“I did. He stopped and said hi.” She kept her voice light.
He looked her straight in the eye. “Stay away from him.”
TONY’S AFTERNOON HAD been filled with more doctor appointments and medical tests. All the way back to Salt Creek, his knuckles had been white from gripping the steering wheel. The tightness in his chest had nothing to do with his injury and everything to do with the woman who’d walked away from him in the grocery store that morning. He stretched his fingers, but it did little to relieve the tension, or the ache in his jaw from gritting his teeth.
Why was it that the pending investigation at his department didn’t bother him nearly as much as seeing Sabrina? As a police officer, he was accustomed to noticing details others missed. Sabrina’s appearance screamed at him. Her faded jeans, thin from so many washes. Shoes with soles worn down to nothing. She even carried herself differently. Shoulders slumped, as if she had given up on the world. He’d never wanted to see her like that. Dejected. Sad.
When Tony pulled up to his grandparents’ house, he saw Papa sitting in an old rocking chair on the porch, holding a chunk of wood.
Tony gingerly climbed the weather-beaten steps.
“Hello, mijo.” The old man didn’t look up. He opened his pocketknife and began to whittle. “How was your visit with your friend?”
“Fine.” Sitting next to his grandfather’s chair, he let his legs dangle over the edge of the porch. Tony watched with fascination as wood shavings began to fall to the ground. “I wish I’d learned to do that when I was a boy.”
“You can still learn.” Pausing from his work, the older man reached into a bucket next to him and brought out a scrap piece of wood. “Here. Whittling is good for clearing your mind.” He looked Tony over with his sharp eyes. “You may need a bigger piece. You saw her today, didn’t you?”
“Am I that obvious?”
Neither had to say her name. Papa leaned back in the chair, his hands a blur as he carved.
“Yes.” Tony’s hands twisted the wood around and around, wondering what he was supposed to see in it.
“Hmph.”
“She isn’t doing well. What if it’s my fault?”
“We all make our own choices in life. Fault lies within ourselves.”
“Sometimes choices are made for you.” By leaving, what choices had he forced her to make?
Ten years ago Sabrina had had a bright future and he’d had nothing to offer: no job, no home, no money, no hope. When he got a job offer working for a construction company in Louisiana, it was for more money than he’d ever made in his life. But she’d wanted to put college on hold and go with him.
So he made the decision for both of them and broken up with her.
“She hates me.”
“Maybe.” Papa paused from his whittling. “Emotions are like that block of wood. You can look at, examine it, think about it. But until you cut into it, it can never reach its potential. You might cut yourself. You might bleed. But until you cut, you can never shape it into what it could be.” Standing up, he handed his wood to Tony and walked into the house.
Tony stared at a perfectly carved bear.
After a few stabs at his own wood with his pocketknife, he gave up.
Sabrina deserved to know the truth. But which truth? That he’d never gotten over her? That not a day went by that he didn’t wish he could take back what he’d said to her?
Sabrina might hate him even more when she heard the truth, but until he could sit down and explain the real reason he’d left, he’d never be able to move on.
* * *
SABRINA’S GUT TWISTED as she hung up the phone. How naive of her to think that moving here would give Levi a chance to start over.
“What was that about?” Dad took his hat off the deer antlers mounted on the wall.
“Nancy Beal.”
He turned from the door to face her. “The principal? What did she want?”
“To let me know that the school had received Levi’s records and they have some concerns about him attending a regular class.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Dad hung his hat back on the wall. “What else is there besides a regular class? He doesn’t need special education.”
“She thinks I should consider the alternative school.” Her breath caught in her chest. “How am I going to tell my son that he’s not wanted here, either?”
Dad pulled her in for a hug. “They can’t do that. We’ll go to the school board if we have to.”
Levi was already convinced the world was against him. She only hoped this didn’t push him over the edge.
“Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him since he fed the pigs this morning.”
“He went fishing at the pond.” Sabrina glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m going to town to talk to Mrs. Beal in person. Maybe I can change her mind.”
“Want me to come with you?”
Her father stood poised for battle. He wasn’t known to have a quick temper, but once he was riled...
“Thanks, Dad, but this is something I should do on my own. Can you keep an eye on Levi? I don’t want him to know what’s going on. Not yet.”
He nodded. “I think I’ll grab my pole and join him at the pond.” Whistling, her dad put his hat on and strolled out the door.
She watched him heading to the barn. When was the last time she’d heard him whistling? Probably before her mother died. Was he finally getting over his grief, or were she and Levi bringing him out of his shell? She’d moved home because it was what her son needed. She’d never expected her dad might have needed it, too.
* * *
THE MEETING TOOK less than an hour and although Sabrina couldn’t claim victory yet, there was a glimmer of hope. All she had to do was enroll Levi in some counseling sessions and have the therapists evaluate him for anger issues.
Simple. Ha. Try explaining that to Levi. Slamming the door of her old Toyota Camry, she paused at the gate to the front yard. She could hear the faint drone of another vehicle approaching. Her heart caught in her throat. Could it be Tony? He’d never been good at taking no for an answer.
When a shiny, red Lexus came into view, she relaxed. She didn’t know what kind of vehicle Tony drove, but the fancy sports car didn’t suit him at all. She waited by the gate for the car to come to a stop behind her own.
A tall, slender woman got out and straightened her pencil tight skirt. “Hi, Sabrina.”
Sabrina took in the professionally dressed woman. She was older than Sabrina, but not by much. The woman waited, tapping her toes in three inch heels. “Marissa? Marissa Porter?”
Marissa was a couple of years older than Sabrina, but they’d become friends in high school, only to lose track of each other after Marissa went away to college.
“I knew you couldn’t forget me,” Marissa said. Reaching over the gate, she enveloped Sabrina in a giant hug.
“What are you doing here? How are your parents?” Sabrina hadn’t attempted to contact any of her childhood friends since moving home.
“They’re good. Dad retired and drives Mom crazy.” She wiggled her left hand in front of Sabrina, showing off the shiny diamond. “I’m Marissa Butler now. My husband,