Justified

by Varina Denman

  “He’s coming in here, actually. He has something to say to you.”

  Her voice faltered, matching the trembling in my legs, and I almost felt bad for giving her a hard time. But not quite.

  As if on cue, he sauntered through the Laundromat door, setting off a chain reaction of heat up my neck and cheeks. In contrast to my mother’s entrance, he looked at nothing in the room but kept his eyes focused on me. “Good God, Fawn. Surely you’ve heard of dry cleaners.”

  A nervous chuckle forced itself, unbidden, from deep in my lungs. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Your mother says you talked to Tyler.”

  My washer finished its cycle. “We’ve had words.”

  “Good.”

  He paused, and one of my bare feet vibrated against the metal bracket that bolted the chair to the floor. I knew he was deliberately stalling, waiting for me to look at him. My father had always demanded eye contact, but I didn’t want to give him that much power.

  My foot bounced slightly, and the row of plastic seats shook from the movement. I locked my knees together, willing my muscles to comply. My mind rebelled against him while my body yearned to obey … out of sheer habit.

  I lifted my eyes to meet his, and he nodded his approval.

  “In spite of the depth to which you’ve lowered yourself, you and Tyler are still a match. You should do what you can to make things happen with him.”

  “Make things happen?” His words struck me as crude, but he waved away my question.

  “You know what I’m saying. He’ll take care of you … and your child.” He said the last words as though they were a disease that must be dealt with. “In the meantime, I’ll see you have what you need.” He cocked his head toward my mother. “Did you give her the money?”

  “I tried.”

  Everything always came back around to money. “What about love, Dad? Does that matter at all?” To gain confidence, I fled to the washer and lifted the lid.

  “Apparently you loved him enough to sleep with him. Surely you can muster enough love to marry him.”

  “Neil …” My mother moaned.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Fawn. I’d be tickled pink for you to live happily ever after, but you’re not living a fairy tale.” His key chain jangled. “Tyler Cruz wants you, and I don’t see any other men standing in line.”

  A drop of sweat trickled down the back of my knee. “Well, Dad. Now that you put it that way, you’ve made me all mushy inside.” I pulled wet laundry from the washer, dropping each item in the basket at my feet.

  “Don’t be sassy.” Mother hissed the reprimand as she stood, but I had already heard it in my head.

  “She can’t help it, Susan.” He lurched away from me as though to distance himself from my shame, and Mother followed after him, straightening her back uncertainly.

  And then they were gone.

  A hot breath of air gusted from the sidewalk as the door closed behind them, and already a grin covered my father’s face as he lifted his chin in greeting to a passing friend. But Mother, ever the worrier, glanced back at me with a pained expression.

  I peered down at my bare feet, embarrassed they had seen me like this, figuring it only added to my father’s perception that he had been right all along. My damp clothes lay heaped in the basket, needing attention, but I ignored them and stumbled to a chair.

  Slipping on my shoes, I rested my elbows on my knees, head in hands. I had loved Tyler once. Maybe I still did. He understood the deal about my parents, and he always shared my dreams and worries.

  But he had broken my trust. Not once or twice but over and over.

  The first time, our junior year in high school, he spent thirty minutes with Hannah McGready behind the show barn at the stock show, effectively ending the ten months we’d sat next to each other in church. The second and third times, he screamed hateful things at me, once when we were alone and once in public. After that, there was Ashley Alvarez my first year at Tech.

  But the fifth time, he struck me. And to make matters worse, the preacher had seen it. A few days later, when Tyler denied the baby was his, I thought I would never take him back, but he had come to me, heartbroken and sincere. And he seemed so sorry.

  But then he hit me again. He hadn’t hurt the baby, of course—Tyler would never do anything except slap my face—but I couldn’t get over the idea of it. The thought of him lashing out when I carried something so precious—a tiny person who needed to be protected and nurtured.

  I called off the wedding that day because a hungering desire had welled up inside me. A yearning to be protected and nurtured myself … and cherished. But nobody had come along to do it.

  In the past few months, I had demanded to do things on my own, trying to prove I didn’t need Tyler, and certainly didn’t need my parents. Yet I hadn’t proved anything. Not really. Ruthie took me to garage sales. Velma loaned me her car. Coach Pickett repaired my steps. But I never stopped needing someone. I merely transferred the caretaking obligation to my new friends.

  The baby kicked, and I pressed a palm against the movement, wishing Tyler could somehow become everything the baby and I needed. “I know, little guy. I’ve made a mess of things.”

  Chapter Ten

  Twenty minutes later, Ruthie sat cross-legged on a washing machine while I checked messages on my phone. I’d dumped my laundry in a dryer, then watched the clothes swirl while I relived my parents’ intrusion. When I finally snapped out of my pity-induced trance, I called Ruthie to come keep me company.

  “Which do you like better—ball gown or mermaid?” she asked.

  I glanced at the bridal magazine open across her lap. “My favorite is Empire. Fitted at the top but not as dramatic as trumpet.”

  Ball gown, Empire, mermaid, trumpet—all styles of wedding dresses familiar to me from the years I’d anticipated a marriage proposal from Tyler.

  Everyone had anticipated it. A huge ring, a huge wedding, a huge fuss.

  I leaned against the change machine. “Has Dodd asked you … anything?”

  “Not officially, but we’ve practically planned the wedding.”

  “But you’re both staying in school, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “So what are you planning?”

  “Just a small ceremony in Uncle Ansel and Aunt Velma’s backyard.”

  “Their backyard?” I turned the idea over in my head, knowing everyone would expect the minister to marry in the church building. “I like it.”

  Ruthie’s smile wavered. “This is going to be my day, not the church’s.”

  “Right.” The raging fire between the Turners and our small congregation had gradually diminished over the past few months, but there still remained a slow burn that would take years to extinguish.

  Her shoulders drooped apologetically. “Do you still think about a wedding?”

  My core suddenly felt cavernous, but I chewed my peanuts, swallowed, shrugged. “If I ever get married, we’ll run off to the courthouse by ourselves, then go on an exotic honeymoon and lay around half naked for a week.”

  “The scandalous vacation sounds amazing, but the justice of the peace? I know you, and you’re a church-wedding type. No matter what order you’re doing things.”

  “I don’t know. These days I think more about finding a man than planning a wedding.” I wadded my wrapper and studied the resulting cellophane ball. “Besides, everyone would talk.”

  “Who cares?” She held up her right hand in what looked like an Okay sign, except her pointer finger and thumb were separated.

  “Is that supposed to be a panther claw?”

  She frowned at her fingers. “No, it’s WC for Who cares? See, these three fingers make the W, and the pointer and thumb make the C. If I could make an S and a U with the other hand, I could give you Who cares? Shut up.”

 
I threw my trash in her direction, but it fluttered to the floor halfway between us as the door of the Laundromat banged open. We both startled.

  Tyler strolled in wearing cargo shorts, a polo shirt, and leather slides.

  A low-pitched humming filled my ears and vibrated my skull. It was too much, seeing Tyler. Now. Right after my parents.

  “What are you doing here,” Ruthie said flatly.

  Tyler’s mouth curved into an easy smile that showed his teeth. “Checking on my girl.”

  I had always liked his teeth. Almost perfectly straight, but not quite. One tooth in front slanted ever so slightly, and it gave him a rakish look.

  Ruthie glared at me. “You’re back together?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “We’re working on that.” Tyler’s words overlapped mine as his gaze dropped to my stomach. “Are you all right, babe?”

  “I’m good.” When my dryer stopped spinning, the room filled with thick stillness. I picked up the laundry basket and scuttled to the back wall.

  “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Ruthie asked him.

  Tyler stared at her for a count of three before he spoke. “Yes, when a man has the amount of property my father left me, it requires fairly intense management skills. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Yet here you are … at the Laundromat.”

  He had never gotten along with my friends. Not in high school. Not in college. Not now. He turned his back to her. “Are you busy next Monday?”

  Ruthie stepped around him. “We have class.”

  My laundry crackled as I pulled it from the dryer. Ruthie was up to something, but it didn’t matter. “I have a doctor’s appointment.”

  “What time?” Tyler asked.

  “Eleven.”

  “Perfect. We’ll go together.”

  Ruthie’s voice sliced. “Are you asking her or telling her?”

  “Dads are supposed to go to these things. Seems like you would be impressed.”

  I bent down to pick up my basket and noticed Tyler’s neatly trimmed toenails. “It’s all right, Ruthie.”

  He glanced at the basket in my arms. “Let’s grab lunch after and hit a few stores. You could use a couple new outfits.”

  A tiny voice in the back of my head said he couldn’t be trusted, but a louder voice reminded me he loved me, in his own way. “I need to think about it.”

  “No rush. I’ll call you.” He smiled his almost perfect smile as he pushed through the door.

  It happened so fast. He spiraled in then out in less than five minutes, and my heart and mind spun in crazy circles, unable to make sense of it. As he walked across the street, I gripped the laundry basket and watched him, wondering if his body language might reveal his intentions.

  He waved at Old Man Guthrie, so maybe he had become more caring. And surely his steady gait indicated a greater sense of purpose.

  Ruthie cleared her throat. “He’s bribing you with clothes.”

  I plopped the basket down and started folding laundry, not wanting to discuss it, but after a few minutes, she moved to stand across the counter.

  Her hand rested on a laundry cart, and she squeaked it an inch forward, an inch back. “He bumped into you the other day at the diner, and today he happens to see you at the Laundromat. Is he stalking you or something?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  She raised an eyebrow in typical Ruthie fashion, and an invisible cord tightened around my neck. She meant well, but I needed to go home, sit on my porch, and stare over my cliff where I could see for miles. Where I could breathe.

  “He doesn’t even live in Trapp. What are the odds?”

  “Snyder’s forty-five minutes down the highway, not on another continent.

  “Fawn?” She leaned on the counter and looked deep into my eyes. “Run. Away.”

  The cord around my neck snapped, and emotions spewed from my mouth. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re dating a minister, for goodness’ sake, but your selfishness won’t allow you to stand in someone else’s shoes for five minutes. Not mine and certainly not Dodd’s.” I dropped a shirt and bent to snatch it off the floor. “Did it ever occur to you that Dodd might want to get married at the church?”

  I regretted my words, yet I couldn’t hold back. All the tension I stifled toward my parents and Tyler hurtled toward Ruthie. Not because she deserved my anger or warranted my tantrum but because she was safe.

  I slammed folded clothes into the basket. “After all these years, you finally came back to the church and immediately started criticizing all of us.” My voice took on a slight whine. “And you don’t even realize you have everything.”

  Ruthie looked bored. “You’re just weirding out because of your dad and Tyler.” She scratched her head. “Didn’t somebody say those two were a lot alike?”

  I slumped over the counter, resting my head on my arms.

  “Forgiven,” she said.

  I raised my head. “What must people think of me? In a month I’m going to be a single mother working at the stinking feed store.”

  She slowly raised her hand and gave me her made-up WC symbol, then mouthed the words Who cares?

  Chapter Eleven

  Tyler couldn’t stomach Ruthie Turner. She had latched onto Fawn like a tick and would undoubtedly suck every drop of common sense from her. But Fawn had always allowed her friends to do that, clinging to them as though she couldn’t stand on her own.

  He would set Fawn straight, though.

  Tyler pulled to the side of the road and punched his phone. “Sure enough. I found her right where you said she’d be.”

  Neil Blaylock’s mutterings on the other end of the line brought a smile to Tyler’s lips. Fawn’s dad undoubtedly thought he had Tyler wrapped around his little finger.

  “Did you talk sense into her?” Neil asked.

  “It’ll take me a few days to get her on the line, but I’m working on it.”

  “My daughter’s no good on her own. Never has been.”

  Tyler looked across the street to where Neil and Susan Blaylock sat in their car. Fawn’s mother fluttered her hands, and Tyler could hear her over the line, whining about love. He chuckled. “She won’t be alone much longer.”

  Neil raised a palm to silence his wife, and Tyler heard him mumble, “He loves her, all right? We’ve established that fact.”

  “Tell your wife I love Fawn more than life itself.”

  Neil squinted at him from across the street.

  “I saw it in a movie one time.”

  Neil lowered the phone to the steering wheel and turned to Susan. “He says he loves her more than life itself.”

  The woman’s shoulders melted. Lord, she was pitiful.

  Neil put the phone back to his ear. “I don’t care what words you use, but you’ve got to convince her. Fawn deserves the best, and you’re it.”

  Tyler questioned the man’s intentions. Neil was a Christian, a husband, a father, but he was a rancher first, and Tyler knew he wanted more than a good match for his daughter. He wanted a solid connection with the power behind the Cruz name.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tyler nodded, using Neil just as much, if not more, to get what he wanted.

  Fawn couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her parents, but she always tried to milk them for approval. Good luck to her. He’d tried the same thing with his own father, and a lot of good it did.

  Neil started his car, and it settled into a dull purr. “She’s refusing to take my money, even after all that complaining about me not helping her.” Tyler could see Neil’s jaw clench, even from so far away. “But that could work to your advantage, I suppose. Without my help, she’ll need you even sooner.”

  Susan snapped at him, louder this time. “Not everyone marries for mon
ey, Neil.”

  Tyler reached down and pulled a can of beer from the ice chest on the floorboard, hiding his smile. The Blaylocks could really get off on each other once they got going. Susan’s eyes became slits, and she glared at her husband. Tyler found it humorous, but he knew once he was married, he would have to teach Fawn to show him respect.

  “Oh, shut up.” Neil didn’t look at his wife, only lifted his chin to Tyler. “Let me know if you need any help. I already put in a good word.”

  “Don’t worry, sir.” Tyler opted to use the formal title, continuing the charade. “I love your daughter, and I’m determined to win her back.”

  “Well, you might want to hurry it up. She ought to be married before the baby comes.”

  “I see what you mean.” Tyler had every intention of marrying Fawn before the baby came. That way there would be no doubt of his son carrying his name. He popped open the beer can. “Yes, sir. Before the baby comes. You can count on it.” He tossed the phone on the seat, then tilted his head back to let the liquid cool his throat.

  He stretched the truth when he swore he loved Neil’s daughter, but he figured he could work up to that eventually. Or maybe he loved her already. He wasn’t sure what that felt like, but something burned inside him. Now he just needed to convince her, and the first thing on his list was to figure out where she was living.

  He took another swig of beer, started the truck, and pulled confidently onto the highway leading up the Caprock.

  Chapter Twelve

  Friday night I went to the Panthers’ first football game of the season, feeling old and pregnant. Cheerleaders a few years younger than me flipped head over heels down the track while I sat in the stands with Ansel and Velma and all the other parents. For once, I was grateful to see Lynda Turner climbing up the bleachers with a cardboard tray of nachos. Ruthie’s mother didn’t look a day over twenty-five, and when she sat down next to me, I felt the average age of our group drop dramatically.

  “Is Ruthie coming?” I asked.