talk to?”
“I have family. My sister. I have friends. They’re not all close but there are a couple I can confide in,” she said. “There’s Ruby. She was my supervisor at work but she’s fifteen years older than I am and she’s retired now and yet we’ve been close for a long time. It’s just that...” Ruby’s husband had been ill.
“I know marriage counseling hasn’t worked out. Mine hasn’t, either. Maybe she’s like your husband, put the two of us in a room and Pamela has to win. She’ll do anything to win. But maybe you should think about your own counselor. Just for you. Someone to help you get through the rough patches.”
She had done that once, on the sly, a secret counselor. Maybe she should revisit that idea. “Do you have your own counselor?” she asked.
“I don’t,” he said. “It’s been suggested and I might go that way yet. Right now, things are manageable. Not fun but manageable.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
“Listen...” He paused and glanced away. “I’d like to see you again. Is that possible?”
“Probably not. A complication right now...”
“I’m not suggesting anything illicit, but if you want someone to talk to... I know I wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to.”
“I can’t depend on a man right now, not even for talking.”
“I wouldn’t want that, either,” he said. He pulled out a card. “That’s my cell number. If you want a cup of coffee. Or if you’re sitting on a park bench worrying about things...”
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s doubtful I’ll call.”
“I understand,” he said. “It’s an offer.”
“But you’re a busy guy and I’m a virtual stranger.”
“Doesn’t really feel that way,” he said. “Here we are, two people going through divorces with grown kids to deal with and... You know. It just happened that way. Neither one of us ran an ad or signed up for online dating.”
“I appreciate the offer,” she said, smiling.
“We’ll run into each other again,” he said. “Meanwhile, hang in there.”
* * *
Father Tim was leaning on his hoe, waiting for Beau in a stance that looked like the old farmer stance, except that Tim was anything but an old farmer. Plus he was grinning mischievously, ready to give Beau the business. “Your friend Lauren is very attractive.”
“Stop looking. You’re supposed to be a priest,” Beau said, lifting his shovel.
“A priest, not a corpse,” he said with a laugh. “Did you notice her eyes are violet?”
“Must be contacts,” Beau said. “No one actually comes with eyes that color.”
“If they’re born from a god and a high priestess.”
“Spread the manure on the ground, Father.”
He had noticed everything about her. He loved the sound of her voice, her easy laughter, her rich and soft brown hair that fell to her shoulders. It was the color of mahogany. He loved her sass when he ran into her at the fund-raiser and noticed that when the subject turned to her husband, her marriage, it sucked the confidence right out of her. She had that lean and strong look, like a thoroughbred. She was tall and she had kind of big feet, but tall women had to have a sturdy base or they’d blow over in the wind. And that thought made him smile secretly.
“You’re seeing her?”
“No. She’s going through a divorce. Or will be soon. No, I haven’t been seeing her. It’s like she said, we met accidentally a couple of times, that’s all.”
“How do you know about the divorce?”
Beau leaned on his shovel. “I told her I was separated. The next time we met she said she’d be in the same spot before long. So here we are, strangers with grown kids, getting divorced...”
“What are her issues?” Tim asked.
“I have no idea, Tim. We’re not close friends.”
“But you want to be,” Tim said, then wisely shut his mouth and turned back to spreading fertilizer.
It was true. He wanted to be. “That was the last thing I was looking for,” Beau said. “Pamela kind of cures you of women. She doesn’t look like the kind of woman who’d make you want to jump off a very tall building, does she? But she’s—”
“Pamela needs help, Beau. She’ll never get it, but she’s so temperamental and narcissistic, she’s not going to function well in a relationship. Medication and counseling could help her but she’s probably not open to that idea.”
“I don’t know if it’s even been suggested,” Beau said. “The mood swings almost killed me. And trying to make herself happy with things—outrageously expensive shoes or