by Robyn Carr
That was all changing, but there wasn’t a delicate way to explain that. And he liked Lola. He’d known her most of his life. They both grew up around here.
The door to the diner opened and Connie Boyle walked in. He was wearing his navy blue fire department shirt. Now Connie might be a lot younger than Lola, and younger than Tom, for that matter, but Tom didn’t miss the way Lola’s eyes lit up and how she grinned when she saw him. All the women seemed to have that reaction—he was good-looking, a firefighter and single.
“Hey,” he said, sitting at the counter beside Tom. “What’s up?”
“Not too much. I just grabbed a couple of kids from school, got them home and started on their chores because they both want to go to friends’ houses since there’s no school tomorrow. I thought I’d take a run out to Sully’s and meet the new family member.”
“Sierra?” Connie asked. “You haven’t met Sierra?”
“Not Sierra—of course I met her, she’s been here two months already. And I’ve been at Cal’s most days so I’ve seen her plenty. It’s Molly, the new addition.”
“There’s another sister?” Connie asked.
“You haven’t heard?” Tom asked with a laugh. “I don’t usually get the drop on you when a new female comes to town. Molly’s a golden retriever pup about a year old. Sierra rescued her from an abusive camper.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Lola said. “That explains why she charged out of here the other day when I showed up to relieve her. She never said a word.”
“Happened about a week ago. Sierra was keeping an eye on the camper because he treated the dog badly. Here’s how Sully said it went—the camp quieted down except for the dog, crying and barking from the kennel she was stuffed into, a kennel about big enough for a little cocker spaniel. Sierra didn’t even go to her cabin—she hung close by. And when the guy came out of his camper and started beating the dog to shut her up, she challenged him. When he wouldn’t stop, she jumped on him. Sully said she hung on him like a tick on his back and he couldn’t shake her off. At the end of a scene right out of a bad movie, the camper and his family left and Sierra has herself a completely untrained, abused, young and crazy golden.” He sipped his coffee. “Gotta be worth seeing.”
“Sierra attacked him?” Connie asked.
“So it’s told. No surprise there, I guess.”
“No surprise,” Lola said. “She might be young and small but she has no shortage of guts. We like that here.”
“She might be a little stupid,” Connie said. “What if he’d turned on her, knocked her senseless just in self-defense?”
“Sully was waiting up, too. He does that when things don’t feel right at the campgrounds. He wanders around with his handy dandy baseball bat, the only weapon he carries. I wonder if he’s ever used that thing.”
“How’d you hear about this if you haven’t seen the dog?” Lola asked.
“I work with Cal every day. Cal keeps tabs on his sister, almost every day. And Maggie is at Sully’s on days she’s not in Denver. Trust me—there’s no shortage of conduits for the news.” He drank the last of his coffee and checked his watch. “Time to see if the kids ran out on their chores.” He put a dollar on the counter, gave Connie a slap on the back and told Lola he’d see her soon. He walked the two blocks home.
One of these days he should make good on all his promises to take Lola out, but it was awkward. Ever since Becky left eight years ago, he’d been acting like a married man even though his wife lived elsewhere. But like every small town, people noticed when she came around, when she stayed a few nights or a weekend. Once one of the old biddies in town asked his Nikki where her mother slept when she visited. Tom told Nikki to politely say, “None of your business, ma’am.” But the truth was, Becky slept with him. Even though he knew Becky had boyfriends, knew she wasn’t a faithful wife or a wife at all, knew he was just a fool. He’d told himself they were divorced, it was her choice to date, see men. It was his choice not to date or have girlfriends. He had secretly kept hoping she’d realize she’d been hasty and come back to her family.
But everything had changed last year. Last year when he learned Becky hadn’t had boyfriends, not really. No matter how Becky referred to these men, they were customers. She had explained herself as an escort, just a little company, not necessarily an intimate. No matter what she said, Tom knew what she was.
And speak of the devil. When he rounded the curve to his street, whose car was parked in the drive behind his truck but Becky’s. She had stopped warning him of her visits, stopped asking if it would be all right. He hadn’t had the heart to tell his kids, not even the oldest ones, not for his sake or Becky’s, but for theirs. They loved their mother. And why wouldn’t they? She was probably the prettiest, sweetest girl in town.
He walked in and found her in the kitchen, rinsing out a coffee cup. She turned toward him, smiled and said, “Tom.”
“Where are the kids?”
“They’re finishing their chores. I told them I’d take them out for pizza if their chores were done.”
“But unfortunately, you’ve been called away,” Tom said. “You can’t do this, Becky.”
“They miss me. I miss them.”
“I know. But you can’t pretend nothing has changed. At least I can’t.”
“I told you, that’s over now.”
“You do as you please, Becky. But you can’t change the past eight years and I can’t change the way I feel.”
“Nothing was ever different with us. It had nothing to do with us.”
He laughed hollowly. “Seriously? Yes, everything changed with us. How many were there, do you think? A hundred? Two hundred?”
“Not even close. Hardly any,” she said.
“Do you know how many women were in my life? From the day you left till now? Zero. Well, there was you—pretending you were working in a doctor’s office and going to yoga classes with girlfriends.”
She shook her head sadly and tossed her beautiful red hair, hair that was not really red. Her blue eyes teared—she was the only blue-eyed redhead he’d ever known. She affected duplicity with such an air of innocence it still shook him. “I was not pretending.”
“I won’t let you do to them what you did to me, Becky. You can see them, only here and only if you make plans with me first. And you can’t spend the night anymore.”
“I’ll sleep with the girls...”
“No, Becky, no. Don’t force my hand.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, a catch in her voice.
He almost laughed. She was arrested three times for solicitation and thought that having the charges vacated, the third time with the help of Cal Jones, criminal defense attorney, meant it had never happened.
But it had happened.
“I’m not going to talk about this now, with our youngest two kids upstairs. Take them to pizza and then tell them you can’t stay. Leave. Or I’ll tell them now, tell them why I don’t agree to let you spend the night or let them stay with you. I’ll tell them. I’m going to have to tell them eventually.”
“Even though it’s all in the past?”
“Well, I can’t be really sure of that, can I? It’s in the past until you’re arrested again, right?”
“It must be nice to have never made a mistake,” she said in a mere whisper.
He gave a huff of laughter. “Oh, I’ve made plenty and you know that. I just never had to be bailed out for any of them.”
His youngest son, Zach, came bounding downstairs. “I’m done,” he announced.
“I’m almost done!” his fourteen-year-old daughter, Brenda, called from upstairs.
And I’d like a life, Tom thought. I’d like a chance to start over even though I waited too long. He admitted it was his fault. He’d been naive and because he always lov
ed Becky so much, he stayed in denial about the fact that she had moved on. She was no help, coming back again and again, sleeping in their marriage bed, giving the pretense that she was still at least partly into the marriage.
Yes, he had foolishly hoped...
But it had been almost a year since that last arrest and he was cured of all naïveté. He’d finished the grief and torment and feelings of betrayal, and all he wanted now was to have a normal life. If he could just remember what that was.
* * *
Lola fed her sons, eighteen-year-old Cole and sixteen-year-old Trace at the diner. Some nights she left them dinner, some nights they went to their grandparents’ house, some nights they went out with their dad, Dave, from whom she’d been divorced for ten years. She and Dave got along fine as long as they spent very little time together. Dave was on wife number four and, by now, her sons were done with all the steps and halves. Once every couple of weeks, maybe, Dave would take them out for pizza or a burger and that was about it. He never was any good with support payments but sometimes she could guilt him into buying something the boys needed, like gear for school sports. He was basically a good-natured deadbeat dad and serial marrier—someone she’d never been able to count on.
It was Friday night and prom was coming up—Cole was going with his girlfriend, Jen. Jen was on the prom committee and it was a big deal. Cole worked part-time for the grocer down the street, Trace worked part-time at the grill, mostly busing and cleanup. They were letting him take orders now and then, but he couldn’t serve alcohol. He was too young. The boys had good, hard jobs that helped Lola in convincing them to continue their educations so they wouldn’t be unpacking vegetables and washing dishes for life.
Just as she was doing for herself, finally getting her degree. She’d worked in nearly every small business around Timberlake and a couple in Leadville since she was sixteen and she hoped to remain in the area as a teacher, even though those jobs were hard to come by. Elementary school was her first choice.
The most important thing to Lola was that she liked her life as a single woman. Ten years postdivorce, she was settled. She was very busy, had plenty of friends, her mom and dad were close by and in good health, her little house was comfortable and easy to take care of and, as far as she was concerned, there was nothing missing.
It was true there was no man in her life. She’d had a few dates over the years, and they were only dates. She’d gone skiing with a recently divorced dentist and they’d had a good time; but there were no sparks. One of her professors took her out a few times; he was considerably older and the relationship had not progressed, which was just as she’d have it. She’d gone out with a firefighter or two but it had been friendly and casual and they still saw each other around town. She was not looking for a lover, didn’t really need another friend.
Lola was confident, energetic, funny and smart—she knew this about herself. What she wasn’t was pretty. She was overweight, her massive, curly black hair was beginning to thread with gray though she was barely forty and, even though she got enough sleep, she had dark circles under her eyes. She’d never quite figured out how to shape her brows right and she wasn’t good with her crazy hair so she kept it short. Short and shapeless but for the loose curls. She only bothered with makeup for special occasions—namely the dentist, the professor and two firefighters.
But she wouldn’t mind having a male friend, someone she was really comfortable with. She didn’t care about falling in love and had absolutely no illusions about a second marriage. The last time she was in love was Dave, and that had been a disaster. But a kind guy to hang out with, a companion—that would be nice. In fact the one man who intrigued her was Tom Canaday. Unfortunately he was clearly still very screwed up about his divorce and if there was anything Lola wanted less than a man it was a man’s baggage.
But what she loved about Tom was that he never complained. His ex-wife had left him with four kids to raise on his own and he shouldered the responsibility, took it on and got it done, was a great parent, remained positive and happy as though he, too, liked his life. She wondered if it was true, what they said, that he’d never really accepted the divorce, that his incredibly beautiful ex-wife still paid regular conjugal visits. Because if that were true, then they had nothing in common, after all.
If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.
—Frank A. Clark
Chapter 6
“WAIT UNTIL YOU see this,” Sierra told Cal proudly. “Molly, sit!”
Molly sat.
“Amazing,” Cal said. “Is she ready for the circus?”
“Shut up. This dog is in recovery. She needs patience and affection and lots of positive reinforcement.”
“What has she chewed up lately?”
“She’s had a good week,” Sully said. “She only chewed up a pair of leather rappelling gloves that were hanging on the bottom hook over there by the door and a pair of my socks that were sticking out of my shoes on the back porch. Oh, and she got a paperback but it was ready for the recycle anyway. That’s all we know of. If we x-ray her, we might find a ton of stuff.”
“So, Sierra has a new toy,” Cal said with a grin.
Sierra didn’t care one bit if they made fun of her as long as they were very sweet to Molly. Everyone treated Molly like a precious gift and it was obvious in the dog’s behavior that she’d never experienced anything like it before. She was a lovable pest. She leaned against people for a pat, brought people gifts—usually one of her toys but sometimes something she’d stolen—laid her head in their laps and sometimes just sat in front of someone, anyone, and barked until they gave her some attention.
Sierra had a new friend and she thought her adorable. That first week she’d been in a panic that Molly might wander off and get lost, but as it turned out there were two secret weapons at her disposal. First, as Sully pointed out, Molly had that special dog’s nose and could find her way back to the campground as long as she hadn’t gotten too far away. And second, Beau was only too happy to go get her and bring her back.
Beau was doing as much to train Molly as everyone else. And Molly might be a little bit in love because she hung close to the Lab.
When Conrad showed up on the weekend, Sierra knew word had traveled far and wide.
“So, this the mutt you wrestled for?”
“You watch your mouth!” Sierra said. “I don’t think there’s anything but golden in her! Do not offend her or she won’t like you. She has shown excellent taste so far!”
Connie clicked his teeth, dangled his hand at his side and Molly wagged her tail enthusiastically and went right to him, nudging his hand for a pet.
“She might have a little slut in her,” Sierra muttered.
“The best of us do,” Connie said, crouching to give the dog a serious scratch.
“Isn’t she beautiful?”
“I guess she’s kind of good-looking,” Connie said.
“She’s my first dog,” Sierra confessed.
“Seriously? You didn’t have dogs growing up?”
“There were dogs on the farm, but they were outside dogs, barn dogs, not dogs that slept on the bed. My grandma would have chased them out with a broom if they got in the house. My brother Dakota kind of claimed one of them and that dog followed him everywhere. It was all we could do to keep him off the school bus.”
As she recalled, those times they landed back at the farm when she was very young, they lived in the bus. Her grandparents had a small farmhouse and couldn’t really take on six extra people, so through spring, summer and fall, they continued to sleep in the bus, but would eat their meals and shower and use the facilities in the house. In winter they all crammed in the house together. When she was eight and Cal was sixteen, they took up permanent residence at the farm because Grandpa had passed. Space was found, t
hough not much more than they’d had before.
Sierra went to get Molly’s leash off the hook in the back of the store. When Molly saw it, she got all excited, the only dog in the history of the world who was free most of the time and got excited by the leash. But she was smart and she knew it meant she was going somewhere. Beau ran to Sierra’s side immediately; he liked to go along, but Beau didn’t need a leash. “Would you like to join us?” she asked Connie.
“I’ll just hang out with Sully for a while,” he said. “You and your little friends have fun.”
“We certainly will,” she said, heading across the yard for one of the trails.
* * *
Connie went into the store and found Sully stocking shelves. “Need a hand?” he asked.
“I got it,” Sully said. “Grab a cup of coffee.”
“Holler when you’re ready for boxes from the storeroom. You know I like to show off my big muscles.”
“Just seen you show off the one between your ears, son,” he said. “Besides, there don’t seem to be any pretty young women around at the moment.”
“I’ll just practice, then.”
Connie positioned himself at the lunch counter where he could visit with Enid and be handy when Sully started toting big boxes of supplies out of the back storeroom.
Conrad Boyle was thirty-three and had grown up in and around Timberlake. For a while his family lived in Leadville when they’d found a good rental house there. Then they moved back to Timberlake when Connie was in first grade and his mom and dad had divorced. When his mom remarried, they’d stayed in that house and his stepfather moved in with them.
Connie wouldn’t call his growing up years hard, but they were at least inconvenient and at times very difficult. First off, his father and then his stepfather had both been brutish, angry men while his mother was a kind, hardworking, even-tempered woman. To this day, Connie didn’t understand why his mother couldn’t find better men to marry. And if she couldn’t, then why didn’t she just live as a single woman?