He would not have to spend Friday evening alone in the furniture store. He could get a good meal, and most importantly, he would have a chance to go out with someone he never had the courage to ask out in high school. His lack of self-confidence remained, however, and he fretted over why she would want to be seen with him. She had suggested meeting at the restaurant since she already worked in the area, and he’d agreed. For some reason he felt self-conscious about picking her up as if they were teenagers going out. He had too many bad memories from that time in his life.

  Throughout the salad and entrees, they shared about their lives and reminisced about teachers and friends. Kit found it easy to talk to her. She was a good listener and attentive to detail. That was unusual for him. Most of the women he had dated in the past had been focused on themselves. They had talked on and on about their families, work, stylists, friends, and bad relationships until he had felt his brain turn to oatmeal. It was nice to be with someone who didn’t monopolize the conversation or try to always steer it back to herself. At one point he started to tell her about Troy’s notebook of Black Rock oddities but decided there was no reason to ruin a perfectly good evening.

  Courtney’s light auburn hair ended just above the shoulders. Tonight she wore a short-sleeved pastel yellow dress with coordinated, tasteful jewelry. Her brown eyes, flecked with shards of green, were still as deep as Kit remembered, although he had been momentarily surprised when she’d donned a pair of reading glasses to study the menu. Neither of them were getting any younger, but Kit still pictured her as he remembered her from high school.

  Over dessert they became candid about their former relationships.

  “I told you that Doug and I were married,” Courtney said between bites of cherry cheesecake, “and that things ended up not working out for us. Well, it was…a bit more complicated than that.”

  “Isn’t it always?” He offered a sympathetic smile.

  She put her fork down. “He was—” She put her fingers to her lips, as if to keep something from slipping out.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s okay. Even after all this time, some things are still just hard to process sometimes.” She paused to gather her thoughts.

  “We married in 1994, and for the first few years, everything was good. Then toward the end of ’98 Doug became…withdrawn. Distant. It wasn’t really noticeable at first, and when I did pick up on it, he’d just tell me it was stress from work. He was always good with the girls and a good husband, but I could tell that something was different. And then came 2001.” She paused again and sipped her sweet tea.

  “I-I found out Doug had been cheating on me. With a man from Nashville.” Her voice dropped, and she lowered her head slightly as if she wanted to hide behind the tea glass.

  “Oh, wow, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Kit didn’t have a judgmental bone in his body. In fact, his openness and acceptance were qualities that drew people to him. He was easy to talk to and never pretended to be better than anyone else. If Doug was gay or bisexual, that was his business. Kit had no stones to cast—no condemnation—considering his own laundry list of faults and failings, but he was sympathetic to the pain that the experience had caused Courtney.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “It had been going on since ’99. I just…didn’t know what to do at first. I was livid, of course. Not because he was gay, but because he’d lied to me. How many times had he been to Nashville on business, but he had actually been with the other guy?

  “Well, we talked about it. I was confused and hurt. Angry. I tried to understand where he was coming from—and I do now—but at first it was just devastating. I went into a depression, wondering what I’d done wrong. Had I not met his needs? Was there something physically wrong with me that sent him elsewhere? That’s when I started going to the gym. I thought maybe if I could get back to looking like I did in high school—”

  Kit nodded. “You figured you could make it all go away, right? You could fix it.”

  “That was it exactly! I just knew it had to be my fault somehow. Do you know I even had a few people actually tell me that I had done something wrong and turned him gay? Yeah, unbelievable. But I soon came to realize that wasn’t it at all. It really wasn’t about me. He was working through his own identity.”

  “Was he— I didn’t really know Doug. We didn’t hang out with the same crowds in high school. Did he always know he was gay?” Kit took a bite of the steaming, gooey peach cobbler in his bowl.

  Courtney shook her head. “He said he didn’t know back then. I don’t know if I believe him or not, but that doesn’t really matter. I couldn’t stay married to him, which was just as well because he wanted a divorce. My parents nearly fell apart when they found out. They’ve always been very conservative, and it was like having a piano dropped on their heads.

  “Doug and I explained the situation to the girls as best we could. Jillian was six at the time, and Whitney was three. We told them just enough to explain but didn’t go into detail. They were too young to try and process all of that. When they got older, I told them what had happened.”

  “Where’s Doug now?”

  Courtney lifted the last piece of cheesecake to her mouth. Before she ate it, she said, “He and Jacob are together in Nashville. Have been since we divorced in 2003.”

  Kit also polished off the remainder of his dessert. “Do you still see him?”

  “Occasionally. Not as much now that the girls are getting older. They’re both into so many things at school, but he does come to some of their events when he can. It’s funny. They’re a lot more tolerant than my folks.”

  “It’s becoming more acceptable. I don’t think it’ll be long before they legalize gay marriage. The younger generation is growing up in a vastly different world than we did.” Kit slid his dessert bowl to the side.

  “That’s the truth! What’s the worst thing we had to deal with back in high school? Drugs? Our parents catching us sneaking out? Getting drunk? Now there’s school shootings and cyberbullying. Kids can’t play outside anymore because God only knows who might come by and snatch them.”

  Kit smiled. “Yeah, we used to play outside until—”

  “Until the streetlights came on!” she said along with him.

  “When those streetlights flickered, you’d better be hauling your butt home.”

  They laughed at the shared memory.

  “Would you like a drink?” Kit asked. “A margarita or something?”

  Courtney said yes, and Kit flagged down the waiter.

  “So how did you adjust after the divorce?” he asked. “I just about went to pieces after my first. The second—that was a relief!”

  “It was rough for the first two years. You know Black Rock. Most people expect you to be married and pregnant by the time you’re twenty-two. There’s still a lot of old cultural values that people can’t let go of—divorce being a sin, a woman’s place is in the home, things like that. I was suddenly a single mom of two who had somehow managed to turn the all-American high school heartthrob gay.” She rolled her eyes. “I got a lot of sideways glances. I was a bit of a pariah for a while.

  “I told you I started exercising before the divorce to try and hold on to Doug. By the time I realized it wasn’t me, I’d already gotten into a workout routine. I’ve been doing it ever since but for me this time.”

  “That’s terrific. I really need to do that too. I’ve let myself go for too long.”

  “To answer your question, after those first two years, I adapted pretty well. However, I did fall into the new divorcée trap. I started dating again too soon. Let’s see, I found a clod, a player, and a liar before I realized I was pushing too hard. So I made some adjustments to my thinking and attitude. Since then, I’ve gone out a few times, but mostly those have been with coworkers or friends of friends.”

  “Blind dates, huh?” Kit grinned.

  “Something like that, but I’m at the point now where it’s going to take someone really special to get me to give up my independence.”

  Kit didn’t know if that was meant as a warning or invitation.

  Courtney’s margarita arrived along with Kit’s beer. He was delighted with Courtney’s company and with how the evening was going.

  Sure wish I’d had the guts to ask her out in high school, he thought for at least the fifth time.

  Halfway through the margarita, she said the thing he’d been dreading. “So tell me everything about your music career.”

  Maybe it was the beer on top of all the rich food. Maybe it was the guilt gnawing at his soul. It could have been how comfortable he felt around her or the demure scent of her perfume. It could have been all of those or none of them, but whatever it was, he let his walls down and opened up.

  “To be completely honest, I don’t really have a music career. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried! But I can’t get out of my own stupid way. There’s been some…self-inflicted damage that I’m not proud of.

  “I haven’t met anyone famous. I haven’t made an album or been on tour with anybody except for some regional honky-tonk bands. I’ve had some really good opportunities…” His voice dwindled as each one passed through his mind like models on a runway. He shook his head. “Somehow, I always find a way to screw them up. I’m a middle-aged, low-rent guitar player with no plan and no purpose.”

  The rawness shocked him. Kit waited for Courtney to grab her purse and flee the table, leaving him alone like John Travolta at the drive-in in Grease. But she didn’t. She gazed at him, her eyes soft in the low light and a compassionate smile on her lips. She reached out and gently laid a hand on top of his.

  A tingle raced up his arm.

  “Chris, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by asking that. It’s really none of my business—”

  He attempted to laugh it off, but it didn’t work all that well. “No, no, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything. I’m just…disappointed that I’ve let so many chances get away.”

  “That’s true for all of us. Nobody gets everything they dream about or takes advantage of every opportunity. We don’t get the life we want. We get the life that’s handed to us by millions of different decisions, and we do the best we can. It’s what we make of that life that’s important. But I do think you’re selling yourself short.”

  Kit raised his eyebrows.

  “Really,” she continued. “All night I’ve heard you talk about how bad you think you are, how unimportant you think you are, and that’s not true. You were immensely talented in high school, and I have no doubt you’ve grown even more so since then. You don’t give yourself enough credit.

  “We’ve all got things in our past we’re not proud of—things we wish we could go back and do differently. So I try to look ahead instead of dwelling on past missteps. I think you should too.

  “You’ve got a lot to offer. You’re outgoing, approachable, kind. You’ve traveled. You make music. That sort of stuff interests people. They want to hear about places they’ve never been and experiences they’ve never had. You don’t have to be some big country music act who gets to play the Super Bowl halftime show. Trust and believe that you are enough. No one has ever been exactly like you, and no one ever will be exactly like you. Instead of putting yourself down, I think you should celebrate how original and creative you are.”

  She paused to take a drink.

  Kit swallowed hard. His eyes were wide. “Uh, wow…”

  “I didn’t ask you to dinner so I could brag on social media about dating a famous musician. I asked because I wanted to catch up with you.”

  Warmth flooded Kit’s body. He wanted to say something poetic or profound, but all he said was, “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. You’re quite a talent, Chris, and quite a guy.”

  They chatted for another hour before saying goodbye in the parking lot. There was no kiss—just a quick hug—but as Kit watched her drive off in her Subaru Outback, he didn’t care. She had used the word dating during dinner. He smiled as he rolled the windows down to let in the warm evening breeze.

  First Troy, now Courtney. Two people who had definitely made this trip worthwhile.

  Saturday, June 11, 2011

  Kit’s cell phone rang as he swept the store. There hadn’t been a customer all day. The store didn’t receive shipments on the weekends, and there was nothing to assemble or deliver. Leaning the broom against the back of a sofa, he fished the phone out of his pocket. The caller ID said COURTNEY S. He smiled as he answered.

  “Kit? Oh, thank God!”

  Her voice sounded pinched. Harried. He thought she might have been crying.

  “I’m sorry for bugging you at work, but I-I just had to talk to someone. You came to mind.”

  He smiled again, pleased to be the first one she’d thought of. “Are you okay? You sound upset. What’s going on?”

  “I am. I mean, I’m okay. Well, no, I’m not… I’m kind of freaked out. I think someone is following my daughters.”

  The uplifting feeling Kit had been experiencing vanished as quickly as a downpour washed away sidewalk chalk. He plopped down in a recliner that shifted under the impact. He had to lose some weight. “Do you have any idea who?”

  “No. I didn’t even know about it until just a little while ago.”

  “Yeah, you didn’t mention anything last night,” Kit said.

  “The girls just told me. They think they’ve seen someone over the past two days in the bushes or the shadows.”

  Kit watched the occasional car drift by the front windows. “They have any idea who it is?”

  “No, they haven’t been able to get a good look. Jillian says it’s just one person, but Whitney claims to have seen two. They’re upset. I am too.”

  He nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Sure, who wouldn’t be? Like we said last night, it’s not safe for kids anymore.” He paused. An image shot through his head, and he tried not to shudder. “Uh, what time of day have they been followed?” Kit tried to steel himself for the answer he knew was coming.

  “Evenings and nights. Why? Does that mean something?”

  Coldness settled in his stomach. Was it those things that had come for him?

  It could be the Dunleys.

  His stomach felt like a chunk of ice. After the altercation in the pharmacy parking lot, those degenerates would like nothing better than to get revenge. Courtney and her girls would make excellent targets.

  “Have they…have the girls seen them anyplace special?” Kit asked. “Where have the girls noticed this happening?”

  “Nowhere special. Except—” Her voice cracked.

  He heard a soft sob followed by a few calming breaths. He waited.

  “They…they saw them yesterday, not far from our house. In one of the homes still under construction in our neighborhood.”

  Fear surged through Kit. His tone dropped and became more insistent. “Courtney, listen to me. You need to take your girls and get out of Black Rock. You need to leave. Right now.”

  “Leave? But—”

  “No buts. Don’t waste any time. Get some things together. Is there someplace you could go for a few days?” He racked his brain, trying to remember if she had any relatives in the area.

  “We can’t just pack up and leave. I’ve got work—”

  Kit took a deep breath and tried to mask his trepidation. “Courtney, I’m afraid it’s the Dunleys. It’s just the kind of shit they’d pull.”

  The line was silent for a moment.

  “Then I’m calling the police,” Courtney said with defiance.

  He could almost hear her jaw tightening.

  “I’m sick and tired of those inbred rednecks thinking they can do anything they like! If they so much as say something to Jillian or Whitney—”

  Kit stood and started to pace. “I really think you should go. I know you don’t want to, but don’t risk it. Those bastards wouldn’t think twice about—” He left the sentence unfinished. Both of them knew rape and assault were favorites of the sociopathic clan.

  Courtney’s voice hardened. There was no trace of distress, no sound of tears. “I’ll call the sheriff. Thanks for talking to me.”

  “Of course, but I still think—”

  She sighed. “When the girls told me, I just lost it. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I’m calling the police as soon as I hang up.”

  “Okay, you do what you think is best. And you’re not bothering me. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Kit. I appreciate it.”

  The call terminated.

  Why won’t she leave? That’d be the best course of action. Just get away—

  But then he remembered. That was his standard operating procedure. When things got too hairy, too tough, too uncomfortable, he ran away. Like when he’d left Black Rock and his marriages and that band, Old Dirt Road. Every time he just picked up and ran when he didn’t want to face the truth or the consequences. Courtney was a hell of a lot tougher than he was.

  He pocketed the phone and picked up the broom. Shame burned in his gut. He hated it when the truth hit too close to home.

  In addition to the offensive 1970s sofa with harvest-gold, avocado-green, and burnt-orange flower print fabric that he had wrestled out of storage, Kit had also discovered a television set that probably had last been used when Starsky & Hutch was on the air. He had bent and tweaked the antenna enough to get a cross between cheesecloth and a solarized snowstorm. Did stations even broadcast to antennas anymore?

  The screen hissed and flickered, throwing spectral shadows around the office. He stretched out on the abomination of a sofa, its aged and prickly upholstery like sandpaper on his skin. It was after eleven on Saturday night. He stared at the yellowed ceiling tiles.

  Man, I sure know how to live.

  His cell buzzed. It was Courtney again. He thumbed the screen.

  “Hey—”

  “Kit! Help! They’re here. Oh God—”

  What sounded like a struggle in the background came through the cell. The shrill scream of a teenage girl catapulted him off the sofa. “Courtney, I’m here! What’s happening?”

 

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