The Christmas Clock and A Song For My Mother - Kat Martin Page 0,11
wanted to live in Chicago, she had said, where she could experience new and exciting things.
“I guess I found out life in the city isn't all it's cracked up to be.”
The un-smile stayed on his face. With his hard jaw and brilliant blue eyes, how could she have forgotten how handsome he was? But then, deep down, she hadn't. She hadn't forgotten a single thing about Joe.
“You’re a nurse now, I hear, working over at old Doc Davis’s office.”
“I work for his son, Harry.” She tried for a smile but failed. Inside her chest, her heart beat a little too fast. “Doris says you’re part owner of Murdock’s auto shop. That’s great, Joe.”
Joe said nothing. She noticed his hands still curled around the handle of the cart.
“Why’d you come back, Syl?” he asked softly. “Why didn’t you stay in Chicago?”
She found a bit of courage and stiffened her spine. “Dreyerville is my home, Joe. It always has been. When Aunt Bessie died, I realized this was where I wanted to be.”
“I heard about your aunt. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze ran over her but there was only insolence in his expression, none of the softness he used to reserve just for her. “You should have stayed in the city, Syl.”
“I have the same right to be here as you do, Joe.”
He made no reply but neither did he move out of her way. Another cart rolled up behind him. Joe shoved his cart a little to the right so the gray-haired man could pass but he still blocked Syl’s way. “You never got married?”
“No.”
“I figured you’d marry one of those rich, city boys.”
“I didn’t go there for that.”
“No?” His mouth turned hard. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me the reason you did go. What you thought you’d find in Chicago that you couldn’t find right here with me.” He started pushing his basket, angling it so it rolled past hers without touching it. “See ya around, Syl.”
He didn’t look at her again, just kept pushing the cart straight ahead. He stopped and tossed in a jar of pickles, then rounded the end of the aisle and disappeared out of sight.
As Doris walked back toward the cart, Syl released the breath she had been holding but regret remained tight in her chest.
Doris dropped a head of lettuce into the basket. “I guess Joe was surprised to see you.”
“Not really. He knew I was in town. There aren’t many secrets in Dreyerville.”
“Not many, but there’s still a few.” Like the truth about why you left, Doris’s expression seemed to say.
Syl wished she could tell her. Before that, she had to work up the courage to tell Joe. After what she had put him through, he deserved to hear it before anyone else.
“He’s turned into a fine man,” Doris said.
Syl was silent.
“After all the trouble he had, it’s nice he’s been able to make something of himself.”
Syl felt the unexpected sting of tears. “He was supposed to finish college. I always thought he would.”
“I think he likes what he’s doing. He’s real good at it.”
“Yes, I imagine he is,” she said taking a calming breath. “Joe was always good at whatever he
did.”
“Maybe you should talk to him. Appears to me the two of you have left a lot unsaid.”
Syl looked down the aisle where Joe’s tall figure had disappeared. Doris was right. There was a whole lot left unsaid and she would have to say it soon. She wondered what would happen when she
did.
Joe walked out of King’s and got into his red ’68 Mustang. It had been a rusty pile of junk when he’d bought it the year he’d come back to town. Since then, he’d put in new black leather seats, replaced the engine and the quarter panels, souped it up, and added chrome wheels. When it came to cars, he was still a kid at heart and that probably wouldn’t change.
Besides, he had an old pickup parked at the shop to use when they needed to haul stuff. Joe fired up the powerful engine and threw the car into reverse. He hit the gas a little harder than he meant to and shot out of his parking space in the supermarket lot.
He’d known she was in town. Charlie had heard the news down at the cafe and thought he’d want to know. Sooner or later, he was bound to run into her.
He just didn’t think he’d get mad.
After three years in prison, he thought he was over that kind of reaction. But