Just Down the Road

by Jodi Thomas

  He answered his own question. “She is someone who wants to be alone.”

  All the anger toward her left him in one exhale as it occurred to him that maybe the blond lady had something in common with the palomino. Her scars didn’t show either, but he’d bet they were there. She reminded him of an animal who’d been mistreated. She hadn’t come out here to work. She’d come to Harmony to hide. That might explain why the mail truck never stopped at her box by the road. If the woman was hiding, she’d have a box in town so no one would bother her. That could be the reason why his showing up at her door had riled her so much.

  He didn’t see her for three days, but she was on his mind. When he went in to have the stitches checked, Georgia took care of him and didn’t say a word about the doctor.

  Tinch went into town a few days later for supplies and found himself parking in the hospital parking lot.

  He wasn’t interested in her as a woman, or a doctor for that matter.

  So why was he parked watching people come and go in the rain? If she noticed him, she’d think he was stalking her. It wasn’t that at all. If he had to come up with a reason, Tinch would have to say it was because he thought she was hurt. For as long as he could remember, he’d never been able to stand to see an animal frightened or in pain. Maybe that was why it was so hard to watch Lori Anne as the cancer took her piece by piece. The last few years before she died, no matter what he did, no matter what the doctors did, she was always in pain.

  Climbing out of his pickup, he walked into the hospital. Someone told him an old friend of his father’s had suffered another heart attack. The least Tinch could do while he was here was pay his respects.

  Fifteen minutes later, he cut through the waiting area of the emergency room on his way out. He’d about decided something was wrong with the air in hospitals because he couldn’t seem to draw a deep breath. Lost in thought, he was almost out the door when Dr. Addison Spencer crossed his path.

  He stepped sideways. “Excuse me,” he said, and would have continued on, but she stopped in front of him and raised her chin slightly.

  “Tinch, isn’t it?” she said, as if she barely remembered him.

  He smiled. “Yeah, your closest neighbor.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “Healing.” He realized what she must think. “I’m not checking in. I just dropped by to see a friend, Jeremiah Truman.” He figured he’d better give details or she might not believe him. “He’s not doing so well. I fear he’s counting out what’s left by the clock and not the calendar.”

  “Your diagnosis may be right.” She relaxed a bit. “I check in on him several times a day. So does half the town, it seems.”

  Georgia Veasey moved up next to Addison, and Tinch noticed that both women had on their raincoats.

  “How are you doing, Tinch?” Georgia asked in a sweet voice, as if she hadn’t been threatening him a few days ago with death if he didn’t stop fighting.

  Tinch recounted his testimony but added, “I was just leaving.”

  With Georgia boundaries were between countries, not people. “Where you going on this drab rainy night?”

  Tinch was used to her, so he didn’t take offense. “I thought I’d get something to eat and head home. I’m not planning on drinking, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Georgia grinned. She’d finally gotten an answer she liked. “Why don’t you come along with the doc and me? We’re meeting my Greg at Buffalo’s. If you promise to behave yourself, you can join us for wings and a beer.”

  Tinch followed them out trying to think of an excuse, but Georgia could spot a lie.

  He walked them to the doc’s car. “I might come in and order takeout, Georgia, but I don’t think I can stay. I’ll say hello to Greg while I wait for my order.”

  Georgia looked disappointed. Addison appeared relieved.

  He got to the muddy parking lot of the Buffalo Bar and Grill first and waited for them. The doc didn’t have much luck finding a parking place that wasn’t muddy and, from the size of her little car, she could submerge in a few of the holes. She finally parked in the street and walked around to the entrance. Both women looked soaked by the time they got inside.

  Tinch held the door, then followed them in, stopping to visit with a third cousin for a minute before finding Greg and Georgia’s table. The only seat left was next to Dr. Spencer. She pulled a few inches away when he sat down.

  Greg and Georgia didn’t seem to notice they were the only ones keeping the conversation going. When the waitress set the beer down, Greg said he’d already ordered for everyone. With only one thing on the menu board every night, it wasn’t hard to guess what everyone wanted.

  Tinch had a feeling Greg hadn’t ordered his to go. He shrugged. It didn’t really matter. Living alone meant there was never any hurry to get home, and people like Greg and Georgia knew better than to expect much in the way of conversation.

  He and Georgia’s husband had been good friends in high school more than a dozen years ago, but Greg went off to the University of Texas and Tinch stayed home to get married and farm. When Greg came back and started teaching, he was dating and Tinch had a sick wife, so there was little time for friendship. Then Lori Anne died a few months before Greg and Georgia married. Tinch didn’t even attend their wedding. Over the years, on the few occasions they saw each other, they only talked about old times in high school. Good times, Tinch thought, in memory at least.

  Straightening, he realized he hadn’t been paying attention. Not that it mattered. Everyone in town probably knew he wasn’t any good at small talk on a good day, and this wasn’t even a good year.

  Greg and Georgia got up to dance, both promising to be right back.

  After five minutes, Tinch felt he had to say something to the doctor. He couldn’t just sit beside her ignoring her. “You dance, Doc?”

  She took a breath, as if relieved she didn’t have to start the conversation. “No. I don’t know how to do this kind of dancing. When I was in high school, my mother made me take dancing at the club one summer. After three lessons the instructor let me move over to tennis.”

  He took a long drink of his beer, glad he didn’t have to offer to lead her around the floor. “You play tennis?”

  “No. I wasn’t any good at that either.”

  He stared at his drink, hoping that if he didn’t look at her she wouldn’t seem so nervous.

  “Do you dance?” she surprised him by asking.

  “I used to love dancing. I was pretty good too.” He stopped before she thought he was bragging. She probably wouldn’t be impressed that years ago he’d won a contest right here in Buffalo’s.

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked after a few moments.

  He was glad she wasn’t looking at him when he answered, “My partner died.” He said no more. He never wanted to spread even an ounce of his sorrow on anyone else.

  “Oh,” was all she said.

  They watched couples moving around the floor. It was far too early for the place to be crowded. He knew he should say something, but he couldn’t think of anything to talk about. What he had said probably depressed her. It had him.

  For the tenth time he looked over at the bar and wished his wings were out. All he wanted to do was eat and go home. It occurred to him that the doctor probably wanted the same thing. “Look, Dr. Spencer, I don’t want to cause you any trouble, and I’m not some kind of burglar who breaks into people’s homes to cook breakfast. I live alone and like it that way. I’m guessing you do too, so why don’t we just try to stay out of each other’s way. I had nothing to do with this setup tonight.”

  “I know.” She finally looked at him. “Georgia’s been trying to set me up since I arrived. I guess you were just the next man she caught to put on my line. She seems to find it hard to believe that I don’t want, or need, a man in my life.”

  He tried to smile, but he was too out of practice to make it seem real. “I know how you feel. She left me alone for a ye
ar after my wife died, but since then I’ve been avoiding her like the plague. This is the first time she caught me off guard.”

  “You’re lucky. I’ve been tricked into an almost-date three times. Always a meal. Always a surprise extra single male shows up. The only way she got me to say yes to dinners out was if she swore she’d never try to set me up with anyone.”

  Tinch almost felt sorry for the doc. “How about we pretend this wasn’t a setup? In truth, for once, I don’t think it was. So you don’t owe me any polite rejection and I’ll let you buy your own dinner. You’re not in my league anyway.”

  For a second, he thought she looked offended. He rushed on. “Beautiful, smart women cross the street to avoid me, Doc.”

  She smiled for a moment, then looked away, watching the dancers again. “Stop calling me Doc. My name is Addison.”

  “You ever shorten it to Addy?”

  “No. What’s Tinch short for?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “You’re not bad looking, Tinch. I doubt women cross the street to avoid you.”

  “You would, Addison”—he tried out her name—“if you got the chance.”

  “Probably,” she agreed, and they both laughed.

  The return of Georgia and Greg and the arrival of the food put an end to their conversation. Tinch figured he’d just had the longest conversation with anyone in months without someone throwing a punch.

  While he ate, he listened to Greg’s stories about the kids he taught. A few more couples pulled up tables and joined them, and Tinch thought about leaving, but he decided to stick around as long as the doc did. He could tell she was getting antsy to leave, so for once he decided not to be the first to disappear.

  After they ate, everyone but he and Addison stood up to dance.

  “Would you like to try it?” he asked politely.

  “The answer is still no,” she said.

  Tinch stood. “Then I’ll say good night. It’s time I—”

  “Tinch!” a woman screamed from ten feet away. “Well if it isn’t Tinch Turner.”

  He faced Addison as he fought down a groan. Howard Smithers’s wife, Donna Lee, who’d caused the fight the last time he’d been in Buffalo’s, was heading toward him in full sail. For a blink, his eyes met Addison’s and he wondered if he looked as desperate as he felt. All made up and perfumed, Donna Lee was a force of nature. Like tornadoes and fire ants, she left a trail of destruction.

  “You’re not getting away from me tonight, Tinch. You owe me a dance, and don’t go acting like you can’t. I remember a time when you made every girl’s heart in this place beat faster just watching you two-step.” The woman was just drunk enough to be dangerous. She rubbed up against him like she was a paint roller and he was the wall.

  “I’m sorry, Donna Lee.” Tinch held up his hands. “I can’t …”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. You gotta dance with me, tonight. Howard won’t be here for another half hour, and you can’t expect me to just sit around and wait for him, not when a fine hunk of beef like you is in the room.”

  Tinch shook his head and fought past swear words to think of something to say.

  Addison slowly stood by his side. “I’m sorry,” she said to the drunk woman a head shorter than her. “Tinch just promised he’d teach me to dance, and I’m afraid if I don’t do it now, I’ll never have the nerve again.”

  Tinch breathed. “Maybe another time, Donna Lee.” Like the day after the rapture, he thought. “The doc’s right. I may never get her in here again to learn.”

  Donna Lee looked disappointed as Tinch followed Addison toward the dance floor.

  “Thanks,” he said when they were out of hearing distance. “You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.”

  Addison faced him. “It took me a few seconds to figure out that was the woman who started the fight that filled my emergency room last week.” She laughed. “You looked so trapped, I had to do something.”

  He bowed slightly. “I owe you a dance lesson.”

  She glanced at the other couples molded together. “Can you do it without being plastered against me?”

  He raised one eyebrow as if she’d just told him a secret about herself. “Of course, Doc. How about I put my hands here?” He lightly placed his hands at her waist. “And I promise not to get any closer.”

  She didn’t look comfortable, but she nodded.

  He looked down at her shoes. “You got socks on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then kick off those strange shoes. I don’t know anyone who dances in rubber clogs.”

  She slipped out of her clogs and moved them to the edge of the dance floor. “What if someone steals them while you’re teaching me to dance?”

  He laughed. “You’d never be that lucky, Doc.”

  His hand nudged her to an open place on the wooden floor. In the same low voice he used when working with his horses, Tinch told her how to move, when to step, when to slide. After a few songs, she moved with the music easily and stopped watching her feet.

  “You’ve danced before. Maybe not country, but you’ve danced.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She didn’t answer. All her concentration was on her efforts to follow him.

  “Rest your wrists on my shoulders,” he said. “And relax, pretty lady. Nothing about this is going to be painful. Just move with the music.” He could never remember dancing with a woman almost his height, but he found her slim body moved easily with his as if they were swaying to music blowing in the wind.

  She touched his shoulders, but she didn’t completely relax. He fought the urge to pull her closer so she could follow him more smoothly, but he had a feeling she’d bolt just like a wild mustang.

  The fourth dance turned fast and all the other couples began to circle the floor with a stomping promenade.

  “Want to try this one?” he asked.

  “No.” She dropped her hands off his shoulders and he released her waist. “I really need to be going. Will you …”

  Before she could ask him to excuse her, he said, “I’m leaving too. Dancing with you was safe, but if Donna Lee catches me, I could end up fighting Howard, and I don’t want to do that.” He reached down and picked up her shoes. “Thanks for the dance, Addison. I may be wrong, but I don’t think it was as painful as either of us thought it might be.”

  She nodded. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  They crossed to the table, grabbed their coats, and walked out, waving at Georgia.

  “Smile,” he whispered, “and she’ll think she was successful at hooking us up for once.”

  “Good idea. Maybe she’ll stop trying and give up on me, at least.”

  Tinch looped his arm around her shoulder and added, “I love a good conspiracy. When it dawns on her what she’s done, she’ll be going full out to break us up so we won’t blame her for getting us together.” He felt Addison stiffen, but she didn’t pull away until they were out the door, then she whirled and faced him.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said. “I thought I made that clear. I’m not a woman who likes being handled.”

  Tinch studied her a moment. Her voice had been angry, demanding.

  “You got it, lady.” He felt burned. “You want me to walk you to your car?”

  “No,” she answered as she pulled up her hood and darted down the steps of the bar.

  He watched her run through the rain. He’d just danced with a woman for the first time in more than three years, and it hadn’t hurt like he thought it might. He hadn’t enjoyed holding her, and somehow that made dancing with Addison okay. The entire time he felt a strange kind of satisfaction he often experienced working with a horse. He felt like he was doing some good.

  Chapter 7

  SATURDAY

  SEPTEMBER 17

  HARMONY COUNTY HOSPITAL

  DEEP IN THE NIGHT, REAGAN TRUMAN SHIFTED ON THE chair that served as her bed in her uncle’s hospital room. She’d been drifting between sleep and w
orry. Dr. Spencer came in just before sunset and talked to Jeremiah as if he still heard anyone, but she shook her head slightly at Reagan. Her uncle was no longer responding.

  Logic told Reagan the time was near. No one lived forever, but she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone again. As she wiggled in her chair, she heard her uncle Jeremiah whisper, “Sun’s coming up, girl. We better get to the eastern chairs or we’ll miss it.”

  Reagan moved to her uncle’s side, but he looked the same as he had for days. His breathing was so shallow she couldn’t be sure it was there. She took his hand. “I wish the sun were coming up and we were home.” He loved watching the sun rise and set. She’d watched it with him most nights, even when it was cold or stormy.

  She stared at him awhile, thinking of the hundred times he’d told her what to do to take care of the apple trees and how when she didn’t know something he’d always tell her to figure it out and do it. He’d taught her how to live an honest life when no one else had taken the time, and almost from the beginning he’d talked to her about what to do once he was gone.

  She curled back into her blanket, smiling at all the times he’d fixed visitors’ cars or trucks just because he didn’t want his make-believe niece riding in something that wasn’t running right. She’d even noticed him rattling off in his old truck when he’d heard someone needed work done around their place and couldn’t afford to hire it out. When he’d return he’d never tell her much about what he’d done. It wasn’t his way.

  Just as she slipped back to sleep, she heard him whisper, “Sun’s coming up. I don’t want to miss it.”

  Reagan opened one eye and focused on the clock. Two fifteen. The sun wouldn’t be up for hours.

  It never crossed her mind that sometimes a sun rises on one world as it sets on another.

  Chapter 8

  TYLER WRIGHT’S FAMILY HAD BEEN IN THE FUNERAL BUSINESS for four generations and, though he cared very deeply about people, he rarely cried. All his life, dying had simply been the last step of living. Whether a person marched in head on into the next life or fought for every last breath didn’t matter; the end was the same.