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Mixed in with memories of Danny and his slacker philosophy were visions of Aly. The way she bent over the filing cabinet, showing off her figure, was a comforting image. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad day. Good thing too, because I would have to show up again tomorrow.
8
ALY
The first week with Linc went smoother than I could have imagined. After that first day, I didn’t see him often. He took his breaks in the barn with the other drivers. He didn’t need to stop into Porter’s office either, so my work wasn’t interrupted. I thought about what he had said when he had been sitting on the couch. “I was shot.”
I had been approached by a recruiter too. In high school, the Army had set up a table outside the cafeteria and talked to anyone who showed the slightest bit of interest. They told me all about visiting different countries, had given me literature that I had taken home to consider. Ultimately, I chickened out. I knew a lot of the jobs were administrative and that I could learn all kinds of marketable job skills, but I didn’t want to go to war.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t imagine what Linc had been through. The problem was that Icouldimagine it. No matter how well trained you were, getting shot was traumatic. It must have been a nightmare, and my heart went out to him.
I was beginning to re-evaluate my previous assumptions. Maybe Linc hadn’t been mysterious or sullen in high school. Maybe hehad just been a kid. Nobody knew who they were back then. Maybe he was just confused like the rest of us.
I tried not to look for him when I pulled into the parking lot in the morning. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t hoping to run into him down at the barn. I tried not to feel disappointed when I made it all the way to the main house without a glimpse of his masculine frame. It was just as well. We didn’t seem to be compatible. It was always a struggle to keep the conversation going the few times we had attempted it.
Thursday night, I had dinner with Porter and Gina, and Linc had been the only topic of conversation. We dispensed with the righteousness of keeping our opinions to ourselves and allowed the night to sink up to its eyeballs in gossip.
“He hasn’t been by to see you?” I asked.
Gina shook her head. “He hasn’t even met Seth.”
“I don’t think he knew Seth’s name,” I shared.
She sighed. “It’s sad.”
“It’s not your fault,” Porter reminded her.
“He was in a lot of pain on Monday,” I said.
“I saw it.” Porter nodded. “I think he’s doing well though. He’s getting along with the other drivers.”
“How?” I wondered. “He doesn’t say much.”
Porter shook his head. “Some people don’t.”
I tried not to let it get to me, but it was difficult. I wanted him to open up to me. I wanted to catch a glimpse of all the turmoil Iknew was churning right below the surface. He seemed like such a deep person, and I just wanted to get to know him.
The one dinner aside, I knew I had to keep my mouth shut. It wouldn’t do for anyone else at work to know what I thought of Linc. I certainly didn’t want to feature in any gossip myself. So, I kept my head down and did my own work. If I did happen to run into him on the lot or in the house, I would play it cool. Until then, it wasn’t any of my business how he spent his days.
When the week was over, I felt like I needed a little pick-me-up. I considered calling Mary Beth but decided against it. Mary Beth was a good friend, but she wouldn’t hesitate to tell anyone else my secrets. As long as I wasn’t pining after someone tall, dark, and handsome, she was a safe dinner date. But now, all bets were off. She would take one look at me and pry the truth from my lips. No, it would be better to find some other way to entertain myself.
I considered going to the Lucky Lady, the local bar and grill that had live bands on the weekends. I didn’t feel like going alone though and it had been a while since I had pampered myself. Instead of cutting loose, I decided to get my hair done.
I drove straight from work to the hair salon on Main Street. The Wood Rose Salon was owned by Lindsey White, wife of the police detective Jason White. Despite the fact that she must have been privy to the best gossip in town, she was friendly and never spread any rumors. The salon was full when I arrived, and I had to wait.
I checked in at the desk. Lindsey was working on Jennifer Taylor, the receptionist at the Methodist church, while another stylist was working on Michael Downing, whose sister Melissa had been two grades above me in school.
The waiting area was full of men and women eager to spruce themselves up before the night’s festivities. I was seventh in line and settled in to wait. Sally Dyson eyed me from behind her People magazine before giving up the charade and poking me in the knee.
“I heard Lincoln Matthews is working at the lumberyard,” she said.
I nodded without engaging.
“I heard he was injured,” Sally continued.
“Yes,” I said, determined not to be drawn in.
“Mary Beth saw him.” Sally smiled conspiratorially, even though there were two people between us and the entire salon was listening. “She said he was hot.”
