The Stolen Suitor (18 page)

So he was not seeing Trix today. Then again, Jeremy knew Chris usually saw Trix and Janie on Sunday afternoons. Was
still
seeing them Sundays.

Which he didn’t get. He and Chris were fooling around every chance they got, but Chris was still dating Trix. He’d said Trix “wasn’t ready” for anything physical, and Jeremy believed him. But it still hurt. Not that he cared if Chris was a friend to Trix and helped her and her little girl out on a regular basis. But he was pretty sure Trix and everyone else still thought they were
dating
dating, and he hadn’t had the courage to ask Chris about that directly.

Jeremy knew he shouldn’t expect Chris to just drop everything in his life because they got frisky. He’d told Chris he wasn’t sticking around Clyde’s Corner. Except now, he felt a little sick about how tentative it all was. He liked Chris so much it hurt. If he could have anything he wanted, it would be to have Chris, for real.

“I read your book,
Shut Away
,” Chris said, and Jeremy about choked on his soda.

“What?”

Chris looked abashed. “I got Mrs. Rollingswell to e-mail me a copy. It’s not her fault. I threatened her bean supply. You have no idea the power a grocer can wield.”

Jeremy was annoyed, and embarrassed, and, frankly, terrified. He turned his face away.

“
Hey
.” Chris put his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t be like that. I loved it. I really did.”

Jeremy picked at some grass, unable to look up. A lock of hair fell across his line of sight.

“I’m sorry that I went around you. Hope you’re not too mad. But I’m serious, Jer. You’re really talented.”

Jeremy swallowed, feeling like he might vomit and cry of happiness at the same time. “Not really.”

“No, you
are
. Look at me.”

Jeremy got it together and tucked his hair behind his ear, straightened his spine, and met Chris’s gaze challengingly.

Chris’s expression was dead serious. “I mean it. I think you have a gift, and you need to use it. You shouldn’t be spending hours slinging burgers when you can write like that.”

“I’ve had three rejection letters from agents, so maybe not.”

“Yeah? Where did you get the agents’ names?”

“Internet.” Jeremy took a drink of his soda. He remembered every line of each soul-crushing one of them. “That’s why I let Mrs. Rollingswell read it. After the third one, I just needed another opinion, I guess. She liked it, but then, she was my teacher, so….” He shrugged.

“Well, God, Jeremy, those agents online must get thousands of submissions from people they don’t know. You need someone who knows people to champion you and help you out. You need… you need to go to college. I know you want to. And I know you feel like you don’t have the money, but—”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what is it?”

Jeremy didn’t answer.
Everything. Nothing. Ma. Me. You.
“Did you really like it? Honestly? You’re not just being all nice?” he asked instead. He never would have had the nerve to give Chris any of his writing. But now he wanted nothing more than to believe Chris “got” his work.

“Yes,” Chris said seriously. “I really,
really
did.”

Jeremy sighed, his nerves humming.

“Look, the college thing isn’t as overwhelming as it seems. I can help you. Will you let me?”

Chris still had his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, and Jeremy looked around to see if anyone was watching them. Ben and Eric were huddled together over a rope. Big surprise. Charlie was watching him and Chris, though. He had a funny, bewildered look, like
queers, queers, everywhere.
But Jeremy knew he didn’t really care, or he wouldn’t be working with Joshua and Ben.

Jeremy turned back around. “What do you mean by help?” he asked worriedly.

Chris sighed. “I took one creative writing class at DU when I was there. Only because the teacher is legendary and he’s a total riot. His classes are always packed. Anyway, I talked to him a few times in person. He’s a nice guy, and I think if I e-mail him and ask, he’d take a look at your book.”

Jeremy huffed. “Come on. I’m sure he’s too busy.”

Chris’s arm dropped, and when Jeremy looked at him, he wore a guilty expression. “Okay, I might have already e-mailed him? Don’t be mad. I was so jacked after I read your book, I had to. I gushed on and on about you. And he e-mailed me back right away and said he’d be happy to take a look.”

“Oh my God.” Jeremy put his head in his hands. “Why not just take a knife and gut me? Spread my bowels around on the ground. Invite some ants for a party.”

“Come on.” Chris nudged Jeremy’s shoulder. “It’s no big deal. You don’t even know the guy. But if he does read it, at least you’ll have another opinion. Right? And it is good, Jeremy. It
is
.”

And if this legendary professor hated it, Jeremy would want to jump off the nearest bridge.

But what if he doesn’t
?

“Breathe,” Chris ordered. Which explained why the river had suddenly gotten very loud.

Jeremy breathed. “I want to have sex now.”

Chris snorted. “You’re that grateful?”

“No, I’m that scared, and I need something that can make me stop thinking about it.”

Chris chuckled. “Okay, baby bear. We just have to survive one more trail ride back to the ranch. I can come over and—”

Chris’s words cut off as they both heard the unmistakable sound of someone taking a fist in the face.

HOLY
shit! Chris thought.

Joshua Braintree had just punched the lights out of Eric Crassen.

Eric lay on the ground on his back, looking up at Joshua with a stunned expression, his hand holding a bloody nose. And Joshua… goddamn. Chris had never seen laid-back Joshua mad, but he sure was now. He was standing over Eric with both fists balled up tight, his face red and furious. He looked like a pissed-off rattler ready to strike.

“Get up and fight me like a man!” he shouted at Eric.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Ben looked astonished as he grabbed Joshua’s arm. “What’d he do?”

“What’d he
do
?” Joshua looked at Ben like he was insane. “He’s been on you like flies on honey since day one!”

“It’s not like that!” Eric held up both his hands in a placating gesture, but he wisely stayed on the ground.

“He wanted to learn how to rope! And tie knots! And…. Jesus, Joshua. Do you really think so little of me?” Ben’s expression went from shocked and bewildered to hurt in a single terrible second. He almost looked like he might cry. “I would never do that! Just because I…. It’s not like—” He wheeled around and marched off into the trees.

“Ben!” Joshua called after him, but there was a heaviness in his tone that said he knew he’d fucked up big time. He huffed and held out a hand to Eric. Eric took it warily and let Joshua pull him to his feet. “Sorry,” Joshua mumbled. “Reckon that was outta line.”

“I probiss it wahan like ah,” Eric mumbled around his bloody hand. The other hand was still raised in a “back off” gesture.

“I reckon not. Sorry, Eric.” Joshua sounded humbled and frustrated. He marched off into the trees after Ben.

Chris felt bad. He felt worse than made sense. Then he realized he’d been pinning his hopes on Joshua and Ben in a way. If they could make it—be a real couple with a real home, and be happy—then maybe he could too. With a man.

Jeremy seemed to read his mind. He poked Chris in the side. “They’ll be all right. Joshua will just have to grovel a bit. But at least you can see how much he loves Ben. I wouldn’t mind someone being jealous like that over me.”

“You wouldn’t?” Chris said with a surprised laugh.

Jeremy shrugged.

Chris thought of how protective the giant Skully had been in
Shut Away
. Was that Jeremy’s secret fantasy? For someone to love him enough to protect him from the world? With his fists if necessary? Chris supposed he couldn’t blame him. But it hurt to think that Jeremy might someday find that guy, and it wouldn’t be Chris.

“I’d better go help my brother,” Jeremy said, standing.

“Looks like Charlie’s already on it.”

Charlie was holding a wet rag to Eric’s nose and had his head tilted back.

“Yeah, but I’m his little brother. I need to fuss over him. Make him feel special.” Jeremy winked at Chris and walked away.

MABE
Crassen felt like a queen as she looked at herself in the closet mirror. Her hair was a deep red and cut in layers, thanks to Karen at the beauty salon. She’d dug out a set of hot rollers she hadn’t used for twenty years and done it up fancy. It lay in curls over her shoulders almost like when she’d been a girl.

Karen had offered to let her borrow a real pretty cashmere sweater and skirt, but Mabe had turned it down. She couldn’t very well show up to clean house in an outfit like that. But she did buy a new bra, one that pushed her girls up where they were supposed to go. And thanks to a new diet, she fit into her old jeans. A black T-shirt with lacy trim from Walmart went on top. And full makeup with red lipstick. Lord, when was the last time she’d worn a color like that?

She was not the girl she’d been. She was forty-two, and the miles showed around her eyes and jawline, in the pinch of her carmine mouth.

“This is as good as it gets, Mabeline,” she said to the mirror.

She’d like to make Billy Stubben regret the choice he’d made all those years ago, to feel just a tiny bit of the hurt he’d heaped on her. Or even just wistful. She’d take wistfulness on Billy’s part, or even a little appreciative glance here and there. It was a modest enough hope, she thought, even for the mother of two grown boys.

BILLY
greeted her politely at the door. His eyes went wide when she took off her coat and he got a good look at her. But he was all business as he showed her around the house.

“You want anythin’ special?” she asked, looking around the master bath.

Billy looked uncomfortable, like he had that one time he’d picked her up for a date at the trailer park and met her parents. Like then, he had on a puzzled expression, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how he’d gotten where he was and he didn’t much like being there.

“Just the ordinary,” he said stiffly. “Dustin’, vacuumin’, the dishes and floors in the kitchen, and suchlike.”

The house sure needed it. Not that it was a pigsty, but it was for certain Billy did none of the things he’d listed, except maybe for the dishes now and then.

“I’d best get started,” Mabe said.

She did the upstairs first—two bathrooms and three bedrooms. Two of the bedrooms were unused but needed a good dusting and airing out. She liked to complain about cleaning, but really, she didn’t mind it. It was a physical job that kept her in shape, and she liked it when the house was quiet and she could let her mind go blank. She liked the way wood and glass perked up with a little rubbing with spray and cloth. She liked putting things in order. And if she was honest, she liked getting such a personal glimpse into other people’s lives.

Their old shoes. The size 6 dresses the older Mrs. Temple kept in the back of her closet even though she’d never again see the downside of size 20. The magazines with big-breasted Asian ladies that poor, widowed Mr. Carson kept under his mattress. She hadn’t meant to find those, but she did have to change the bottom sheet, for goodness sake.

She found nothing similar in Billy’s master bedroom, not even when she took a quick peek in the nightstand.

No, she didn’t mind cleaning, but she did mind how little it paid and how it wasn’t the kind of job people respected. Cleanliness might be next to godliness, but no one treated her like a preacher.

She finished upstairs and went down to the kitchen. She hoped Billy was around, like she’d asked him to be. She had a lot of foolish questions prepared in case she got the chance to bother him.

It turned out that wasn’t necessary. Billy was waiting for her at the kitchen table. “Mabe, will you please have a seat? We need to talk.”

“But I ain’t done workin’.”

“I know that, but I’ve been thinkin’ about what I have to say, and I don’t wanna wait anymore. Please?”

Billy’s face and voice were grim, and Mabe knew this was something important. She didn’t know what, though. Maybe he didn’t want her cleaning his house after all. And wouldn’t that be a kick in the head?

Without a word, she sank into a chair at the nice oak dining table that was practically bigger than her whole kitchen. Billy sat across from her, and he studied her face like he was trying to figure something out. She raised her chin stubbornly.

“When we broke up, all those years ago, why didn’t you tell me you were carryin’ my child?”

It was like getting hit with a bucket of cold water. Mabe gaped and sputtered and was about to deny it, but the certainty on Billy’s face told her that horse had done jumped the fence.

“Well?” he pushed.

She sat straight and proud in her chair to show him he didn’t intimidate her anymore. “We were already broke up by the time I knew.”

“So? You still should have told me.”

“And have everyone and their brother say I tricked you into marryin’ me? That I did it on purpose? Your father especially, Billy. He would have said that, ’n’ you know it!”

“Who cares what people would’ve said? That was
my son
. You had no right to keep him from me!” Billy seemed really mad about it, his voice quivering with emotion.

“You’d already rejected
me
, Billy Stubben. Why would I think you’d want our baby? And anyways, by the time I figured it out, I was over you anyhow.”

Oh, she hadn’t been. Dear Lord, no. Had she ever gotten over Billy Stubben?

“I didn’t reject you! Just because my daddy said you were a gold digger—”

“And you didn’t stick up for me neither!”

Billy hit the table with the flat of his hand, loud. “A person didn’t argue with my daddy. And besides, I….” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what the truth was. And you didn’t give me much of a chance to find out. You just stormed off. Next thing I knew, you were flirtin’ with every boy in town.”