Boo (19 page)

Ainsley brushed her teeth and played with her hair, trying to decide exactly how she was going to fix it for her lunch appointment with Wolfe. She didn’t want to appear flirty, but she did want to do something special. She spent ten minutes in front of the mirror before she decided to go downstairs and fix her father breakfast.

She hadn’t seen him last night—she’d gone to bed early, and he’d apparently come home late—which was probably for the best. She wasn’t quite ready to tell her father whom she was having lunch with. She just didn’t know exactly how to put it. Her father had managed to run off every guy she’d ever dated, with the exception of the
one
that she wished he would run off. She sighed as she swung her robe over her shoulders and punched her arms through its sleeves.

How exactly was she going to explain that Wolfe wasn’t a romantic interest, but that he
could be?
Her father would never understand such an idea, though she might get further with him if she could convince him that they were just friends. However, her father had a very stubborn notion that men and women couldn’t possibly be just
friends, so she knew that idea would fizzle as soon as it spilled from her mouth.

Perhaps she could express herself with boldness, maturity, and clarity. Her father couldn’t run her life forever, after all, and it was high time she stood up for herself and told him how it was going to be. If he didn’t like it, too bad!

Of course, she’d tried that approach before, and her sense of obligation always got the best of her. She melted under his demands and caved to his insistence. She stood in her bedroom doorway and felt her head throb. She looked at her watch. Wolfe would be here in four hours, and she was going to have to resolve this long before then.

It had taken her several days to get something else resolved as well. She’d been so angry with Wolfe Boone for so many years that her animosity had become part of her daily routine. Every morning she’d get up, make breakfast, sip her coffee, and dwell on what he’d done to her town. Certainly, a part of her was still unsure who he was. But as much as she hated to admit it, her anger toward him had been something of a twisted comfort. She was definitely out of her comfort zone now.

Ainsley knew one thing for sure: She had to forgive him. She’d been wrong to hold this kind of grudge for so long. God had forced her hand. Either forgive him and go to lunch, or refuse and let him pass on by.

It did help, she had to admit, that he had apparently turned from the dark and seen the light. Only time would tell if it was genuine or not. But in the course of only a few short days, she’d realized just what all that anger had done to her. It had made her cold. Indifferent. Bitter, certainly. And focused on the wrong things.

Friday night, quietly in her bedroom, she had finally knelt and asked God’s forgiveness for her grudge. Then with all the might she had in her, she forgave Wolfe for what Skary had become.

She’d slept great.

Ainsley quietly made her way downstairs, hoping her father was still asleep. Maybe he’d sleep past noon, and she could sneak out without him knowing. She tiptoed across the living room toward the kitchen and
glanced backward at the stairs, relief filling her at the idea that she might have another hour or so alone.

“Sneaking around for a reason?”

Ainsley whirled to the voice. Her father sat at the table, reading his newspaper and sipping the orange juice she’d squeezed last night while mulling over the forgiveness issue. She’d squeezed nearly a gallon!

“Daddy! You scared me to death.”

His right eyebrow cocked. “Why is that?”

She tightened her robe and swept past him at the table and into the kitchen. “I was thinking of French toast this morning,” she said with a ring of lightness in her voice. “Is that okay?”

“Fine,” he said, but his voice wasn’t as light or cheery. He stuck his nose back in his paper and rattled it around. Ainsley quietly prepared the eggs and turned on the gas flame underneath a skillet. She wondered if her father was just tired. He had always been a morning person, and cheery for the most part. She stole glances at him as she dipped the bread into the egg batter, trying to decipher his real mood.

“Two or three?”

“Two.”

“Blueberry sauce?”

“Yes.”

“More orange juice?”

“No.”

Ainsley sighed and flipped the first batch of toast in the skillet, careful to make sure the edges were crispy but not burned. When she had two ready, she put them on the plate, drizzled the sauce over them, and took them to the table.

“You were out late last night,” she said as he folded his newspaper and found his silverware.

He unfolded his cloth napkin and stared into her eyes. Something was wrong. He was angry, but she didn’t know why.

“Dad?”

He regarded his French toast, but then set his silverware down and
threw his napkin onto the table. “Isn’t there something you want to tell me?”

This doesn’t seem like the right time
. “Like what?”

His jaw protruded. “Did you think you could keep something like this from me?”

“Something like
what
, Daddy? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re sitting across from me acting as if you have no idea,
lying
to me.”

Ainsley felt herself growing angry. “I’m not lying to you about anything! Why don’t you just tell me what’s got you so upset!”

“All right!” his voice boomed. “You’re having an affair with Wolfe Boone!”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “How did you—”

“So it is true!” he cried in anguish. “How could you do this to me? How could you sit across the table and tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

Ainsley held up her hands. “Wait just a minute. First of all,” she said, her heart pounding with so much anxiety she could barely get her words out, “I am
not
having an affair with Wolfe Boone.”

Her father eyed her skeptically. “Well, the look I just saw on your face was nothing short of guilt, young lady.”

“No, that was not guilt. It was surprise.”

“So you’re telling me you’re not having an affair with Wolfe Boone?”

“Yes. No. I mean …” Ainsley shook her head and tried to figure out what to say. Her father waited impatiently. “I am
not
having an affair with him, Daddy.”

Sheriff Parker’s chest heaved with relief, and he almost smiled. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t.” He looked her in the eye. “How could I have believed it? I know my little girl.” He winked at her and cut into his French toast.

“But I am having lunch with him in three-and-a-half hours.”

His fork rattled against the plate and fell to the floor. He stared at her, his cheek bulging with a wad of toast.

“It’s
lunch
,” she said. “It’s civilized, proper, and perfectly normal. Just a lunch. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just lunch. Lunch, lunch, lunch.” Her rambling belied her air of confidence, and her gaze fell to the table.

Sheriff Parker’s hands were flat against the table and he leaned forward, making her look up into his gaze. “Okay, Ainsley. Let’s say it is just an innocent lunch. I want to ask you a question. And I want you to answer me honestly.”

“I always answer you honestly, Daddy.”

“Fine. Did you, or did you not, ask
him
to lunch?”

Ainsley’s eyes widened as she tried to remember. Had she asked him? Hadn’t she insinuated that
he
ask her out? He asked her out first, but that was on a date, and then she declined, and then changed her mind, and so … so … what was the answer?

“By your inability to speak, I think I have my answer.” Sheriff Parker pushed his plate away and stood up, ready to exit to the kitchen. But Ainsley stood too.

“Wait! Don’t you move!”

Her father looked surprised. “Why not?”

“Because,” she said, “this conversation is
not
finished.”

“What more is there to say? First, you lie to me. And now I find out you’re asking men out? And not just any man. Wolfe Boone, for Pete’s sake!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having lunch with someone. And Wolfe is a perfect gentleman, more so than any other man that I’ve been around.”

“How would you know? You’re naive, Ainsley! You wouldn’t know a criminal if he asked to pick your pockets!”

“Well, whose fault is that? You’re the one who has kept me sheltered all these years. You think if you keep scaring them off I’ll die an old maid, here to serve you until
your
dying day!”

“That’s not true. I was perfectly supportive of your date with Garth. What’s wrong with Garth? He’s nice, responsible, has a good and decent job—”

“What’s
not
wrong with Garth?” Ainsley moaned. “He’s nothing I want, Daddy. Why can’t you see that?”

Silence covered their exhaustion as they stared at the floor. Finally Ainsley said, “I’m a grown woman. Why can’t you accept that? I want to date. I want to get married and have children. But all you want from me is to stay around here and keep you company. I love you, Daddy, but it’s not my fault Mom died, and I shouldn’t be punished for it.”

His eyes filled with sadness as he looked at her. “Is that what you think? I’m punishing you?”

Ainsley’s shoulders slumped with fatigue. “It’s what it feels like sometimes. I’m suffocating here.”

“Then leave,” he said, flicking his hand at her, his voice full of hurt. “If you hate it here so much, leave.” He turned and walked to the stairs.

“I don’t hate it here!” she cried after him. “I love you. I just need space. I need to be able to make my own life.”

But he continued to climb the stairs without looking back. After a few seconds, she heard his bedroom door close. Tears streamed down her face, and she kicked herself for her insensitivity. As much as she wanted to express her feelings, she didn’t want to hurt her dad in the process.

She cleared the breakfast dishes. “Just leave.” She hoped he didn’t mean it. Or did she? How could she make him understand that she needed a life? A love of her life?
Just leave
. She intended to do just that. But those words hovered in her mind as if begging to be reexamined.

As she scrubbed the skillet under hot water, she wondered how in the world her father had found out about her lunch with Wolfe. And how did he know that she asked him to ask her? Had he been following her? He wouldn’t do such a thing.

She dried the skillet and put it away. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, she sat at the breakfast table and rummaged through the basket of emotions inside her. She was still excited to see Wolfe, to have lunch with him. But a cloud hung over the day and would follow her every moment.

She prayed for a way to make this better, make it right. But there was no answer back, only the occasional thump of her father’s footsteps, minding his business upstairs.

W
OLFE HAD CERTAINLY
not been on many dates in his lifetime, and he’d only been in love vicariously through one of the characters in his novels. Even so, he admitted to himself that it was a bit strange to go looking for the reverend thirty minutes before his lunch with Ainsley.

As Wolfe made his way around the small church, he found the doors locked. The church appeared to be empty. He sighed and leaned against one of its stone walls. His knees wobbled at the thought of seeing Ainsley again. The more he knew her, the more he liked her. He’d written a lot of scary things in his life, but love scared him the most.

“Wolfe?”

The reverend stood at the corner of the church, with what looked like a litter scoop in his hand. “Reverend!”

“My goodness, what a pleasant surprise!”

“What are you doing?”

The reverend stooped next to a small fountain by the wall of the church. “Scooping up cat droppings.”

“Oh. I like the fountain,” Wolfe said, having never noticed it before.

“That silly thing? What a mess that was. We spent a lot of money on it a few years back. Thought it would add to the serenity of the sanctuary. Unfortunately, all it did was make people need to pee during the service. I’d never seen so many people come and go during my sermons. By the grace of God I finally figured out what the problem was, and so we moved it outside. Now it seems to be a nice bathroom stop for all these cats.”

Wolfe laughed. “Well, that’s certainly a story.”

“What brings you by, young man?”

“Not much. Just … uh …” He avoided the reverend’s quizzical look. “I’m going to lunch.”

“Really? Well, I’m starving. Let’s go eat! Haunted Mansion okay?”

Wolfe shuffled his feet in the dirt. “I meant that … well …”

“Good heavens, silly me!” the reverend said with a wave of his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sitting here assuming you want to go to The Haunted Mansion, and here you are trying to leave that world behind. I’m sure the last place you want to go is a restaurant that likes to pretend ketchup is blood.” The reverend chuckled. “You know, I’ve lived here so long, I just go down there and don’t think much about what I’m eating. I guess you can’t if you’re going to eat something called Road Kill.” He shook his head. “I’m convinced an eight-year-old boy came up with that menu! Well, how about the onion burger joint by the post office?”

Wolfe smiled and thought about what a gentle heart this man had. If only his could be as humble and good. “Reverend, I can’t go to lunch with you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to lunch with Ainsley.”

“You are?” the reverend asked with excitement. “My goodness, that’s wonderful news!” He then frowned. “So why are you here?”

Wolfe laughed. “I’m not exactly sure. I just needed some … encouragement, I guess. Some guidance. It’s been awhile since I’ve, well, you know …”

The reverend winked. “Me too, son. Me too. Do you have it all planned out?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Down to every last detail.”

“Well, throw that out the window because women have a way of messing things like that up.” He grinned. “Just as long as you’re flexible, that’s all I’m saying. They like to be treated like queens, pampered, made a fuss over, but on their own terms and by their own book.”