“You little fuck,” Colt said, twisting in Lucas’s grip. “Way to look out for your family.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said to Cody. He got Colt into the backseat of his Blazer, then shut the door.
When he turned back to Cody, the boy was standing at the foot of the stairs, his arms folded over his stomach, shoulders hunched. Alana stood next to him, her expression worried, her hands fluttering as if she wanted to comfort Cody but knew he’d just shake her off.
“What are you doing here?”
“Picking Cody up so he can start working on the mural,” she said.
“I’m not working on any fucking mural,” he spat.
Lucas put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Don’t do that,” he said resignedly.
“You think I’m going to go down there and paint a picture on the wall like I’m some kind of trained performing dog?” he screamed. “You . . . this fucking town . . . you have to take him away again? He didn’t steal that ring. The clerk’s an idiot. He’s got the wrong guy.”
“He almost identified you,” Lucas said.
Cody’s eyes widened.
“That’s the thing about hanging out with people who make stupid choices,” Lucas went on. “Sometimes you get caught up in their bad shit.”
“I didn’t pawn that ring,” Cody said.
“I know you didn’t. You were here with your little brothers. But Colt wasn’t. Colt violated his parole. Selling stolen goods is a parole violation. He’s going back to jail.”
“Maybe he didn’t know the ring was stolen,” Cody said, his voice shaking.
“He knew,” Lucas said.
“Fuck you.”
“Cody,” Alana said quietly. “Come with me. We’ll get something to eat before we get started.”
“Fuck you, too,” he snarled at her.
Lucas saw her eyes widen. He took a step forward, intending to put himself between them. “Watch your mouth,” he said to Cody.
Things were escalating, but Alana was somehow now the one between him and Cody.
“I know you’re angry. Staying here alone won’t make that any better. Come with me and we’ll—”
“What the fuck do you know about staying anywhere? You’re leaving. You can go fuck yourself, your fucking mural, and your fucking art classes, too. Just fucking leave me alone.” He dashed up the stairs into the trailer and slammed the door so hard the flimsy metal rocked on its foundation.
For a long moment Alana stood beside Lucas. Then she turned and got into her car.
14
THE NEXT WEEK was one of the busiest in Alana’s life. Finishing the request for bid document, and fielding questions, comments, and concerns from the public via newspapers, radio, and the Internet consumed most of her time. She was up early most days, talking to Freddie, but having one foot in both worlds was taking its toll. A steady stream of residents came to the library with ideas for the renovation, leaving Alana in the uncomfortable position of explaining that yes, the building renovations and technology upgrades were exciting and would be well worth their investment, but no, she wouldn’t be around to oversee or enjoy them.
She was going home tomorrow morning.
“You’ve done this place a world of good,” Mrs. Battle said as Alana locked the front door. Outside the building, traffic at the Spring Fling Carnival was picking up. The library would be open all day tomorrow, staffed by Mrs. Battle and some handpicked friends. Mayor Turner still hadn’t made an offer to any of the library director candidates, but he promised he would pick a candidate soon.
“I just did some research,” Alana said, pacing herself to match Mrs. Battle’s careful steps.
“Don’t downplay your role in all of this, young lady,” Mrs. Battle said. “It’s a very bad habit of yours, pushing your accomplishments and efforts into the background. That’s not where you belong.”
Alana blinked, because the background was where she’d lived her whole life. “Thank you,” she offered instead. “I was happy to do it.”
She was, she realized. She was happy doing this. Not just content, but happy. The realization startled her, because she didn’t come to Walkers Ford to learn to be happy. She came to be different.
Was she unhappy in Chicago? Six months ago she would have said Of course not. Now . . . ?
“You’re welcome. Cody’s still refusing to paint the mural?” Mrs. Battle asked.
Alana nodded. She’d been out to Cody’s trailer twice in the last week. Both times he refused to open the door to her. His sullen face and broken eyes scared her. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. How did she frame this question to develop the appropriate search terms?
How to heal a broken heart
How to give someone reason to live
Ending hopelessness
Giving life meaning
She wished she knew the answer to that question for herself, for Cody, for Lucas.