got there because he didn’t believe in leaving a woman alone. It didn’t matter that I felt happy when he tipped his hat. Dusty McConnell was a felon. A felon whose wife and baby were dead. Aunt Cha
rlotte was right. I needed to drive straight back to Commerce, Georgia, and wait for an e-mail from Jake Smith even though Jake Smith was never going to write. End of story.
Chapter 15 CLARA LOUISE: Cars and Scars
Aunt Charlotte shook her head and grabbed a muffin after telling the details of Dusty’s sad story. Carlie still looked shell shocked when the phone rang. She managed a cheerful “Hello.” Soon she was moving her arms to get my attention.
“Clara, this is Dusty. Says he needs to put an alternator in. It’s gonna cost about $250. Doug trusts him. Said he can get you on the road by 2:00. You okay with that?”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I? So yeah, that’s fine.”
“Dusty, she said it’s fine. Yeah. We’ll be here. Just call here or let me give you her cell number. Doug gave it to you? Good. That’s fine.”
I was glad to be going back to Commerce. The Kindergarteners needed me. Mom and Dad needed to be free of my cat. I needed to get back in the routine. It didn’t even matter that Jake Smith wasn’t going to call or write. It was all a silly idea anyway.
2:00 pm
Carlie dropped me off at Dusty’s shop with a big hug and a promise to keep in touch. The shop looked just like I had visualized. I didn’t expect it to look like a hotel lobby at Hilton Head. It looked like a place where fixing cars took priority over decorating or cleaning. Two dirty green naugahyde couches. A dusty bubblegum machine that hadn’t seen gum since the 90’s. Old fishing and hunting magazines on a broken coffee table. Stale cold coffee in an old Bunn machine.
But Dusty? Dusty looked different than he had yesterday afternoon. He wasn’t wearing the cap. He was clean-shaven and wearing tan coveralls. His expression was different too. Maybe because he wasn’t in the cold trying to talk through a car window. He looked more at ease.
“We got ya fixed right up, Clara. If you have any trouble, you call me at this number, okay?” He handed me a business card and I touched his hand, which stopped us both for a moment. He continued, “I mean, anywhere between here and Commerce, you call, okay? I want to guarantee my work and I sure don’t want a woman on the side of the road in a car that I said was workin’.”
“Thank you. Really. But unless it stops right away, I’ll just call my dad. He’ll take care of it.” Dusty’s expression fell. He wanted me to need him. But I didn’t. I might be lonely but I’m not stupid. This would be the last time I would see Dusty McConnell. And that would make Aunt Charlotte and me both very happy. Deliriously happy.
Chapter 16 CARLIE: Redneck Writer Meets Hollywood
Clara is on her way back to Commerce now. Matchmaking effort #2 seems to have been a massive failure. But at least I tried. Besides, I never told anyone I was a GOOD matchmaker. Just a motivated one. And I’m still motivated. I still hold out hope that there’s a man out there who will love Clara. I just haven’t found him yet. But that’s okay. There’s still time. Plenty of time.
Matchmaking can’t be my only project in life anyway. I’m a newlywed. Sometimes I forget that I’m also a writer and I’m supposed to be writing stuff, and calling my publisher, and caring about my career. I get easily distracted by making chicken and dressing and tracking down Baptist preachers to fix Clara up with. But this afternoon I have to get serious. I have to put on my business hat and do some real business.
The folks in Hollywood have set a date to talk about the movie. Two weeks from today. They call it “collaboration.” That means the author and the movie makers work together to bring about a good result. But I wasn’t born yesterday. I have a feeling the meeting will consist of the Hollywood folks telling me that they know about movies and I should trust them. And I will tell them that I know about funny southern single girls and they should trust me. It may take us a while to properly “collaborate.”
Doug and I got a great idea last night. We decided to invite Dave and Shannon to go with us on our redneck Hollywood adventure. They needed to get away and this would be the perfect trip. That’s why I like having a lot of money. I liked working at the Dollar General Store just fine but when I did, I never could have paid for a trip to Hollywood for a couple who are having a hard time having a baby.
Doug called them last night to share the news. At first they acted like they weren’t gonna go with us, that they were too busy. But Doug convinced Dave that he needed to take his woman on a stress-free California adventure. And it would be stress-free for Dave and Shannon. They wouldn’t be the ones in meetings surrounded by trays of food that no one ever eats trying to convince a bunch of thin California movie people that Angelina Jolie couldn’t play the main character and that women in small towns never order non-fat sugar-free soy lattes extra hot, no whip. Whew! This trip made me tired just thinking about it.
Chapter 17 CLARA LOUISE: The Joys of Routine, Sheer Boredom
The car made it back to Commerce with no problems. It’s been three days now. Jake never called or sent an e-mail. The burrito coupon is long gone, I’m sure. The Kindergarteners have been acting like, well, Kindergarteners. All is at it should be, I guess.
Coming home to homemade soup in the crock pot made getting up 20 minutes earlier well worth it. As I turned the key and opened the door, the aroma poured out of the apartment and it made me feel like a grown-up. Like I was making plans with my life, plans with my future. And it all started by making plans for my dinner.
When the cell phone rang, I knew it was Carlie. Or my mom. Well, sometimes colleagues called me at home but rarely. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello.”
“Clara, this is Dusty McConnell. Uh, I wanted to check on your car, make sure you’re not having any trouble or anything.”
“Oh, thanks. No. No trouble. Seems to be running really well.”
“Good. That’s real good. Okay. Well, I figured you’d have called if there was any trouble.”
“No. Running like a top.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll let you get back to what you were doin’. I mean, I’m sure you’re real busy and all.”
“Okay. Well, thanks, Dusty. Thanks for taking the time to call.”
“Uh, okay. Have a nice night, Clara. Good night.”
“Bye.”
That was weird. I can’t imagine that a mechanic from eight hours away would call a customer just to make sure the mechanic had done good work. I mean, I figure he knew he put it in right. Every mechanic would know how to put in an alternator, right? Right.
That phone call was clearly unnecessary. It was kind of nice, I guess. But I’m not going to think about it. At all. I already have to take Hobo to the vet tomorrow afternoon for gastro-intestinal distress. That’s plenty of messiness and drama for me.
The soup was good. But watching the evening news while sitting at the table listening to my cat cough up a hair ball wasn’t very exciting. I was still lonely. I’d been asking God to bring me someone for more than a year. Nothing. The butcher at Pic Pac flirted sometimes but he never pursued me. Some of the teachers said I should ask him out. But that’s not my style. Besides, that seems backwards. It’s not that I’m all “Pride and Prejudice” or anything but I’m not “Sex and the City” either. At all. Why is it all so complicated?
Sitcoms are stupid now. Crass and unintelligent. I tried to do some lesson plans on my laptop, but found myself fading in and out of sleep. In desperation, I checked e-mail one last time before calling it quits and going to bed. I couldn’t help but wonder if Carlie had called Jake and lit a fire under his behind. His name was in bold, sent at 8:32 pm. It had been more than three days and the subject of his e-mail? Nice to Meet You.
Clara,
It was nice to meet you Sunday. I hope your trip back to Commerce was uneventful. If you’re ever in the area, let me know, and I can show you the sights. Not that there’s that many actual tourist sights. But West Tennessee does hold more treasures than some people realize. I hope the Kindergarteners are well. Everyone at church was talking about how great it was to have visitors. They’re ri
ght. It is great to have new folks to shake it up a bit. Well, I guess it’s still not that shaken. By God’s grace, I’m trying.
Jake
I can’t write back tonight. Too forward. Plus, I need to call Carlie and ask what I’m supposed to write. Maybe she’ll even write something for me. That would be the best. I dialed her number and tried to remain calm.
“Hello.”
“Carlie, I got an e-mail from Jake tonight. Just now.”
“Well, hallelujah! Now see, I told you it was crazy to give up so fast. So, what did he say? Give me the scoop. The whole scoop and nothin’ but the scoop. Why aren’t you talkin’, Clara? Is something wrong? Did he write something insensitive? You’re not having a hard time forgiving him for the short tie, are you? ‘Cause really, Clara, you should let that short tie go. Lord knows I’m tryin’ to forget that poor striped little thing every day. I mean, yes, it was pretty awful but he’s a tall long-waisted man, Clara, and without a woman to pick out his clothes too. It’s not a federal offense to wear a tie that’s a tad too short. I mean, it probably should be a federal offense but it’s not. Well. Well, why aren’t you talking?”
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, I’m just waiting on you, friend. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.”
“Look. The e-mail is no big deal. Really. I’m going to forward it to you and you can analyze it, over analyze it, and then let me know what you think. You can call me in a few minutes. Bye.”
Five minutes later.
“Hello.”
“Clara, I think he may be madly in love with you. Seriously. These seem like the words of a man who is smitten, in love, making plans for the future.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Dead serious. I mean, what ‘treasures’ is he talkin’ about in West Tennessee? There’s no treasure ‘round here. No gold or diamonds. He’s referencing his heart, Clara. His heart. The man is saying that the treasure of his heart is ready and willing to be given to a pretty redhead Georgia girl with a tiny little rear. Yes ma’am. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
