Justified (27 page)

Chapter Three

“Lynda, that man wants you.”

I pressed my lips together, scowling at Dixie. “No, he doesn't.” Clyde had fancied me when we were teenagers, but that was a long time ago. Nothing could come of it now. Not after everything in our past. Not after prison.

But Dixie needn't know all that.

I watched through the window as Clyde ambled to his worn-out sedan, folded his large frame behind the wheel, and started the ignition. His gaze flitted to mine briefly before he backed out.

I set two plates on the ledge above the grill and slammed my palm against the bell. Clyde Felton didn't have the gumption to get a decent job, much less find an available woman to care for.

“Here comes Ruthie.” Dixie paused as she sliced tomatoes, motioning to the dining room with a paring knife. “Why don't you take a break?”

I glanced at the clock on the back wall. “Fifteen?”

“Maybe just ten. It's starting to get busy.”

Dixie followed me into the dining room where I slid into a booth across from my daughter.

“I was just telling your mother she should date more.” Dixie crossed her arms and ignored my short sigh.

“I've been telling her that for years,” said Ruthie. “You see how she listens.”

My daughter thought she knew everything. She had found the man of her dreams, fallen for him like a bag of cement, and was now living her happily-ever-after. It was nauseating. I glanced around the diner and wished both of them would leave me be. “I've got no need for it.”

“I think you should date.” Lonnie Lombard sat on a stool at the counter, chewing with his mouth open and giving me a suggestive smile.

I smirked.

“You're all wrong for her,” Ruthie said.

Lonnie straightened on the stool. “I'm a fine specimen of masculinity.”

“It's true you are, but Momma likes men with hair.”

His jaw fell open, and he ran a palm over his slick head. “Bald is beautiful. Or hadn't you heard?”

“Yes, I got that memo, but Momma never did.”

Dixie crooned softly, “I was thinking of someone with much more hair. Long and curly.”

She looked knowingly at Ruthie, and my daughter's eyes widened just before her gaze locked with mine.

A slow breath labored through my lungs as it made its way from my pride to my lips, and I cocked my head toward Dixie. “Could you give it a rest?”

“I will, but you know I'm right.”

A family of five bustled through the door, and I attempted to take the focus off myself. “Here comes a big order.” I made to stand, but Dixie's plump palm on my shoulder stopped me.

“You've got nine minutes left, and I'll dock your pay if you don't use it.” She spun on her heel and made her way back to the kitchen.

Ruthie opened her menu. She didn't say anything, but her eyebrows shot up, annoying me more than anything Dixie had said all day.

That was Ruthie—
Ruth Ann
, as I called her. Hoby and I named her after our mothers, but she was
Ruthie
to everyone else in town—spunky, straightforward, invasive. It was enough to drive a well-balanced, emotionally healthy person over the edge, and I had never been described in such positive terms. But she meant well. I know she did. She wanted me to be as happy as she was, and she hadn't yet realized happiness could evaporate like mist in a single afternoon.

I pulled the band from my hair, fingered the loose strands back in place, then secured my hair again in a bun on the back of my head.

Ruthie used her menu as a fan while she sipped iced tea and merrily chattered to Lonnie and anyone else in the restaurant who looked our way. She talked like those people hadn't hurt her over the years. Like they were her friends. Like she cared what they had to say. It was strange.

The door opened again, and a strong, hot wind blustered through while Fawn Blaylock backed into the dining room, pulling a stroller. She smiled when she saw us, then bumped past every table as she made her way across the room to sit next to Ruthie. “My one o'clock class got canceled.”

“Stop bragging.” Ruthie scrunched her nose.

“I'm not. I'm rejoicing.”

“Same thing, and it's ugly.”

I toyed with the idea of escaping back to the kitchen. “Girl, you want a sandwich?”

Fawn's eyes smiled. “Thanks, Lynda.”

I may have been lousy at conversation, but at least I could remember my customers' favorite orders. Fawn was easy. Chicken sandwich and salad. And I knew to add a side of well-cooked green beans for her baby, Nathan. The kid was asleep in the stroller, but any other time, Fawn would have him in her arms, talking to him, tickling his neck, laughing.

Happy, happy, happy.

Ruthie leaned toward Fawn. “Don't you think Momma should start dating?”

Fawn froze in her seat, and only her eyes bounced back and forth between the two of us. “I think so?”

Lonnie called over his shoulder as he slipped from his stool and headed to the cash register. “She won't have a bald man.”

My irritating daughter smiled knowingly, then whispered to Fawn, “We're not the only ones who think she'd be good with Clyde. Dixie noticed it too.”

My palm slapped against the tabletop. “Stop it, Ruth Ann.”

I feared she might fall into one of her uncontrolled giggling spells, but she sobered when she heard a light clearing of a throat one table over. Her eyes grew to the size of prickly pear, and she mouthed silently, “
Blue
and
Gray
.”

Fawn snickered at Ruthie's nicknames for the two elderly ladies, but I couldn't find anything funny about the situation.

Ruthie spoke under her breath. “I'm sure they would disapprove of you dating a convict.”

“
Ex
-convict,” mumbled Fawn. “And he didn't deserve it in the first place.”

Ruthie stretched to look down at the baby, and then she settled back into her seat. “You know that and I know that, but Blue and Gray don't care either way. Once a jailbird, always a jailbird.”

Their comments rubbed a soft spot behind my lungs. “Clyde may not have deserved twenty years, but what he did was definitely against the law.”

Fawn bit her bottom lip.

“But he loved Susan,” Ruthie said simply.

I jerked my head from left to right, disgusted with both of them, disgusted with Dixie for mentioning Clyde, and disgusted with Clyde all over again. “If he cared enough about Fawn's momma to have sex with her, he should have cared enough not to.”

Ruthie's face pinched into a frown.

I dropped my head into my hands and tilted it from side to side a few times. These two didn't mind pushing an ex-convict into my love life—one who had been convicted of statutory rape, no less—but they strongly disapproved of me pointing out his faults. “Fawn, I'm sorry to talk about your daddy that way, but you might as well look at the big picture. Clyde and I have a lot of baggage in our past, and you girls fancying the two of us could ever have a thing for each other is absurd.”

Fawn dug through Nathan's diaper bag.

“Momma,” Ruthie moaned, “Fawn doesn't call Clyde
Daddy
.”

I could never say things without making a mess of them.

“You're right, though,” Fawn said. “He's not without fault. It's just that I get tired of people acting like he's a bad person. He made one unwise decision that affected him the rest of his life.”

“There were five of us whose lives went into a tailspin,” I corrected her. “Not that I put the responsibility entirely on him. Clyde and your momma just set it all in motion.”

We had been talking in low whispers, and I noticed the blue- and gray-haired sisters eying us curiously. They were picking at their peach cobblers and leaning toward our table.

Gray cleared her throat again. “Have you all heard what happened out at the lake? We stopped by the post office before lunch and got it all straight from the chief's wife. Biggest thing that happened here since—” Her face wadded as though she had just remembered a distasteful joke.

“Since a long time ago, Sister.” Blue wagged her finger.

“Yes.” Gray renewed her speech with fervor. “Biggest thing that happened here since a long time ago.” Her lips puckered slightly. “Any who, the chief's still out there trying to make sense of it, but he called Clara Belle on his cellular telephone so she wouldn't be too worried if she heard something about it on the radio or television.”

“Radio or television?” Ruthie turned in her seat.

“You'll never believe what they found out there.” Blue removed the plastic wrapper from a toothpick. “Over on the south side of the lake. Not a quarter mile from a marina. A couple of hikers were skipping stones on the water—”

“I think folks ought not to skip rocks like that,” said Gray slowly. “Could fill up the lake eventually, don't you think?”

“Or at least make it too shallow for boats. I've never been out to Lake Alan Henry. Is it a shallow lake?”

“Well, don't leave us hanging,” blurted Ruthie. “What did they find?”

“Oh, land sakes.” Gray waved her palm. “They found a bone! A
human
bone!”

The three of us stared at her.

Blue and Gray were the town's most thorough gossipers, but there was no way a human bone could have been found. Not near Trapp. That was something that happened in movies.

Ruthie asked the question I was thinking. “How do they know it's human?”

“It was a
femur
,” Blue bragged. “That's a leg bone, and they called a specialist from Lubbock to come right away.” She added the last sentence with a sharp nod, as though that tidbit of information verified the entire story. “Not to mention the police are trained in this sort of thing.”

A cold chill crept up my back, sending shivers down my arms and legs. But that was silly. I got the same chill when I watched
CSI
.

I stood, knowing I was running away from the conversation, but not caring. “I'll go make your sandwich, Fawn. Ruth Ann, you want a burger?”

Ruthie turned away from Blue and Gray and wiggled her fingers at the baby who was just waking. “That'd be great, Momma. Thanks.”

As I made my way to the kitchen, the two sisters puttered to the register at the end of the counter. Gray tucked her chin as though it would prevent me from hearing her say, “Sister? You think our convict had anything to do with that femur?”

“Might at that,” Blue said.

I plunged a basket of frozen fries into hot oil, and the sizzle drowned out their last mutterings, but I could imagine what they were saying. For as long as he lived, Clyde would be accused of any crime that happened in our little town, whether it be a bone found at the lake or a candy bar stolen from the United grocery store.
Guilty until proven innocent.
Yet nobody ever took the time to prove anything.

Dixie caught my eye for only a split second before returning to her bread dough, but I knew she was still thinking about Clyde too. I glanced toward the front windows where his sedan had been, and I remembered the way he had looked at me as he backed out of the parking space. His eyes had only met mine for a split second, but in them, I had seen anticipation. And hope. And something else.

Another chill skittered down my thighs. Good Lord, Dixie was right.

Clyde Felton wanted me.

Even now.

About the Author

Varina Denman is a native Texan who spent her high school years in a small Texas town. Now she and her husband live near Fort Worth, where they enjoy spending time with their five mostly grown children.
Justified
is her second novel. Look for other books in the Mended Hearts series online and in bookstores.

JUSTIFIED

Published by David C Cook

4050 Lee Vance View

Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

David C Cook Distribution Canada

55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5

David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications

Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England

The graphic circle C logo is a registered trademark of David C Cook.

All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes,

no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form

without written permission from the publisher.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the following versions: Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org.)

LCCN 2014957982

ISBN 978-0-7814-1216-2

eISBN 978-0-7814-1326-8

© 2015 Varina Denman

Published in association with the literary agency of The Blythe Daniel Agency, P.O. Box 64197, Colorado Springs, CO 80962-4197

The Team: Ingrid Beck, Jamie Chavez, Nick Lee, Jennifer Lonas, Helen Macdonald, Karen Athen

Cover Design: Amy Konyndyk

Cover Photos: Getty Images (Thomas Barwick), Veer Images, iStockphoto

First Edition 2015