Chapter 34
It takes Dolly longer than I thought it would to corner me, and if I let myself think about it, I might consider it’s yet another sign that she’s starting to slow down.
I don’t though. As a rule.
“You want to tell me what happened?” she asks, slowly easing herself onto the barstool next to me, and I wonder how many nights we’ve sat just like this. How many we have left.
Suppose I really am not great at following rules. I should work on that.
“Cypress,” she says, prodding me with her voice as well as with her cane. “Start talking.”
I blow out a breath, purposefully avoiding my reflection in the bar mirror. “Not sure there is much to say.”
“Oh, Lord, help us. You do have it bad, don’t you?” She chuckles. “And what does your cowboy say about it?”
“Not much that’s encouraging.”
“That much I’ve noticed,” she replies, raising a hand for Sammy behind the bar to bring us both a whiskey before she adds, “Also noticed that you call him wolf.”
The observation hangs between us, an open door to a room I never wanted to step into again, because it feels like I’ll be locked inside the moment I do.
“Thought it suited him,” I say, shrugging as I purposefully avoid looking at her, too. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.”
She laughs again. “I never realized it…”
“What’s that?”
“Always told me you didn’t like lyin’,” she says, giving Sammy a grateful nod when she sets one glass in front of her and one in front of me before moving back to the other end of the bar. “Now I see you just don’t know how.”
I smile, not having to fake it for the first time tonight, but I don’t manage to sustain it long enough to ask, “Do you believe in fate, Dolly?”
Her expression shifts as she considers the question carefully, the thoughtfulness something I’ve always appreciated about her. Even now, when I’m so anxious to hear her answer.
“Suppose I do,” she replies finally. “It’s a big wide world. Like the idea of there being something helping us find our way. And seeing as how God and I aren’t on speaking terms, I suppose I also like having something else to talk to.”
“Still no apology?” I ask, knowing damn well what the response will be because I never received one either.
“No,” she says, “but you can bet I’ll be demanding one when I get up there.”
I snort, shaking my head at her before I push the whiskey away and lean my folded arms on the bartop. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me while you’re—ow.” I straighten up when her sharp cane jabs my side, and I scoot my barstool away out of an abundance of caution. “What was that for?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Since when do you need a good word put in for you? Since when do you want one?”
“Since…” My thoughts drift, but to no avail. They always land back in the same place. “Perhaps I’m simply planning for all possibilities? Only practical.”
“You haven’t been practical a day in your life,” she says, sounding very serious now. “Besides, if there’s anyone on this earth that doesn’t need a good word put in for them it’s—”
“As much as I love your flattery, Dolly, you know that’s not true,” I reply before she can finish telling me what she thinks I want to hear.
“You know…” I lower my voice, even though I’m fairly sure no one is paying us much attention, not with so many other, more entertaining distractions to be had. “You know the things I’ve done.”
“I do know.” There’s an edge of emotion in her voice now that makes me feel guilty. Not for those things I’ve done, but for upsetting her with them. “That’s why I’m saying it. You don’t need me to plead some case for you.”
“Come on,” I counter, trying for humor. “Who else is going to?”
Her voice is still quiet but also firm when she replies, “I know a few who would. Who would love a chance to pay you back.”
I shake my head, as adamant on this topic now as I was a decade ago. “There’s nothing to pay back. There’s no debt. Never has been, and you remind them of that for me when you see them next. They’re still all right?”
“They’re all right,” she assures me. “Are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“That lie was even worse than the first one,” she informs me, pulling me from that door again, from that room. “But since you’re being so truthful, tell me this…it his looks? You can admit it if it is.”
I let out a laugh. “Dolly—”
“I’m not judging you. He’s a fine-looking man. In fact, if I were younger…”
“How lucky for me that you aren’t then,” I reply, smiling. “I’m not sure I could withstand the competition.”
“Probably not,” she agrees, smiling too. “I was a terror in my time.”
“It’s still your time, Doll.”
“Course it is.” She looks at me fondly, but I don’t think I’m imagining the hint of sadness in her eyes. “But should that time run out before we see each other again…”
“It won’t.”
“Cypress,” she says, gentle but insistent. “If it does…I’d like to go to my next life knowing you’re being taken care of in this one.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I try to reassure her. “I can take care of myself. Always have.”
She scoffs. “Just an atrocious liar.”
“It’s not a lie.” I let out a long breath. “I’ll be fine. I…I want to be.”
“And that cowboy—”
“Aiden.”
“Aiden. You think he’ll make you happy? Maybe make you more than fine? Again, I understand he’s nice to look at, but…”
“It’s not—I mean, he is, but it’s also that he…
” I examine my folded hands on the bar, noticing the way my left thumb is tapping against the back of my right hand, but I’m too tired to try to stop it.
“He’s part of what I’ve been searching for, and finding him made me think that it actually was worth it.
That there was a reason for it. That I haven’t been wrong to believe… ”
There’s a long pause after, and I’m not sure if it’s her being thoughtful or her simply not knowing what to say this time.
“All right then,” she replies finally, a slight waver to her voice when she says, “I’ll put a word in for you, darlin’.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, knowing she’s good to her promises, even if I’m not sure it would do any good at this point. Maybe there isn’t anything that would.
I look toward the mirror at last, not to see myself but the same men from before as they move about the packed room. Thinking they’re closing in. Not thinking for a moment that anyone else is.
“You tell Lula the plan?” I ask Dolly, not needing to see her to know she’s watching them as well. “She know what she’s supposed to do?”
“Mm-hmm, told Sammy, too, so she wouldn’t be concerned,” she supplies, and I glance down the bar to where Sammy is currently staring daggers at them between pouring shots. “She offered to do the honors.”
“I’m sure she did,” I reply, smiling briefly before standing as the men start heading for the stairs that Lula just climbed. “Tell her she can get the next round. I’ll take this one.”