by Lisa Smartt
“They don’t. I mean, not really. But we found her and she’s perfect so I guess that’s that, right?”
“Gosh, Carlie, only you. Only you would meet a woman at a diner and know that she was the lead actor for the movie and then be able to convince a studio that she is too.”
“They’re not convinced yet. They’re going to let her audition several more times. But I’m not worried. They know I think she’s perfect and that works in her favor. Okay. But enough about us. Tell me about you, Clara. What’s this strange message I got about Dusty McConnell?”
“I like him, Carlie. I do. I can’t explain it. I know that Aunt Charlotte’s unsure about him. I know you want me to ride off into the sunset with Jake Smith. I get that. But I’m not interested in Jake. And I don’t think he’s really interested in me either.”
“Clara, I hate to point this out. But you don’t even know Dusty McConnell. I mean, he visited with you for ten minutes through your car window. He talked with you for a few minutes when you picked up your car. But you’re not saying that in that twelve minutes you’ve fallen for him? That wouldn’t be like you. At all. You’ve waited all this time to get out there and trust men again. And now you call and tell me that you’re interested in a felon widower?”
“I haven’t just talked to him those times you mentioned.”
“What?”
“A few days after I got back home, he called on my cell phone. He was checking to make sure my car was running fine. It was a courtesy call. That’s all. But it was nice. I was happy to hear from him. Then Jake sent an e-mail that night and the next night I wrote back to Jake. I did. But after I did, I don’t know. It just felt like I was going through the motions.”
“And?”
“Well, I did something very out-of-character, Carlie. I sent Dusty an e-mail message too. I’m not trying to hide it. I’ll even send it to you if you want to read it. But mostly I just thanked him for taking good care of the car and told him that we were blessed to have the jobs we had and so on and so on.”
“And?”
“Well, a few nights later, he called and we talked a little longer this time. He even told me about the prison time, and about how he’d messed everything up with his family. I listened. And I have to say, it didn’t scare me, Carlie. It didn’t. You always go around telling people to show mercy. Be quick to forgive. Don’t hold a grudge. Well, here’s your opportunity to live those words. I’m asking you to be merciful to Dusty McConnell. He’s repentant of his crimes.”
“Well, there’s nothing left to say then. I’m not the one who’ll throw stones. Not me. What about Jake? Have you heard from him again?”
“I sent him a message the very next night. Then four days later I got a quick paragraph from him and half of it was stuff that was happening at the insurance company with some kind of new government regulation. I haven’t even written back yet. Truthfully, I’m not that motivated to write back.”
“I see. Well, it looks like we’ve gone from having no men to having two men, Clara Louise Johnson. My word. What a strange, strange world we live in, friend. Well, so what’s the next move with Dusty then? He called. Now what?”
“I sent him a message last night through e-mail. I express myself better through e-mail. He doesn’t send e-mail because he has dyslexia and so he’s not much of a writer. So, um, well, I figure he’ll call sometime. I hope so anyway.”
“Clara, I just have one question. And I need ya to just shoot straight with me on it.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not interested in Dusty because you figure it’ll be easier for him to understand your past, right? If so, it’s not a good enough reason. Everybody’s done things they’ve regretted. Yours are no worse or better than someone else’s confessions.”
“No. That’s not it. I mean, yeah, I do think he’ll be a little more understanding than the average guy. But that’s not why I like him. It’s not. I don’t know. There’s just a gentleness about him. Maybe all the pain and suffering, I don’t know. Maybe it made him nicer. Not so haughty or proud.”
“Jake didn’t seem haughty or proud either.”
“Carlie, it’s not about Jake. He’s nice. He’s good-looking. Yes to all of it. He’s even a good preacher and you don’t see that every day either. I’m not saying I don’t like Jake. I’m saying he seems mildly interested, if he’s interested at all.”
“Well, you know me. I’d never try to run your life or anything.”
“Ha Ha. I love ya, Carlie. I do. Don’t worry.”
“Me? Worry? No way. See ya soon, friend. Bye.”
Wow. If Aunt Charlotte could have heard the things I just heard, she’d say, “Ol’ Clara Louise Johnson done got a fire lit under her rear.” I sat down and explained the whole Clara/Jake/Dusty scenario to Doug. He listened intently. Smart married men listen intently to their wives. There’s a very good reason for that that I won’t go into right now. You’ll just have to trust me. When I explained the final detail, he leaned back in his leather recliner and said, “Well, looks like we’re out of the matchmaking business, Carlie. Sounds like she’s got it all under control.”
Doug is so darn cute when he’s naïve. Out of the matchmaking business? Not even close. We were just getting started.
Chapter 22 CLARA LOUISE: Determined Dusty
It’s after 9:00 pm. If Dusty were going to call, he’d have already called. Besides, he’s probably tired and needs his rest. I agree. A working man needs plenty of rest, right? Right. My heart jumped for joy when the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Clara, this is Dusty.”
“Hi Dusty. I was hoping you’d call. I’m happy to hear from ya.”
“Well, I know it’s late and all but I wanted to ask you a question. I was thinkin’ maybe I’d come to Georgia next weekend and check on things, you know, your car, and uh, I’d even be glad to change the oil, if you want, while I’m there. I mean, if it needs changing. I don’t know who usually changes it, but if you need me to, I could do it. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Well, yes, to your coming but I don’t need an oil change. So I guess we’d have to find something else to do. Have you ever been to Stone Mountain?”
“I haven’t.”
“Well, you need to see it. I could show it to you. If you don’t mind, you could stay with my folks while you’re here. I mean, that wouldn’t be weird or anything, would it?”
“Not if they don’t mind. You think they’d mind?”
“I’ll talk to them and work it out.”
“I can’t leave the shop ‘till noon on Saturday. I’d wanna get cleaned up and all, so it’d probably be 9:00 Saturday before I got there. I could stay till late afternoon Sunday. That’d give us at least a little bit of time.”
“Yeah, that’ll work fine. I’ll look forward to it. I’ll talk to my mom and dad to make sure and let you know.”
“Thank ya, Clara. Thank ya for givin’ me a chance, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Well, I better hit the hay. I’ve gotta get to the shop early in the mornin’ to get some paperwork done. Paperwork is the one thing I don’t love about this job.”
“Well, no job is perfect, right?”
“Right.”
“I’ll send you the address by e-mail. Thanks for wanting to come see me, Dusty. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I loved hearing his voice. It didn’t even bother me that I loved hearing his voice. I wasn’t hiding any longer. I told Carlie. I would tell my parents tomorrow.
I like Dusty McConnell. And amazingly, Dusty McConnell likes me too.
Chapter 23 CLARA LOUISE: Marching Onward
I awoke to pure happiness. I needed to craft a plan concerning how I would tell my parents about their future house guest. What was the appropriate amount of information to distribute? Would Daddy be put off by the eye patch and the scar? I couldn’t be sure. I’d never been close to him. When the phone rang, I jumped. No one calls me this early.
“Hello.”
“Clara, I’m sorry to be calling so early and on a school morning, too.”
“No problem. I have a few minutes. What’s wrong, Carlie?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“No. What’s happening?”
“Dusty McConnell was arrested early this morning. Just heard it on the radio. A policeman stopped him last night. His tail light was out and for some reason, he ended up searching the truck. He found cocaine in the glove box. Clara, I’m sorry. Really. I’m so very sorry. You have to know that I get no joy from this whatsoever. It hurts you and that means it hurts me too.”
I couldn’t contain my tears. “Is he in jail? I mean, he’s there in jail?”
“I’m afraid he is, Clara. I mean, they’ll get him a lawyer and I don’t know what happens next. But yes, he’s in jail right now.”
I got a tissue from the kitchen counter. “Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it. I need to get to school now. It’s fine. I think we all know I’m not very good at choosing men. This is confirmation of that fact. So really, it’s no big deal.”
“Clara, this doesn’t say anything about you. It’s not about you. Everybody likes Dusty McConnell. There’s no way you could have known. Call me as soon as you get home from school. I mean it. If I don’t hear from you by 4:00, I’m gonna call your cell phone.”
“No problem. Bye.”
I walked into the bathroom calmly and then doubled over with grief. I wasn’t crying. I was wailing. Crying represents sadness or happiness or even great joy. But wailing? Wailing represents the most horrid of human emotions. Grief. “God, why? Why can’t I get this right? What is SO very wrong with me that I only garner the attention of bad men?” I kept wailing until I realized I would be late. I dried my tears, put on my shoes, and walked out the door wearing old clothes and no make-up. Carlie would have been very disappointed. I didn’t care. Commerce Elementary School was going to see me au natural today. It no longer mattered. Nothing mattered but the loss, the loss of something I never even had.
4:00 pm
“Hello.”
“Clara, I told you I was going to call if you didn’t call me.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.”
“Look, Doug went to the jail to see Dusty this afternoon. He swears up and down he’s been framed. He has no idea who put the drugs there or why.”
“Wow. I bet he’s the first convicted felon with that defense. Gosh, Carlie, you can’t say you believe him? Isn’t that what anyone would say who gets arrested for drug possession?”
“What’s changed your tune so quickly? Maybe he HAS been framed.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Yes, it does. It does matter. At least tell the truth.”
“Okay. It matters. I got my hopes up. Those hopes are dashed now. We need to move on.”
“Look, Clara, I’ve gotta get on a conference call. Tell me you’ll call me tomorrow. Really. I want to help.”
“That’s fine. Bye for now.”
“Bye.”
The phone rang an hour later. No doubt Carlie was checking on me for fear I was sinking into a gruesome depression which would be stupid. I didn’t even know Dusty McConnell. Yet she would be right. I was grieving. The highest form of stupid.
“Hello.”
“Clara, this is Dusty. I only have a few minutes, and I’m so sorry but I need to cancel the plans for this weekend.”
“Yeah, I know. Carlie called me.”
“It’s not what you think. I promise I’ve been framed. I have no idea how it happened or who is behind it, but those drugs weren’t mine. I’ve haven’t done drugs in years, gosh, ten years probably. I haven’t. But because I have a record, well, it makes them a little less likely to believe me. But I’m workin’ on it. I am.”
“That’s fine. Look, Dusty, I have to go. I have a lot of things to work on and I need to get busy. I hope you get stuff worked out and get out of jail soon. I’m just glad I hadn’t told my parents about the weekend plan yet. They probably wouldn’t understand a guy not being able to visit me because he’s in jail.”
Silence.
“Good bye, Clara.”
“Bye.”
I wanted to believe that people had the capacity to change, to grow. That they could choose a life not controlled by their past. But maybe not. Dusty was a criminal and still is a criminal. I was used and abused, and now lonely. Life.
I went to work the next morning and tried to put it all out of my mind. I came home from work, made a grilled cheese sandwich, and determined to move on with my life…without a man. But the crying started around 7:30 and I couldn’t make it stop. I wasn’t crying about Dusty’s or Jake’s rejection. I was crying about things that happened many years ago. Things that defined me. The prospect of a man had brought up this whole truck load of nasty baggage and painful memories. No one was there to help me unload it nor would they even want to. I was alone, alone with a cat who coughs hairballs. The phone rang at 8:00.
“Hello.”
“Clara? Clara, this is Jake Smith. Do you have some time to talk?”
“Oh hey, Jake. I’m in the middle of something right now. Can I call you back? I mean, in just a few minutes? Is that okay?”
“Sure. I’m home all night.”
I went to the bathroom, dried my eyes, and asked God to help me see the truth. Jake was a good man. Dusty was a criminal. It didn’t seem much more complicated than that. I’m a grown-up. I finished sniffling and dialed the phone.
“Hello.”
“Jake, sorry about before. I needed to finish something up. But I’m done now. Really. Thanks for understanding.”
“No problem. Actually, I just called to apologize. I re-read the last e-mail I sent and realized I probably talked shop a little too much. That was stupid. I guess I don’t know much about what a woman wants to talk about. But I’m sure it’s not insurance regulations.”
I laughed. “Yeah, it’s not that insurance regulations aren’t fascinating, it’s more that I don’t know anything about it so it’s not something I could intelligently discuss. On second thought, uh, no, they’re not fascinating. Not fascinating at all.”
His laugh was surprisingly genuine. “At least you’re honest. Okay. So I blew it. Give me another chance. I think I can reach into my bag of tricks and write about something better. How about bulletin boards? A kindergarten teacher would be fascinated with that, right?”
“Is that all kindergarten teachers are to you? Just bulletin board creators?”
He laughed. “I’ve messed up again. I’m an idiot. You should never write to me again. Pretend you never met me.”
“Relax. I’m joking. As to writing back, well, I got busy and distracted and I’m sorry. It wasn’t your e-mail. It was me. I got sidetracked. But I’ll definitely try to do better.”
“Do you plan to be back in West Tennessee anytime soon?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking this weekend maybe.” What was I saying? I wasn’t planning on being there this weekend.
“Great! Maybe we could go somewhere on Saturday. I’d like to take you to Reelfoot Lake and then maybe to this little diner in Union City. Are you up for an afternoon at the lake?”
“Sure. You can pick me up at Doug and Carlie’s.”
“I’ll see you at 1:00 then. Thanks, Clara. This’ll be fun.”
“It will. See you Saturday.”
I didn’t want to engage Carlie in a big and joyful celebration. So I wrote a simple e-mail.
Carlie,
I hope it’s okay that I come visit this weekend. Jake is picking me up at your house at 1:00 on Saturday. He called tonight. And yes, I see the handwriting on the wall. You’re a better matchmaker than I gave you credit for. A far better matchmaker than I am.
Let me know if this works for you guys. If so, I’ll see you Friday night before 10:00.
Love,
Clara
6:30 am The Next Morning
“Hello.”
“Carlie, it’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? So I guess a Nobel Peace prize is no big deal. An Oscar or an Emmy is no big deal. Clara, this is a HUGE deal. You’re going out with JAKE SMITH!! This is a dream come true, an answer to prayer. Really. I’m thinking of canceling any plans I have today so that Aunt Charlotte and I can run a victory lap…only it’ll be hard for her to run ‘cause she has foot spurs, and bad knees, and well, well, anyway, we’ll be celebrating in Sharon tonight!”
“It’s one afternoon. That’s it. Nothing more. Yes, I’m excited. But no, I’m not flying to New York to have my hair done. Don’t you have anything else to think about? Aren’t you working on a movie deal?”
“It’s all settled. Well, almost all settled. They just have to audition Ashley one more time, but Ms. Watson said they’re leaning towards her. They really are!”
“Good. Look, I need to get ready. So I’ll see you Friday night late, okay?”
“We’ll be waiting, Clara! Oh, and before you go, promise me something, friend. This is very important. Promise you won’t make me wear yellow or Pepto-Bismol pink in the wedding. Really. I couldn’t bear it. It would be atrocious.”
“You are beyond ridiculous. Have a good day, Carlie. Love you, Bye.”
“Bye, Clara!”
Chapter 24 CARLIE: First Date and A Felon
I took a few phone calls from the publishing house, wrote 2000 words on my next book, and then raced to Aunt Charlotte’s for a late lunch.
She was on the back porch when I arrived.
“I’m ‘round here, Carlie! I’ll be done in just a minute.”
I turned the corner to see her releasing two little birds from a cage. “Bart found these little ones a while back, nearly killed by that dad blame cat of ‘is. They was hurt and we got ‘em goin’ again. Now they need to go out and find their own way. They’re strong now. They try to fly around the cage. But there ain’t enough room in there. They’re wild and they should be free. You sounded so happy on the phone! This must be good news.”