Page 40 of Plentywood
“Don’t tell anyone that. People don’t tend to believe things like rich people having problems,” I stated.
Agnes straightened up in the chair, leaning forward. “So, kiddo. Why are you really here?” she asked. “Don’t try to put one over on me, either. Youngsters such as yourself don’t just show up in godforsaken towns like ours without a reason. What’s yours?”
I nervously shifted in my chair, looking every which way but at her. “Apparently a promise,” I finally confessed. “To my grandmother.”
Agnes sat back and laughed out loud. “Well, look at you being sweet and shit. Yourgramma? Ain’t that the sweetest shit I’ve heard this year,” she said. “I knew your gramma, and frankly, she was a cunt.”
“Wha…?” I gasped.
“Mrs. Hawthorne was a hoity-toity bitch,” she stated. “Walking around town like she owned it. What a bitch!” Agnes paused and remained locked on me. “Well, to be honest, she did own most of it, but still, she was a real piece of work. And you made a promise to that old broad?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, nodding. “And the worst part,” I added. “So I could get access to my trust fund that she left me.”
“And when do you get access to this trust fund you’re talking about?” she asked.
“Next spring, it’ll still be another four years.”
“Not that you’re counting down the days, huh?” she asked. “Then what? We rebuild the theater then?”
My face was on fire. I couldn’t hide a secret if my life depended on it, but I had to try this time. There was no way I wanted to tell Agnes I was out of here next year. But even worse, so was the clinic.
“Maybe. You know, if we could wait?” I inquired.
Agnes slammed her hand on the desktop, scaring the literal shit out of me. “Why wait?” she asked. “I’ll pool some cash with whatever you have, doc,” she declared, beaming at me. “If you see your way to paying me back in four years, then so be it. If not, well, fuck it! I’m just happy you’re here.”
“Really?” I asked. “You’d do that?”
She stood and came to stand beside my chair, resting her hand on my shoulder. “I will do exactly that. I like you, kiddo,” she said. “I have a good feeling about you, plus I trust you.”
I wanted to shrink into a tiny slice of something and slink away. She had no idea what a fraud I was or that I wouldn’t be here next year. Either would her job, or medical care for her friends and family. I liked hearing the kind words she’d said about me. Words like hers were seldom used on me. In fact, they weren’t used. Period.
“Agnes,” I whispered as she turned to walk away, wanting to admit the truth to her.
She turned to face me. “Yes, son?”
Her calling me son stabbed at my heart. I had to tell her the truth. Agnes deserved that much. She was a very unusual woman, but she had taken me under her wing like no one hadever done. Not even my own mother or father showed me the care she demonstrated.
“Thank you,” I said, avoiding what really needed to be uttered.
“Well, of course,” she replied. “I got you.”
I bit my lower lip and watched as she opened her locker and slid into her smock, an action she’d probably done a million times. Agnes was a good nurse. Practically a doctor if truth be told. In fact, she could run this clinic without a doctor, but the law prevented that.
There was a softness to Agnes that I doubted many got to see. And I was barely in the beginning of a relationship with her. Where would we be in a year? The affection that I felt in my heart and the demand for honesty from my conscience were in a battle. She deserved the truth, but I wasn’t able to provide that just yet.
She’d referred to my grandmother as a cunt. I should’ve been angry, or at least demanded a retraction from her, but she wasn’t far off the mark from my experience. Grandmother Hawthorne was a cold bitch. I’d never been hugged by her. She’d had one child, my father, and he was exactly like her. How could he not be?
Where did that leave me? I was cold and distant as well. Those traits were bred into us by generations of emotionless adults. Grandmother was stiff, unloving, strict, and miserable her entire life. My father was the same unfeeling human she’d been. Was I destined for the same?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Hunter
“Well, look the fuck who the cat dragged in,” Charlie said, leaning into my SUV. “Fill ‘er up, sheriff?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, climbing out of my vehicle and opening the back door for Bella. Bella bolted for the open door of Charlie’s station. I pointed after her. “You better have the hot dog machine closed, dude.”
He grabbed his crotch while he pumped gas. “This hot dog machine is never closed, big guy.”
I ignored him and headed for the inside of his store. Bella was on her hind legs already, sniffing the countertop for any evidence a customer had dragged a hotdog across it. “Down,” I barked, heading for the cooler.
