Jaded (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“You all right, Ruthie?”

Saturday afternoon, Dodd picked me up at the United and drove me to his house where we attempted to work a puzzle on his coffee table. But I was decidedly not all right. I'd spent two days robotically performing my tasks at the school and the store while wondering what on earth to do about Dodd. I lifted a shoulder and repeated what he already knew. “Well, Momma won't speak to me, and she's hardly come out of her bedroom since your phone call.”

“Ruthie, I'm sorry.”

“Why did you do that? I said I would call you back.”

“I've told you. I didn't know she would be home.”

The puzzle pieces were dumped in a pile, and I flipped a couple of them right side up. “It's my fault she lost her job.”

“Don't be ridiculous. It has nothing to do with you. Or Neil. She got fired. It happens.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well,”—he swept a palm across the back of this neck—“regardless of whatever happened between Neil and your mother, I don't think he would do that. The man's not evil, Ruthie. He wouldn't jeopardize the livelihood of a family.”

I disagreed, but talking to Dodd about it was like screaming into the wind during a dust storm. He simply couldn't—
wouldn't
—hear me. So when Milla and Grady came in the front door with Dairy Queen hamburgers, I embraced the interruption and stood to leave.

“Hello, Ruthie.” Milla addressed me but frowned at Dodd's back. “Everything all right?”

“Super.” I stepped to the door as Milla and Grady took the burgers to the kitchen.

Dodd looked at me wearily. “Stay.”

His voice said stay, but the look on his face said he needed a break as much as I did. The two of us weren't going to see eye to eye regarding Neil Blaylock or Momma or the church, and I began to wonder if there wouldn't be a score of other topics just as in­surmountable. I hadn't even pointed out the fact that Fawn obviously told Neil about seeing us holding hands. But now wasn't the time.

I reached for the doorknob, but just as my palm touched the cool metal, someone pounded on the door from the outside, and I jumped as if I'd touched a rattlesnake.

Dodd was equally startled, and only after another loud knock did he step around me to open the door.

What I saw on the porch shook my nerves.

The pounding had come from Clyde Felton. “I didn't know where else to take her.” He had his beefy arm around Fawn Blaylock's waist, supporting her as she shook from deep sobs. Her tangled hair fell across her eyes, and she wore jeans and a sweatshirt, but no coat or footwear, except quilted house shoes crusted with mud and ice.

Dodd pulled both of them into the house while Milla enveloped Fawn in a hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, whatever it is, it'll be all right.”

Fawn clung to her, and I noticed a red welt on her left cheek.

“Calm down, now.” Milla set Fawn on the couch and began tracing rhythmic circles on her back.

I stared, slack-jawed with surprise, until Dodd brushed past me to close the door. He positioned himself at Clyde's side while Grady stood halfway in the kitchen, gaping.

“Clyde?” Dodd searched his face for an explanation.

“I found her wandering down highway eighty-four.” His eyes were desperate. “I had just drove over to Snyder … but that don't matter.” He shook his head. “The girl hiked half a mile from her car. Flat tire. She's been like this since I picked her up, but she got worse when I suggested taking her home. Started hollering she didn't want to go back there.” He scanned the room, making eye contact with each of us. “I didn't know what else to do. Where else to take her. I could've changed the tire, but she's in no shape to drive.”

Dodd squeezed his shoulder. “You were wise to bring her here. Come in the kitchen and get some hot coffee.” He glanced at me, silently conveying his intention to leave Fawn alone with his mother, and I moved quickly to the kitchen to escape the awful sound of Fawn's tears.

She wasn't just crying. Her sobs wrenched from deep in her throat, sending unpleasant shivers down my spine, and between each wail, she inhaled as though she had been holding her breath underwater for too long and had finally come up for air.

I pulled the kitchen door closed behind me, even though it obviously hadn't been used in years. The door hung on a warped spot in the floor, and just as I yanked it free, Fawn moaned desperately, “I'm pregnant, Milla.”

The click of the door shut out sounds from the next room surprisingly well, and we were left in startled silence. I turned slowly and leaned against the wall. Grady's eyes widened, and he looked down at the floor. Clyde sighed so heavily, his massive form seemed to deflate and crumple.

Only Dodd spoke. “Well, that explains it.”

Grady lowered himself into a kitchen chair. “Neil will not handle this well.”

“From the looks of the girl,” Clyde said, “I'd say he's already not handling it well.”

Dodd shook his head. “The slap could have been from Tyler.”

My throat tightened. Did Dodd actually think Neil Blaylock could do no wrong? I studied the preacher as he leaned against the back door, and suddenly I didn't like him very much. “Neil will turn his back on her,” I whispered.

Dodd's gaze fell on me with the same weary expression I'd seen all day. “You don't know that, Ruthie.”

Clyde cleared his throat. “She may be right.”

“Surely not,” Grady said. “Neil may be strict, but he wouldn't do that.”

I peered at the ceiling as the oniony hamburgers on the counter made my stomach churn.

Dodd's tone softened. “Ruthie, just because you've seen bad things happen doesn't mean they'll always be that way.”

Clyde fell silent as the air hung heavy between us, but Grady said, “We should pray.”

I bowed my head, grateful for a reason to close my eyes and shut off at least one of my senses.

Dodd prayed peace for Fawn and her parents, health for the baby, and understanding from the community. He prayed for compassion, patience, and wisdom as the four of us, and others, ministered to her. When he said
Amen
, Grady took up where Dodd left off.

I slid to the floor, hugging my bent legs as the coldness of the linoleum penetrated my jeans. When Grady prayed for forgiveness for Fawn and Tyler, I rested my forehead on my quivering knees and covered my head with my arms. Then he prayed for healing for whatever had passed between Fawn and her parents, but that didn't make sense to me.
Why would Fawn ever want to forgive them?

After Grady, Clyde said a brief prayer, followed by silence.

Grady started a fresh pot of coffee.

The ex-convict sat at the table.

Dodd hadn't moved from the corner, where he leaned against the back door. I noticed his slumped shoulders and sad eyes, but he didn't make eye contact, so I laid my head on my knees again and stayed that way for the better part of an hour. When Milla finally opened the door, it seemed all the oxygen had drained from the room.

“She's lying down in my bedroom.” Milla snatched a tissue and blotted her tear-streaked cheeks. “We need to talk.”

Grady spoke first. “We heard Fawn say she's pregnant, but that's all we heard. How is she?”

“She's devastated.” She shook her head. “Fawn finally worked up the courage to tell her parents, but they reacted negatively.”

“She's been slapped,” Clyde said.

“I get the feeling it may have been more than that, though Fawn didn't say as much. Her mother conveyed her disappointment by refusing to hug or console her. I'm not sure she even spoke. Neil did the opposite, calling her a worthless tramp—and I don't know what else—and told her to get out of his house.”

Milla paused as Grady looked from me to Clyde then back to me. “Anyway, he refused to let her take anything from the house, even threatening to rip the clothes off her back. She drove away with him bellowing he would track her down to get the Mustang back.”

“She can stay here for now,” Dodd offered.

“She can
not
stay here.” Milla trembled, then gripped her elbows as if in an attempt to keep her hands from shaking. “Neil is accusing Grady of fathering the child.”

“What?”
Grady grasped the back of a wooden dining chair as if he might pick it up over his head and slam it against the wall.

“Fawn said Neil has become paranoid about the two of you, and he accused her of breaking up with Tyler to throw herself at you.”

“She broke up with Tyler because he's a louse.”

Dodd inspected his brother for a count of five, and then seemed to slip into the role of supervisor. “Grady, even though I don't doubt the baby is Tyler's, it would be best if the Blaylocks didn't see you with Fawn over the next few weeks. It could cause more harm than good.”

“Ruthie?” Dodd hesitated at first, but then said in a hopeful tone, “Can she stay with you?”

The air left my lungs as I pictured Momma discovering Fawn Blaylock in our house. I looked him straight in the eye, irritated he would even ask. “Not in a million years.”

“Call Coach Pickett,” Grady said. “Ansel and Velma will understand.”

“Oh, thank you, Lord.” Milla sniffed. “Velma will take care of her.”

The room seemed to darken around me. These people didn't understand anything. Having Fawn shacked up in my aunt's house was almost the same as having her in Momma's own bed.

Dodd stepped to the middle of the room and barked orders. “I'll call Ansel and Velma and tell them Ruthie and I are on the way with Fawn. Clyde, do you mind changing the flat tire? Mom can go with you and return Fawn's car.”

Clyde nodded once.

“Grady?” He took a deep breath. “Pray.”

After a moment's hesitation, we all began to shift into action, but Milla's soft voice got our attention once again. “There's something else, Dodd.”

I covered my face with my hands, exhausted from so much bad news.

“Neil has called a meeting of the elders.”

Dodd's eyes were a mix of confusion and apprehension. “To pray for Fawn?”

“No,” Milla said. “Based on his accusation against Grady, he's petitioning for your termination.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Velma met us halfway across the yard. “Dear girl, you come on in.” She curved her plump arm around Fawn's shoulders. “Make yourself at home, you hear?” Dodd and I followed them into the house, where Velma placed Fawn at the kitchen table and started setting food items around her. “After you have a bite to eat, you'll feel better.”

I eased into a chair, awkwardly sitting next to Fawn, and realized Dodd and I never ate our hamburgers. No matter. Food sounded terrible at the moment.

Velma flurried around the kitchen. “Dodd, you best head down to the barn. JohnScott could use your help with the chores. Ruthie and me? We'll take care of things here.”

He touched my shoulder as he stepped past me, his fingertips trailing across my neck. Our eyes met for a split second as he disappeared into the mudroom.

My aunt rambled about nothing in particular, and Fawn picked at a muffin. A faint bruise rose along her cheekbone, and I caught myself before I shuddered. Surely the baby would be all right.

Velma must have been thinking along the same lines. “In the morning, I'll call Dr. Tubbs in Lubbock and make an appointment to have everything checked out. Get you started on some prenatal vitamins.”

Fawn's brow wrinkled. “Dad took my credit card.”

Velma shooed the thought away with both hands. “Aw, now, don't worry. Dr. Tubbs is good people. He'll treat us fair, and if need be, he'll know where you can get more affordable care.” Her leathery hand patted Fawn's porcelain one. “The important thing is to make sure the two of you are up to par. You'll feel ten times better once you know your baby is healthy.” A tear balanced on Fawn's bottom lashes as Velma continued. “The rest will sort itself out. One way or another. Now let's get you settled in the girls' room. Ruthie can show you the way.”

Grabbing two extra quilts from the linen closet, I led Fawn to the back bedroom. Velma had already pulled the covers down, and on the pillow rested an old bicolored wind suit and a pair of socks. “Looks like Aunt Velma scrounged some clothes.”

Fawn surveyed the room with empty eyes.

“The bathroom's right across the hall. Clean towels in the cupboard beneath the sink.” I stalled at the bedroom door. “You might need the quilts because Uncle Ansel lowers the heat at night.”

“Thanks.” She stood motionless in the middle of the room.

“No problem.” I waited, feeling a surreal urge to hug her but an even stronger urge to hurtle away from her like the proverbial bat out of hell. “Well, if you don't need anything else …”

I almost had the door shut when she blurted, “Would you mind staying? For a minute?”

“Um … okay.” A stray dining-room chair stood against the wall next to the door, and I rested a knee on it but didn't sit.

Fawn perched on the edge of the bed, seeming to search for something to say. She noticed her soiled house shoes and slipped them off. “So, I guess you've stayed here a lot over the years.”

Were we going to shoot the breeze? I traced my finger along the back of the chair, leaving a trail in the dust. “Valerie and Teresa shared this room. I used to sleep on their floor.” I studied Fawn, recognizing her attempt to hold herself together.

“I remember them.” A faint smile flickered across her face. “When we were little, I thought they were the most beautiful girls in the world.”

I rubbed the dust on the leg of my jeans. “Now that you mention it, they did have a lot of boyfriends.”

A pause followed, and I pulled at a lock of my hair, wondering if I should leave. When I shifted, she spoke quickly to halt my exit. “It must've been nice to go through high school with a sister. Don't you think?”

Strange question. Over the years, I spent a lot of time wishing for my dad, maybe a different mother, but I never thought much about a sister. “Yeah, I suppose it would. My cousins are the closest thing I have to siblings, but if JohnScott had been a girl, he would've been almost like a sister.”

“I can't picture Coach Pickett as a girl.” Fawn chuckled, but her smile faded, and she looked lost, staring at the threadbare carpet. “Ruthie, what am I going to do?”

My foot tingled as it fell asleep, and I wiggled my toes. She didn't seem to expect an answer, so I stayed quiet.

“I have two years left before I graduate, and now I don't have a place to live. No money. No future. I don't even have any shoes.” Her tears had dried. “Milla says my father will reconsider, but I don't know about that. And Dad has such an influence on the church, they'll agree to whatever he says. My friends may not be my friends anymore.”

I searched my mind for words and my heart for compassion but found neither, even though I ought to have had a good dose of empathy. Fawn was in the same spot I had been in when I was seven. Her world was about to change, and she had no control over the results. I felt sorry for her, but pity wasn't the same as compassion. The two emotions were different at the core, and even though I knew the pity I felt for her could possibly, eventually, thaw the ice in my heart … it hadn't yet. And because of that, I faltered at the notion of sitting in my aunt's spare bedroom while my childhood nemesis sorted through her problems.

But Fawn needn't know that.

I eased down to sit on the chair, stretching my numb leg out in front of me. I might not have had enough compassion to say all the things Fawn needed to hear, but I had enough pity to keep my mouth shut and listen.

When Fawn finally stopped talking, Dodd and JohnScott were waiting for me in the backyard. Dodd pulled me into a hug, and his embrace settled my nerves like a drink of warm milk after a nightmare. “I'm sorry I got your family tangled up in this,” he said softly.

Rowdy sat at JohnScott's feet, looking as weary as I felt, and my cousin reached down to scratch behind the dog's ears. “I'd say Fawn got us tangled, not you. Besides, we want to help.”

“Velma's looking after her like a mother hen.” Dodd smiled.

“That's Mom. I better get in there and see if she needs anything else.”

Dodd tightened his arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “We'll come inside in a while.”

It seemed a strange time for him to show so much affection, but I figured we were both emotionally wrecked from the events of the day. I gazed at the pasture, enjoying the cold wind in my hair. “Want to go for a walk?”

Dodd opened the metal gate into the side pasture, still spotted with snow, and we walked slowly, crunching pebbles into the damp sand. It seemed we were both lost in thought.

I assumed he was contemplating Fawn's predicament, but he surprised me. “Can we talk about us?”

“Us?” I reached for his hand, but he didn't say anything else until we were leaning against the cement walls of the holding tank. Either he had something important to say, or he was nervous. Or both.

I peered into his blue eyes, not sure I wanted to be having this conversation.

He used two fingers to push my hair out of my eyes and behind my ear. “I'm falling in love with you, Ruthie.” His grin flashed, then instantly vanished. “You're fascinating … and adorably spunky. You're constantly surprising me with your cleverness and independence, yet I fret about your college plans and worry about your mother because I want everything that involves you to be happiness.”

His flattery sparked a warm glow of contentment inside me, yet at the same time, I felt exposed. I looked away from him with a smile, studying the brown moss waving in the water.

His voice slowed. “I lay awake at night dreaming of spending the rest of my life with you—watching romantic comedies by the fire, putting up Christmas lights that make the neighbors jealous … raising kids.”

My heart raced. He was saying more than he loved me. Good gracious, did I love him back?

He pressed his palm against my cheek, bringing my gaze back to his face, and his eyebrows floated up momentarily before returning to their starting point. “Is there any part of you that wants to be with me like that?”

The crinkles around his eyes made it impossible for me to concentrate. I searched my mind, trying to piece together a response. How did I feel about him? He was obviously very important to me—I'd risked Momma's wrath to be with him. And his kind heart pulled me like a magnet. Even his love for God attracted me because of the way he went about showing it.

But he was the
preacher
, for heaven's sake. Not only did he lead the congregation that had caused Momma so much pain, but he supported them one hundred percent, to the extent he was blind to the faults of its members. I pictured Neil Blaylock leaning over the counter at the diner, whispering in Momma's ear, trailing his fingertips across the back of her hand. And Fawn—poor miserable, pregnant Fawn—who had caught Dodd and me together and couldn't manage to keep the information to herself, even as her own life unraveled.

I didn't know what to say, so I returned my gaze to the water.

Dodd's hand traveled down my back questioningly, but he forged on. “But I also dream of you sitting on the front pew as I preach.” He hooked a finger through the belt buckle of my jeans and tilted his head, imploring me to make eye contact. “Ruthie, I know you're not ready for that yet, but will you study with me? God is the most important thing in my world, and I want to share that with you.” When I didn't respond, he added softly, “I can't go on not knowing if it's a possibility.”

The cold concrete, coupled with the air blowing over the water, chilled me as I slowly formed my thoughts into words. “I know God should probably be the center of my life, and I honestly would like to get to know Him better. But until the church, especially the Blaylocks, stop throwing stones at me, I don't see how I can reach out to Him.” I finally looked into Dodd's eyes again. “That would be sort of hypocritical, don't you think?”

He chuckled. “You're worried about being a hypocrite?”

We were both silent for several minutes before he bumped my shoulder with his own. The action normally would've come across as a laid-back action, but this time it was awkward and forced. “I wish you wouldn't let the church come between you and God. The people may never change, but that doesn't mean you can't.”

My scalp prickled. Did he just tell me I needed to change? Breathlessness washed over me as though I had submerged myself in the icy water of the holding tank, and my heart hardened into a frozen block. God may have been alive and well outside the church, but as long as I was with Dodd, the congregation and all its judgment would be inescapable.

He smiled, oblivious to his piety. “They may be throwing stones, but admit it, you've thrown a few bricks back at them as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“You judge the church.” He sounded tired. “It's pulling you down.”

A puff of air erupted from my throat, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “You can't be serious. I don't judge the church, Dodd.
They judge me
. And they judge Momma. And from what I hear, Clyde Felton, too.”

“But you never take into consideration the motives behind their actions. Maybe they believe they're doing the right thing. Maybe some of them
are
.”

I gripped my elbows, digging my fingertips into the fleece of my jacket.

His shoulders fell. “Ruthie … the world isn't as bad as you make it out to be. You'd be a lot happier if you'd admit that.”

“Happy like Fawn?”

“Fawn's in the middle of a mess, but overall her life has been happy.”

“I guess it depends on your definition of happiness. She's lived with an overbearing father who set her up for failure.”

Dodd's voice leveled. “Neil may be off track on some things, but he loves his daughter. He'll come around.”

“The man is deceitful.”

“No, he's human. Just like the rest of us.” Disappointment smeared his words. “Surely you have compassion for Fawn, at least.”

I raised my palms, then let them fall to my sides. “I feel sorry for her, I do. But if she hadn't told Neil about you and me, Momma never would've lost her job. And now you may lose yours, too, and I can't help but think it's all connected.”

Dodd turned away from me then and placed his hands on the edge of the holding tank, bending at the waist as though he were about to push the cement walls across the yard. He stared at the ground between his boots, his arms rigid and his jaw tight. He remained paralyzed that way until I wondered if he intended to answer.

“Fawn didn't tell Neil.” He finally answered without lifting his head. “I did.”

His words made no sense at first. I had been expecting him to argue about whether or not Neil got Momma fired, not this. My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips. “What are you saying?”

He swallowed. “A week or so ago, I talked to Neil about the church's actions against your family. I told him I cared for you and asked his advice.”

My tongue could form no reply as I studied this man who, only moments before, had almost spurred me to declare my love. He still gripped the concrete, staring at the ground between his feet. With his right boot, he pressed a patch of slushy snow into the sand.

What did he expect from me?

I pulled my gaze away toward the gray lines of the old windmill behind the holding tank, lifting my gaze to the sky where its blades once rotated. When I was a kid, JohnScott and I would climb up there where we could see for miles, but now the windmill was only a useless skeleton, replaced by an electric pump. Things changed.

“This is not going to work,” I said quietly. “
Us.
You talk about loving me, but you don't listen to what I'm saying or validate my problems. Even your love for me hinges on
them
.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him slowly lift his head. “That's not true, Ruthie. I want to spend my life with you.”