Greg. Yes, I’m fine.” Ellen’s tone, her smile, was almost that of a child humoring a too protective parent. “Have you met Jay Billingsley? He works at the clinic.”
Greg Richards glanced Jay’s way, nodding, but the smile on his face didn’t quite mask the concern lining his forehead. “Yes, we’ve met.”
“The sheriff paid me a visit my first night in town,” Jay said easily. “I invited him in and we—”
“Sheriff Richards. You did not go over and search this man’s house simply because he rode into town on a loud motorcycle.” Ellen’s grin was filled with a disbelief that could only be genuine.
“No, he didn’t,” Jay asserted. If Ellen didn’t already know about his police record—and shocking lack of family—then he preferred she not find out now when he needed her to feel comfortable with him. “He introduced himself and let me know that he was around if I needed anything.”
The sheriff had crossed Jay’s path twice since then and had been respectful. Jay responded in kind.
“Does your mother know you’re here?” Sheriff Richards wasn’t letting Ellen off the hook.
“If she doesn’t yet, she will soon.” Ellen’s slight derision wasn’t lost on Jay. And he didn’t think the sheriff missed it, either. “I’m okay, Greg, really. David knows I’m here. And why.”
David?
“Oh, well, okay then. Enjoy your breakfast.” With that, the man was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. Whoever this David was, he apparently had clout with the sheriff.
“DAVID IS MY STEPFATHER,” Ellen said as soon as Sheriff Richards had left her peripheral vision. Opening up about her family, about her life, with an outsider went against deeply ingrained instincts.
Still, he might look like a Black Leather kind of guy but he was a professional. Shawna trusted Jay. Ellen trusted Shawna. Ellen wanted to get better. Therefore, she had to confide in him. She should have let Shawna fill him in to begin with and saved herself this awkwardness.
“You a churchgoer, Mr. Billingsley?”
“Call me Jay. And no, can’t say that I am.”
“I didn’t think so. Otherwise you’d know David. He’s the preacher here in town.”
“And your stepfather.”
“Yes. It’s been seven years and he and my mom are still crazy about each other.” In some ways it was hard to believe that much time had passed. In others, it seemed an eternity. “He’s also one of my best friends.”
Let Jay make of that what he wanted.
Nancy reappeared with breakfast.
“I thought you had an appointment at Big Spirits this morning,” she said as she spooned hot oatmeal from the side of her bowl.
“Yes. At eight.”
“How did it go?”
“Good.”
The man kept the confidence of his clients. A point for him.
“I met with a mother and daughter from Phoenix yesterday,” Ellen told him as they ate. “They were looking at the center as a possibility for the mother’s brother.”
“I thought the residence was full.”
“It is. But there are a couple of rooms that have been used for storage that can be converted. After the meeting yesterday I volunteered to do the painting and decorating to prepare the rooms.”
“They can’t afford to hire a painter?”
“Yeah, they can, but I’ve got the time right now, and the rooms could be available by next week, which would work for those women. The man is being released from six months of rehab for a broken hip.”
“So his stay will be temporary?”
“No.” Ellen opened a packet of mixed fruit jelly. “He broke his hip when he ran a red light and was sideswiped. His wife died in the accident. His sister wants to take him to live with her, but the man is twice her size and she still works full-time. She can hire a nurse for home care, but she’s afraid he’s going to mourn and not improve. She heard about us and came for a tour. She has to make a decision this weekend.”
“That’s gotta be tough.”
“Yeah.” People had real problems. Much worse than an aversion to being hugged. “I gave her my cell number in case she had questions or concerns.”
“You’re committed to your job.”
“I love my job.”
He stopped eating and looked at her. “Why?”
The question was intrusive. Penetrating.
She held the slice of jelly-covered toast. She could do this. She could talk to him. “I have an affinity for old people. I think in part because they have so much wisdom.” She silently fought the internal battle to flee. “The kind of wisdom you can’t learn from books—or even always put into words. They teach by example. And I’m a sucker for that kind of lesson.”
“So how do I teach you by example?”
She dropped the toast, the beginnings of a cold sweat coming on.
“I’m not— You’re not—” She couldn’t do this. She’d tried, but…
Jay wiped his mouth, put the used napkin in the center of a pool of syrup on his plate, then picked up the bill. “You ready to go?” He stood and pulled a couple of bills from a wad in his pocket and dropped them to the table.
She nodded then followed him outside. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Every single person in the diner had watched them walk out. She slid her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and resisted the urge to run.
“I’m not giving up on you.”
His quietly spoken statement slowed the cacophony inside of her. He wasn’t giving up on her. Was she?
“I have a son.” Josh. If she couldn’t do this for herself, she had to do it for Josh. “His name’s Josh. He’s five.”
They were standing on Main Street on Saturday morning. Attracting looks.
Shelter Valley protected its own—most particularly Ellen. She’d been in the papers. Everyone knew who she was.
“Did you talk to his father about your session with me?”
“No. Josh’s father lives in Colorado now. He’s got a live-in girlfriend. Josh is with them for the month of August.”
“Oh.”
One word, but it seemed to mean more than a professional collection of knowledge.
