Page 17 of Forever in the Country

“Yoo-hoo! Sorren, dear.” Miss Thelma’s voice carries over the lawn as if I wasn’t already en route to her front porch. The little red-sided ranch is clean and well cared for. Flowers line the front planters, and despite Case’s offering every season, Miss Thelma does the work herself.

Her white hair is cropped close to her head and looks like she’s just come back from the salon. She’s a little thing, but she’s feisty as hell and not as frail as her more than eighty years would suggest.

“Mornin’, Miss Thelma,” I say and drop a kiss on her cheek. She swats the back of her hand against my chest like she does every time. She pretends she’s immune to the flattery but she’s not, and I love getting a rise out of her when I can.

She’s about to head for a rocking chair when she stops dead in her tracks. Her gaze narrows as she studies my face. I don’t school my expression like I do with almost everyone else, and I don’t flinch when her soft, wrinkled hand pats my cheek.

“You look tired.”

“You keep sayin’ such sweet things to me and I might never leave,” I deadpan, and she snorts before turning and heading up the porch.

She sits and grunts softly, and concern flares in my chest, but she must catch my expression because she waves me away with her hand. Woman is stubborn to a fault—probably why I like her so much.

“So tell me what’s new,” she says, smoothing down her yellow shirt that has a cat riding a skateboard on it. I’d be unsurprised to find out that she actually hated her extensive feline clothing collection and only acquired it to give Clementine Creek something to talk about.

She’s a busybody by nature but I also trust her more than most—my family notwithstanding. The weekly check-ins when I’d come home had initially been taxing, but as the time has passed I’ve found I like the routine of it. Thelma claimed that my Gran made her promise to look after Marlee and me when she was gone and whether it was true or not, it didn’t matter.

I like the woman sitting next to me, and I’m thankful I never have to put on a front. Plus she’s a pisser.

“The journalist called again,” I start. “She wants to do a couple of pieces on the shelter, like behind the scenes. I know it’s good for us but I hate it.”

“Why? You’re a delight in person.”

I glare at her and she chuckles. “She’ll want to talk about my time in the Marines, about being injured, probably about my past, but I like my privacy.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to make it somethin’ it’s not. I want the focus to be on what we’re doing, what we hope to achieve, and not some sob story about an injured veteran with a shitty past.”

She mulls this over for a minute. “So then say that.”

My gaze slides to her and she shrugs.

“Or make Tanner do the interview.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re stalling. You know he’ll say yes.” Pausing for a moment, she finally adds, “But you’re the heart of that place whether you believe it or not. I think it’s important that you at least give her a little to work with.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” She lowers her voice, trouble plain in her eyes. “We could talk about that other thing you keep avoiding.”

“Don’t start.” The words are harsh, but she waves them off like they’re nothing but a nuisance.

Louise, the cat whose picture adorns her shirt, weaves between Miss Thelma’s legs before coming over and jumping into my lap. She purrs when I scratch behind her ear, and before long, she’s settled onto my lap.

“I can see what you’re doing, you know,” I say without looking up.

“I meant you to,” Miss Thelma huffs as she lowers her phone into her lap, a mischievous smile teasing her lips.

“Do I even want to know?” I ask and her smile grows.

“Probably not.” The lift of her shoulder means I definitely don’t want to know. She’s trying to appear innocent, but the woman hasn’t been innocent in like six decades. “But I do think we should talk about thatotherthing.”

“We’ve talked about it.” She huffs again, and I have to fight the grin that tugs at my lips.

“It’s time,” she hisses, but she’s wrong. I have a few more things that need to be in place before I can act. Just when I think she’s dropped it she says, “Well, if you don’t, someone else will, and I’m not using my savings to bail you out of jail.”

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