Heart of Clay (5 page)

When his dad saw him, he waved a hand his
direction. “Clay, Big Jim’s telling the funniest story. You’ve got
to hear this one.”

Clay walked over with a smile and shook
hands with Big Jim. He listened to him tell a wild tale about
scaring one of his buddies out of six years of his life with a
strategically placed dead snake he’d found on the road. It was
impossible not to laugh or be drawn into the humor and fun Big Jim
seemed to spread everywhere he went.

Big Jim cast a glance in his direction that
looked serious. “Say, there, Clay, my little girl just came home
from OSU with her fancy degree in marketing. She’s working
part-time at the newspaper in town, but she’s looking for something
that offers more hours. Don’t suppose you know anyone needing some
summer help?”

“Sorry, sir, I don’t.” Clay didn’t like the
direction this train of thought was headed. If Big Jim’s daughter
looked anything like her dad, she wouldn’t be on his short-list of
dating prospects. He could hear warning bells clanking in his head
and decided to derail the ride before it ever left the station. “If
I hear of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“That’s right neighborly of you, Clay.” Big
Jim smiled as he gathered his tools and set them into a portable
toolbox. “Your tractor is almost as good as new and ready to roll,
Steve.”

“Thanks for coming, Big Jim. I really
appreciate you running out on such short notice.” Steve turned to
his son. “Clay, would you give Big Jim a ride back to town? The
service rig had one too many calls to make today, so they dropped
him off here on the way to the Robertson’s.”

Clay turned and looked at Big Jim. It was
guaranteed he’d be entertained all the way to town with the man’s
humorous stories. “I’d be happy to give you a ride, sir.”

“No need.” Big Jim good-naturedly thumped
him on the shoulder. “I called my little girl before we headed out
here and asked her to come get me at four o’clock. She should be
here any minute.”

“All right, then.” Clay looked for a fast
getaway before Big Jim’s daughter arrived. “I better mosey on up to
the house.”

“Don’t run off like your tail’s on fire,
son. I’d be pleased as anything for you to meet my Callan. She’s
got to be the sweetest little girl on this earth,” Big Jim said,
packing the last of his tools away and wiping the grease off his
hands on a rag.

“Oh, well, sure.” Clay
wondered who named a kid Callan.
What kind
of name was that, anyway?
He’d be willing
to bet she was a freckled-face, short-legged, buck-toothed girl
with a weird laugh and bottle-bottom glasses.

“Dandy,” Big Jim said with a huge grin. He
turned to Steve and started in on another story while he waited for
his daughter to arrive. “Say, Steve, did I ever tell you about the
time…”

Clay hurried to the shop and hoped his
absence wouldn’t be missed until after Miss Carver came and went.
He left the door open while he checked over the supply list Steve
kept in the shop. Uncertain how long he would need to hide out, he
heard a car pull up and a door open. He couldn’t miss Big Jim’s
booming voice.

“Hello, sweet daughter. Thanks for coming to
get me. Have you ever met Mr. Matthews?” Clay heard a soft voice
respond but couldn’t make out the answer. Then he heard Big Jim
again. “Well, where did that boy of yours get off to? Callan, I
want you to meet Mr. Matthews’ son, Clay. He’s what you’d call a
big, strapping lad.” He heard another soft reply that wasn’t
distinguishable and the closing of a car door followed by another.
His dad’s voice carried in the open door, thanking Big Jim for
coming and expressing his pleasure in meeting Callan.

Clay stuck his head out the shop door as
Callan backed the car around and started down the lane. He dropped
the supply list and entirely forgot himself as he barreled out of
the shop, running full tilt toward the departing car.

Big Jim’s daughter was none other than the
girl who had left him love struck that very afternoon.

Callan Carver.
What kind of name was that, anyway?
A wildly beautiful name that would roll off his
tongue when he asked her to be his wife.

Frustrated, he stopped next to his dad and
watched her little red car head down the lane. Steve dropped a hand
on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze, then flashed a big smile.
“I know you can be shy around girls, Clay, but you really should
have met Miss Carver. I think you would have been pleasantly
surprised.” He slapped Clay on the back and began to chuckle.
“Don’t think I couldn’t see the wheels spinning in your head. You
pictured a shorter, homelier version of Big Jim, didn’t you? Serves
you right for hiding out in the shop.” Steve continued laughing as
he walked off.

Clay spent the next few weeks alternating
between working up his nerve and losing it, plotting the best way
to meet Callan. He dropped a few subtle hints with his mom about
Big Jim’s daughter. His mother, the proverbial social butterfly,
liked to volunteer and be involved in different functions of the
community. If anyone could find out about Callan, Bobbi Matthews
was the woman for the job.

A few days before the county fair began, she
waltzed in the door from one of her many committee meetings and
announced she heard Big Jim’s sister had enlisted Callan’s help
with a booth at the county fair.

It took Clay all of a minute to decide it
was time to make his move. He’d spend the week at the fair anyway
since he promised to help with the 4-H kids and do some judging.
Odds were high that he would run into Callan at some point, and he
would make it a point to see that it happened.

As the first day of the fair got under way,
Clay provided assistance in the cattle barn. He got a kick out of
watching all the first-year 4-H participants with their projects.
He seemed to recall his first time showing a steer ended with him
dragged across the arena by the stubborn beast.

Clay noticed an overwhelmed 4-H advisor and
offered to help get people entered into the right areas. He prayed
his nerves would calm down before he worked up the courage to find
Callan.

After spying the ice cream booth earlier in
the day, Clay stood in the cool shadows of the big barn watching
Callan dip cone after cone for what seemed like a never-ending line
of humanity. She smiled as she served and a couple of older women
in the booth kept up a conversation that made her laugh.

From his vantage point, Clay admired the
pink blouse she wore and her shiny hair pulled back in a ponytail.
In the heat, a halo of tendrils had escaped their confines and
surrounded her face. A smear of chocolate syrup highlighted one
cheek.

Callan was breathtaking.

Clay inhaled a fortifying breath and walked
up to the booth before he completely lost his nerve. He stood in
line behind a group of giggling pre-adolescent girls. Callan
quickly had them on their way. She stopped to rinse off her hands
and the scoop before looking up at him with huge, sparkling green
eyes.

Acute pain hit him as his heart flew out of
his chest and into her hands. He was sure if he looked down, he
could see it beating in her long, capable fingers.

She gave him a smile and asked what he’d
like to order. Unable to say he wanted her by his side for the rest
of his life, he numbly asked for a cone, paid for it, and walked
away. Tongue-tied and temporarily incapable of remembering his own
name, he felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

Not allowing himself the luxury of looking
back at her, he charged around the corner of the big barn, ice
cream dripping down his hand. He spied his six-year-old cousin Jake
and thrust the cone into his hands.

After repeating the process three more times
that day, Clay went home in defeat. He also expected Jake’s mother,
his aunt Maggie, to call for a serious talk about how much ice
cream a little tummy could hold in one day.

He had no idea why it was so hard to ask
Callan out on a date. He’d asked plenty of girls out without any
problem. Unable to put his thumb on what caused the challenge, Clay
walked into the house and headed for the kitchen. His mom sat at
the table drinking lemonade and flipping through a magazine.

One look at his face and Bobbi knew things
hadn’t gone well. Quickly rising from the table, she poured Clay a
glass of cold lemonade and placed it across from her. “Come on,
honey, tell me what happened.”

“I’m such a loser, Mom.” He released a deep
sigh and slumped into a chair with a look of defeat.

“I can’t believe she said no,” Bobbi said,
mindlessly flipping through the magazine in front of her. “From
what I’ve heard she is really a sweet girl.”

“She didn’t exactly say no.” Clay refused to
make eye contact with his mom.

“Well, what exactly did she say?” Bobbi set
aside the magazine and intently studied her son. It was out of
character for Clay to seem so flustered and unsure of himself.

“‘What would you like? Here you go. Thank
you’… Four times.” Clay sighed again, tracing a pattern on the
tabletop with his finger.

“What?” Bobbi asked, confused. Clay wasn’t
making a lick of sense. Maybe he’d been out in the heat too much
that afternoon. “Tell me again. What did she say to you?”

“I went to the booth, ordered an ice cream
cone and left without asking her out… four times.” Clay dropped his
forehead to the table in misery.

“Wait, I only heard part of that,” Steve
said, rushing around the corner from the family room. “Let me get
this straight. You went to the ice cream booth to ask out a girl
and ended up buying four cones. You hate ice cream.”

“I didn’t buy them all at once. I went back
three times. Jake was happy because he got to eat all four cones.”
Clay kept his head pressed against the table, wishing the floor
would swallow him whole. Why did his dad have to be home now? Maybe
if he just kept staring at the floor, his parents would leave him
alone.

Steve couldn’t subdue his chuckles. “Well,
that would explain the call I answered from Maggie a bit ago. She
made it quite clear you are not to purchase any more ice cream for
Jake, ever.”

“Clay, you’ve got to ask her out tomorrow.”
Bobbi tried hard not to laugh, “I can’t stand to your
suffering.”

It amused Bobbi to watch her big full-grown
son act like a lovesick teen. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him
so distraught over a girl. Clay had never been in a serious
relationship, choosing instead to treat most girls like pals.

Although he never lacked for dates, she knew
the girls had done most of the asking. As good looking as he was,
it would have been easy for him to be shallow and self-centered.
Instead, Clay was sweet and kind with a huge heart, even if he was
a terrible tease.

However, now that the ball was in his court,
Clay wasn’t rising to the challenge with even a modicum of grace or
surety. For all his brawn and brains, he acted like a big baby. “Do
you want me to come with you?”

“No!” Clay’s head shot up from the table at
the thought of his mother taking him by the hand and asking the
girl of his dreams if she’d go on a date with her pathetic son.
“No, Mom. I’ve got this. I can do it.”

“Yes, you can.” Bobbi nodded her head and
sipped her lemonade to hide a smile. “You will do it tomorrow. Just
ask her. The worst she can do is say no. Besides,” his mother added
with a cocked eyebrow, “weren’t you voted stud-muffin of your dorm
two years in a row. I’m sure she won’t be able to resist you with
that knowledge. Why don’t you lead with that?”

“Stud-muffin!” Steve howled with laughter as
he sauntered back toward the family room.

Clay didn’t know if he could die of
embarrassment, but if so, he was sure his demise would happen any
moment. He flushed four shades of red and felt the heat of
humiliation sear his entire face.

Bobbi rose to her feet and placed her glass
in the sink. On her way out of the kitchen, she patted Clay’s arm.
“Just ask her, honey. If it is meant to be, it will be.”

Clay arrived at the fair early the next
morning, but soon figured out seeing Callan would have to wait. He
helped judge livestock until nearly noon. When he finished with
that, one of his former high school teachers stopped for a chat and
invited Clay to lunch.

Finally, he walked toward
the ice cream booth. Callan was there, working hard like she had
been the day before. Her hair hung in a thick braid down her back
and already the heat of the day caused a few tendrils to dance
around her face. She wore a blouse that looked all soft and
fluttery.
Soft and fluttery?

Clay decided he was going soft in the head
as he got in line.

Callan smiled, recognizing him as he ordered
another cone. When she handed it over to him, she introduced
herself and gave him a warm, friendly smile.

He accepted the cone and introduced himself,
then blurted, “And honestly, I don't like ice cream at all."

With that inane proclamation, he turned and
strode away. The fire of embarrassment burned up his neck and into
his ears. He hustled around the corner of the big barn and dumped
the cone into the garbage can, convinced he’d turned into a
blithering idiot.

Clay started back toward the ice cream
booth, but his stomach tied in knots and for a moment, he
questioned if he’d be able to keep down his lunch. He made a detour
back toward the cattle barn to hide out for a while.

He managed to stay busy and away from the
booth for the remainder of the day. He’d noticed a few of the
vendors started to close up shop for the evening, so he took a deep
breath and walked toward Callan. She and her aunt Julie, whom he
met on one of his many trips to the booth yesterday, along with a
couple of older women, were cleaning up and putting things
away.