by Mysti Parker
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Jesse got a paper cup and filled it. He wasn’t really thirsty, but needed something to occupy his hands while he conversed with his boss.
“You look like you lost a kitten. Did one of those little furballs die?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Sheriff shrugged and sat back in his chair, hands crossed over his generous belly. “How’s therapy going?”
“All right, I guess.”
“Listen, Maddox, I’m not about to ask you for details. That’s between you and your doc. But I think I deserve to know whether my best—and only—deputy is getting the help he needs.”
Jesse swirled the water in his paper cup. He took a sip, resting his arm casually on top of the tank like Sheriff did. “Do you know anything about Leigh Meriwether?”
“She your therapist?”
Jesse nodded. “Counselor, she said.”
“Oh.” Sheriff shrugged. “Her family’s lived here for a long time. Good people. Interracial couple, so they’ve had their share of controversy. I reckon they homeschooled Leigh, and she went off to college then came back here to work. That’s about all I know.”
He thought about the picture he’d seen in Leigh’s office. He didn’t know her dad that much, though he did give him a good deal on his truck, and he had nothing but respect for Leigh’s mom. She had a real heart for animals, especially cats, like he did. Pity she had to work as a vet tech for Jack, his high falutin’ brother. But Jo Meriwether being married to a white man didn’t bother him in the least. Other folks around here had some backwards ideas. Yes, he’d been a real asswipe, but he’d never been a racist asswipe.
“Is that why they homeschooled her?” Jesse asked. “Because of folks giving them a hard time?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know they had a daughter until she came back here to work for Doc Gadbury. How’s she treating you? Good, I hope.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m sleeping a little more.”
“Sounds like an improvement. When’s your next appointment?”
“This afternoon at one o’clock.”
Sheriff puffed out his cheeks and let out a slow breath. “All right. Things are pretty slow around here. Just keep your cell phone handy.”
“I will. Do you think Leigh knows about…you know?”
“Has she mentioned it?”
“No.”
“Then don’t worry about it. It’s up to you how much you want to tell her. I can’t guarantee she won’t hear it from someone else, but you can cross that bridge when you get there.”
Jesse nodded. He threw a nervous glance at Clara as she filled the coffee filter with Folgers, spilling grounds all over the table with her shaky hand. She knew about everything that had happened when Jesse was a kid. He suspected that was why Sheriff put up with her all these years.
****
Patrolling the outskirts of Beach Pointe wasn’t difficult. Jesse could see the whole county two times over within a few hours. Most days, things were relatively quiet. There were always some flat tires or broken-down cars with distraught soccer moms who were late for their kid’s dance class or some such thing. Then there were the occasional speeders, like the red blur that just zoomed by him while he clocked traffic from the Pinch-a-Penny parking lot.
Jesse turned on his siren and sped off after the offender, catching up to him on the bypass. The car, a well-maintained second gen Camaro, slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder. Jesse parked behind him and approached the vehicle, ticket book in hand.
The driver’s window was down, his hands on the steering wheel. A gold watch glinted in the morning sun.
“Good morning. Do you know how fast you were going, sir?” Jesse asked. The question had become so automatic, he didn’t realize who was behind the wheel until the last word fell from his lips.
“Mornin’, Deputy. Was I speeding?” Bobby Simpson, retired pastor of the First Methodist Church of God, grinned up at him. The retired preacher had to be in his eighties, a little hunchbacked, but still spry as a young rooster. He had a thick head of white hair slicked back with a generous swipe of Brylcreem.
Jesse remembered many a sermon he sat through as a kid, with this man raining down fire and brimstone from the pulpit. He was also number six on his list.
Though he hadn’t meant to do this thing out of order, he figured he might as well take this opportunity to scratch off another name. He pocketed his ticket book. “I’ll let you off this time, preacher. Just take it easy on the gas pedal, please.”
“Well, that’s awfully kind of you, Deputy.”
“Also, I want to apologize for the stuff I did as a kid.”
Bobby scrunched his wrinkled brow and tilted his head to one side. Great—the poor fella didn’t even remember. It would have been so easy to just walk away and leave him to his senile memory. He was already letting the old preacher off easy. But damn it, he remembered his apology to Garrett and knew he had to be specific, or it really wouldn’t count.
He took off his hat and inhaled an exhaust-laden breath. “I’m sorry for the dead possum I hid in the pulpit, and for setting all your hay bales on fire, and for the naked woman I spray painted on the church siding.”
“Oh!” The preacher’s confusion melted into a chuckle. “I remember that now. It was a picture of Hazel, lying back like a Playboy model.” He held up his hands to illustrate her figure. “Really big t—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse interrupted. Hazel, the preacher’s wife, had been deceased for many years, or she would have been on his list, too. “I’m also sorry for painting devil horns on your mailbox.”
“Well, I never knew who that was. I remember thinking if that artist would apply himself to something good, he could be another da Vinci.”
“I’m no da Vinci, but I’m sorry anyway.”
“Don’t you worry about it. The past is the past. I’ve got a breakfast date to get to.”
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Sarah Jenkins.”
“All right, then. Be careful. Watch your speed.” Jesse wasn’t sure if it was irony or what, but he’d just mowed Mrs. Jenkins’s lawn. They weren’t spring chickens anymore, but if they felt well enough to date at this age, why not? He couldn’t help but smile.
Jesse tipped his hat and walked back to his patrol car. As soon as he sat down in the driver’s seat, the preacher’s Camaro roared to life and threw rocks and mud on his windshield. That old coot must have floored it. Mrs. Jenkins didn’t live far away. Hopefully he’d get there in one piece.
He decided to follow him just to be sure. But then the Camaro hit a big puddle and threw brown water all over someone on the sidewalk. The person froze in shock, then swiped the nastiness from her eyes. Her flowered, double-knit pantsuit was drenched and her Chihuahua dripping, barking furiously as it strained against the leash.
Good lord, it was Patty Burton, his former English teacher and number four on his list. He had barely passed her class. Even though he had put a pile of dog shit under her car seat, ran over her cat accidentally-on-purpose, and knocked her mailbox down numerous times, she had never given up on him.
Yep, that’d be the last time he let that old preacher off the hook.
He sighed and pulled over once more. “I guess I’ll have to buy her a new outfit and give her dog a bath.” This list business was getting complicated.
Chapter Six
Five minutes before one o’clock, Jesse’s voice echoed through Leigh’s office door. Why did he have to be so punctual? Especially now that the headache that began over lunch had gotten worse. She had closed the blinds and pulled the curtains together in her office to keep the bright sunlight at bay. Even the overhead light hurt her eyes. It was probably just a migraine. Nothing some Excedrin and a little time wouldn’t fix. But what if it wasn’t? She looked at her planner. She had a checkup tomorrow for routine bloodwork. If it was still hurting, she’d ask about it.
Until then, she had to handle her clients, includi
ng Jesse Maddox. It would be easier if she could stop thinking about his bare torso, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the morning sun.
“Stop it already,” she whispered to herself and took a long draw of ice water from her tumbler. Someone knocked softly on the door. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Jesse walked in, along with a blast of fluorescent lighting. She squinted.
He shut the door and stood there with his hat in his hands. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She opened her eyes fully to find his staring back, concerned.
“You okay, Doc?”
“Don’t call me… Never mind. Yes, I’m fine. Just a headache. Have a seat.”
He took a seat in the armchair where he’d sat previously, same as before, his face a blank mask, gripping the armrests as though he might go flying out of it at any second. He had a bandage on his thumb this time, though.
She stood from her desk chair, ignoring the amplified pounding in her head, and took the armchair opposite him. “So…how’s the list going?”
“I’ve gotten almost four names crossed off now.”
“That was quick. What do you mean by almost?”
“Well…” He cleared his throat. “Bobby Simpson, the retired preacher, he was speeding this morning. I pulled him over, but when I realized it was him, I apologized and let him off the hook. He was number six on the list.”
“Okay. Good. Did he accept your apology?”
“Yeah, he said not to worry about it. He’s apparently dating Mrs. Jenkins. They were going on a breakfast date.”
“Really?” She laughed softly. How sweet that two older people could still find love. It was a miracle just to live to be that age, much less to fall in love again.
“Yeah, but then he floored it, drove straight through a puddle, and splashed muddy water all over Patty Burton and her dog.”
“Oh…yikes.”
“So that’s what I mean by almost. She happened to be the fourth person on my list. I escorted her back home, apologized for giving her so much grief in high school, and gave her dog a bath. I’ll have to wait until this weekend to buy her a new outfit.”
Leigh gestured to his hand. “What happened to your thumb?”
“Her dog is an ornery little bastard, that’s what.”
Leigh laughed harder then. It didn’t do her head any favors, but she couldn’t remember the last time a client had said something funny. Most were so distraught or depressed that laughter wasn’t anywhere in the equation. The humor must have rubbed off on Jesse. One corner of his mouth curved up in a half smile, revealing a dimple she hadn’t noticed before.
Shifting in her seat, she reapplied her somber counselor’s expression. “And the others you’ve crossed off?”
“Let’s see, Garrett Mann was the first. That went better than I expected. It was kind of hard, though, seeing Morgan again.”
“Morgan?”
“Morgan Baxter. She’s his girlfriend. Runs Two Sisters Cupcakes with her sister, Paige.”
“I see. Tell me how that felt. Why was it hard?”
“Seeing the two of them together and happy, I guess. And her in short shorts. Damn… Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He pulled at his collar and averted his gaze.
“It’s okay. Everything you say in here is confidential.” A distinct pang of jealousy pinched at Leigh’s conscience, but she immediately squashed it. She had no business being jealous, but then again, no man that she knew of had ever noticed her body, much less worshipped it. What would it be like, she wondered, to be wanted like that?
She grabbed her tumbler and took another drink of ice water. “The important thing is, did he accept your apology?”
“Yeah, I think so. I helped him put up some trim. But then I spilled all of Morgan’s paint, so I gave them a gift card to Home Depot.”
“Good. Now the most important thing—how are you feeling now that you’ve tackled a third of your list?”
He rubbed his chin, mouth twisted to one side as though considering her question. Then he met her gaze and nodded. “Better. I slept four hours straight last night. It’s just that—I don’t know.”
“Just what? There are no right or wrong answers here.”
“It’s been a little more complicated than I thought it would be…” Jesse shrugged as he added, “And maybe a little too easy at the same time.”
“How so?”
“I messed up with the paint and letting the preacher speed off like that, which meant more work than I’d planned, but then again, they forgave me pretty easily. I’m not sure I deserve it.”
The way he shook his head and sighed made him look sweet and vulnerable, a trait she doubted he showed to people very often. It made her want to squeeze his hand or hug him, both of which she couldn’t do. Not that she had never offered small comforting gestures like that to her clients, but with Jesse, she was afraid it wouldn’t be just for his benefit. And that was dangerous. This was a clear case of look, but don’t touch. Jesse Maddox had once had a very mean streak. She had to remember that.
“I saw you with Mrs. Jenkins. You were so very kind to her. What makes you think you don’t deserve forgiveness?” she asked, trying to sound detached, but the tenderness in her voice betrayed her.
He met her gaze and held it there. “I don’t know. I guess I just expected them to hate me more.”
“Time heals all wounds, or so the saying goes.”
She knew that was a careless thing to say when his eyes narrowed a bit.
“You don’t believe that, do you?” he asked.
“Not always. Some wounds never fully heal. But sometimes people can look past them enough to forgive and move on. Try to accept their forgiveness, even if deep down they don’t truly mean it. If you are sincere in apologizing and redeeming yourself, that’s what matters. You can’t control how others feel about you.”
He shrugged. “I guess. It felt pretty good to help them out, at least.”
“Is that why you got into law enforcement? Because you wanted to help?”
Jesse swallowed hard, his jaw tight. “Yeah, and I thought being a cop like my dad would turn things around for me.”
Leigh’s eyes widened for a moment, but she didn’t want to seem excited at Jesse’s first mention of his family. Now she had to get him to keep talking. She crossed her feet at the ankles and relaxed the tense muscles in her shoulders. “Was he a sheriff’s deputy too?”
“No. He was an NYPD officer.”
“Was, as in retired?”
A few seconds of silence passed. She thought she’d lost the momentum when Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “No, he was dishonorably discharged.”
Questions at this point would have halted their progress. She tried a gentle prompt instead. “It must have been a pretty serious offense for that to happen.”
Jesse shook his head with a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. He was caught stealing valuables from victims of a commuter train crash to fuel his gambling addiction.”
“Then they came here?” Her head pounded harder, reminding her that she needed more Excedrin, but it would have to wait. She was finally getting something out of him.
“Yeah. Mom had family here. My brother Jack was born not long after they moved, and me about a year later.” His voice softened to a regretful tone as he fidgeted with his collar. “I still have my dad's uniform. I wear the shirt sometimes, under this one.”
Leigh focused on her notebook, scribbling information as quickly as possible while hoping he didn’t see the shock she couldn’t hide. Father in NYPD, dishonorable discharge, stole from train crash victims for gambling addiction, moved to KY afterward.
“What’s your relationship with your brother like?” she asked, looking up with as nonchalant an expression as she could manage.
“It’s not like anything. He doesn’t talk to me much anymore.”
“Why?”
Jesse looked at his watch. “I need to go. I have a lot to do.”
Damn it. She’d lost him. Leigh tapped her pen on her knee. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
“Not really.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you next week?”
“Maybe.”
He stood and headed for the door.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
Smiling, she pointed to the side table. “Your hat.”
“Oh.” He snatched it up and planted it on his head, then opened the door. “Thanks, Doc.”
He walked out without looking back. She didn’t reprimand him for calling her Doc. Why bother? He probably wouldn’t be back. She’d probed too much too soon. But it did sound kind of sweet the way he said it with that country drawl. Why oh why was she thinking such things? She did not need the complication of being attracted to a client, and especially not him.
Dr. Gadbury’s lanky frame shadowed her doorway. He had a thick mat of swept-back graying hair, glasses with large rims, suspenders, and business casual clothes that never quite fit. Always carrying a coffee mug, he reminded her of Lumburg in Office Space. And the way he was frowning at her meant another pointless lecture about how important it was to keep clients talking.
Just a little while longer, and I won’t have to kiss his ass anymore, she repeated to herself while plastering on her best ass-kissing smile.
****
The digital clock on the car radio read 7:55. Already running behind. Leigh sped up, praying she wouldn’t get behind a tractor or backhoe. The check engine light lit up on the dashboard.
“Oh, come on!” Leigh stomped the gas pedal.
Her stomach rumbled. Fasting for twelve hours really sucked. The water and black tea had done nothing but make her long for a donut or any other sweet and sinful thing. She had five minutes to get to her doctor’s appointment.
The temperature gauge started rising. Steam puffed from under the hood and across her windshield. She floored it, but the car slowed instead of speeding up. She’d have to pull it off the road before it completely refused to budge. The automatic shutoff was a good thing in terms of keeping the engine from frying, but it was very inconvenient to miss a checkup and be stuck on the road in an uninhabited part of the county that reminded her of Deliverance.
