Jaded (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Over the next two weeks, JohnScott and I redefined our cousinship. While the Panthers won the district title and were solidly throttled at bidistrict, I realized my relationship with JohnScott had become strained, if not remote. Uncle Ansel and Aunt Velma had yet to voice an opinion about his baptism, but they seemed to have made an unspoken agreement not to mention it to Momma.

Gradually I spent less time with him and more time with Maria, even though he still gave me rides to and from work. Dodd offered me rides too, but I wouldn't agree to that again. I stayed a safe distance from the preacher, assuming he'd get the hint and stop offering, but one day in mid-November, I realized my assumption was flawed.

I sat in the teachers' lounge picking at my peanut-butter sandwich while Maria rattled on about a weight-loss program. When Dodd sat down next to her, she slapped her palm down on the table. “Are you lost, Mr. Cunningham? The Debate Club meets at the back.”

“Very funny, Maria. Or should I say Ms. Fuentes?” He smiled. “I heard a rumor we were being called a debate club.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Maria said. “If the boot fits …”

It shamed me to avoid eye contact, but I hadn't yet figured out my relationship with my own cousin, much less how the preacher fit into it. I reached for a saltshaker and tilted it until a steady stream flowed onto the table.

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Dodd directed the question to me, but I didn't respond. Instead, I scooted the salt into a pile with my fingertip.

Maria bumped my knee and answered the question. “I'm visiting my folks in Amarillo. What about you?”

“We'll make a trip to Fort Worth. Both sets of grandparents are there. And about five hundred cousins.”

His gaze prickled my skin uncomfortably.

Maria looked between the two of us, shrugged, then lifted her lunch tray. “Be right back.”

With my pinky, I made a well in the top of the salt pile, forming a volcano. I felt like a volcano. My impertinence built up so much pressure, I thought I might explode. Maybe I should tell him I didn't need a ride to work and get it over with. To ease the tension, I lifted the corners of my mouth before returning to my sculpture.

My feeble smile must have increased his confidence, because he leaned across the table. “I wondered if you might want to go to a movie with me. On Saturday night? In Lubbock?”

I held my breath.

“Mom's going.” His voice carried a frown. “And Grady.” His hand brushed mine as he slid a finger into the salt, denting it. “We'd be back before late.”

Unbelievable.

Maria was right after all, and I had been so upset with JohnScott, I hadn't asked him about it. What could I say? Going to a movie with the Cunninghams would either turn Momma into a dust devil or send her tumbling into depression again. And I had no idea how a date would affect Fawn and her parents. Maybe even Emily.

I raised my gaze with the intention of setting him straight but lost my train of thought when I looked into his eyes. He held me motionless with an expectant expression, his eyebrows raised.

Had I never noticed his eyes? They were blue. Startlingly blue with dark lashes, and when he smiled, they crinkled at the edges. But more than anything, I noticed how near they were to my own eyes. As we hunkered over Mount Vesuvius, his breath warmed my cheeks, sending a flame of panic coursing through my veins like molten lava.

I leaned away from him, brushing salt in his lap. “I've got to work on Saturday … Sorry.” Grabbing my trash, I stumbled out of the room, and when I pushed through the door of the teachers' bathroom, I still held my lunch sack and half a sandwich. Peanut butter smeared my thumb.

Maria pounced. “Well?”

I slumped against the wall next to the paper-towel holder. “He asked me out.”

“You lucky dog. Where is he taking you?”

“I'm not going.”

She gawked at me as if I'd turned down a million dollars. “The church thing?”

Moving to the sink, I squirted vanilla-mint soap in my palm and washed away the peanut-butter oil. “Forget about it.”

“Forget you turned your nose up at the best-looking bachelor in town?” A tinge of anger colored her words.

“He's not that good-looking.” I examined my reflection in the mirror, searching for whatever Dodd saw in me.

“You're weird, Ruthie.”

Her attitude irked me, and if I didn't get away from her fairly quickly, the volcano churning inside me might blow its top.

But when we exited the bathroom, JohnScott ambushed me. “What was that about?”

I shook my head and hurried toward the office and away from both of them.

JohnScott followed. “Go out with him, little cousin. He's a great guy.”

Halting in the middle of the hallway, I confronted him face-to-face. “What about Momma?”

He pulled his earlobe. “Yeah, I don't know.”

I yanked him toward the wall when a flood of students came around the corner from the cafeteria. “The preacher shouldn't even be interested in me. I'm not his type.”

“How do you know his type?”

“I'm not a church girl, you dufus. Why doesn't he like Fawn? Or Emily?”

“Fawn has a boyfriend, and I refuse to even make a case for Emily.”

“What about Maria?”

His head lolled. “Maria's even less of a church girl than you.”

“Well … okay. But Fawn would dump Tyler in a heartbeat if Dodd took a shining to her.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So why don't you mention it? Get him off my back.”

“Somehow I don't think that will make a difference.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to block out my cousin and his senseless rambling. If Maria had been blinded by the probability of romance, JohnScott was handicapped by the possibility of salvation. I didn't even know him now, and he obviously didn't know me. If he did, he would recognize I'd rather walk barefoot over a cluster of devil's-head cactus than go on a single date with Dodd Cunningham.

 

For a week the preacher continued to seek me out despite my efforts to avoid him. He casually invited me to the Dairy Queen after school one afternoon, which reminded me that he had asked me before. When I thought back, I realized he had been asking me out for a while. Unofficially. Always with a group. How had I been so blind? It made me queasy to think I may have unintentionally encouraged him, and I felt obligated to set things straight even though I dreaded the inevitable conversation.

It happened the day school let out for Thanksgiving break.

As I exited through the side door of the high school, Dodd and several male students came around the corner of the building, traveling in the direction of the weight room. An icy gust whipped my hair around my shoulders, and I pulled my jacket tight and ducked my head.

“Ruthie, wait up.” Dodd jogged after me while the boys made catcalls.

I stopped but didn't turn around.

As he stepped around me, he motioned for his students to go on. Thank goodness.

I clasped my hair with one hand to keep it out of my eyes. “Yes?”

“I can't believe it's already Thanksgiving. It seems like we just moved here yesterday.” He grinned, and his eyes did that crinkle thing.

“Yeah … I guess I'd better be going. It's awful cold out here.”

“Oh, right.” He glanced at the sky as though he were just noticing the weather. “I'm going to JohnScott's later with Grady. Some of us are planning a bonfire out in the pasture. Might eat s'mores.” His hand brushed the back of his neck. “I don't know, but I thought you might come. It ought to be fun.”

At least his strategy had improved. Inviting me to Ansel and Velma's house increased the odds I'd agree. But I couldn't. No matter how beautiful his eyes were, no matter how easy he was to talk to, he was still the preacher. “Dodd …” I shook my head. “You and me? It won't work, you know?”

He blinked into the wind. “Why do you say that?”

“I don't think of you like that. We're friends.” I tried to sound confident but stammered instead. “Good friends … but nothing more.”

“Sure.” He nodded. “Sure, Ruthie.” He took a few backward steps down the sidewalk. “That's fine.” He raised his hand. “Have a good Thanksgiving.” Then he disappeared around the corner of the building.

Just like that. It was over. I had finally done it … and I felt like a jerk.

Trudging through the parking lot, I climbed into JohnScott's truck and flopped across the seat to lie on my back with an arm over my face. Even the dusty farm scent embedded in the seat cushions didn't comfort me.

I didn't move. Not when my purse slid to the floorboard. Not when I shivered from the cold. Not when I heard the athletes filter through the parking lot, calling to each other, slamming car doors, driving away.

JohnScott must've been the last one out of the weight room. He opened the door of the truck and tossed his briefcase onto the floorboard on top of my purse.

“Little cousin?” he crooned. “You got something on your mind?” He lifted my arm from across my face.

I groaned. Why was this affecting me? I should have felt relieved.

Leaning over to make upside-down eye contact with me, he whispered, “I told him why you keep saying no.”

“You what?” I rolled over and lifted myself up on my elbows, almost knocking JohnScott's nose with the back of my head.

“I had to. You're killing him.”

“How?” I demanded.

“He's been nuts about you since the first time he laid eyes on you, but the goof thought I was dating you. Now he's found the courage to ask you out, and you won't go. He thought there was something wrong with him.”

“There is. My mother despises him, and his family would never accept me.” I collapsed onto the seat again but immediately sprang back up. “Wait a minute. What did you tell him?”

JohnScott slid behind the wheel and closed the door, blocking the wind. “That the church kicked you out after Uncle Hoby ran off. I didn't go into detail.”

“You know I don't appreciate gossip behind my back.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Ruthie.”

I stared at a deep crack in the dashboard where too much sunshine had hardened the vinyl. “Well, how did he not know before? I thought church people discussed those things.”

“I guess not. He seemed shocked.” JohnScott's bottom lip pulled tight. “And angry.”

I absorbed the information for a moment. “What did he say?”

“He wants to ask the elders about it, but I don't think he had ever heard of anything like that happening before.”

“The
elders
?” Weary exhaustion made it hard to breathe. “Well, this is it, then.”

The Cunninghams would find out the truth. They'd leave us alone now. Just like the church leaders, like the Blaylocks, like the rest of the congregation. I cringed when I thought of those men talking about Momma and me, but I wanted to destroy something when I considered they might turn on JohnScott, too.

The fatigue in my chest relaxed, and I focused on the one comforting thought in the entire scenario. “At least Dodd won't ask me out again.”

It should've been a consoling balm, a breath of new air, a cleansing solution to my tumultuous problem. But it was none of those. Because the sinking feeling deep in my stomach weighed me down with despair and drowned me in self-doubt.

 

Typically my work distracted me from worries, but that night at the United, I could barely concentrate. Thanksgiving shoppers crowding the store didn't help matters, and after my dinner break, I worked with Luis on carryout because the lot overflowed, and people were parking at the side of the building. I loaded groceries into a customer's car and was pushing a shopping cart back to the front entrance when Milla and Dodd came around the corner. All three of us jerked to a stop, and Dodd's eyes found mine.