Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

30. Clyde

thirty

Clyde

W hen I finished telling the sheriff, deputy, and Mrs. Cole all I’d done, I cringed as I waited for them to slap the cuffs on and take me to jail. Instead, Darren, the deputy, pushed me out of the booth, and I found myself in the middle of a group hug. When others who’d heard my confession joined in, I broke down, having to be held up by those hugging me.

It took a long damn time for me to stop crying. When I finally did, and the cluster of people pulled back, I looked at the sheriff and asked if we were going to the station now.

“Oh, goodness, no. You stole, and that was a crime, one you might still have to face, but when the man broke into your home, forced you to pay him, and then threatened others, that shifted the blame onto him. Not to mention the fact that he hurt you.”

“But, I have priors. Surely that’s gonna hurt.”

“Maybe,” she said and took my hand, “but we don’t make a point of arresting domestic abuse victims, even those who stole money to get away.”

“Can you protect Ruther?” I asked. “And Corey?”

She nodded. “I think so, but,” she said, looking at Mrs. Cole, “Clyde can’t stay in that motel. It’s not safe, and I can’t afford to have someone stationed there to keep an eye on him.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Mrs. Cole said, her tear-streaked face set in stone. “We take care of our own.”

Sheriff Pat smiled and turned to me. “You lay low until we get that man apprehended.”

I nodded, then gratefully slid back into the booth, and Mrs. Cole joined me.

The townspeople who’d heard it all sat back down, too, but they were all still listening, still giving what support they could. “I-I’m so embarrassed, but I couldn’t let Jimmy hurt Ruther or Corey. I…not because of me being stupid.”

“You stop that right now,” Mrs. Cole said sternly. “You weren’t being stupid. You were surviving. Ain’t a soul here that wouldn’t take a baseball bat after that Jimmy character if they could. He don’t deserve your thoughts, much less your fear. Don’t you worry, Sheriff Pat will find that scoundrel and put him up for good.”

I gave a watery laugh, knowing the law didn’t tend to put men up for domestic violence. Too many years of watching my mom call the cops on my dad showed me that much.

“I’ll be okay if she’s going to pick Jimmy up. I should be fine over at the motel.”

“Like hell,” she said. “You okay to come with me? If so, I’ll show you something I shoulda already shown you.”

I nodded and thanked all the sweet people who’d stood by me just a few minutes ago, then rushed after Mrs. Cole to keep from losing my shit all over again.

She led me out the back of the café and up a set of steel steps. Then she pulled her key ring out of a pocket and unlocked an ancient brown door at the top.

I followed her into a dusty, slightly musty room. “I lived here until I married my sweet husband. It’s a bit dirty, hasn’t been used in years. I was going to clean it up and rent it as one of them vacation rentals, but I never got around to it.”

She looked around the room and sighed. “It ain’t the Ritz, but it was good enough for me, and I reckon it’s good enough for you too. You’ll be putting some elbow grease in ’cause it needs a good deep clean, but to be honest, it’s a heap better’n that old dump you’ve been staying in.”

“I-I can’t take this. I don’t…hell, I’m surprised I’m not in jail.”

“You deserve it better’n any other person I’ve ever met, and it don’t do nobody any good sittin’ up here empty. You’d be doin’ me a favor, if I’m honest.”

“H-how much?”

Mrs. Cole looked at me funny. “Baby, you forgot, you work for me, not the other way around. Money comes from here and goes to you. If you still need it in a month or two, we can talk about rent, but this is yours until you get your feet securely under you. You hear me?” I nodded and wiped at the tears again. “Oh, stop that before you get me to goin’ too. Right now, I prefer to be mad at that son of a bitch who came after you. I swear, back when I was a kid, we’d have taken that fella out and given him a good whuppin’. Well, best to let Sheriff Pat do her thing.”

She turned to leave, then turned back and pulled me into a bear hug. I clung to her and cried all over again. Then she let go, and without looking at me again, she disappeared out the door and down the noisy staircase.

I sat down on a nearby dining chair and cried for a good long time. Absorbing what it felt like to have support. I’d never experienced such generosity or genuine concern before. Not from my family and certainly not from any former boyfriends.

I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve Crawford City, but damn, whatever it was, I thanked the Lord for bringing me here. I finally got myself under control and took a good long look around the room. It was adorable and a heck of a lot bigger than I’d initially thought.

Mrs. Cole hadn’t taken much with her when she moved out. There weren’t any personal pictures or anything like that. In fact, besides being dusty, it was what I’d expect one of those fancy Airbnbs would look like.

I looked under the sink, found a stash of cleaning supplies, and chuckled. Mrs. Cole was a stickler for cleanliness, something I truly admired in the woman. I slipped on a pair of yellow gloves that were stuffed into a bucket, pulled out the supplies, and immediately got to work.

I had always found being busy preferable to facing my ugly thoughts. I hated what Ruther would think of me when he found out all I’d done, and now that I’d basically confessed all my sins to the sheriff and her deputy in front of the entire town, I knew it was only a matter of time before he knew. Oh well, I’d do it all again just to feel all those people holding and supporting me.

I knew from this day on, I’d never let another man do to me what Jimmy and countless others had done. Did that suddenly make life perfect? Hell, no. But I felt a precious kernel of hope that maybe I was worth having a life without fear—a life surrounded by friends and people who cared about me. Maybe I’d already found it.