The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek (22 page)

After he closed the trunk, he opened the door on the passenger side, reached in the glove box, and found four small square packages from KFC. He tore one open. Dry, as were the second, third, and fourth. Perhaps if he spit on them, he’d find they still had some soap, but he didn’t think he had nearly enough saliva. He grabbed his bottle of water and squeezed a little on one parched square. When a few bubbles appeared, he scrubbed his hands with that and checked his face in the rearview mirror. His body looked okay, but the shirt…well, he’d have to stop by Cheap-Mart on the way into town and buy another.

Thirty minutes later, Adam had settled in a booth across from Gussie. His new shirt wasn’t as nice as his other but it didn’t have the dark, greasy smudges, either. She, of course, looked wonderful. Happy, full of life, and beautiful, enjoying the rhubarb cream pie in front of her.

“I like buttermilk pie best, but this is a close second.” She took a bite and chewed. “You should try my mother’s buttermilk pie. It’ll spoil you for anything else.”

“Okay.” He put his hand near hers, so his thumb rested against hers. “I’d love to try your mother’s buttermilk pie. She seems like a really nice person. A good cook?”

“She used to be, still is, but with her diabetes, she seldom bakes.” She reached for a napkin, which moved her hand away subtly but effectively. “You’ve met my parents, but I know nothing about yours. Tell me about them.”

“They live in London.”

“London, Texas?”

“No, and not London, Kentucky, either. London, England.” By the time he explained that, Gussie had finished her pie. Then he told her about Miss Birdie in the kitchen. After laughing through that tale, Gussie glanced at the clock. “I need to go.” She wiped her mouth and took a drink of water. “I’ve got a drive ahead of me, but—” She placed her hand on his for a quick touch before she grabbed the check and slipped from the booth. “—but it’s been wonderful to see you.”

He stood, moving in front of her before she could get away. Yes, that’s exactly what it looked like, as if she were attempting to escape. “Can I see you again?”

“Yes.” She paused and seemed to consider if she did want to see him again. “Of course I want to see you again. I haven’t dated much recently. I sometimes forget how to act.”

“Dinner? I could meet you in Austin or Roundville, somewhere closer than Marble Falls.”

“Let’s discuss that on email, okay?”

As he watched her pay the bill and leave, Adam wondered what
recently
meant. Gussie Milton attracted attention. He noticed that as she walked out. Men kept their eyes on her and grinned. Even the men who were with women scoped her out. No lack of masculine interest in her, so she’d chosen not to date. He could ask her about it but, when he asked her anything personal, she often acted like a doe surrounded by wolves. She’d warned him, but he’d hoped they’d made a little headway. She’d come to see him. She hadn’t flinched at his touch.

For heaven’s sake, if Gussie’s not flinching at his touch showed progress, they had farther to go than he’d thought.

Dear Lord, give me patience, and I could really use it right now.

Rex and Adam scrutinized the back of the car and the bumper that lay on the driveway. Hector had tried to reattach it with duct tape and wire. Not surprisingly, neither worked, so Adam had called the mechanic.

“Rusted out, Padre. Don’t know if anything I do can keep it on for long, but putting a new bumper on that car…” Rex shook his head. “Seems like a waste of money. Maybe I could find one at the junkyard.” He leaned down to inspect the body of the car. “But the car’s rusty, too. To get one to hold for a while, it’s going to be a little off center. I’ve got to attach it where I can find some good metal.”

“I don’t mind off center. That’s not going to be the first thing people notice when they see my car. How long will that last?”

“Well, it should last as long as the car does.” Rex rubbed his chin. “Of course, I didn’t think your car would last this long.”

“Thanks for taking care of it.”

“I consider it both a work of charity and an experiment. How long can I keep this pile of…” He stopped, glanced at Adam. His look suggested he’d realized he was speaking to a minister. “How long can I keep this pile of rust going? We’ll have to see, you, me, and the Lord.”

Adam hated those late phone calls. Every time the phone rang, he knew it was bad news. Who called with good news at—he blinked to look at the clock—one forty-five? He fumbled for the phone next to the chair and, when he finally corralled it, mumbled, “Hello.”

“Pops, can you come get me?”

“What is it, Hector?” He sat up, suddenly alert. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

He and Hector had worked out a curfew. Ten on school nights but only with a good reason. One on weekends. First week of school and he was forty-five minutes late, not a lot.

“I just need you to…to come get me.”

Adam noted a swishing sound on the
s
in
just
. “Have you been drinking?”

“Pops, please.”

Yes, definite slurring. “Where are you?”

“At Hansen’s Park, on Highway 29.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Adam jumped from the chair, pulled his shoes on, then realized he couldn’t leave Janey alone in the house. He didn’t want to announce Hector’s call, to explain the reason.

He picked up the phone and called the Kowalskis. “I’ve been called out,” he said to George. “Can I bring Janey over?”

After George agreed, Adam bundled Janey in her blanket, lifted her, and headed out.

“What’s happening?” Janey asked as he started down the stairs.

“I’m taking you next door. I got called out.”

“’Kay,” she mumbled and fell back to sleep.

Thank goodness. No need to explain further.

Nor did George ask any questions. He opened the door and let them into the living room.

“Put Janey on the sofa,” Ouida said from the bed. “She’ll be fine there.”

Once he settled the child, Adam said, “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother,” George said. “Ouida couldn’t sleep so I was keeping her company.”

“Thanks.” Adam pulled out his keys and started toward the door before he realized Hector had his car. “Umm, one more thing. Could I borrow a car?”

“Sure.” George pulled a set from a bowl on the hall table. “Take my car. Leave the keys under the front seat when you get back. We’ll bring Janey home in the morning.”

“Thanks.” With a wave at both of them, he left.

Fifteen minutes later, Adam pulled off the highway and into the park, a well-known site for keg parties. He had to guess that was why Hector was there. He had few delusions about the actions of high school jocks. He’d been one.

Hector stood inside the gates under a halogen light, leaning heavily against an old car with his head bowed. Bobby stood behind him. Adam stopped the car and stepped out.

“What’s going on, guys?” Adam asked. “Did my car break down?”

Hector shook his head but still kept it down, not looking at Adam. “Pops, I drank too much. Don’t think I should drive.”

Adam waited for Hector to continue, the old allowing-the-guilty-to-fill-the-silence-with-excuses-and-explanations ploy.

“I’m sorry.” He paused and forced back a belch. “I don’t usually drink—oh, I’ve had a couple of beers before but not much.”

“Okay.” Adam gestured toward George’s car. “Get in and we’ll talk about it when we get home.” Then he turned to Bobby. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. I don’t drink. My mom would kill me if I did. But I came with Hector and none of the other guys were sober enough for me to want to ride with. Thought about driving Hector home in your car, but I don’t trust it. We could make it a few feet and it’d die again and we’d be stuck in the middle of the highway.”

“I understand, but I’d appreciate if you’d drive it home. It should make it that far without falling apart,” Adam said.

Bobby looked over his shoulder at the old car. “Will you follow me?”

“Sure.”

Bobby caught the keys Adam tossed him but didn’t look pleased.

“I appreciate that, Bobby. Don’t know how we’d get my car home otherwise. I’d let you drive this one”—he pointed to George’s car and Bobby’s face brightened—“but I borrowed it. Go ahead. I’ll follow you, just in case.”

The short caravan took off toward Butternut Creek going about thirty miles an hour. Adam focused on the off-center bumper in front of them to keep himself from lecturing Hector. That would come later. There were two approaches to driving his car: drive really fast so you got to the destination before the car fell apart, or drive very slowly so that if the car
did
fall apart, you wouldn’t be gravely injured. Bobby obviously belonged to the second school. All this meant it was nearly three by the time they pulled into the Kowalskis’ drive.

Seeing the lights off inside the Kowalski house, Adam parked in front, shoved the keys under the front seat, and got out of the Lexus.

“Bobby, let me drive you home,” Adam said.

“Hey, I’m fine. I live two blocks north and no one in this town’s going to jump me.” He loped off.

As Adam headed toward the parsonage, Hector shoved himself out of the car and headed after him. He walked fairly well until he stumbled over a clump of grass and struggled to keep his balance.

“Coffee?” Adam asked when they entered. Not waiting for an answer, he headed into the kitchen and flipped on the coffeepot he’d set for six
AM
.

Why coffee? Because that’s what everyone on television and in movies did, although he’d heard it only changed a drunk into a wider-awake drunk.

“I’m going to…” Before he finished the sentence, Hector sprinted toward the half bath.

By the time one cup of coffee had chugged out into the pot, Hector had returned to the kitchen looking terrible. Only fair, Adam thought. Actions had consequences, and if throwing up all night taught the kid a lesson, good.

“I’m going to take a shower and clean up.” Hector looked at Adam. “Is that all right, sir?”

Hector never called him
sir
. The kid must be worried. Good.

Adam nodded and sat at the table, drinking coffee and rereading that morning’s
American-Statesman
. He heard the water go on, then off a few minutes later.

When Hector came downstairs in clean jeans and a T-shirt but barefoot, Adam handed him a cup of coffee, sat down across from him at the kitchen table, and watched the kid. After another cup of coffee and one more visit to the bathroom, Hector still looked terrible but seemed fairly sober. Probably not the best time to discuss what had happened, not with a kid who had vomited and looked sick as a dog. But he figured Hector would sleep soundly for the rest of the night whereas Adam wouldn’t sleep at all. No, he’d lie awake all night rehearsing what he needed to say over and over.

Taking care of the situation and getting a few hours’ rest seemed like the best choice for him and he didn’t care much right now about Hector’s preference.

“Talk,” Adam said. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m not a drinker.” Hector took a sip of the third cup of coffee, then blew on it to cool it. Finally, he lifted his eyes. “I should know better. This is how my father started. Look what happened to him.”

Adam said nothing.

“Okay.” Hector put the coffee down, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes. “A bunch of us were going to meet in the park, friends from the high school, other athletes, guys I hang with. I knew there’d be a keg there and some guys would bring the hard stuff, but I didn’t plan to drink much. A little beer, that’s all. But I started to feel sorry for myself.” Hector sat up and made eye contact with Adam. “I wanted to feel better. Right now, my life is crap, and I wanted to feel good.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known better. Getting drunk doesn’t solve anything.”

“Why did you feel sorry for yourself?”

“It’s not you, Pops. You’ve been great for Janey and me. It’s…it’s…what about the future? You don’t want me here for the rest of my life.”

“Sure I do.”

Hector’s eyes narrowed. “You do?”

“As long as you need it, you have a home with me. I thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t know, wasn’t sure.” He drank more coffee. “But my education? Janey? What am I going to do with my life?”

“We can’t solve those tonight, but we’ll talk another time, maybe in a few days, when you’re doing better. We’ll figure them out together, you and I.”

Hector nodded but didn’t speak until he finally mumbled, “And then there’s another problem.” He took a long gulp of coffee. “Bree.”

“Why’s she a problem?”

“I really like her, but I don’t have anything to offer her.”

“Are you planning on getting married soon?”

Hector’s eyes popped open. He considered Adam’s words for a second before he laughed. “No, we aren’t,” he said once he stopped laughing. “Not even considering going steady, but I’d like to take her out. Like to invite her to homecoming but I don’t have money for the tickets or a suit and flowers, just like for the prom. I can’t swing all that.”

“When’s homecoming?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometime in September.”

“Have you asked her? Does she have a date?”

“I can’t, but I don’t think so. She expects me to ask her so it’s been a little uncomfortable talking to her and avoiding that.”

“Okay, we’ll talk about that tomorrow, work things out. But right now we need to talk about tonight, what you did.”

Hector nodded.

“Underage drinking is illegal.”

“I know.”

“While you are living in the parsonage, I expect you to follow the law. That means no drinking.” He paused. “No drinking at all. Non-negotiable.”

“Okay.”

“How does the coach feel about drinking?”

“He doesn’t allow it. If he knew we were out there, Coach would suspend us for a game or two, maybe even kick us off the team.”

“Second, and here’s the lecture. Drinking doesn’t solve problems. If you’re depressed, talk to me, talk to Coach, talk to someone.”