Chapter One

She had pink hair. Pink hair! Not my type. Not my type, at all. I’ve walked by thousands of pink haired girls before. Austin, San Francisco, Denver, New York City, Portland, Seattle, San Diego, any number of places where pink hair is or was in vogue and I never took a second glance. But the look on her face and her eyes, her bright blue eyes… The kind I haven’t seen since the last time I saw that Meg Foster lady on that cop show years ago. She was Cagney for a while, I think. Oh, my Lord. This little girl’s eyes were captivating. Her lips made for a little cupid’s bow and her nose… Her nose was the cutest. Her freckles set the whole look off. Jesus, she was pretty!

I can’t believe, at my age, thirty-three, last May, I had fallen in love at first sight with this young girl. She called her supervisor over to check the beer out after she had done the rest of my loot. She was new in town. She had to be. I hadn’t been in for several weeks, but I shopped there quite often and hadn’t seen her there, or anywhere else around town. It’s not a big town.

She was so damned cute, though. I thought about her quite a bit, fantasizing as men do. You know, the usual. Can she cook, does she like cats, when she washes a car, does she get under the door handles… The important things a guy thinks about as they fantasize about a woman they’ve seen. (Smiley face emoticon would go here about now, or maybe the grinning one.)

A few days later, I was short on beer again, it happens quite often, and just before closing time I made it through the doors. I grabbed some chips, and the beer, then I went through her line again, this time on purpose, knowing we’d have to wait for Diana to come over and ring the beer through.

“New in town?” I asked her.

“Sorta. My mom’s lived here for ages. I’ve been away at school. Just moved back.”

“Your mom, huh? What’s her name?”

“Justine Perry.” I knew of her. Not well, but I knew of her.

“And yours?” I asked her.

“Jessie Tillotson. Jessica Tillotson.”

Justine Tillotson was her mother. It made more sense now, and I did know her. “Well, Jessie Tillotson, Jessica Tillotson, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Charlie Cantley. Charles Cantley. I come in a lot, so I’ll probably see you once in a while.”

“Yeah, prob’ly.” She looked up and I got a bit of a smile.

Diana came over and rang the beer up then pushed it down the checkout stand to me. She looked at me with a grin. Probably knew what I was up to.

“Stop harassing the hired help, Mr. Cantley. It’s hard enough to keep these kids working without you harassing them or running them off.” She laughed. Diana and I graduated from school together, fifteen years ago, and not six hundred yards from where we were all standing.

After I was checked out, I talked to Diana for a bit. We didn’t spend much time doing that, normally. Her husband and I were high school football teammates and friends, still are, friends that is, but she and I were never in the same cliques back then. She was a smart track star, and I was a dumb football player. Early in school, maybe I showed some interest, but she had other things to do. We had friends in common and became closer as time went on. She’s married and has a couple of kids. I never did marry. I thought about it a couple of times, but women, good women like Diana, were few and far between, and I never found one of my own. Not one I wanted to be with for the third time, anyway. With one exception, but she evidently didn’t want to be around me after a while. I still think of her, but Dear John letters being what they are… Oh, well.

I saw the lights start to come down, apologized for keeping her and was told not to by Diana. “Don’t apologize,” she said. She didn’t mind catching up and it was nice to talk to an adult now and again, she told me. She ran the front of the store, almost all high school kids, then went home to her kids while her husband was out driving around our beautiful country hauling whatever they wanted him to haul that week. They farmed part time and worked regular jobs, like most small family farmers did those days.

I exited out the doors, headed for my truck, and saw Jessie under the hood of her car. She looked at me as I approached, and I saw the track of a tear running down her face.

“Can I give you a hand, Miss Jessica?” She shrugged, a dejected look forming. “Look, hon, nothing is that bad. What’s it doing?”

“Won’t start. Just clicks.”

I twisted the terminals on the battery posts. They were loose. “Hang on a second, hon.” I went to my truck, grabbed a little Crescent wrench I carry just for special occasions like this, pulled the terminals off, scraped the insides with my trusty pocketknife, and put them back on, tapping them down, and tightening them. “Try it now.”

The car started. I let the hood down and latched it, making sure it was down good. She rolled her window down to thank me, then I warned her, “That may be a temporary fix. Keep an eye on the battery. If those came loose, it’s probably been around a while and could use some TLC, or a replacement.”

“OK, sir. Thank you. Not many nice people around here. I’m glad I ran into one of them tonight.”

“Doll, this town is full of nice people. Smile at them once in a while and they’ll come around. Pink hair and all. By the way, if anyone tells you you’re very pretty and your eyes are gorgeous, they’re NOT lying to you. You have a good night, Jessie, and I hope to see you around. I really do.”

“Likewise, Mr. Cantley.”

“Call me Charlie, Jessie. Just call me Charlie, for now.”

“OK. Likewise, Charlie. Thank you again. I need to get home to Momma.” She smiled, let the clutch out, and off she went. Oh, she drives a stick. Good to know.

Again, I spent the night wondering if she liked cats, whether she ate leftovers, how she liked her steak cooked, and other very important details such as that.

I made sure I went to the store in the evenings after school would be out, since I had a feeling Diana was telling me that Jessie was one of those that were still trudging through that part of life. I tried to make conversation with her each time I went, asking her about school, after school, if she did anything besides work and the like. Yes, I was trying to make more than just conversation. I was trying to make time. Sorry. Sue me. I was infatuated with this girl, at the very least. Probably more.

“Mr. Cantley?” I scowled at her. “OK, Charlie. Is that better?” I nodded. “Charlie, are you a stalker or anything like that?”

“No, Jessie, I’m just enthralled by your eyes. Your face, your smile, your... Jessie, I think you’re gorgeous. I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’m not asking you to. I asked my mother about you. Uhtt. Wait over there for a sec, please, I have another customer.” She rang up the person behind me, then had a minute or two, as no one was in line. “I asked her about you, and the only things she said were that she thought you were too old for me, and that you were one of the most respected men in town. I don’t think you’re too old for me. I think the boys in that school over there are too young for me. In any case, I want to know what you think.”

“I think your mother may be right, but I hope not. I hope you are. I’m not a crook,” I told her in my funny Nixon-like voice, “and I have some friends around here. The rest of that you’ll have to ask other people about. I’ve never been told that, and never heard that about myself directly. If it’s true, and you get more indications that it’s true, would you go out to dinner with me sometime? If I can talk your mother into it? I think I’d like that, myself.”

“Yes. Write your number on this.” She hit a button on the register, and it put out about four inches of blank receipt paper. I wrote the number down and handed it to her. She stuck it in the pocket of her little black miniskirt. “I’ll call when I get done with my homework tonight. I hope you don’t go down too early.” She smiled at me.

“No, I’ll wait to go down until after we talk. I’ll be up, I mean.” I returned her smile, turning beet red, causing her to giggle, and walked out. Flustered. That didn’t happen often, but it did happen now and again. That was a now when it happened again. I couldn’t believe she got me. She did though, and I turned as red as a beet.

I was watching the news with Buster in my lap, his tail swishing back and forth on my stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, so I scratched around his ears, neck, and back. He quit swishing. About five minutes after I quit scratching, he started swishing. That went on until about ten fifteen when the phone rang.

“Cantley.”

“Charlie, it’s Jessie. Jessie Tillotson. Momma said she didn’t mind if I call, but she’ll want to talk to you before we’re out together. She’ll probably tell you about my past, and why I’m here in town instead of still at boarding school, and similar other things, but I think if you put down a sizable deposit, in cash money and maybe some dark chocolate, she won’t mind too much. My mother is a year or two younger than you, Charlie. She graduated the year after you did, but not from this school. She kind of had to move. My grandparents weren’t happy. She said you probably wouldn’t remember her. In any case, you all can talk, and if you still want to see me, I’d love to ask you out for dinner, then have you pay for it. Sound good?”

“Yes. When?”

“When you pay for my dinner, or when you talk to Mom?”

“Shock me and prove you can multi-task. Try to answer both questions for me.”

She giggled. “You’re cute. I’m off Friday night. The store likes to have the kids at the football games, so the older folks without kids playing work on Friday nights. Either that or Sunday. I’m off Sundays, too. It’s totally up to you. The Momma discussion thing is up to you, but she’s home all the time. She’s still able to work from home, for now, so it’s working out pretty well and keeping her occupied. Call her first. She’s in the book, but you know that. She says you know her, or of her, at least.”

“That’s true. We’ve seen each other around. Jessie?”

“Yes, Charlie?”

“Thank you for calling.”

“Thank you for giving me your number and then answering. This may be hard to believe, Charlie, but over the last month or so, I’ve come to think you are the only decent man I’ve met in the last four years or so. I’ll tell you more later, and Mom, I’m sure, will tell you more than enough about me to make you think twice, but I think you’re a peach, and I’d like to get to know you better. Away from the register. Giving money to a woman to talk to her is not really the ideal way to meet them. Wouldn’t you agree?” She giggled, again.

My bow rose, my stern submerged, breaking the surface, falling under, deeper, slowly, slowly down, down… I was sunk.

“Yes. I see your point. Money changing hands in order for a man to spend time with the woman of his dreams and fantasies could be problematic.” She giggled, yet again.

Glurb, glurb, glurb, the bubbles rose to the surface as Charlie Cantley sank to the bottom of the lake of love.

“Good. Talk to Mom. I’ll see you soon, I hope. You know where to find me. Goodnight, Charlie. Thank you, again.”

“Thank you, Jessie. Talk soon.” Click. She ended the call.

Sleep came a bit late. I was thinking more about the mystery behind the call but decided not to lose any more sleep than I had to. Just before I fell asleep, though, I remember asking myself what could be bad enough, serious enough, that I would choose not to see this beautiful creature, especially if she, too, desired it. The only thing I could come up with was, ‘nothing’.

I stopped by the store to ask Diana, though, hoping she’d know something.

“Yes, Charlie, I remember her. Justine Tillotson. Craig Walker got her pregnant and her parents sent her off somewhere. I never asked her where. She was a year behind us, and we never really hung out. Jessica Tillotson is Craig Walker’s illegitimate daughter. At least from what I understand, he never claimed responsibility, and she certainly never used their last name.”

“Craig was a year ahead of us.”

“Yep. She was a ‘wet behind the ears’ sophomore and he was the senior quarterback and captain of the football team. Remember, that was when the middle school was a junior high and went through the ninth grade. He did the deed during the early part of football season, and she was gone before Christmas Day. Hell, Charlie, he screwed half the girls in that school. Rich, irresistibly good looking, did I mention rich? They never saw it coming until he was balls deep in them, I’ll bet. I’ve heard he fathered at least three kids. I know of two. Jessie and Charlotte Hanson’s little girl, Christie.”

“Did you ever…?”

“Oh, hell, no. Thankfully, I was flat as a board and skinny as a rail. No one wanted anything to do with me except you and Donnie, and we all know where that went. Oh, Donnie said to say ‘Hi’. He said you can come out to the farm to hunt this year if you want. Whenever you want. Open invitation.”

“Tell him thanks, Diana. I might just do that. I need to go see Justine. I need to clear it with her before I take your star cashier out to dinner.”

“YOU’RE NOT!”

“I am.”

“You dog.”

“Bow wow?” I smiled, hugged her and left, not buying a thing. I’d spent more money in that store this month than I can remember, though, and Diana knew it.

I called Justine Perry.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Justine? Charlie Cantley. Jessie thought you and I might want to talk, before I do something stupid like ask her out to dinner.” I heard a very slight giggle.

“Yeah, that would probably be prudent. You know she won’t be eighteen until May, right?”

“I kind of put two and two together. Yeah, I guess I did. Is that a huge problem?”

“Probably not. Why don’t you come on over, we can have a cup of coffee and talk, Charlie? I can take a break for a bit. Door’s open, come on in when you get here.” Click.

When I got there, it was in fact unlatched, so I pushed it open and there on the coffee table were two cups of coffee, one with creamer in it, and the other black, with sugar and creamer next to it. Pretty obvious which was whose, so I dropped a teaspoon of sugar in the black one and stirred. Pretty good coffee. I heard a voice in the background which sounded like someone explaining a computer sequence to someone else, probably over the phone since it was a one-way conversation. She thanked them for their patience, and signed off. Then she said, “Gloria, I’ll be back in a bit. I have a visitor and need to take care of something. I’ll be right back,” then she came into the room.

I stood, and when she approached me, I stuck my hand out. She took it in both of hers, then pulled me to her and hugged me. “Thanks for coming over, Charlie. I don’t have a problem with you seeing Jessica, but you need to know a few things, then you two can figure out what you want to do.”

“This sounds serious, Justine. What’s going on?”

“What went on. She was kidnapped last year and held for ransom. The kidnappers thought she was my ex-husband’s daughter, when in fact, of course, she was only his stepdaughter. She was in private school and was back visiting some friends between semesters where we used to live, staying with him in her old room. She was taken when walking back from one of the friends’ houses. In any case, he told them they could keep her and that he wasn’t paying the ransom. She was raped, three times in all, we think, with pictures sent to him to try to convince him. It didn’t work, naturally, since he didn’t really care that much. The man’s not capable. If he was, I wouldn’t have left him. Charlie, I left a man that poured money over me like syrup, but he had turned into an ass, and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. He was nice, at first, and even for a while, but he started getting more and more successful and more and more assholey. Assish? Assey? If any of those is a word, he got more so as it happened. It just got worse and worse as he got more and more successful. And to be honest, he got to be VERY successful.

“In any case, you’ll remember last year I disappeared for a bit. I think I heard there was a rumor that when the ambulance took me, I had died. I woke up from my fainting spell and went back out to California, only to find that the police had found Jessie, quite roughed up, and quite badly abused, sexually for the most part. She spent the rest of the year, what little was left of it, in and out of the hospital out there, then actually living in a recovery center during the trial, finishing the school year, with the help of a personal aide, then afterwards, she came home to me. We were in touch constantly and became much closer again, long distance.

“She’ll need time. She’ll need space. No one knows what else she’ll need, but I have been told by at least two psychiatrists, professionally, and a psychologist friend, personally, that there will be bouts of PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Very similar to what some combat soldiers have. Some might even be extremely serious, and possibly dangerous, but you won’t know when, where, how bad, or what they will look like until... Until they happen.

“With your background, Charlie, you may be just what the doctor ordered.”

“Wow. With that pink hair, gorgeous eyes, and beautiful smile, no one would even guess… You know, Justine, I just realized it, but it took me a while to get her to smile for me, and I’ve never seen her smile at anyone else. Maybe Diana. She’s friendly, but distant. Are you sure you’re OK with this? Honestly, I didn’t set out to save Jessie, though. I wanted to see her, date her, get to know her, long before I heard this from you.”

“I know, Charlie. She told me the second time you talked to her that you were either a perverted stalker or my future son-in-law. She didn’t know which yet, right then. I told her you were way too old for her. I also told her she could do worse and while I didn’t tell her about your background, of which I know only a little about, I did tell her you were pretty well respected around town.”

“Thank you for that. OK, then. Rules?”

“Don’t break her heart, or I’ll break your head. That simple. She’s been through a lot, but she’s almost an adult, and she needs to get through it, over it, around it, or whatever. She needs to move on, and this might be a way to do it.”

“You said she was in private school?”

“Part of our settlement. I don’t have to work, but I do because if I don’t do something, I start to fade. I have MS and it’s not getting any better. Quite the contrary. Oh, the settlement states he had to put her through school where he insisted she started several years ago. One of the best educations you can get in the Silicon Valley. It’s a Stanford feeder school, actually. He allowed her to stay at his house on breaks and such. They got along OK, he just didn’t love her enough to hand over ten million dollars to keep her alive.

“Thankfully a smart cop heard or saw something and had a hunch. The next thing I knew, they had her back in one piece, almost, and both of the bad guys were wounded and in custody. During the siege of the house where they were holding her, she broke loose and put a fireplace poker through one of the rapist’s hip sockets. She can swing a bat, evidently. He tried to sue because there’s a chance he won’t walk straight again. That got shut down pretty quickly. Anyway, she wasn’t happy, but she knows she’s alive and that’s better than it could have been.”

“The ex-stepfather?”

“Don’t really know. He hasn’t said anything or contacted us since. No problem. He settled with her for the last year of school. Ten grand she can use for college, and I’m already set for life with his medical insurance to take care of my condition and a stipend that’s about ten times what I would make if I was still working at the Post Office. That’s what I did for fun after I was diagnosed. They said to stay busy, and I did. Drove old George nuts, knowing he was making millions, and his wife was working at the Post Office for fun. It was only part time. I learned a lot. NEXT?” She giggled, then stood, shakily. I held her hand and helped her up. It was obvious she wasn’t in very good physical shape.

I picked up the tray with the cups on it and walked it to the kitchen, setting it on the counter.

“That’s fine right there, Charlie. Thanks. Hug me again. I have to get back to work. By the way, do you remember why I’m hugging you?”

“I think so. When I saw you with Craig, the first time, I told you that I thought you could do better and to be careful. I just remembered that while we were sitting in your living room.”

“You warned me. I didn’t listen. Mother always said I should have listened to you and sang your praises until the day she passed. Daddy still won’t speak to me.”

“Does Jessie know who her father is?”

“Yes. She wrote to him two or three times, I think. He never answered. It’s not like we don’t know his address or anything. Kind of hard to miss. Maybe his parents didn’t forward it. Who knows? Last I heard he still lived out on their farm, though.”

“He still does. What a screw up. Lost his knee in his Junior year at Miami and quit school because he couldn’t play a stupid game.”

“You played that stupid game, Charlie, and caught quite a few of his passes.”

“I did it for fun and to get a date the next night. Football players rarely went out alone on Saturday nights, if you remember correctly. At least Donnie and I never did. Walker based his whole life, his future, on it and never learned anything else. Whipping the proverbial mule down the metaphoric seed rows now. Tails, he loses.” She nodded.

I hugged her, thanked her for the coffee, and the chance with Jessie, and said I’d talk to her soon. Walking out, I felt really good, and really bad. Mostly bad. What a screwed-up situation.

I went for some snacks, some steaks, and some beer, and stood in line, even when Diana tried to get me over to the service desk. They use it as an express lane to check out customers sometimes. I shook my head. She rolled her eyes.

It was my turn. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, hon. If your mother had listened to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nope. DIANA?” She came over. “Justine was the girl I told could do better than Craig Walker one day long ago. I realized that as I sat on her couch and listened to her tell me about life, in general, and its trials and tribulations. Sitting there and looking at her, I saw that little girl and the train wreck about to happen. I was just telling Pinkie here that if her maternal unit had listened to old Charlie, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Oh, Jeez, what a conundrum, or whatever they call it. Like when you go back in time and change something.”

“A paradox, boss. Wow,” Jessie said.

“Dinner tomorrow night, doll?”

She looked up at me and smiled, pushing all but the beer across the scanner. Diana took over, giggling, and pushed the beer to me, processed the card while it was in the reader, then walked away shaking her head. Jessie nodded.

“I don’t think my friend’s wife approves of me taking you out. We’ll see.”

“She does. She can’t admit it, though, because she doesn’t want to deal with the thought of her twelve-year-old baby girl hanging out with a twenty-eight-year-old man, which is what this would have been five years ago, but she told me you were OK and all.” She lowered her voice so none of the customers could hear. “She’s just giving you shit. She’s a shit giver.” She giggled. “I’ll call you tonight, after I get my school work done.” She nodded then tilted her head sideways to get me moving along. A line was forming. She grinned as I left the stand.

I was reading on my iPad, searching for better propellers for my boat, having Buster attempt to tickle me with his tail, trying for some attention, without success, when the phone rang.

“Cantley.”

“It’s Pinkie. Whatcha doin’?”

“Shopping for propellers.”

“You have a boat?”

“Everyone around here has a boat. What makes you think I was shopping for propellers for my boat?”

“Because you drive to the store instead of flying? I don’t know. It’s just the first thing that comes to mind when I think about a propeller. And you don’t wear a beanie with one.”

“Good assumption, especially since my plane doesn’t use propellers.”

“Don’t tell me,” She exclaimed in that ‘Oh, my God’ sort of way.

“OK, I won’t. Where do you want to eat? I’d like to pick you up at six. And eat between six-thirty and seven-thirty, depending on where you want to go.”

“What range do I have to look at, and what’s out there. Remember, until very recently, I’d never set foot here in my mother’s little hometown.”

“An hour south is anything in the way of chain restaurants you’ve ever heard of in the Midwest or for that matter the rest of the country. A half hour north are several places that are better, but locally run. Forty-five minutes west I know of a steakhouse that smells so good inside it will make your mouth water just sitting there waiting for your salad, and a half hour east is a nice seafood and steak place from which you can jump into the Mississippi river.”

“Back up. You have a plane? It doesn’t have propellers? Does it need to be towed up into the wild blue yonder?”

“I’m not going to play twenty questions, and I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. I was really looking for a new set of propellers for my fishing boat. Stainless steel four blade props are supposed to give it a bit more economy and performance at the same time. A friend of mine put one on his boat, though, and it actually slowed down because it was too much propeller for the engine to handle. So, I’m weighing my options. No, my plane is not a glider, and no, it doesn’t have propellers. Let it go, and I’ll take you for a spin someday when we’re both bored stiff and can’t figure out anything else to do.”

“Wow,” she said, rather quietly. “The western place. Mouthwatering while waiting for salad sounds pretty good. I’ll bet you smiled when you mentioned it, too, so that’s actually your favorite, isn’t it?”

“Pretty observant for a girl.”

“I learned a lot last year, Charlie. I’ll let it go at that. Let’s go west, young man, let’s go west.”

“It’s a deal. See you at six. Jessie, thank you.”

“Thank me after you know what you’re getting involved with. Strawberry Shortcake, I am not. Goodnight, Charlie. Thank you, too.” Click. She ended the call. I went to sleep thinking of her in a little pink and green pinafore.

I spent the day a bit giddy, looking forward to our first date. I was truly thankful that Justine allowed it, or blessed it, depending on who you ask as to what her intentions on the matter actually were.

At six, Justine answered the door. She pulled me in and hugged me, just as her daughter was coming out of her room. She was wearing a light blue sundress and white high-heeled sandals. She was stunningly beautiful.

“Mizz Perry, you do good work. That is a beautiful girl right there.”

“Thank you, Mister Cantley. I appreciate that. I’m sure she does, too.”

Jessie came to me and hugged me, around the neck, pulling me down and herself up a bit so that she was just on her tiptoes. “Thank you, Charlie, that was sweet.”

She turned and kissed her mom’s cheek and hugged her. “Don’t wait up, and don’t worry. I’ll be fine, and I have it on good authority he brings the bodies home after he’s done with them.”

“Stop being crass, girl. I love you. You kids… Oooops. You guys have fun.” They giggled as we left.

The drive was informative, to say the least. She asked me what I knew, what I had been let in on, and I told her. She filled in some of the details, leaving out the specific rape scenes, but told me she smiled when she felt the poker tip sink into the bone on the guy’s hip. “It was that tip that sticks out the side that you hook the wood with to pull on it and move it around. I took a homerun swing with just a bit of an up angle. I heard the thunk as it sunk in and felt the crunch. I think it shattered that pelvis thing out by his hip. If I had an anatomy book, I could show you what the lawyer said I did, but it doesn’t matter. It felt good and helped me get some of myself back from them. Then, I found out about George Fucking Perry and him telling them to keep me. Wow. What a setback. So much for thinking he gave a crap whether I lived or died. That was two disasters, and that doesn’t include a couple of boys that thought I was easy pickings because I colored my hair and acted a bit flighty. That didn’t end happily, either. One of them won’t have children. It was blue for a while, then light green.” I looked at her funny and she noticed it. “Not his nuts, silly, my hair. Pink and blue look best, though, I think. I’m a natural blonde, from the Walker side, but I didn’t get the curls, just the color, and I talk way too much when I’m nervous. I haven’t really been alone with an adult male for quite a while.”

“I don’t know how to make this sound perfect for you, but you have nothing to fear from me. I’m enchanted by you, Jessica, and will do nothing to hurt you. With what I’ve learned, I don’t even know if my method of attack on your female psyche to win your heart would have changed. I’m not a pushy, impulsive person, except for the whole falling for you at first glance thing. I’ll not do anything untoward or try to put you in a position you aren’t ready for, but I wouldn’t have done that before I spoke to your mother, anyway.

“A person, a man, a woman, that sees a potential future in another person, is striving for love. A date, a meeting, a hug, a kiss, those are all on the road to find the perfect mate. I’ll admit, I would love to find that in you. However, hon, I’m not going to corner you. I’m not going to trap you. I’m just going to show you what I’m like and hope you fall for me as I have for you. Did that make sense?”

“Yes. Perfect sense. I just hope it’s not too good to be true. Will you please order for me?” she asked as we pulled up to the restaurant. “I’m not picky. I just don’t know anything.”

“I doubt that seriously, little one, but yes, I know just the thing.” I didn’t miss the ‘too good to be true’ statement. Her outgoing defenses were weakening. I didn’t necessarily want that. Not yet, anyway. I walked her inside, where the hostess greeted me by name, and we were seated. “What kind of salad dressings do you like, Jessie?”

“Italian or ranch. Either would be fine.”

“They have a balsamic vinaigrette here that is really good. You asked me to order for you, so I think I’m gonna go a bit nuts on you and make our first date one to remember.” She giggled. Good. She’s still feeling OK.

“Charlie, that lady knows you?”

“Sweetie, I come here a lot. You were spot on, in thinking this was my favorite of the offerings on the phone last night. I hope you agree. I like it here.” She nodded. A server brought bread and water. I buttered a roll for her and placed it on her plate. “Nibbles to get you through the mouthwatering coming up.” Another smile and a giggle.

“You’re a card, Charlie. Thank you for making me feel safe, and special. Your eyes when you saw me come out of the room tonight were a bit telling. You don’t date much, do you?”

“No, baby, I don’t. I haven’t been out in ages, but before that, I just didn’t feel right with any of them. Please don’t be frightened, but, hon, I feel better around you than I have around any other woman besides my mother. Scary, huh?”

“I’m nothing special, Charlie. I’m just a kid with a sordid past.”

“You’re very special to me. You didn’t make your past, and I don’t want you to think the past made you. You have lots to offer. I know that. I know people. I can see things, I think. Let’s not be maudlin. I just want to plan our next date. You think there will be one?”

“God, I hope so. I’d like it to be here again. This place smells fabulous.”

“Told ya!” She laughed when I said it wearing a cheesy grin.

We ordered fried portobello mushrooms, salads with the house vinaigrette, and I ordered her a petite surf and turf, a filet, just barely medium, and a lobster tail, with braised asparagus. I got a ribeye and a baked potato with extra butter and sour cream, since I’d been a good boy lately, and had buttered broccoli on the side.

I probably knew we’d be seen together for a while when she smiled at me, and asked, “May I, Charlie?” pointing at my potato with her fork. I smiled and nodded and as she reached over, I kissed my finger and touched it to the back of her hand. Her smile was radiant as she pulled the forkful of Idaho’s best back toward her.

On the way back to town, she was a little quiet. She answered some questions of mine, mostly about school subjects, sports, and the natural questions about friends. She asked a couple, too, wanting to know where exactly I lived and what I did for a living, which led to generics about what I used to do. Several years in the military as a pilot.

“Can I have you on Sunday, Jessie?”

“Yes, Charlie, I think so. I have some things to do, but I’ll get them done tonight and tomorrow morning. Sunday, after church, will be fine. Any hints?”

“A tour. I’ll show you the place and do a better job of answering your questions.”

“I’d love that.”

“If you get along with your mother, and most people your age may not, I could have you both for dinner Sunday night. I’d like that, by the way. You’re probably a package deal, anyway, so I could try to score some brownie points.”

“You won’t need to. Momma thinks the sun rises and sets over your keister. She’d love to be there, I’m sure. She doesn’t get out much. Not much call for women with MS on the dating circuit. Sorry. That was crude. I’m bad about things like that. The other part of that, Charlie, is that I’m seventeen and a half, and have probably been through more than most forty-year-olds. I’m just saying that Momma knows if I feel good around you, I’ll know how to handle it better than most of my classmates, and I read people better than all of them can. I like you. She knows that. If I decide we go further, I decide that, not Momma. I guess that was my point. You and I, I should say. It needs to be mutual, or it’ll never work.”

That was a preview of Jessie's Story. To read the rest purchase the book.

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