His Small-Town Girl

by Arlene James

  “And you don’t love Jerry?” Ty probed.

  For some reason, she had to make him believe her. “No,” she said firmly. “I’m fond of him, but if I loved him…if I’d loved him enough, I’d have married him.”

  Ty’s nostrils flared, and she knew suddenly that he was going to kiss her. She knew as well that she must stop him. She meant to. She truly did, but at that moment she couldn’t think how. Instead, everything in her focused on the descent of his head and then the pressure of his lips on hers.

  Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her eyes slammed closed. Without her consent her arms rose to slide about his neck. The whole world screeched to a halt and gradually tilted. Only Tyler anchored her to its surface, his arms looped around her, holding her against him.

  Once she felt the world right itself again she blinked up at him, realizing where they were and just what they’d been doing. She gasped to think that she’d sat here in this very public place in broad—okay, waning—daylight, kissing Tyler Aldrich. Kissing!

  “O-h-h.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Tyler tilted his head as if measuring the effect of that kiss. After a moment, he grinned, his white, even teeth dazzling in the deepening gloom. Her face flamed. At almost the same instant, he tenderly pushed her head back down against her shoulder, as if to spare her the embarrassment.

  She sat there for several moments before she understood that he was waiting for her to speak, but what could she say? What should she say? Moments ticked away before a truly coherent thought formed inside her head. Only then did she drop her hand from her mouth.

  “Tyler,” she said, sitting up and taking a firm grip on herself, “that should not have happened.”

  He lifted both eyebrows. “Why not?”

  “B-because…” She blanched at the breathless sound of her own voice. Making a concerted effort to appear calm and unruffled, she put her concern into carefully chosen words. “That should not have happened because I’m not the sort of woman who casually does that kind of thing.”

  He laughed. Laughed. Sliding back on the seat, he lifted his face and laughed out loud. She frowned, offended but somehow uncertain about it, until he chucked her beneath the chin with a curved finger.

  “Sweetheart,” he said indulgently, “you are not like any other woman I’ve ever known, but, believe me, I do understand that much about you.” He placed a hand over his heart, adding, “I absolutely meant no disrespect. You have to know that.”

  She did. Now that her pulse rate had normalized and her brain seemed to be functioning again, she knew that while he had initiated the kiss, he had also ended it. After a relatively short period of time.

  She blushed, aware that she had overreacted.

  In all likelihood that kiss had told him everything he’d needed to know about her, and that would be the end of the matter.

  Nodding, she looked around, relieved to note that they were quite alone. Apparently everyone else had the good sense to stay in out of the chancy weather. She turned a glance over one shoulder to take note of the clouds. Building high in the northwest, the dark gray matter now seemed to loom over them in the silvering light.

  “We’d better get inside before it rains again,” she stated firmly, pushing up to her feet once more. As if to reinforce that decision, a chill, damp breeze swirled around them.

  Tyler stood, and they headed back in the direction from which they had come, both seemingly caught in their own thoughts.

  Whatever God’s reason for allowing their two universes to meld for this moment in time, Charlotte told herself firmly, that’s all it was, all it could ever be, a moment in time. Tyler would soon leave, and their paths would never cross again.

  If the thought pained her, that, too, would be temporary. Wouldn’t it?

  Tyler clasped his hands together behind him, bowed his head and worked hard at not grinning like an idiot. It took considerable effort, surprising effort. He’d have danced down that street if he could have explained the impulse, but just why he felt so happy all of sudden remained something of a mystery.

  Yes, he had enjoyed that kiss—reveled in it, honestly—but he had rarely done anything so foolish. He didn’t know quite why he’d done it, really. Maybe he’d just wanted to prove to himself, or her, or both of them, that what she’d said was true, that she really hadn’t loved Jerry Moody. But what was the point in that? It didn’t change anything.

  He’d had some half-formed notion of offering her a job, thereby tempting her into his orbit, but that, he now realized, was insanity. The differences between him and Charlotte were stark, insurmountable, and even if they weren’t, she had no intention of ever leaving Eden—witness poor old Jerry still pining after her despite a wife and two children. Tyler suddenly felt rather sorry for the big goof.

  Obviously Jerry had needed to look elsewhere to earn a living; Tyler could understand that. He couldn’t imagine how anyone might stay here for any real length of time. The place didn’t even offer a decent Internet connection, to say nothing of cell service. Even with those things, Tyler mused, failing to realize that he had replaced anyone in his own mind, he could never trust his family long enough to stay out of pocket for more than a week or two.

  The pity of it was that he and Charlotte simply had no real time to get to know one another. Anything beyond that remained out of the question.

  Besides, if they didn’t have enough against them, religion might well be an issue, too, at least for her. He didn’t know what she meant by grace. Spiritual things had never figured very large in his life. He had nothing against faith, of course, it just didn’t seem to apply to him.

  She was right. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Yet he couldn’t regret it.

  No woman had ever moved him like sweet, simple, unassuming Charlotte Jefford.

  He thought about it as they hurried back toward the motel, the mist blowing in from the north quickening their footsteps.

  She might fit him personally, but his world simply did not fit her. He couldn’t imagine her doing the things his mother and sister did, sitting on charity boards and orchestrating formal dinner parties, worrying about making the proper fashion statement. Unlike Cassandra, Charlotte had no career ambitions, and she would never be content just spending money or filling her days with trips to the spa. Why, the women in his family would eat her alive.

  Between Cassandra’s sniffing put-downs and his mother’s pointed commiseration, Charlotte wouldn’t have a chance. Cassandra would murmur that Charlotte looked like a walking trash heap, her standard criticism for anyone who didn’t dress to her specifications. She’d slyly attack Charlotte’s education and her antecedents. His mother would simply heap pity on the poor woman until she suffocated.

  He didn’t even want to think about Shasta. His stepmother had been a nobody, a lowly secretary without connections or wealth, as his mother and sister all too often pointed out, before Comstock Aldrich had married her. Tyler had found, however, that the worst snobs were those who had the least about which to be snobbish. Shasta wouldn’t stop at just turning up her nose at someone like Charlotte. She’d do her best to wound.

  No sense fooling himself. Not one person in his life would understand what he saw in Charlotte, not even his brother, and they would undoubtedly make both their lives miserable if he should be so foolish as to try to forge some sort of relationship with her, though what that could be with a girl like Charlotte he couldn’t imagine. She would expect nothing less than marriage, and that could never be for obvious reasons.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked as they hurried around the back wing of the motel.

  He wasn’t, but he curled up his lips and nodded anyway.

  “We’d better get in there before they eat it all, then,” she told him, picking up the pace.

  They ran the last little way, raindrops beginning to pelt them. Tyler laughed, feeling grand in spite of everything, and told himself that he deserved this vacation from his life.

&nbs
p; He needed the renewal that he’d found here, and he was going to take it. Beyond that…He didn’t want to think beyond that. For once, for a little while, he just wanted to be happy.

  Charlotte folded the dish towel and draped it over the handle on the front of the oven. Behind her, Tyler closed the cabinet door. With the last dish now safely stowed away, she reached around to untie her apron, while Ty leaned a hip against the counter.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said, lifting the apron off over her head. Her braid flopped against her shoulder. She reached up and pushed it away, catching the glimmer of a smile as Tyler bowed his head. “What?”

  He folded his arms. “You feed me. Again. Then you thank me for drying a few dishes. Seems to me you’ve got it backward.”

  Charlotte waved a hand dismissively. “I have to cook. You have to eat. It’s just logical.”

  “It’s generous,” he corrected, “and I thank you.” Leaning in slightly, he added, “Another excellent meal, by the way.”

  She inclined her head. “You’re welcome. But you’re putting too fine an edge on it. You’ve been lots of help around here these past few days. I’d be less than gracious to begrudge you a few meals.”

  In truth, he’d been more than simply helpful. Not only had he lent a hand with her chores, he’d entertained Hap at the dominoes table, offered Stu Booker, the local grocer and son of Hap’s friend Teddy, a line of private-label goods at rock-bottom prices, counseled Justus Inman on setting up a trust to protect the Inman family farm, befriended everyone else with whom he’d come in contact and followed around her brothers like a lost puppy.

  His behavior puzzled her. Maybe he’d simply become bored, but that didn’t explain why an accomplished, successful man like him continued to hang around little old Eden in the first place. He’d stopped that first night only because he couldn’t find fuel for his car, but what kept him here?

  After he’d kissed her she’d feared that she might be the reason why he continued hanging around, but now she thought that perhaps God was using this time to bring Ty closer to Him. A man with Tyler’s resources could do much good for the kingdom of God, much good indeed.

  Besides, it didn’t make any sense for Ty to stay for her. He had to know as well as she did that the two of them did not suit each other. He lived in Dallas and would no doubt return there, but she would only leave Eden if God told her to, and she couldn’t believe that would ever happen. Hap and her brothers needed her. That hadn’t changed, nor would it.

  Clearly that kiss had been a fluke, an aberration born of pity, if nothing else, and though it hurt a bit to think so, she could only conclude that it had shown Tyler in no uncertain terms that they could never have anything serious between them. For one thing, the kiss had not been repeated, which was just as it should be.

  Still, the longer Tyler Aldrich lingered in Eden, the more she wondered why.

  After expressing interest in the oil business on Sunday evening, Tyler had tagged along with Holt on Monday, returning that evening bedraggled and filthy in his cheap jeans and T-shirt. Despite the exhaustion stamped on his face, he’d seemed quite satisfied with himself, and Holt had grudgingly allowed that Tyler wasn’t afraid of hard work. The conversation around the dinner table that night had demonstrated a fresh, incisive understanding on Ty’s behalf of the laborious process of extracting crude oil from the ground.

  After that experience, she shouldn’t have been surprised when Ryan had shown up at her breakfast table on Tuesday morning, especially since he and Tyler had spoken on Sunday about the possibility of Ty’s checking out the weight room at the high school. After downing three eggs, twice that many slices of bacon and half a pot of coffee, Ryan had left again, a casually dressed Tyler with him.

  They’d returned at lunchtime, grinning and joking like little boys. The talk around the table then had been all about workout techniques and sports. Ryan had pronounced Ty good company as he’d taken his leave and headed back to the school, leaving Charlotte to shake her head in his wake.

  On Tuesday afternoon and for all of Wednesday Tyler had devoted himself to helping her, and she could truthfully concur with the assessments of both of her brothers. The man did not quail at getting his hands dirty, and his quick wit and pleasant manner made working with him pure fun, especially since his understanding of routine housekeeping proved laughably basic at best.

  He’d quickly caught on, however, and had exhibited such rapt attention in the laundry room that she’d invited him to do his own washing. The pride he’d taken in that stack of fresh, clean clothing still made her smile.

  “Listen,” he said, breaking into her reverie, “now that everything’s done, I was thinking about taking in a movie.”

  “Ah,” she said, shifting mental gears. “In that case, you’ll want to head up to Duncan again. You remember where the discount store is? The theater is about a half mile farther up 81 from there. It’s on the same side of the road. You can’t miss it.”

  His teeth flashed white before he glanced away. “Yes. I see. Well, how about a little TV instead? I have a couple of videos, but if those don’t appeal to you we ought to be able to find something on broadcast, don’t you think?”

  We. She bit her lip, realizing too late that he’d been issuing an invitation, not asking directions. “I—I really don’t know. I never watch television on Wednesday evening.”

  He cocked his head, and though his posture did not change, she sensed a sudden tension in him. “No? Is there something else you usually do then?” His casual tone did nothing to dispel the heightened sense of interest.

  “I—I usually attend the midweek prayer service at church.”

  “Oh.” The awkwardness evaporated as quickly as it had developed. “Mind if I tag along?”

  Mind? She tamped down a spurt of delight, reminding herself that his interest had nothing to do with her personally. His curiosity obviously knew no bounds, and he’d probably only invited her to watch television with him in the first place because he felt bored. Besides, no matter what kept Tyler here, she must remember that he would be leaving, probably sooner rather than later.

  Becoming too attached to him, too used to his presence, too pleased by his attention would only cause her grief later. Nevertheless, no harm ever came from spending an hour in prayer with someone. She formed a polite, fond smile. “Let me get my things.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tyler looked around the circle of smiling faces, smoothed his damp palms on his jeaned thighs and tried not to fidget in his folding chair. He’d expected something similar to the Sunday service when he’d invited himself along with Charlotte, and things had started out that way. They’d congregated in the sanctuary, sung a few songs, listened to a few announcements—mostly prayer requests for those not in attendance—and then, to his shock, filed out to the fellowship hall where they’d broken into groups.

  It had never occurred to Tyler that he could find himself sitting in a circle of strangers who were waiting for him to add his private concerns to their prayer lists. He glanced around the large room at the other circles. One, composed entirely of men, included both Holt and Ryan. They had waved and nodded but had not invited him to join them, no doubt knowing full well that he preferred to spend whatever time he had left here with their sister.

  On Monday Holt had boldly asked him if he had any interest in Charlotte, to which Ty had replied, “For all the good that’s likely to do me.” Holt had grunted at that and lobbed a three-foot-long wrench at him so he could couple one pipe to another.

  Ryan had been less direct but more obvious, blabbing incessantly about what a treasure Charlotte was and how they feared she would never find someone to truly appreciate her. Tyler had kept his own mouth shut, but he couldn’t doubt that Ryan would give his blessing if Ty so much as hinted at wanting to pursue a relationship with Charlotte. Again, for all the good that would do him.

  The participants of one of the other circles had already bowed their heads. A third gr
oup linked hands even as Tyler watched. Swiftly he turned back to his own circle, acutely aware of Charlotte sitting to his right and his lack of an answer for a personal prayer request.

  “I, um…Well, I really don’t have anything.”

  “We all have something that we need to take to God,” an elderly woman noted kindly.

  Tyler shifted his weight on the hard chair, feeling out of his depth. Charlotte, thankfully, came to his rescue.

  “I think what Tyler means is that he wants his request to remain unspoken.”

  Unspoken. He remembered something about an unspoken request among those that the pastor had read from the pulpit earlier. That had seemed odd to him, but now he cravenly made the claim for himself. “Right. Un-unspoken.”

  Attention shifted to the person to Tyler’s left, who went on at some length about the travails of his mother who was confined to a hospital. More to keep from looking at Charlotte than in real concern, Tyler focused his concentration on what the fellow had to say.

  He couldn’t help contrasting the poor old woman’s situation with his father’s. A private suite, personal nurses, limitless funds and doctors who fell all over themselves to provide the latest in treatment and technologies could not compare with crowded, shared rooms, noisy visitors, unresponsive, overworked staff, compassionate but helpless physicians and devoted families frustrated by uncaring and inadequate insurance bureaucracies.

  It didn’t seem fair that one experience should be better than another in the face of illness. Guilt clouded Tyler’s mood until the man began to speak about his mother’s sweet nature and happy spirit. Gradually guilt turned to envy, an emotion Tyler had little experience with and even less right to.

  His had been a privileged existence, even if his father had been critical and distant and his mother self-absorbed. Yet he found himself coveting the obviously loving relationship that man had with his ailing mother. Uncomfortably self-conscious now, Tyler wished that he had not come.