I kept my thoughts deliberately focused on Tyler.
He leaned toward me with his lips at my ear, and I imagined his breath smelled like beer. But he wouldn’t be drinking. He had promised me. “You thirsty?” he asked.
“I’d only have to go to the bathroom. I better wait.”
He led me to the stop sign, where I leaned against a red pumper truck from the volunteer fire department. As always, they parked their equipment downtown as a safety measure, as well as to add to the festivities.
I could feel people watching us, some whispering, others talking indiscreetly.
“I knew they’d get back together.”
“Cut from the same mold.”
“She’d be a fool to let him get away.”
Tyler put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
A few couples were already dancing on the wide brick boulevard, the old-timers wearing boots and jeans, the younger people in shorts and sandals. I fell somewhere between the two, because I had slipped on a baggy maternity dress, which made me feel like a health-food green girl, while my custom-made Lucchese boots brought back memories of honky-tonk nightclubs.
Tyler rested his foot on the bumper of the truck. “You look pretty tonight.”
“I’m as wide as a barn.”
“Don’t say that. There’s nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman.”
He held my gaze while I silently weighed the possibility of him quoting lines he had heard in movies. But he sounded sincere.
Sophie Snodgrass marched toward us and ran her fingers through my hair. “Seen any more split ends, darlin’? I sure hope I got ’em all.” When she grinned at Tyler, she reminded me of a donkey. “How you doing, son? I see the two of you are spending time together again. I suppose the wedding bells will ring soon—”
“No plans to speak of,” I interrupted.
Tyler pointed his finger at her and smiled. “But if we make any rash decisions, you’ll be the first to know, Sophie. I promise you that.” He took me by the hand. “Fawn, let’s dance a few.”
I didn’t really want to dance, because I had never gotten good at it—besides, I couldn’t see my feet—but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to escape Sophie.
Soon Tyler led me in a clumsy two-step, no better at dancing than I was. “We’ll give them something to talk about.”
Clearly he wanted to be seen with me, but I had to admit, I enjoyed being seen with him, too. His tan skin, black hair, and firm muscles drew the attention of most of the females on Main Street, and his bank book drew the attention of the rest of them. But even though his looks and money were appealing, it was the familiar way his arms wrapped around me that settled my worries and calmed my fears.
“Excuse me.” A tap on my shoulder brought me out of my daydreams, and Grady Cunningham grinned at Tyler. “Could I be so bold as to break in and steal your partner?”
Tyler’s fingers squeezed my hand. “She’s all mine tonight. I’m selfish like that.” Then he danced me away from the college boy, who clutched his chest as though he’d been shot.
“You were never good at sharing your toys,” I said.
“Not a chance.”
I glanced back at Grady as he pulled Ruthie onto the dance area. “Dodd and Ruthie are engaged now.”
“No kidding.”
“They’re getting married in Ansel and Velma’s backyard.”
We maneuvered awkwardly around a slow-moving elderly couple. “I’ve never seen the Picketts’ place. What’s it like?”
“A pasture.”
He chuckled. “I’m guessing that wouldn’t be your ideal wedding venue.”
“Not quite.” I fingered his collar, trying to calm the flurry in my stomach.
“Let me guess.” He pressed against the small of my back, pulling me closer to him. “I bet you would choose some fancy outdoor garden or a grand ballroom with chandeliers.” He grinned. “Everyone in West Texas would show up, all with outlandish gifts for you.”
“I don’t need gifts, just a roof over my head and food on the table.”
“Well, you’ll likely have a lot more than that.” The song ended, and he led me back to the fire truck. “Stay here, and I’ll go get you a bottled water.”
He walked away, smiling, and a slight hum of doubt swept through my mind. I wondered if I would ever fully trust him again, but Velma would tell me not to borrow tomorrow’s trouble.
When the next song ended, Grady appeared by my side. “Your bodyguard’s gone. Dance with me.”
I looked toward the concession stand but didn’t see Tyler. “He’ll be back any minute.”
His head lolled forward as though in despair.
“Sorry, Grady.”
He wandered away, and soon I saw him dancing with a high school girl whose name I couldn’t remember. Three songs later, he scooted past with Ruthie, and she called out to me, “You’re not dancing.”
I shrugged. “Waiting for Tyler.”
But obviously Tyler had gotten sidetracked. I walked a wide circle, looking for him, and the longer he stayed gone, the bigger the cavern of concern grew in my heart.
I returned dutifully to my post by the fire truck, determined to wait him out, but Grady bounded to my side again, clicking the heels of his boots together. He held his elbow toward me. “May I have the honor, fair maiden?”
I turned my back on my worries and curtsied. “Thank you, sir.”
He led me to the far end of the street, away from the stage with its loud speakers, and I walked backward in a slow circle as he led me in some sort of homemade dance step. The preacher’s little brother couldn’t dance either.
“I’m glad you came.” His unusually sober tone surprised me. “I was afraid you’d stay locked up all alone like you did at Ansel and Velma’s. It was like you were punishing yourself for being bad.”
“Maybe I was.”
“Well, you’re not a bad person, and you don’t need to be in time-out.”
I squinted. “Have you been talking to Coach Pickett?”
“No, why?”
“He says the same thing.” I parroted the coach, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.”
“He knows what he’s talking about.”
“But he doesn’t have to be so pushy about it.”
“Don’t I?”
JohnScott’s voice startled me.
He was leaning against a telephone pole, and Grady and I had stumble-danced past him.
“Coach, we’re not talking about you,” Grady called.
“I heard you.” He took my hand from Grady. “My turn.”
“I’m not done with her.”
“Sure you are, little mountain boomer.” He curled me under his arm. “Go find some other kids to play with.”
As Grady stuck out his bottom lip, I focused my gaze on my hand, held firmly in JohnScott’s.
The coach led me confidently around the dance area while I examined my feelings. I had come to the dance with Tyler and had every intention of finding him again, but a quiver of energy bounded around my lungs and gave off tiny explosions every time I looked at the knuckles of the coach’s hand.
His knuckles.
This didn’t feel right. I shouldn’t be experiencing tiny explosions from anyone other than Tyler. And Tyler would not like me dancing with JohnScott.
A chill went up my spine.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Oh, sure.” I looked over my shoulder, scanning the crowd.
“I saw him down a side street, behind the bounce house.” He looked over my head, lifting his chin in greeting when he caught someone’s eye.
“Saw who?”
He looked down at me with an amused smile as though I were a child telling a white lie.
I sighed helplessly. “What was
he doing?”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“We came together.”
His eyebrows twitched, and he frowned slightly.
“What?”
He twirled me then, making the move seem effortless as we temporarily separated. When we came back together, he kept his eyes above my head. “Let’s dance a few songs. You deserve to have a good time since you got all gussied up.” He released my waist and held me at arm’s length, his gaze wandering across my dress.
How did he do that? How did he look at me without that drooling animal expression other men had? “One more song.”
He nodded. “How’s Rowdy?”
“He’s keeping an eye on me.”
He twirled me again, and as I spun beneath his hand, I wondered if he were watching me, but when he pulled me back into the crook of his elbow, he seemed to be looking everywhere else.
I stared at his shoulder, disgusted with myself. Of course he hadn’t been watching me. This was JohnScott Pickett, for heaven’s sake.
But since he determinedly avoided looking at me, I took advantage of the opportunity to inspect him. Something seemed different, but I couldn’t quite place it. His fingers pressed into my side, signaling me to veer to the left around a slower couple, and as we did, a horsefly landed on his temple. He shook his head and released my hand to swat it away, then resumed his previous control.
“You got a haircut,” I challenged.
“I cut a heck of a lot more than one.”
When I shook my head at his corny humor, he smiled, almost apologetically.
His hair was still long enough to curl, but now the curls seemed in a controlled formation. “I like it.” I fought the urge to touch his hair, to feel the texture, to see what would happen if I ran my fingers through it.
He cleared his throat. “There goes Tyler.”
Without thinking, I dropped my arms to my sides and took a step back.
The coach’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he stood with his arms suspended as though I had vanished into midair.
I imagined a hint of hurt in his eyes, and I took a shallow breath and looked at the ground.
“I’ll show you where I saw him,” JohnScott said. “But let’s snatch you a bottle of water first. You look warm.”
As soon as he mentioned water, my thirst exploded, and I followed him dutifully through the crowd. I uncapped the bottle, and as he craned his neck to find Tyler again, I downed the entire sixteen ounces without once lowering the bottle from my lips. I tossed it in a nearby trash barrel as JohnScott laughed. “Need another one?”
“No, I’m good.”
“There he is.” JohnScott turned his back to me and walked toward the post office, his long strides leaving me running to catch up.
Tyler didn’t notice me at first. “Wassup, Coach?”
I grimaced. Tyler habitually called JohnScott Coach behind his back. A slam. JohnScott had never been his coach, and Tyler wouldn’t respect him even if he had.
“Bringing Fawn back to you,” JohnScott said. “You seem to have misplaced her.”
I studied a string of vehicles parked along a side street.
“Shoot, she always finds her way back.” Tyler belched. “She’s like that. Low maintenance.”
My vanity splattered across the asphalt parking lot, and I wanted to lock myself in my little house and never come out. I should have known Tyler’s drinking was out of control. I should have known he didn’t love me enough to change. I should have known it was too good to be true. My friends had told me as much.
But my friends didn’t understand the pull.
Tyler hooked his arm around my neck. “Time for us to go.”
I tried to push him away, but his arm lay too heavy on my shoulders. “You’re drunk.”
“And I bet you’re gonna start whining about it any minute.” He raised the pitch of his voice to an annoying falsetto. “Tyler, I’m so disappointed in you.”
I ducked out from under his arm. “Get away from me.”
He gripped my forearm, and his fingers dug into my skin. “Now … that’s no way to talk to your baby daddy.”
I felt sick. People as far away as the stage were turning toward the commotion, and I only wanted to get away from Tyler, away from Trapp, away from all of them. I wanted to go somewhere far away where people didn’t know me, where boyfriends didn’t drink and fathers didn’t abandon their children.
“You’re scaring her,” JohnScott said calmly.
Tyler blew a puff of air through his lips, spraying me with spittle. “You don’t know much about women, Coach.”
For an instant I thought of JohnScott when he admitted his fear of dating. The nausea building in my stomach morphed into anger, and I growled, “Shut up. JohnScott’s twice the man you are.”
Tyler’s palm popped loudly against my cheek, knocking me off balance as pain splintered from my jaw to my ear. My shoulder slammed into JohnScott’s chest, and his arms steadied me. But once I gained my footing, he gently pushed me away.
“Coach Pickett …” Tyler’s voice sounded surprisingly clear for someone so drunk, and since the band just finished a song, his words rang loud through the downtown area, gaining the attention of the few remaining citizens who weren’t already watching. “Get your hands off my woman.”
JohnScott’s hand rested beneath my elbow, and he was bending slightly, checking on me, so when Tyler reared back and pummeled him below the chin, JohnScott didn’t see it coming, and his head snapped to the side.
The coach’s fingers slid from my arm as he fell hard to the ground.
Chapter Twenty
Dodd and Grady physically restrained Tyler to keep him from kicking JohnScott in the ribs as the coach lay sprawled on the post-office parking lot. They gripped Tyler by the arms and walked him up and down the sidewalk until he stopped cursing and fighting them.
My cheek stung from Tyler’s palm, but my dignity stung far worse, and I turned my back on the crowd. I should have helped JohnScott get up. I should have apologized, but half the Panther football team rushed to the coach’s aid as soon as Tyler threw the first punch.
“I’ll give that low-life cattle prodder what’s coming to him!” yelled Sophie’s eldest son as he pulled JohnScott to his feet.
The hairdresser answered him just as loudly. “He’s got a lot of nerve coming to Trapp and messing with our coach.”
But JohnScott put an abrupt halt to his team’s taunts with a few short words, and Dodd and Grady loaded Tyler into his fancy double-cab truck to drive him home to Snyder. Ruthie followed in Dodd’s El Camino so they would have a way back to Trapp.
“Fawn, honey, you all right?” Sophie patted my shoulder.
“I’m just so … embarrassed.” I stepped to the side of the shrubbery at the corner of the building in a feeble attempt to shield myself from view.
Sophie followed. “That boy’s always been a drinker. I’m not sure but what you’re better off without him.” She swept a stray lock of hair from my forehead with her long fingers. “Thinks he’s better than the rest of us. I mean I’m sorry for his losing his father and all, but that only goes so far, you know. He ought to be drying himself out by now. And certainly ought to be treating you with respect.”
JohnScott emerged from a huddle of teenagers. “You boys go on about your business.”
“But, Coach, we can’t let him get away with that. It ain’t right.” A burly senior thrust his jaw out, but JohnScott answered sharply, hands on his hips.
“Anyone who retaliates will run laps on Monday.” His gaze swept the players until every pair of eyes lowered from his stare and a collective sigh of disappointment shushed through the team.
Sophie clucked her tongue. “Now, Fawn, don’t you take Tyler back after this. I don’t care if you are about to pop, he needs to know on
ce and for all that he can’t go around treating people like dirt.”
Her words rang in my ears like the droning whine of a mosquito, and I began to wonder how I could get away from her, but more important, how I would get home. Desperate to escape the town’s prying eyes, I considered JohnScott, weighing the possibility of asking him for a ride, but the coach turned and walked briskly toward the United with two players tagging along behind him. He didn’t so much as glance back at me.
My already bruised ego took another hit, and I blinked three times to keep from crying.
Sophie’s eyebrows rose slightly, and then her expression melted into disappointment. Apparently she had been hoping the coach would offer me a ride as well, and she hummed slightly as though my status had been knocked down another notch.
When my cell phone vibrated, I expected it to be Ruthie. Instead, it was a text from the coach.
Head toward Aunt Lynda’s house.
I stared at the phone.
I didn’t want to go to Lynda Turner’s house. She would only say I told you so, and she would be right.
Sophie leaned forward, trying to see my screen and speaking with syrupy sweetness. “Darlin’, do you have a way to get home?”
“Yes.” I backed away from her. “Thanks, Sophie.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” she called. “I’m always around.”
I strode quickly down Main Street, and the only thought in my brain was to get away from the street dance. I needed to be alone. To hide. To think. I turned onto Avenue S and immediately felt the safety of its shadows. After walking half a block, I leaned against a tree trunk near the sidewalk, obscured by the near pitch-blackness.
Later, without a doubt, I would cry, but for now the invisibility of darkness comforted me, and I closed my eyes and let the stillness settle like salve. My nerves calmed, and my pulse slowed, and I gingerly touched my tender cheek.
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