Jilted

by Varina Denman

“See? There it is now,” Neil crooned. “You really should watch that temper of yours. The State of Texas looks down on men who can’t control themselves.”

  Anger slashed across my mind. “What do you want?”

  “Lynda, sweetie. You were always one to cut right to the heart of the matter, weren’t you?” He snickered, but then his voice turned to steel. “Clyde, it’s like this. Seeing as how you’re an ex-convict, you’re not fit to be around my grandson. Not safe.”

  “What are you talking about?” Clyde said. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “Not yet, you haven’t, but I’m not willing to risk it. Come Monday morning, my lawyer will serve you a restraining order forbidding you to come anywhere near Nathan.”

  The flame of irritation that had been crackling silently at the base of my neck grew into a raging brush fire, and I lashed out, catching myself before I hurled the phone across the pasture. “Clyde isn’t going to hurt Nathan, and you know it.”

  “Lynda, you of all people should know it doesn’t matter if he does anything or not, and just to be on the safe side, you might want to stay away from him. I know he’s been coming on to you, but you’ve got to keep in mind that the good citizens of Trapp know Clyde to be a convicted rapist. He can’t be trusted, and he’s making you look bad.”

  As Neil was speaking, Clyde’s eyes met mine, his brows forming a hostile point.

  We stared at each other, and Clyde’s head shifted a centimeter to the left, then the right, denying Neil’s accusations. I returned the gesture, and at Neil’s final threat making you look bad, Clyde took two steps and yanked my body toward his, shoving his mouth against mine.

  My palms floundered at his waist, but I didn’t push him away. I kissed back, allowing my anger to release through my actions and willing Neil Blaylock to read in my rage the simple message that he would not control my world any longer.

  The phone still hummed on speaker, and without pulling away from Clyde, I reached over and disconnected the call.

  Clyde growled deep in his throat and settled roughly on the hood, drawing me onto his lap with my knees on each side of his hips. Years of anger surfaced and resurfaced, billowing like clouds of smoke and obscuring our logic, our inhibitions, our willpower. Even our common decency.

  When the stadium lights went off, we were swallowed up by blackness, and our kisses slowed, then waned into nothing, and I slipped from his legs with an exhausted sigh and stumbled back a few paces, breathing hard and afraid to speak. Afraid of what we had just started and what it might mean down the road.

  And afraid of Neil.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I stood three feet away from Clyde. Embarrassed. Surprised. Regretful. Back when Neil and I had dated, his influence impressed me so much, I was blinded to his character, but now I knew better. The power Neil wielded in our little town demanded respect. And caution.

  And Clyde and I had just smeared his nose in cow manure.

  “Guess we’ve done it now,” Clyde said.

  I couldn’t see him to know if his left eyebrow curved upward in a challenge, but I imagined it did. He usually had that expression on his face whenever Neil was around. I tugged nervously at a lock of my hair. “I don’t defend him.”

  Clyde shifted on the hood, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t,” I repeated. “I hate him.”

  “You shouldn’t hate him, Lyn.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He paused. “Not anymore.”

  “But he sent you to prison.”

  “Actually, Susan’s daddy did that. But I can’t say I didn’t feel more than a little satisfaction when I heard that man had passed on.”

  “Neil married Susan when she was pregnant with your child. Isn’t that enough to warrant a little hatred?”

  “Aw, Lyn …” He was quiet for a while, but the silence rang as he decided what to say to me. “When I was in prison, it took some time before I could even believe what he did. But sure, for a while there I was ate up with hate.”

  The breeze whipped past the scoreboard, causing the metal to creak and moan. The sound made me lonely and I shivered, wishing I had controlled my anger.

  Anger.

  I squinted at Clyde’s shadow. “You really do have an anger problem, don’t you?”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “You shouldn’t have kissed me like that.”

  He spoke his next words slowly, and I wondered if he were fighting his anger right then. “Lynda, I wasn’t the only one angry, and I sure as heck wasn’t the only one kissing.”

  His tone was like a warden explaining broken rules to a delinquent, and my fists tightened in rebellion. “You started it.”

  He laughed then, loudly, and I suddenly worried that Neil was still in the area, listening. But no. The wind would cover our voices. Thank God for the wind.

  Clyde’s laughter faded. “Lyn, you’re such a toddler.”

  “Shut up.” It was a hard phrase, and I usually delivered it with a kick, effectively masking any emotions I wanted to avoid, but this time a sob rose halfway up my lungs before I stuffed it back where it belonged.

  “Hey, now,” Clyde whispered. When I didn’t respond, he groped for my hand in the darkness, then slid his index finger into my palm. The action comforted me like mashed potatoes with gravy, and when I tightened my grip around his finger, he pulled me slowly into his embrace.

  He was still sitting on the hood of the sedan, and as I stood between his knees, I relaxed into the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” I rubbed my nose against his skin, inhaling his sweaty, soapy scent.

  “Why not?”

  “Well … technically, I’m still married.”

  “Most people wouldn’t think so.”

  “The church would.”

  We both fell silent as we held each other. Him running his free hand through my hair. Me clinging to his waist as if I were drowning. Maybe I was. Drowning in years of bitterness toward the two men who had hurt me, toward the church, toward a lifetime of hard luck.

  Clyde combed his fingers through my hair, from my scalp all the way to the ends, causing a tingling sensation as though he’d poured bubbling champagne on me and let it trickle down my body. Then he hooked his thumbs though the belt loops of my jeans and let his palms spread across my hips. His breath warmed my forehead. “Are you saying you don’t want this?”

  His question scared me because I knew it was time I gave him an answer—a real answer—but no matter what I said, my life would never be a fairy tale. There would still be problems to deal with and pain to overcome, not to mention the judgment of a community of people who thought they knew us. I loosened my grip on his waist and pulled away from his embrace.

  I waited, thinking, wishing the decision were easier.

  He sighed—a defeated sound that communicated more emotion than a hundred sentences could have—and suddenly I found it difficult to breathe.

  I heard him stand, take a few steps away, then turn back. “We’re not kids anymore,” he said. “We’ve known each other more than half our lives, and there’s no reason for us to dillydally around. I want to make you happy, and I want to start doing it now. I’m going to ask you one more time, and after that, I’ll never bring it up again. I’ll take Neil’s advice and move on, leave you alone.” He seemed to hold his breath for a count of three before inhaling. “Do you want to be with me or not?”

  Good Lord. In forty-three years of living, I’d only ever loved three men. One of them dumped me for a woman he didn’t love. One of them left me alone with a child. And one of them—whom I’d always loved like a brother—was standing in front of me giving me an ultimatum.

  A thunderhead stormed through my mind, shadowing my mood until I thought I might lose myself in its whirlwind of doubt, but surprisingly w
hen the worst of it passed, only a bank of gray puffs remained, and a sliver of moonlight pierced through the thickness. As I felt its warm promise of hope, I realized three things. First, Clyde didn’t just want to date me. He wanted me forever and always. Second, deep down in my soul, in the place I never allowed myself to visit, I probably wanted him, too. And last, but at the forefront of my thoughts, I desperately needed to free myself from the bars that imprisoned me in memories.

  It had been only eight days since Dixie had set off that tangle of thoughts in my head when she mentioned Clyde, but it seemed as though a year had passed. A year of confusion and disbelief. But I could no longer deny the feelings I had for this man. No matter what baggage lay in our past or what difficulties lay in our future, Clyde Felton—with all the problems that came along with him—was my present.

  I stumbled forward, and when I placed a palm on his chest, he bent down and his body melted around me. His arms roughly encircled my shoulders, and his core trembled as if he were fighting back emotion.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I couldn’t say aloud everything I wanted to say. I couldn’t tell him I lay awake at night and wondered what it would feel like to have him next to me. I couldn’t verbalize that he was the only person who made me feel alive. I couldn’t say I wanted him just as desperately as he wanted me. My voice and mind and lips froze into a solid mass of anxiety. “Yes,” I repeated.

  It was all I could say, but it was enough.

  Clyde buried his face in my neck and wept.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Saturday afternoon, Clyde stood in front of the deep fryer at the Dairy Queen, knowing he was using his work as a means of ignoring the worry in his mind. He had already talked to Hector Chavez and discovered that Neil was blowing hot air. Child Protective Services wouldn’t even get involved unless Clyde had custody of Nathan—but Clyde was still anxious. Neil had made a threat, and even if his accusations wouldn’t hold up in court, he clearly wanted to make trouble for Clyde, and he had plenty of power to do it.

  “Hey.”

  Clyde hadn’t seen Lynda come in, and her soft greeting surprised him.

  Her gaze met his, but she looked away quickly. “You get off soon, right?”

  “Few minutes.”

  She glanced at the time clock, then the parking lot, then the bubbling oil. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  Clyde lifted a basket of chicken strips and hooked it on a rack to drain. “I’m not.”

  Her hand fiddled with the neck band of her shirt. “I don’t mean I’m sorry about everything. I’m just sorry … it took me so long.”

  She was sorry.

  Clyde separated two cardboard trays and scooped fries into them. Lynda just apologized for being so strung out on memories, she couldn’t function in the present. He couldn’t figure how to answer her. He looked past the ice-cream machine, through the plate-glass windows, and into the parking lot. “If you keep showing up right when I get off work, I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

  She finally exhaled. “You’re not the only one.”

  He noticed an old Honda pulling into the lot. “There’s my replacement.”

  “Ellery Leach can cook?”

  “It’s just the Dairy Queen, Lyn. Anybody can do it.”

  “Evidently.”

  The teenager swerved into a parking space, loped across the asphalt, and shoved the glass door so hard it slammed against an adjacent table. When he came around the counter and into the kitchen, Clyde felt the instinct to brace himself as though a high wind were about to smash through the restaurant.

  “Have you heard?” Ellery’s face was pinker than usual. “It’s all over town.”

  Clyde rested an elbow on top of the slush machine. “Guess not.”

  Ellery paused with his apron halfway over his head and stared at them. “Everyone’s been talking about it up at the school.” He methodically wrapped the apron strings around his waist, then tied them in slow motion. “You know the Tarron boys have been dropping grenades out there in the lake?”

  “Grenades?” Lynda picked at a hangnail.

  Ellery rushed his words. “Yeah, and yesterday they blew up a spot down by the cliffs, and a rearview mirror blasted out of the water. Landed on shore twenty feet from where they were standing.”

  “A mirror, huh?” Clyde walked to the time clock.

  “Turns out the Tarrons found a car down there. It was too deep for them to see it much, but the Lubbock police are checking into it.” He smiled so widely, his braces looked like train tracks, and then he swiped his hand beneath his nose.

  Clyde held the soap dispenser toward the kid and gestured to the sink.

  Ellery peered from the soap to the sink, then shrugged and began washing his hands. “It’s probably been out there awhile, so you can only imagine the shape the driver’s in by now. Slimy, I bet.”

  Lynda gave a disgusted grunt and walked away, and Clyde followed her.

  “What?” Ellery called after them, but Clyde only shook his head and lifted his hand in a wave.

  Lynda led him out the door, but her steps slowed until she stopped between two red outdoor tables.

  “Want to go for a drive?” Clyde no longer felt an urgency to take her out on a real date. He would still do it eventually—court her like she ought to be courted, like she was something special—but after Neil’s unexpected behavior last night, all Clyde wanted to do was be with her, hold her, pretend they were somewhere else.

  “I don’t know why I came by.” In answer to his question, she walked slowly to his car. “If you’ve got something else to do, I can head home.”

  Clyde slid into the driver’s seat and tried not to smile. In spite of all their problems, he thought it was cute, her showing up when he got off work, yet unable to admit she wanted to see him. “I’ve got nothing else,” he said.

  “We could just drive around town.”

  Clyde studied her. Crossed arms, tightened lips, furrowed brow. He started the car but then paused with his hand on the gearshift. “I told you CPS won’t get involved. Neil’s way out of line this time.”

  She peered out the passenger window, looking away from him, and Clyde felt they were separated by a million miles.

  “What about the car-seat thing?” she asked.

  “Hector said it could only result in a Class C ticket. Nothing as dramatic as a restraining order.”

  She released a heavy breath, then looked at him. “It’ll be all right?”

  “It will.”

  When he backed out of the parking space and stopped at the street, JohnScott and Fawn pulled in. They were in JohnScott’s truck, with Nathan strapped in his car seat between them.

  With both vehicles blocking the entrance, Clyde rolled down his window and greeted his son-in-law. He would never get used to having a son-in-law, or a grandson, or a daughter. He would never get used to having a life at all.

  “You already off?” JohnScott grinned at Clyde, then ducked so he could see his aunt Lynda.

  “Just now.”

  Nathan clapped his hands and squealed. “Cyde!” The baby leaned forward in his seat, slammed his head back, and then he did it again, laughing.

  “What are y’all up to?” Clyde asked.

  “Neil and Susan are coming over for dinner. We’re just picking up a bag of crushed ice.”

  “That right?” Clyde studied JohnScott, wondering why he looked older.

  “The Blaylocks are pushing for Nathan to spend more time with Tyler.” JohnScott draped his wrist over the steering wheel. “I know it’s the right thing, since he’s Nathan’s dad and all, but it still feels wrong.”

  Fawn opened her truck door and walked around to stand by the passenger side of the sedan, and Clyde heard Lynda huff as she rolled down the window.

  Apparently Fawn didn’t want to discuss her problems,
and Clyde couldn’t blame her. He blocked out the women’s small talk and lowered his voice. “JohnScott, do you ever feel like Nathan’s got one too many dads?”

  “Sometimes, yeah. I love the kid, and I’d give anything to be his kin.” His mouth curved downward. “Besides, it would be a lot easier without Tyler in the picture, babysitting problems or not.”

  “Yep,” Clyde agreed. “Sometimes it’s that way with Fawn, only I don’t feel like I’m the one who’s kin.” He cleared his throat, wanting to tell JohnScott about Neil’s threat but not wanting to burden him. “I don’t wish Neil away, but things would be simpler if she only had one of us in her life.”

  Nathan kicked his feet and clapped, and JohnScott laid his palm on the baby’s head, running his fingers through his curls. He looked at Fawn and Lynda, then pulled his chin in. “Fawn says her mom’s been moody lately. Crying a lot. So there may be something going on between them that’s made Neil crankier than usual.”

  Fawn interrupted. “Hey, have you guys heard about the fuss out at the lake?”

  “Sure enough.” Clyde knew Lynda would be ready to hit the trail, but he figured he ought to follow through with the conversation before suggesting they leave. He’d learned it was the polite thing to do, especially with friends and family. “Can’t believe there’s been a car on the bottom of the lake, and nobody noticed it.”

  “They say it’s in one of the deepest spots, but the lake is a little low”—Fawn laughed lightly—“and with the explosives those crazy boys have been using out there, things are getting stirred up.”

  “Are they just going to leave it down there?” Lynda asked.

  JohnScott’s arm hung outside the truck, and he tapped his fingers against the door. “One of the coaches heard they’re bringing a crane to pull it out.”

  “When’s that happening?” Clyde glanced around the DQ parking lot, almost expecting to see townspeople scurrying to the lake.

  “Sometime this afternoon. They’re rushing it on account of those bones.” JohnScott pooched out his bottom lip. “We can’t go watch because Neil and Susan are coming over.”