a word. She’d had three jobs in a year, all ending in being laid off. None in publishing. She was not moving up or working on her book. The chance of anyone from Crossroads filling a bookstore shelf was highly unlikely, with her manuscript unfinished and Tim’s novels all ebooks.
If the Crossroads Bookstore ever opened, the “local author” shelf would be empty.
Lauren jumped out of her self-pity when her phone buzzed.
Tim O’Grady’s name flashed along with his smiling face. She grinned and answered.
“Hello, Hemingway, don’t tell me you’ve just finished another book.” Lauren tried to sound happy. He always called to celebrate over the phone when he finished anything. The outline. The edit. The final draft.
She always acted excited, and she suspected he always tried his best to sound sober.
“Hi, L.”
For once he actually did sound sober.
“You able to talk? Not on a date or anything?” He paused. When she didn’t answer, he added, “And no, before you ask, the book’s not finished. Tonight I’m dealing with real life.”
“I’m home.” She dropped to the couch. “Alone. What’s up? Talk to me.” She needed a little bit of home, and talking to the boy she’d grown up next door to might help.
“I don’t know what you can do about it, but I need help. We’ve got a real mess here, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“What’s happened?” She could feel bad news coming and wished someone would invent an umbrella that could protect her for just one breath so she would be ready.
“Thatcher Jones is in jail.” Tim said the words fast, as if he had to get them out of his mouth. “He’s eighteen, so no juvie for him. He’s locked upstairs at the county offices.”
“What! Does Pop know? What happened? Is he okay?”
“Slow down, L.” Tim’s laugh didn’t have much humor in it. “Of course your pop knows. He’s the one who arrested him. Which was lucky for the kid. Thatcher’s easygoing, but when he gets mad, he blows up. Your pop can handle him.”
“Facts, Tim, give me the facts.”
“You know that truck stop on the Lubbock Highway? The one where we used to stop because you couldn’t make it all the way home from college without a potty break, then you’d complain about how dirty it was?”
“I remember. It has a little grocery store on one side. Carries two cans of everything, including motor oil.”
“Well, I don’t know why Thatcher was out there. It’s the opposite direction from Charley Collins’s place, and he said he was heading home from school. You’d think Charley would be a good influence on him. But I guess some people are just destined to cross with the law.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. Charley Collins had been as reckless as they come when he was in high school. His own father disowned him, but Charley was a good man and so was Thatcher. “Tim, stop sounding like a line from a book. Get back to what happened to Thatcher.”
She swore she could almost hear Tim nodding. “Right. Thatcher was in the store out at the truck stop with a backpack full of groceries that hadn’t been bought. He said he was bringing them back, but old Luther, who owns the place, didn’t believe him. Called Thatcher nothing but a lying thief. Said he’d known three generations of his people, and they were all trash.”
“What happened next?”
“Thatcher swung. Knocked Luther out, I heard.”
Lauren closed her eyes, almost able to see the scene in her mind. “Go on,” she whispered into her phone.
“Thatcher was the one who called 911. When the sheriff and medics got there, Luther said he was pressing charges for assault and robbery. The medics took Luther to the clinic to be checked, and your dad took Thatcher to jail.”
“No!”
Tim swore. “Believe me, L, your pop wasn’t happy about it. He looked like he was thinking of strangling the kid for making him do it.”
“When did this happen?”
“A couple hours ago. When I heard the sirens, I drove over to the county offices thinking whatever was happening might give me a plot idea. I could hear Thatcher yelling the minute I walked in the door. He was mad and scared and all wrapped up in nervous energy.”
Tim finally paused. When he spoke again, his words came slowly. “We can’t let him go to prison, L.”
She thought of mentioning that they were not his parents, but in a strange way the whole town was. Thatcher Jones had been over a year behind in school and living on the fringes of right and wrong when Charley Collins at the Lone Heart Ranch took him in. Anyone could see that the kid had a heart bigger than Texas, but he was proud and had a stubborn streak.
“What do we do?” Tim asked in a dull tone, as if he really didn’t expect her to answer.
“You’re right. We have to fix this. Thatcher saved Pop’s life once. He might have been only fourteen or fifteen then, but he ran through gunfire to get Pop to safety. Pop will do his job, he’s always played by the book, but he’ll help where he can, too.” Her logical mind began to put all the pieces she knew together. “Why would Thatcher steal food? I’ve heard Charley’s place is going great.”
“He swears he didn’t. Says he was just bringing the canned goods back, but he says he doesn’t remember who he got them from. Wouldn’t even tell the sheriff if it was a man or woman who must have stole them in the first place. Just says he can’t say.” Tim laughed. “While Luther was out cold, Thatcher put the food back on the shelf, so there is some confusion as to exactly what was taken.”
“So there is no evidence of a crime?”
“Right, unless you count the shiner on Luther’s face.” Tim hesitated. “L, you were in law school once. You’ll figure out something.”
“I never took the bar, remember. I decided to be a writer. Only that doesn’t seem to be working out so well for me. I don’t think taking customer complaints at the mall counts as training.” She didn’t want to go into all the reasons she was failing. Part of her wanted to simply say she was failing to thrive out in the real world.
“Come home.” Tim ended the silence, his voice already pulling her. “Thatcher needs you and I miss you.”
“I’ll see if I can get off by noon tomorrow. I’ll be there by five.”
“Great.” Tim hesitated. “How about staying with me this time? I’ve completely remodeled my folks’ old place on the lake. You’d like it. Plus, your pop knows you’re an adult. He’d understand. You could just say we’re having an adult sleepover.”
“I’ll think about it,” she answered. Tim had asked before, but she wasn’t ready for any commitment between them. Staying over at his place meant sleeping together. “I’ll call when I’m close to Crossroads so you can meet me at the county offices.” She hung up without saying goodbye,
