Penny McCusker - Noah And The Stork

She didn’t want to string Clary along, but she’d always been afraid of what it might mean for Jessie if she told him outright that they’d never be more than friends. So Janey walked a fine line between not encouraging Clary, but not discouraging him so much it became uncomfortable for him to see Jessie. Walking that line was even more important now, when the last thing her daughter needed was more change in her life.

“I have about a million things to do, Jessie, but you go on ahead. Just be home for supper.”

Jessie headed off, dragging her feet, nothing like her usual upbeat self. Janey knew Clary would cheer her up, though, and in the meantime, she’d go home and weed or wash windows. Whatever kept her hands occupied and her mind off Noah Bryant.

“Hey there, Janey,” Earl Tilford called out as she turned the corner onto Main Street and passed the bakery.

Janey backpedaled a couple of steps and stuck her head in the wide-open doorway. “How’s it going, Mr. Tilford?”

“I was about to ask you that. I heard Bryant’s in town.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Came by way of the usual sources.”

Which meant Dory Shasta, wife of Mike Shasta, owner of the Ersk Inn. If the Ersk Inn was the town watering hole, Dory Shasta was a prospector who spent all her spare time panning for little nuggets of information that she used to her best advantage. In Erskine, gossip was currency.

There was no telling how Dory had found out. Mrs. Halliwell might have seen Noah outside her house two weeks ago, or maybe somebody had recognized him when he gassed up on his way out of town. Or he was here now, which not only gave Janey a serious case of butterflies, it made more sense. No way would it have taken two weeks for such a juicy rumor to get around.

This kind of information ran through town like a bad case of the flu. That thought made Janey smile, since in both instances stuff was coming out of people’s mouths that would’ve been better off kept inside. Not that she resented the gossip all that much, even when she was at the center of it. Some people might not appreciate having everyone know their business, but to Janey it felt like being part of a huge, caring family. Being alone in the world and responsible for a daughter was a little less scary in Erskine.

“You being our newly elected mayor and all,” Earl said, “maybe you could make a law against ex-boyfriends who show up every decade or so and cause trouble. I’m sure Clary would be happy to enforce it.”

Janey didn’t quibble with Mr. Tilford’s assumption that Noah was there to cause trouble. Intentional or not, trouble was what he brought. As for the rest of it, “I think I can handle Noah without throwing around my political weight,” she said, tongue firmly tucked in cheek, “or calling in local law enforcement.”

“Well, at the very least, a girl could use a cookie when she’s facing an ordeal like this.” Earl came out from behind the counter and offered her one of the huge cookies—loaded with nuts and chocolate chips—that he was famous for.

“Just the air in here is enough to put ten pounds on me,” Janey protested, but she took the cookie, broke off a piece and slipped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and let it melt on her tongue, sighing her approval. “Then again, this is worth a couple hundred extra sit-ups.”

“Here’s one for Jessie,” he said, handing her a bakery bag and waving off her thanks. “Knowing you appreciate it is reward enough for getting up at 3:00 a.m. If I was twenty years younger—”

“You’d still marry Meggie and break my heart.”

“You’re right. And my girls would still grow up and leave town.” Earl sighed, but the smile was back on his face by the time he ducked under the pass-through and straightened to look over the counter. “Dee’s stationed in Germany these days, and Andie’s a fancy pastry chef in one of them New York hotels. Meggie’s working on her, but the harder she pushes Andie to come home for a visit, the more stubborn the girl gets. I think Meggie’d be smarter to back off, use that reverse psychology I always hear about, but—” he shrugged “—they’re peas in a pod, one of them just as pigheaded as the other.”

“My money’s on Meg,” Janey said with a smile. Literally. There was a pool down at the Ersk Inn, and Janey had put down her five dollars like everyone else in town. “If Meg can get Andie to visit by the Fourth of July, I’ll have more to thank you for than your cookies.”

She left Earl laughing, stepping out into streaming sunshine and nearly colliding with Sam Tucker. Besides owning one of the biggest ranches around, Sam was also the town veterinarian. As if that wasn’t enough, he was tall and handsome, with a body that belonged on a billboard—the kind that advertised boxers. Or briefs. When Sam was in town, girls sighed and went dreamy, mothers got that wedding glint in their eyes, and fathers made sure their shotguns were loaded with rock salt. Better to chase him off in the first place than deal with the broken heart he always left behind. Sam wasn’t known for monogamy.

Janey had gone out with him once or twice, but she’d been in no danger. Her heart had already been broken before Sam came into the picture.

Sam dropped a kiss on her cheek and plucked the rest of the cookie out of her hand in one smooth motion. “You going to marry me, Janey?”

“Not today,” she teased back, watching the rest of her cookie disappear in two huge bites. “Y’know, Earl sells those right in there.”

Sam craned his head to peer in the open door of the bakery, then gave her the kind of grin he used to charm women out of more than baked goods. “I’ve got a perfectly fine kitchen of my own out at the ranch.”

“Then maybe you should stop flirting with every girl in the state and marry one who can put that kitchen to use.”

“I keep asking you, but you keep turning me down.”

“You keep asking me because you know I’ll turn you down,” Janey said, setting off down the raised wooden walk-way that was a holdover from pioneer days, when the streets were dirt, or mud, and concrete wasn’t a fact of life yet.

Sam laughed, slinging an arm over her shoulder and falling into step with her. “It’s just wrong for a woman to keep this kind of anatomy to herself.” He made a big show of peering over his shoulder.

Janey elbowed him in the side. “Forget my anatomy.”

“Your anatomy is unforgettable. Nobody fills out a pair of jeans the way you do.” Sam faced forward again. “But I should’ve known it was hopeless when I heard Noah Bryant was back in town.”

“When did you hear that?” she asked, knowing she hadn’t managed to sound casual when Sam tightened his grip, turning it into a comforting one-armed hug.

“George Donaldson ran into him in Plains City around lunch today. Said Noah told him he’d be in town on business for a little while.”

“C’mon, Sam, can you believe anything George says?”

“Why would he make it up?”

“Well, it’s George,” was the nicest explanation she could come up with.

“It’s no secret George gets a kick out of winding other people up and then watching them walk into walls, but I don’t think he’s stupid enough to make up something like this,” Sam said. “If Max didn’t kick George’s ass, then Noah would. The two of them never got along. I remember one time…”

Janey tuned him out. She didn’t need Sam’s version of history; she’d lived it. “Do you know if he’s in town yet?”

That question earned her another hug. “I don’t know. But here’s Clary. I’ll bet he knows.”

“Knows what?”

Janey looked up just as Clarence Beeber stepped onto the boardwalk, Jessie at his side. His gaze dropped to Sam’s arm, still draped over Janey’s shoulder. Clary didn’t say a word, but Sam took his arm back and put some distance between them.

Janey smiled and shook her head. Even if Sam’s flirting had been more than big talk, he would never have moved in on a woman Clary was interested in. The two had been best friends practically from the womb.

“What am I supposed to know?” Clary asked again.

“Just the latest gossip,” Sam said, glancing at Jessie, all big ears and wide eyes, hanging on every word—spoken and unspoken.

Clary’s face hardened, and Janey knew he’d heard about Noah’s return already. Even if his expression hadn’t given it away, there was no need to guess how he was taking it. Everything about Clary was starched, from his uniform to his personality, and once he made up his mind, there was no changing it. He had very definite ideas of right and wrong, the kind of ideas that could best be described as black and white. As far as he was concerned, Noah had screwed up, and no shades of gray, like youth or ignorance, could mitigate his crime. But Clary would never say as much in front of Jessie. He might apply the law as if it were set in stone, but he did it with compassion—when he felt compassion was warranted.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d leave it alone altogether, Clary,” Janey said.

Sam snorted. “You’d have more luck asking old man Winston’s prize bull why he keeps charging with the barbed-wire fence.”

“If you’re done insulting me, Sam, you ought to go on out there and stitch him up again.”

“That’s where I was headed, before I decided to propose to Janey.” Sam winked at her. “She turned me down, Clary. Maybe you should give it a try.”

Clary went red from his collar to his hairline. Sam clapped him on the shoulder and sauntered off in the direction of the vet clinic, laughing the whole way.

“Sam’s just giving you a hard time,” Janey said, turning toward home because the longer she looked at Clary, the more embarrassed he seemed to get, and she didn’t want to be responsible for his head bursting into flame.

He started walking with her, but he kept Jessie between them, the poor kid’s head swiveling back and forth like a tennis court official’s, even though no one was talking. Or maybe because no one was talking. They continued in silence for another block or so before Clary spoke. Janey didn’t miss the fact that Jessie got him going with a nudge.

“Can I, uh, give you and Jessie a ride to the graduation party tomorrow?” he asked.

Since everyone in Erskine and Plains City knew everyone else, they’d decided years ago to have one party each year for the eighth graders graduating from Erskine Elementary and the seniors who’d survived Plains City High School. Sara and Max Devlin didn’t have any actual graduates, but they had a nice, big ranch not too far from either town, and they’d offered to host.

“Jessie and I are going out to Sara’s early to help them set up,” Janey said.

“I think it would be a good idea if I drove the two of you.” Clary looked over at her. “You know,” he said, his eyes dropping to nine-year-old level, then back up. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Jessie piped up.

“Just in case,” Janey said to her daughter. “Do me a favor and go on home. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

“You’re going to talk about me, aren’t you?”

“I think we’re going to talk about Noah,” Janey said, giving in to the inevitable.

“That’s still about me. I have a right—”

“You’re nine years old. You don’t have any rights.”

“Janey!”

“Mom…” Jessie said at the same time, making that one word about three syllables long, and loading it with indignation.

“Jessie, you know there are occasions when you get sent out of the room—or sent home, in this instance—so I can talk without having to worry about what I say. Sometimes that conversation will be about you, and sometimes it won’t, but it’s always going to be something I don’t think you’re ready to hear, and stamping your foot and scowling at me won’t change that fact.”