A True-Blue Texas Twosome

by Kim Mckade

  She drained the last of the lukewarm chocolate, then stood and flipped off the kitchen light, moving back through the quiet house.

  It was in this very house, in fact, she’d first discovered the way to make her mother forgive her, to earn her love and respect To show her mother that Corinne’s life was worth all the things her mother had been forced to give up.

  Corinne remembered that moment still, as if it were permanently tattooed on her mind. She’d been nine when she watched her mother sit on this very couch, smoking and swinging one bare foot, watching a new young female reporter on the news.

  “Now she’s a class act,” her mother said as she dragged on her cigarette. “I’ll bet her mom’s real proud of her”

  Corinne had set a course for herself that night, determined to pursue a career in journalism, to reach as high and as far as she could.

  She would become that class act She would make her mother proud. And she would earn the love and acceptance she desperately sought

  She hadn’t deviated from that course, either, not even for Toby. She’d pushed herself as hard as she could. She owed it to her mother, after all. She’d built her own ladder of dreams, and touched every rung.

  And in achieving those dreams, she’d been shown what an utter fool she was.

  She wasn’t going to dream again. All hope, all anticipation died inside her that day in the hospital, the day she’d learned of her husband’s betrayal; the same day she’d learned that even getting shot wasn’t enough to gain her mother’s attention.

  If she did nothing else in this lifetime, she was going to make certain hope never came back to life inside her.

  It was too late for her and Toby

  It was much too late for her.

  Chapter 2

  The third time Corinne found herself rummaging through her closet, she knew she was in trouble. Obsessing over her clothes for a simple evening with an old friend was not a good sign. Toby was just coming over for dinner. No, not dinner. Just coming over to fix the water heater. Dinner was secondary.

  The outfit she had on would be fine, she told herself as she smoothed the front of the lightweight jumper. She’d chosen it because it was cool and comfortable, not because it was green and that happened to be Toby’s favorite color. She added lipstick and polished her nails because...well, there was no point in being uncivilized.

  His knock on the front door started an uncomfortable pounding of her heart She checked the mirror over the couch.

  After a year of facing a reflection that showed little or no emotion at all, it was something of a shock to see her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. She scowled at her image. Don’t, she warned herself. Don’t even get started. She’d come to Aloma for peace and quiet. Any kind of relationship with Toby definitely fell outside those boundaries.

  She almost jumped when he rapped on the door again. Patience had never been his strong suit. It was just nerves, she told herself as she stubbornly waited before opening the door. She’d locked herself away at her aunt’s house m Dallas for a year, not speaking to anyone unless it was necessary, not getting close to anyone. She would be nervous no matter who was coming over for dinner. Her jittery stomach had nothing to do with Toby. She said a quick, silent prayer that she would make it through the evening without a panic attack.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door. Toby stood on her front porch in worn jeans that hugged his hips and a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his firm rounded biceps. A tool belt hung low around his hips. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes.

  “Water heater repairman, ma’am,” he said solemnly when she opened the door. “Got an emergency call you needed heating up.”

  “That I do,” she said with a light smile. Toby had always had the ability to make her smile when she least expected to. She stepped back and let him into the room. “The water heater is back here,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.

  “Whoa there. Slow down a bit. I told you I’d expect partial payment up front, didn’t I?”

  “No, you didn’t. Do you want your sandwich now?”

  “The sandwich can wait. I want the beer.”

  She pulled a beer and a bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator. He popped the top of his beer and drained half of it before he put it down. She raised an eyebrow as she sipped her wine. “Hard day?”

  “I’ve had better. Old lady Kirby called three times.”

  “I saw Luke over there.”

  “It was his day to deal with her.”

  “His day?”

  “We rotate Kirby duty.”

  “What major crime did she have to report?”

  “She got her phone bill today. It seems someone broke in and used her phone forty-three times last month.”

  Corinne sipped her wine and leaned against the counter. “I guess she hasn’t changed much. When I was a kid, it was always me she thought was out to get her.”

  “The thing is, all forty-three calls were to her son in Phoenix. But she didn’t make them. Someone must have broken in and done it.”

  “And the Aloma County Sheriff’s Department is hot on the case,” she said dryly.

  “We’ve got a few leads.” Toby grinned.

  “What were the other two crimes?”

  “Let me see. Someone broke in and stole her canned beets. And the other thing was just the standard ‘My neighbor is building a bomb in his basement’ thing.”

  “Routine stuff.” She nodded with a smile.

  He nodded and took another pull on the beer. He turned the can around and around in his hand.

  “I had to take Mr. Davis’s driver’s license away from him a few hours ago.”

  “You’re kidding” Mr. Davis had been the Aloma High School English teacher for thirty years, until his mandatory retirement three years ago. “Is his eyesight that bad?”

  “His sight is fine. It’s everything else that’s gone haywire. I think he may have Alzheimer’s.”

  “Oh, Toby. That’s terrible.”

  “I know. I got a call from the Taylor County Sheriff’s Department. He got over to Abilene and couldn’t remember how to get home. He scared some poor woman to death because he kept saying she stole his car.”

  “That’s sad. He was so sharp. Doesn’t he have anyone he can live with?”

  Toby shook his head and studied the tiles on the kitchen floor. “His wife died, remember? They never had any kids. I think teaching was the only thing that kept him going. And now he doesn’t have that.”

  “That’s sad,” Corinne said, shaking her head. “He’s going to have to be institutionalized.”

  Toby’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “Institutionalized. Like a nursing home. One that specializes in Alzheimer’s patients, hopefully.”

  Toby shook his head. “No way. He’d hate that”

  “Toby, he’ll have to be. He’s a danger to himself and everyone else. What happens if he’s driving along and suddenly forgets how to drive?”

  “I just told you, I took his driver’s license away.”

  “So? If he can’t remember how to get home, what makes you think he’s going to remember he’s not supposed to drive?”

  “He will, okay?” Toby set the beer on the counter and jammed his hands in his pockets.

  “I really think you should talk to someone at mental health services.”

  Toby shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. Turn him over to someone who doesn’t even know him? Lock him up in some sterile hospital room? That would kill him.”

  Apparently nothing had changed in Aloma. Mrs. Kirby still thought everyone was out to get her, and Toby still thought that if he said something would be okay, it automatically would.

  Toby rubbed the back of his neck, hooking his hand there and staring at the floor in thought. The gesture was at once so endeanngly familiar to Corinne, it reached across the span of a decade and squeezed her heart. Whenever he was the most disturbed and lost, Toby rubbed the back
of his neck. She didn’t think he was aware of it himself, but she remembered. She rolled her lips together and fought the urge to cross the floor and wrap her arms around him.

  “If you want, I can make a few phone calls. I know a woman at mental health services in Abilene. She might give you some advice—”

  “I said I’m not putting him in a rest home!”

  From the look on his face, his harsh tone surprised even him. He returned the beer to the counter with a soft metallic clank. He took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “I can handle this This is my town I’m the one who needs to decide what to do about him.”

  “Toby, you’re the sheriff,” she said quietly. “You didn’t get elected God.”

  “I know that”

  “What makes you think you’re going to be able to stop something that devastating?”

  “I know I can’t stop it, Corinne. I know how it is. But I don’t walk away from my responsibilities.”

  Whether he intended it or not, Corinne felt accusation in his tone. They weren’t arguing over Mr. Davis, she realized, they were rehashing an age-old disagreement. Toby had been taught from a young age by his father that it was his responsibility to stay in Aloma and make sure it thrived, to do everything in his power to halt the flow of the town’s young people to the city. It was more than civic pride for Toby to follow in his father’s footsteps and be sheriff—it was familial duty.

  But then, Toby had been raised that way—with a strong sense of family. Corinne had no such thing.

  Toby sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m sorry. Let’s just drop it, okay? I’m not going to put him in a rest home, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “What would John have done if he were here?” The moment Corinne asked the question, she wished it back. She should have known Toby had already asked himself the same question From the taut look on his face, he had not found an answer.

  “Knowing him,” Toby said, “he would have told Mr D. he didn’t have time for this nonsense. He would have ordered him in no uncertain terms to cut it out. And that would be that.”

  Corinne noted yet another thing that hadn’t changed—Toby still considered John Haskell to be a god. A god he would continually measure himself against. And continually fall short.

  Corinne almost crossed the room a second time to comfort him, to reassure him that whatever decision he made, it would be in Mr. Davis’s best interest. But then she remembered she had changed.

  “And that would be that,” she agreed.

  Toby drained the rest of the beer. She took the can from him and dropped it into the recycle bin by the door, her face carefully blank.

  When she turned back, his fists were planted on his hips, his mouth a grim flat line. “Where’s the water heater?”

  She leaned against the counter and despite herself, felt her lips curve.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “You’re sweet, Toby.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Sweet? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I just think it’s nice, that’s all. It’s sweet that you care so much about his welfare. Of course, I also think you’re intentionally deaf, dumb and blind. But sweet.”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I still can’t keep up with you. Where’s the water heater?”

  Still smiling slightly, she opened the closet door. He was acting mad, but she could tell anger from fluster, and this was fluster. They were back on even ground. “Voilà.”

  She stepped back and watched as he leaned around the heater, checking it out from all angles. He knelt on the floor and looked at something underneath. He checked the tools hanging from his belt. He sat back on his haunches and studied the heater, scratching his chin with his eyes narrowed.

  “You didn’t tell me this was a gas heater,” he said.

  “Does that make a difference?”

  “Just a little. I’d feel better if you waited outside. Close to the back fence. Your mom has insurance, right?”

  “Why? Is it dangerous?”

  “Not really. No. It’s not.”

  “Then why do you want me to go outside?”

  “Just to be safe. It never hurts to be cautious when you’re dealing with gas.”

  “Toby, I can call a repairman, someone more qualified—”

  “I’m qualified. I can handle it. But I’d feel better if you’d wait outside.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Just go, okay. I’ll be fine.”

  Corinne hesitated for a long time, then picked up her glass and walked toward the door. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

  “I’m positive. It’ll take about fifteen minutes. Just go tend to your garden or something.”

  “There is no garden. Mom isn’t the type—”

  “Then you should think about planting one. Backyard’s no good without a garden.”

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay? You don’t have to—”

  “Just go.”

  “I’m going.”

  Toby watched her walk out the door, a worried look on her face.

  He made sure she couldn’t see through the windows, then turned the temperature knob up a few degrees. He didn’t touch his tool belt.

  That left him fourteen and a half minutes to nose around a little. He thought he’d seen some interesting items in the fridge. He opened the door and, sure enough, there were two chicken breasts marinating in some kind of spicy-looking sauce. Fresh vegetables lay on the shelf beside a bottle of salad dressing, and a bowl full of sliced peaches sat on the shelf below. Not a cheese sandwich in sight.

  Mmm-hmm. Fresh rolls in the bread box. It was beginning to look as if Corinne had put some time and energy into this casual meal between just-friends. He flipped back the edge of a plastic bag on the counter.

  Well, now. Two candles lay inside. He licked his lips and dusted off his hands. Candles, eh? What did that mean?

  He edged up to the window and peeked around the fringe of the curtain. Corinne stood by the fence, chewing on her lip. Served her right. Deaf, dumb and blind, huh? Didn’t get elected God?

  The soft evening sunlight played off the glints in her hair, sparking here and there the way it would play off water.

  It was the tightness in his throat, the way his hands itched to touch her, that brought him to his senses.

  What was he doing? Setting himself up to be put through the wringer all over again?

  He stepped back from the window. Hadn’t he learned? He knew firsthand how easily she could walk out of his life without a backward glance.

  He went back to the counter and looked at the candles again. Two sticks of colored wax—they didn’t mean a thing. None of it really meant anything—not her coming back, not her asking him over the first time they talked.

  He tamped down on what he realized was hope flickering in his chest. He’d hoped before. Hoped, prayed and begged, as a matter of fact.

  And she’d gone off and married someone else.

  The memory felt bitter even now, all these years later. She’d listened to his vows of love, let him declare like an idiot that they were meant for each other, put on the earth to be together forever. And then she’d left, and pledged to spend her life with another man.

  He leaned against the counter, his jaw tight, the memory of that time in his life like a block of ice in his stomach. He must be a fool to think for a second of going through that again. He shoved the candles back in the bag and pushed it to the back of the counter.

  Corinne probably assumed he was still in love with her—hell, the rest of the town did, simply because he hadn’t gotten serious about any one girl since she’d left town. But he’d been busy in the years since then, focused on his career, on the duties of his position. What he did for this county was important, a big responsibility he was proud to shoulder. His life was full and busy. He was perfectly content, dammit.

  Toby swallowed the lump in his throat. Watching Corinne move around the backya
rd, he was struck by the sense of loss he felt at the thought of her leaving again.

  But of course he would feel that way, he told himself irritably as he shoved his thumbs in his pockets. Things had been very intense between him and Corinne once. He hadn’t realized it at the time, because he’d been eighteen and unable to see past his own hormones, but the connection between him and Corinne had been immediate...and physical. Though they’d had their share of disagreements, physically...Toby shook his head as he remembered. He’d been no monk in the years since Corinne left, but he hadn’t experienced anything like that again, either.

  He realized with relief that what he wanted, what he really wanted, was not to fall in love with Corinne again, but to explore the physical connection they’d shared before. What he needed was to get her out of his system, once and for all. The way she’d left—without a word, without calling or sending even a card, without coming back even once—hadn’t allowed for closure. That was why he felt this obsession—no, rather like a preoccupation—with her.

  He wasn’t going to fall for her again. What kind of jerk would he be to do that? But to have her in his arms again, to feel that passion and heat again...that was what he’d wanted from the second he saw her running down the high school track.

  She wanted it, too, he thought, though she’d choke before she admitted it. Why else would she have invited him over the first time she saw him? Why else would she have gone to all the trouble of making a nice dinner? And bought candles?

  He might have been wrong about what was in Corinne’s heart a decade ago, and he might not have a clue what was in her heart now, but she remembered the chemistry between them, and felt it now, too. That much he was sure of.

  Rumor had it she would stay in town until the semester break. If so, he had a few months to get her back into his bed. After that...well, after that, she’d be out of his system for good. Maybe this time, he’d be the one to break it off, just to even things out. Even if he didn’t, though, when she left again—which she undoubtedly would—it would cause no more than a ripple in his life. He’d make damn sure of that.

  He stood around for a few more minutes, relieved to find that he wasn’t actually in danger of falling for Corinne again. He peered around the edge of the curtain once more. She looked antsy. She shifted on her feet and tried to get a glimpse through the window.