might throw up,” Matt added to the conversation. Because of the threat, apparently real, Matt rode shotgun in the front while Joel went in the back with Ryan and Caleb. Beth, with a backward glance, headed for her own vehicle. She clutched her ice cream in her arms.
Why he cared about her opinion so much, Joel didn’t quite know. He needed to tell her, as well as Billy and apparently the whole town, that he was innocent.
No wonder lukewarm didn’t begin to describe the way the town of Roanoke had responded to his return so far. Fundraising for the Rodeo Club Fund was tradition in Roanoke, going back fifty years. The Fall Festival was the Friday before Thanksgiving and put preschoolers on the back of sheep, brought a real carnival with a Ferris wheel and a roller coaster to town, and allowed the high school’s marching band—usually about ten of them—to show off. It was fried chicken on picnic tables and a speech from the mayor.
Next to the Fourth of July celebration, it was the town’s favorite, and the earnings helped with the cost of Roanoke’s annual summer rodeo, where Joel’s first taste of bull riding, at age eleven, led to big dreams and, later, exhilarating reality.
The whole town, as well as his family, thought him a thief. This probably, no, definitely, included Beth—although she hid it better—and her mother.
“Billy,” Joel started. “Something’s very wrong here. I didn’t steal—”
;
“Little pitchers have big ears,” Billy said. The three boys moved, but to prove Billy’s point, Matt covered his ears. Ryan adopted an all-too-familiar judgmental look. One pretty advanced for a boy of eight.
The only forgiving one was Caleb. He clutched a raggedy napkin in one hand, held up two fingers with his other hand and informed Joel, “’Morrow. I be three.”
“How about your truck?” Billy asked, settling behind the steering wheel and starting the van, effectively changing the subject again. His lips were still in a straight line. The smile that usually reached to his eyes was missing. It seemed for his grandchildren he was willing to put on an act and pretend nothing was wrong. Still Joel could only wonder … maybe the question really was, How soon will your truck be fixed so you can go?
“I arranged to have it towed to Tiny’s Auto Repair right after they checked me out of the hospital. He wasn’t there. If possible, I’ll stop by tomorrow morning. I think the door will be an easy fix, but I’m a little worried about the front bumper.” Joel didn’t really want to talk about his truck. More than anything, Joel wanted to protest his innocence.
He’d not stolen money from the elementary school’s office, Billy’s office, right before he left town. Thanks to his inheritance, half of the farm, Joel’d had a bank account in the six digits. At the time, he thought it would last forever.
“Tomorrow is Caleb’s birthday,” Matt reminded.
“I won’t miss it.”
If he was invited, that is. He’d not been invited to the house, not really, not by his brother. Billy was acting as the go-between and in just an hour, Joel would be facing a brother who did not want him home. Since Jared’s weapon of choice had always been silence, a literal invitation seemed doubtful.
Chapter Three
Beth’s sister didn’t even mention how melted the bubblegum ice cream was, just quickly got herself a bowl, grabbed the blueberries and motioned Beth to sit at the kitchen table.
Susan Farraday was a middle child suffering from oldest child syndrome.
“Linda called this morning.”
Beth almost laughed, especially when Susan prepared a second bowl of blueberry-covered bubblegum ice cream and placed it in front of her.
“I’m full,” Beth said.
Susan didn’t say anything, just pulled the bowl back to her side of the table. “Tell me everything.”
“About what?”
Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean about whom?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I went over to Solitaire Farm last night to talk to Jared about Matt. That didn’t work. Mom wanted me to drop off some Bible study stuff to Meg McClanahan. I spent some time there eating watermelon and answering a few questions about Trey’s homework even though he’s not in my class.”
Susan looked thoughtful. “Go on.”
“On the way home, I noticed this truck ahead of me. It would speed up and then slow down. I was getting scared at first. Then I started trying to place it. I knew I’d seen it before. Finally, it really sped up, ran off the road, across the irrigation ditch and right into the McClanahans’ fence.”
“When did you realize it was Joel?”
“I think the moment I saw it, but I just didn’t believe. Then, when I looked into the truck bed, his gear was back there.”
“How is he?”
“He seems to be fine. He even helped pick up the boys from school.”
“Does he look the same? Or cuter? Did he say anything about what he’s been doing? I wonder if that means Jared’s letting him stay?”
Beth thought back to the Ice Cream Shack and how tense a conversation she’d interrupted. They’d been talking about the RC money. “He was out of it while I drove him to the hospital. The only thing he said was that his head hurt. And I’m pretty sure he’s staying, but last night he was sure leaving in a hurry. So, I doubt this visit is getting off to the best of beginnings.”
“Is that all it is, a visit? Do you suppose he ran off the road because he and Jared had a fight?”
Beth had already considered that scenario, and it seemed plausible enough.
“Guess you’ll know more tomorrow,” Susan said. “Aren’t you going to Caleb’s birthday party?”
Beth had been there for all of Ryan, Matt and Caleb’s special moments. As Mandy’s best friend, she was a quasi aunt. A few minutes later, she headed for her car, grateful that Susan had failed to notice that Beth hadn’t answered one of her previous questions.
Does he look the same? Or cuter?
Beth could never admit to her sisters that she thought Joel McCreedy looked even better than he had eight years ago. They’d known about her crush and had teased her without mercy. Susan might be seven months pregnant, Linda might own her own beauty salon, but that didn’t stop them from ganging up on their baby sister, especially when it came to matters of the heart.
Especially when the matter of the heart had an arrow aimed at it, but not from Cupid’s bow. Patsy Armstrong, aka Mom, was the sharpshooter in question.
The McCreedy men, all six of them if you counted stepfather Billy Staples, were having hot dogs for dinner. The kitchen hadn’t changed all that much, except that Joel didn’t know where he belonged. The table, from his childhood, was a six-seater, and Joel was pretty sure that the only vacant chair had at one time belonged to Mandy.
His
