Heart of Clay

by Shanna Hatfield

  Chapter Three

  Clay awoke before the alarm blared. Callan remained in his arms, sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. She must be exhausted to let her guard down and snuggle up to him without any hesitation.

  He remembered her fall right before bed and wondered if she wasn’t hurt more than she let on. She excelled at hiding her physical pains as well as bottling up her emotions. He tried to remember when that had changed.

  When they had first wed, Callan seemed as emotional as any female, or so he assumed. Other than his even-tempered mother, he’d never lived with one before and he wasn’t sure what to expect. That first year or two they were married, he never knew if he’d find her laughing or crying because odds were high it could go either direction at a moment’s notice. She was all fire and spirit, light and warmth back then. He wondered, not for the first time, when that girl had disappeared.

  Slowly shifting, he brushed her auburn hair back from her face and felt a rush of longing engulf him. What had happened to the passionate, happy girl he had married?

  She still had the dusting of freckles across her nose that kept her from ever looking too serious, despite her attempts at always being professional. Her eyelashes were thick and curled up at the ends, creating feathery shadows across her smooth cheeks.

  He wished, as he had so many times, that he could inhale her scent. He imagined it was soft, enchanting, and lovely, just like Callan. At least, like she used to be before she turned cool and distant.

  Clay noticed that even while she slept, fatigue seemed to bracket her mouth and hang in the dark circles under her eyes. He contemplated just how much more Callan could take and why she continually shut him out.

  It seemed like she attempted to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. He supposed he hadn’t been much of a help, either. If he cared to admit it, he’d been resentful and jealous of her event planning business, even somewhat childish the past several months.

  She put in long, stressful hours almost every day but managed to keep the house nearly spotless. His clothes were always clean, ironed, and neatly put away. She also took care of paying the bills and did most of the shopping. Things she could order and control.

  His wife held the reigning title as queen of organization and detail.

  Emotions and feelings were the things she had trouble handling. He wished he could remember when she had changed or think of the reason that might have caused her to close herself off from him. She hadn’t always been this way. He’d never have fallen for her if she’d been so controlled, so detached.

  After giving Callan one more longing glance, Clay placed a tender kiss on her forehead and got out of bed.

  He took his time to getting ready for work, ate breakfast, then went out to start his pickup. Several inches of snow accumulated during the night, so he took the extra time to brush off Callan’s car and scrape the windshield, then shovel the snow and spread de-icer on the walk before running back inside.

  Clay decided to make a little effort at mending their broken fences. He put a bag of her favorite tea in her favorite mug, which was now clean, and set them next to the toaster along with the sugar bowl, a bag of English muffins Callan liked, and the butter dish. He couldn’t wait to see if his battle plan was a tactical error or would provide an opportunity for advance.

  Quietly leaving the house, it wasn’t until he sat at the stop sign, ready to turn onto the main road, when he realized he didn’t have to go to work. Clay was dean of the agriculture department at the community college and classes had finished earlier in the week. Yesterday was the last day any of the staff would be at school until after the holidays.

  Amused by his error, he decided to go into town and complete his Christmas shopping since he was already headed that direction. With his thoughts so entangled with his wife, he had completely lost track of time and place.

  Cautiously driving into town, Clay let his thoughts drift back to the first time he saw Callan. She thought it was at the county fair where her aunt Julie was in charge of the sorority club’s ice cream booth.

  He’d never bothered to set her straight, but the first time he saw her was about a month before the fair. Clay happened to be at the community college looking into a job opening for a teaching position in the agriculture department. He’d finished all his teaching credentials the previous year and filled in as a substitute teacher whenever he could to gain experience. Eventually, he wanted to land a position that would lead to something more permanent.

  As he sauntered toward the parking lot after dropping off his application, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, causing him to turn his head. Clay stopped and watched the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen walk beneath the shadows of the trees lining the sidewalk.

  She was tall and curvy with long tanned legs that seemed to go on forever. A gentle breeze stirred her skirt around her knees with every step she took. Her hair, appearing brown in the shade, turned into a fiery temptation of auburn shot with gold when she moved out into the sun. It hung in a long cascade of curls down her back that practically begged for Clay’s fingers to bury themselves in the shiny strands.

  Quickly moving behind a tree so he could continue spying on her, he watched as she stopped to speak to another girl. She waved her hands around while she talked and he caught the bright glimmer of a white-toothed smile. Although the dark sunglasses she wore kept him from seeing her eyes, an aura of passion and excitement surrounded her.

  Clay was awestruck.

  She turned and continued to the parking lot with the other girl. Before he could gather his wits, she was gone. Panic tightened his chest. The girl of his dreams had just waltzed right in front of him and he didn’t even know her name.

  He hurried to his pickup and thought maybe he could follow her, or at least find out where she was going. By the time he got onto the street, she was nowhere in sight. The only thing he knew was that she drove a red car.

  That tidbit of information wouldn’t prove extraordinarily helpful in tracking down the girl he had taken scant minutes to decide he would someday marry. It looked like half the cars on the campus were red. Not knowing what else to do, he turned his truck toward home.

  His home, also known around the area as, “The Ranch,” was nearly twenty-thousand acres of wheat, hay, and cattle that had been in the Matthews family for more than a century. The original little homestead sat on the back of the property, maintained with loving care. Clay’s grandparents built a huge sprawling house that sat on a hill overlooking a pond and rolling pastures not long after they wed. Steve and Bobbi Matthews, Clay’s parents, moved into the homestead cabin when they first married. Clay even had a few sketchy memories of living there when he was a little buckaroo. As an only child, Steve inherited the place when his parents died in an automobile accident and moved his family into the big ranch house.

  Clay drove down the tree-lined drive of the ranch feeling bereft and alone, wondering if he would ever see the girl in the red car again. His dad waved to him from the shop so he pulled in and noticed Big Jim Carver worked to repair one of their tractors.

  Everyone liked Big Jim, although his name was misleading. The man stood about five-foot-four if he stretched, and was thin and wiry. He had a smattering of freckles across his weather-creased face and the hair he had left was a combination of carrot-red and silver.

  From what Clay understood, the nickname came from Big Jim’s easygoing attitude and giving heart. If someone needed help, Big Jim was usually one of the first to show up and among the last to leave. He had been coming out to fix their equipment ever since Clay could remember. Big Jim loved to tell stories almost as much as he loved to mechanic. From the looks of things, it appeared he told Steve Matthews a whopper. Clay parked the truck and got out, grinning as his dad bent over in laughter.

  When his dad saw him, he waved a hand his direction. “Clay, Big Jim’s telling the funniest story. You’ve got to hear this one.”<
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  Clay walked over with a smile and shook hands with Big Jim. He listened to him tell a wild tale about scaring one of his buddies out of six years of his life with a strategically placed dead snake he’d found on the road. It was impossible not to laugh or be drawn into the humor and fun Big Jim seemed to spread everywhere he went.

  Big Jim cast a glance in his direction that looked serious. “Say, there, Clay, my little girl just came home from OSU with her fancy degree in marketing. She’s working part-time at the newspaper in town, but she’s looking for something that offers more hours. Don’t suppose you know anyone needing some summer help?”

  “Sorry, sir, I don’t.” Clay didn’t like the direction this train of thought was headed. If Big Jim’s daughter looked anything like her dad, she wouldn’t be on his short-list of dating prospects. He could hear warning bells clanking in his head and decided to derail the ride before it ever left the station. “If I hear of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “That’s right neighborly of you, Clay.” Big Jim smiled as he gathered his tools and set them into a portable toolbox. “Your tractor is almost as good as new and ready to roll, Steve.”

  “Thanks for coming, Big Jim. I really appreciate you running out on such short notice.” Steve turned to his son. “Clay, would you give Big Jim a ride back to town? The service rig had one too many calls to make today, so they dropped him off here on the way to the Robertson’s.”

  Clay turned and looked at Big Jim. It was guaranteed he’d be entertained all the way to town with the man’s humorous stories. “I’d be happy to give you a ride, sir.”

  “No need.” Big Jim good-naturedly thumped him on the shoulder. “I called my little girl before we headed out here and asked her to come get me at four o’clock. She should be here any minute.”

  “All right, then.” Clay looked for a fast getaway before Big Jim’s daughter arrived. “I better mosey on up to the house.”

  “Don’t run off like your tail’s on fire, son. I’d be pleased as anything for you to meet my Callan. She’s got to be the sweetest little girl on this earth,” Big Jim said, packing the last of his tools away and wiping the grease off his hands on a rag.

  “Oh, well, sure.” Clay wondered who named a kid Callan. What kind of name was that, anyway? He’d be willing to bet she was a freckled-face, short-legged, buck-toothed girl with a weird laugh and bottle-bottom glasses.

  “Dandy,” Big Jim said with a huge grin. He turned to Steve and started in on another story while he waited for his daughter to arrive. “Say, Steve, did I ever tell you about the time…”

  Clay hurried to the shop and hoped his absence wouldn’t be missed until after Miss Carver came and went. He left the door open while he checked over the supply list Steve kept in the shop. Uncertain how long he would need to hide out, he heard a car pull up and a door open. He couldn’t miss Big Jim’s booming voice.

  “Hello, sweet daughter. Thanks for coming to get me. Have you ever met Mr. Matthews?” Clay heard a soft voice respond but couldn’t make out the answer. Then he heard Big Jim again. “Well, where did that boy of yours get off to? Callan, I want you to meet Mr. Matthews’ son, Clay. He’s what you’d call a big, strapping lad.” He heard another soft reply that wasn’t distinguishable and the closing of a car door followed by another. His dad’s voice carried in the open door, thanking Big Jim for coming and expressing his pleasure in meeting Callan.

  Clay stuck his head out the shop door as Callan backed the car around and started down the lane. He dropped the supply list and entirely forgot himself as he barreled out of the shop, running full tilt toward the departing car.

  Big Jim’s daughter was none other than the girl who had left him love struck that very afternoon.

  Callan Carver. What kind of name was that, anyway? A wildly beautiful name that would roll off his tongue when he asked her to be his wife.

  Frustrated, he stopped next to his dad and watched her little red car head down the lane. Steve dropped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze, then flashed a big smile. “I know you can be shy around girls, Clay, but you really should have met Miss Carver. I think you would have been pleasantly surprised.” He slapped Clay on the back and began to chuckle. “Don’t think I couldn’t see the wheels spinning in your head. You pictured a shorter, homelier version of Big Jim, didn’t you? Serves you right for hiding out in the shop.” Steve continued laughing as he walked off.

  Clay spent the next few weeks alternating between working up his nerve and losing it, plotting the best way to meet Callan. He dropped a few subtle hints with his mom about Big Jim’s daughter. His mother, the proverbial social butterfly, liked to volunteer and be involved in different functions of the community. If anyone could find out about Callan, Bobbi Matthews was the woman for the job.

  A few days before the county fair began, she waltzed in the door from one of her many committee meetings and announced she heard Big Jim’s sister had enlisted Callan’s help with a booth at the county fair.

  It took Clay all of a minute to decide it was time to make his move. He’d spend the week at the fair anyway since he promised to help with the 4-H kids and do some judging. Odds were high that he would run into Callan at some point, and he would make it a point to see that it happened.

  As the first day of the fair got under way, Clay provided assistance in the cattle barn. He got a kick out of watching all the first-year 4-H participants with their projects. He seemed to recall his first time showing a steer ended with him dragged across the arena by the stubborn beast.

  Clay noticed an overwhelmed 4-H advisor and offered to help get people entered into the right areas. He prayed his nerves would calm down before he worked up the courage to find Callan.

  After spying the ice cream booth earlier in the day, Clay stood in the cool shadows of the big barn watching Callan dip cone after cone for what seemed like a never-ending line of humanity. She smiled as she served and a couple of older women in the booth kept up a conversation that made her laugh.

  From his vantage point, Clay admired the pink blouse she wore and her shiny hair pulled back in a ponytail. In the heat, a halo of tendrils had escaped their confines and surrounded her face. A smear of chocolate syrup highlighted one cheek.

  Callan was breathtaking.

  Clay inhaled a fortifying breath and walked up to the booth before he completely lost his nerve. He stood in line behind a group of giggling pre-adolescent girls. Callan quickly had them on their way. She stopped to rinse off her hands and the scoop before looking up at him with huge, sparkling green eyes.

  Acute pain hit him as his heart flew out of his chest and into her hands. He was sure if he looked down, he could see it beating in her long, capable fingers.

  She gave him a smile and asked what he’d like to order. Unable to say he wanted her by his side for the rest of his life, he numbly asked for a cone, paid for it, and walked away. Tongue-tied and temporarily incapable of remembering his own name, he felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

  Not allowing himself the luxury of looking back at her, he charged around the corner of the big barn, ice cream dripping down his hand. He spied his six-year-old cousin Jake and thrust the cone into his hands.

  After repeating the process three more times that day, Clay went home in defeat. He also expected Jake’s mother, his aunt Maggie, to call for a serious talk about how much ice cream a little tummy could hold in one day.

  He had no idea why it was so hard to ask Callan out on a date. He’d asked plenty of girls out without any problem. Unable to put his thumb on what caused the challenge, Clay walked into the house and headed for the kitchen. His mom sat at the table drinking lemonade and flipping through a magazine.

  One look at his face and Bobbi knew things hadn’t gone well. Quickly rising from the table, she poured Clay a glass of cold lemonade and placed it across from her. “Come on, honey, tell me what happened.”

  “I’m such a loser, Mom.” He released a
deep sigh and slumped into a chair with a look of defeat.

  “I can’t believe she said no,” Bobbi said, mindlessly flipping through the magazine in front of her. “From what I’ve heard she is really a sweet girl.”

  “She didn’t exactly say no.” Clay refused to make eye contact with his mom.

  “Well, what exactly did she say?” Bobbi set aside the magazine and intently studied her son. It was out of character for Clay to seem so flustered and unsure of himself.

  “‘What would you like? Here you go. Thank you’… Four times.” Clay sighed again, tracing a pattern on the tabletop with his finger.

  “What?” Bobbi asked, confused. Clay wasn’t making a lick of sense. Maybe he’d been out in the heat too much that afternoon. “Tell me again. What did she say to you?”

  “I went to the booth, ordered an ice cream cone and left without asking her out… four times.” Clay dropped his forehead to the table in misery.

  “Wait, I only heard part of that,” Steve said, rushing around the corner from the family room. “Let me get this straight. You went to the ice cream booth to ask out a girl and ended up buying four cones. You hate ice cream.”

  “I didn’t buy them all at once. I went back three times. Jake was happy because he got to eat all four cones.” Clay kept his head pressed against the table, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. Why did his dad have to be home now? Maybe if he just kept staring at the floor, his parents would leave him alone.

  Steve couldn’t subdue his chuckles. “Well, that would explain the call I answered from Maggie a bit ago. She made it quite clear you are not to purchase any more ice cream for Jake, ever.”

  “Clay, you’ve got to ask her out tomorrow.” Bobbi tried hard not to laugh, “I can’t stand to your suffering.”

  It amused Bobbi to watch her big full-grown son act like a lovesick teen. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him so distraught over a girl. Clay had never been in a serious relationship, choosing instead to treat most girls like pals.

  Although he never lacked for dates, she knew the girls had done most of the asking. As good looking as he was, it would have been easy for him to be shallow and self-centered. Instead, Clay was sweet and kind with a huge heart, even if he was a terrible tease.

  However, now that the ball was in his court, Clay wasn’t rising to the challenge with even a modicum of grace or surety. For all his brawn and brains, he acted like a big baby. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No!” Clay’s head shot up from the table at the thought of his mother taking him by the hand and asking the girl of his dreams if she’d go on a date with her pathetic son. “No, Mom. I’ve got this. I can do it.”

  “Yes, you can.” Bobbi nodded her head and sipped her lemonade to hide a smile. “You will do it tomorrow. Just ask her. The worst she can do is say no. Besides,” his mother added with a cocked eyebrow, “weren’t you voted stud-muffin of your dorm two years in a row. I’m sure she won’t be able to resist you with that knowledge. Why don’t you lead with that?”

  “Stud-muffin!” Steve howled with laughter as he sauntered back toward the family room.

  Clay didn’t know if he could die of embarrassment, but if so, he was sure his demise would happen any moment. He flushed four shades of red and felt the heat of humiliation sear his entire face.

  Bobbi rose to her feet and placed her glass in the sink. On her way out of the kitchen, she patted Clay’s arm. “Just ask her, honey. If it is meant to be, it will be.”

  Clay arrived at the fair early the next morning, but soon figured out seeing Callan would have to wait. He helped judge livestock until nearly noon. When he finished with that, one of his former high school teachers stopped for a chat and invited Clay to lunch.

  Finally, he walked toward the ice cream booth. Callan was there, working hard like she had been the day before. Her hair hung in a thick braid down her back and already the heat of the day caused a few tendrils to dance around her face. She wore a blouse that looked all soft and fluttery. Soft and fluttery?

  Clay decided he was going soft in the head as he got in line.

  Callan smiled, recognizing him as he ordered another cone. When she handed it over to him, she introduced herself and gave him a warm, friendly smile.

  He accepted the cone and introduced himself, then blurted, “And honestly, I don't like ice cream at all."

  With that inane proclamation, he turned and strode away. The fire of embarrassment burned up his neck and into his ears. He hustled around the corner of the big barn and dumped the cone into the garbage can, convinced he’d turned into a blithering idiot.

  Clay started back toward the ice cream booth, but his stomach tied in knots and for a moment, he questioned if he’d be able to keep down his lunch. He made a detour back toward the cattle barn to hide out for a while.

  He managed to stay busy and away from the booth for the remainder of the day. He’d noticed a few of the vendors started to close up shop for the evening, so he took a deep breath and walked toward Callan. She and her aunt Julie, whom he met on one of his many trips to the booth yesterday, along with a couple of older women, were cleaning up and putting things away.

  Clay stepped up to the counter and Callan saw him. He managed to stutter out a request for her to join him on a walk and, amazingly, she agreed. Her aunt gave her a smile and a nudge before sending them on their way.

  As they strolled along the promenade, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful inside and out Callan seemed to be. She was so easy to talk to as well as friendly, polite, and funny. From what he observed, she had no idea how attractive she looked or that her graceful walk drew many interested glances. Instinctively, he knew she was innocent, sweet, and genuine. On top of that, every time she looked at him, it made his stomach feel odd, his heart pound wildly, and gave him the strangest tingling feeling. He’d definitely never before had that experience with a girl.

  After seeing Callan eye a trinket at one booth, he bought it for her, surprised at how grateful she seemed over the silly thing. When they arrived back at the ice cream booth to find everyone gone, Clay offered to escort her to her car.

  On the way to her car, he tried to think of some witty way of asking her out, but nothing came to mind. He felt like the biggest dolt. He held her car door for her. Callan got in and agreed to see him tomorrow if he stopped by. Just as he turned to walk away, he felt her hand on his and it sent tremors all the way to his toes. He wondered if she felt it, too.

  Callan thanked him again for the trinket then drove off with his heart.