I stepped forward into a swath of light provided by a tall window. It wasn’t yet dusk, but night was quickly approaching.
“Is that better?” I asked, my voice gentler than I’d intended.
“Yes.” She shivered and her eyes moved over my face, dawdling for a moment on my beard, then fell to the floor. “That’s better. Thank you.”
Five, Jennifer Sylvester didn’t need a husband. She might’ve wanted a husband, likely because she was equating marriage with escape and freedom, but she didn’t need one. What she needed was a backbone.
“What are we doing here?” I asked after we’d stood in silence for a full minute.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why’d you want to talk to me?”
She firmed her lips, then lifted her eyes to mine. “I wanted to see if you’ve made any progress yet.”
“Progress?”
“Yes. Formulated a plan, for me, and my situation.”
“I see . . .” I examined her posture. How does one grow a backbone?
“Well?” she prompted.
“Well, what?”
Now her eyes narrowed and she pushed away from the wall, crossing her arms. “Cletus Winston, do not play games with me.”
There it is. She had a backbone, but just didn’t use it much.
I tried not to smile. Tried and failed. But she wouldn’t see it. First of all, it was too dark for her non-Yuchi eyes. And second, my beard would hide it.
Now, how does one make a backbone permanent?
“I might be crazy,” she continued, her voice edged with steel, “but this is what I want. This is what I’ve always wanted.”
“A husband?” I sought to clarify.
“Yes . . . and no.” The steel leeched from her voice as her arms fell. Once again she was twisting her fingers. “Here’s the honest truth, Cletus: I’m not a romantic. I’m not looking for someone to sweep me off my feet. Knights in shining armor do not exist. I don’t even need him to be particularly clever or handsome. I just want a good person, a . . . a gentle person. I want someone with a good heart, someone steady, reliable, and kind. Someone who would make a good father.”
I lifted an eyebrow at the depressingly pragmatic listing of her desires while arguing with myself. I wanted to help her—because I could—and I didn’t want to help her—because I’d sworn an oath to myself that I wouldn’t go off chasing windmills anymore.
She’s not your problem.
I wasn’t accustomed to arguing with myself, so I quietly stared at her. I quietly stared for longer than was proper.
“Cletus?”
I blinked and my attention refocused outward. She’d moved. She was now standing directly in front of me, her chin angled upward so she’d trapped me with her eyes.
“So . . .” Jennifer took a breath, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, then whispered, “so, you are going to help me, right?”
CHAPTER 6
“A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life.”
—Hermann Hesse, B?ume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte
Jennifer
Cletus stared at me for several minutes, but I didn’t mind. The distant quality behind his gaze meant he wasn’t really looking at me. Cletus was thinking. And if he was thinking with such abundant focus, then he hadn't made up his mind yet about helping.
I debated reminding him of the video evidence still in my possession, but quickly dismissed the idea. I’d threatened him last Sunday; if nearly a week of knowledge of said threat hadn’t decided things, it would only serve to aggravate him now.
I hadn't been lying when I told him I'd saved it in multiple places, even though all those places were thumb drives. Maybe I was being paranoid, or giving Cletus too much credit, but I didn’t think so.
Also, I couldn’t risk the video being discovered by my parents. This meant it was no longer on my phone and I’d never placed it on my laptop. My father randomly reviewed my pictures, videos, notes, documents, and search history. His years of being a high school principal had made him fussy about my habits and behavior. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. I never had anything to hide.
Until now.
The file had been deleted from the phone after I showed it to Cletus, as much as a file can be deleted in this day and age. I'd used one of the computers at the library to transfer it to five different thumb drives and they were hidden in various places around my industrial kitchen at the bakery. Neither of my parents spent any real time in my baking space, so it was the safest location for my secret.
But back to Cletus and his staring. His staring meant he was considering, and his considering meant he hadn't decided what to do about me yet.