Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

32. Clyde

thirty-two

Clyde

I spent the next couple of days cleaning the apartment. Mrs. Cole had told me to take a couple of days for myself and not come into the café unless I needed food. Not that I needed to considering she usually brought up a plate for each meal. I scrubbed the floors, took out the area rugs and beat them over the back stoop, wiped down all the cabinets, scoured the countertops, and disinfected the toilet. I probably went a little overboard, but the process made the apartment feel like my own.

Once I’d resumed my regular shift at the café, I felt better about my life. Safer, more secure. When Deputy Darren came by to fill me in on their progress with Jimmy, he assured me they would be watching, and if Jimmy showed up at the café to collect his next payment from me, they’d pick him up.

I took advantage of the deputy being close to rush to the motel on my break, collect my belongings, and check out. I’d prepaid for the month, which was money I lost, but I didn’t care. I now had something much better, thanks to Mrs. Cole.

The day came and went without any sign of Ruther. At first, I was glad he was giving me space. Until Jimmy was caught, I didn’t want him involved. By the end of the week, though, I was fit to be tied. Not just because Jimmy would likely show up any moment but because I hadn’t seen Ruther or Corey for days on end.

I’d just decided to go over to their condo and apologize after work when Jimmy came in with a couple of his buddies. One was the jackass who’d been with him before.

They sat at a table between where I was wiping down the buffet and the kitchen, so there was no way I could avoid him. “You got my money?” Jimmy asked, loud enough for several people to hear.

“No, son, he doesn’t,” Sheriff Pat said as she and Deputy Darren approached Jimmy’s table. Another deputy blocked the entrance.

“Sheriff, that man stole from me after he beat me up. I’m—”

“You’ll have your chance to share your side of the story,” she interrupted. “But right now, I need you boys to come down to the station with us.”

“Wait, I ain’t got nothing to do with this,” Jimmy’s jackass buddy said.

“Sheriff, that’s the man who held me down while Jimmy punched me,” I offered.

“Thanks, Clyde. We have your statement.”

The guy gave me a nasty look. I knew he wanted to lay into me but wisely kept his mouth shut. The third guy with them shrugged. “I’ve just met these two. Said they were coming to get money from his ex. I ain’t got nothing to do with it.”

Sheriff Pat looked at me, and I shrugged. “Be that as it may,” she told him, “you’re with them, and right now, I want to chat with all three of you, so if you don’t mind.”

Jimmy hadn’t taken his eyes off me. Anger pulsed around him, and the vein on his forehead stuck out the way it did when he went into a tirade. I didn’t flinch. Not this time. I’d fought back, which got me into legal trouble that I knew was not yet over, but it also gave me strength. Strength I hadn’t had in past relationships. I’d stood up to Jimmy, and this time, even the law seemed to support me.

The sheriff and her deputies handcuffed the three men without incident and led them to patrol cars. Sheriff Pat returned and told me I might need to come to the station to make another statement. “The county prosecutor might need to charge you, too, but you stand firm, okay? Our local judge doesn’t tolerate domestic violence. And even if by force, you’ve paid the perpetrator back, so that should count in your favor too.”

I nodded. She and the deputy had told me that several times. Jimmy had walked in thinking he’d win and probably still thought he’d be out soon enough. I didn’t know if he would, but I was pretty sure if he came around again, there’s only one way things would finally end between us.

Jimmy might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he was smart enough to avoid that kind of trouble. At least, I hoped he was.

When the sheriff left, Mrs. Cole came over, put her arm around my waist, and pulled me close. “You go on up and rest. I’ll come up soon with some pie I’m just about to pull out of the oven.”

I nodded and thought once again about Ruther. I’d like to see him, but after all this, I wasn’t really emotionally in a place to make amends for how I’d treated him. I hated that he was uncomfortable coming into the café, though. I’m sure he and Corey were sick to death of pizza, since that was the only option in town besides the café, unless they’d just decided to eat at the condo.

I did as Mrs. Cole recommended, and took a nice long shower. I didn’t cry. It seemed like I was all cried out when it came to my bad choices. Yeah, I still had to pay the piper, but at least I could do that and hopefully not end up with a felony charge or something. There was pie waiting for me on the counter when I came back out of the bathroom. Mrs. Cole must’ve dropped it off during my shower. I ended up eating it by myself and then went to bed.

I felt more than a little guilty about leaving Mrs. Cole shorthanded, but I was exhausted. She seemed to understand that, though, and I appreciated her giving me the leeway. I relished the fact that, by some magic, I now had friends and support, which meant a lot and was one hell of a lot more than I’d ever had before.

The next day, I woke up to Mrs. Cole knocking on the door to the apartment. When I answered, I could tell she was concerned. “I’m sorry that I’m late for work,” I said.

“Don’t you worry about that.” She sighed. “I-I might’ve overstepped, but Baby, I…we all are worried about you.”

I nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I called an attorney here in town. He owes me a favor, you see, and I asked him if he’d be willing to meet with you. I understand if you don’t want to, but he’s a nice young man. Smart and knows his way around the law. I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think you might need some help to get you out of this scrape.”

I sat on the dining room chair close to the door. “I-I don’t have any money, Mrs. Cole. I gave my last paycheck to that asshole Jimmy. I, well, I know it shouldn’t be a priority, but I need a phone. I haven’t spoken to my family in weeks, not that they necessarily care how I’m gettin’ on. But I—”

She held up her hand. “Clyde, you don’t have to explain yourself to me or anyone. If Justin, he’s the attorney, needs money, we can work it out in your paycheck, but at least meet with him, okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I probably do need someone who actually wants to help. Court-appointed is about the same as not even having representation, in my experience.”

“He said he could be over here for breakfast around eight. Do you think you can be ready in thirty minutes?” she asked after looking at her watch.

I just laughed. “It doesn’t take me all that long to be presentable.”

“Well, come on down as soon as you’re ready. You should probably get some breakfast in you before you talk to him. I’ll warm up one of the cinnamon rolls since you seem to like those so much.”

I felt the tension ease slightly at the thought of enjoying Mrs. Cole’s amazing cinnamon rolls. She only made one pan a day, except on the weekends. Still, when we ran out, we were out. She said she didn’t have time to make rolls all morning with all the other stuff that needed doing around the café.

Her rolls never lasted past noon, and I’d only had one, and only then because it’d gotten smushed when we pulled it out of the oven. She wasn’t wrong, though. They were one of my favorite things we served.

I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth while Mrs. Cole waited for me, then followed her downstairs. She placed a giant cinnamon roll in front of me, then sat across from me with one equally big. “I-I could share this one,” I said, surprised she was taking two of her precious rolls out of commission.

“No, both of us need something sweet,” she said, smearing butter on top, gesturing for me to do the same before digging in.

“Oh, these are good. Did I ever tell you how I learned to make cinnamon rolls?”

I shook my head. We both knew she hadn’t told me the story, but I assumed there was a point to her telling me now.

“A woman blew in here, say, thirty years ago now. I was working for my mama and aunt at the time. They owned this before I did. The woman’s name was Elizabeth James. Ms. James was beautiful. Tall with dark curly hair that fell to her waist. I was half in love with her myself, although I’d never really thought of myself as bi or anything. Besides, she was way too old for the likes of me, or at least it seemed so back then.”

I cocked an eyebrow at Mrs. Cole’s apparent coming out, but quickly stuffed a bite full of the amazing fluffy goodness in my mouth before she saw.

“So, Ms. James had lived up in northern Missouri in a small town called Eagleton. She’d worked at a truck stop up there, and I guess these cinnamon rolls were known the world over. I don’t know if that’s true or not. What I do know is the moment she started servin’ her rolls here, people showed up asking for them.”

Mrs. Cole chewed another bite as she thought about her story. I didn’t interrupt, enjoying the downtime with her. “About six months after Ms. James came into town, she suddenly disappeared. No one knew where she went. One minute she was here cuttin’ up with Mom and my aunt, the next, gone.”

She put her fork down and sighed. “They found her body along the old abandoned railroad halfway between here and Mayville. Couple of kids out hunting. Traumatized them and the entire town. Found out later she’d been married to an abusive son of a bitch who’d tracked her here, and when he caught up to her, he beat her to death. Killed her and threw her out like an unwanted piece of trash.”

Mrs. Cole looked up at me then and sighed. “Baby, I ain’t never cried so hard in all my life than I did when we lost Ms. James. I asked Mama some years later if she knew about the husband, and she shook her head. Ms. James kept her personal life to herself. That’d likely caused her death. More than a few people had seen that man come into town. Some had seen her with him. Had we known, well, who’s to say, but my gut tells me had we known about her troubles with him, we’d have intervened.”

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. Was she chastising me for not speaking up sooner?

She put her hand over mine before I could go down that road. “Clyde, honey, you did right. First, by tellin’ me when you got here that something was amiss. I knew to keep my eye on you. The day you showed up with a busted lip, even though you didn’t tell me why, I alerted Sheriff Pat, and that’s why she and Darren started hangin’ out here more often. What I’m trying to say is you are a survivor. You fought that jackass, and because you stood up to him and told the sheriff what he’d done, you are here today. I just wish Ms. James had done the same. I still miss and mourn that woman. I never want to have to miss you like that, you understand me?”

I wiped at the stubborn tear that streaked down my face and nodded. “Now, Justin, he’s a good boy,” she continued. “Been around these parts all his life, and he might be small-town, but that don’t mean he’s not tough as an attorney. Let him fight for you. Let us fight for you. You’ll find the people of this little town will stand up to protect you if you let us, okay?” I nodded again. “Okay, well, you finish that up. I’m going to go get you a cup of coffee. Justin should be here any minute now.”

I stared at my barely touched cinnamon roll and thought about Mrs. Cole’s words. More than a few times in the past, I thought a man might kill me. Jimmy was certainly one of them. Even now, I think if he could get to me, he’d be a danger.

I looked up to see a handsome man in a tie and a briefcase walk in, and Mrs. Cole pointed toward me. I’d seen him in here a few times, although I’d never gotten his name or heard he was an attorney.

“Mr. Griffin?” he asked as he approached the table. When I nodded, he smiled and put his hand out. “My name is Justin Conner. Mrs. Cole said you might need an attorney.”

I spent the next week mourning the fact that Ruther had left town without saying goodbye. I’d seen Jake and Lance come in with the mayor and his husband, and asked about him. “Ruther and Corey went home to New York last week,” Jake said, then looked puzzled. He was likely surprised I hadn’t known.

It hadn’t exactly been a secret that Ruther and I had spent considerable time together.

In the end, it all worked out for the best that Ruther wasn’t here to watch as I navigated through legal troubles. Justin, after I officially hired him and paid him a retainer of a hundred bucks, which Mrs. Cole let me borrow against my next paycheck, came to meet me on a Thursday during my break.

“So, I spoke to the prosecutor, and I’ll be honest, with your priors, it was a bit of a negotiation to get something worked out,” he said. “But, the situation, plus your ex having priors in Georgia and being involved in an ongoing murder investigation, helped me to convince him you were acting in self-defense.”

“Murder investigation?” I asked, my stomach turning at the news.

Justin smiled sadly. “Alleged involvement, of course, but a situation not much different from your own. The guy with Jimmy when they came into the café, not the man who held you down, but the other one, was accused of killing his ex-girlfriend. The state hasn’t been able to prove it, but the investigation is ongoing. Apparently, they did all know each other before paying you a visit here.”

I swallowed hard. “And Jimmy? What were his priors?”

Justin opened his briefcase, pulled out a sheet of paper, and slid it in front of me. “Armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and extortion, just to name the ones in Georgia. Sheriff Pat told me there were others in Alabama, but we’re waiting on those to come in.”

I gulped. “I walked right into it. Shacked up with a man who would’ve killed me without a thought.”

Justin just sat quietly, letting me process. Eventually, he broke into my thoughts. “Listen, I’ve spoken to the prosecutor, and in the past, we’ve done a piss-poor job of protecting victims of domestic violence. Gay or straight. I reminded him of that. He’s tentatively agreed that if you commit to therapy, he’d be willing not to press charges.”

“Wait, I can’t afford therapy.”

“Nor will you have to. The Crawford City Clinic has a therapist that comes down from Lebanon twice a week. We also have a retired licensed clinical social worker who volunteers there once a week. In fact, you might know her. She’s Jake’s mom. The clinic assured me, between the two, they would be able to fit you in, and they don’t charge as long as you qualify for their sliding scale.”

I laughed. “Qualify? I don’t know if I do, but sure. If it’d keep me out of legal troubles, I’d go.”

Justin nodded, then hesitated. “As your attorney, I would be remiss not to tell you that the prosecutor is going easy on you this time. That’s as much about me playing the guilt card as anything else. He won’t do that a second time, Clyde. You’ll need to keep your nose clean. I know and trust both women offering counseling at the health clinic. If it can help, if they can help, please try to take advantage of that, okay?”

I nodded, knowing what he was really telling me. Don’t let myself get caught up in another situation where I have to fight to escape a man. I closed my eyes and swallowed what little pride I had left. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the patterns he was alluding to. I knew I’d put myself in bad relationships…every time.

However, I hadn’t had a fucking clue that Jimmy was the bad man he was. What I did know was I was attracted to men like him. Either that, or I attracted them to me.

I thought of Ruther and wondered if I had also misread the signs with him. I didn’t think so. I couldn’t see him being violent with me or anyone else for that matter. Unfortunately, the only thing I knew for a fact right now was that I couldn’t trust my instincts when it came to men.

I resolved then and there that I would take advantage of this opportunity. No, I wasn’t foolish enough to think a therapist could fix me. Hell, my mom and sisters had gone to shelters and taken therapy. It hadn’t fixed them.

It had helped my sisters avoid toxic men and bad relationships, though. Maybe that’s all I could hope for as well—learning how to live without a man. I glanced through the window to where Ruther had stayed up the street.

I hiccupped as I suppressed the emotions and laid to rest the hope that I’d unconsciously kept in regard to him. He’d already moved back to New York, but I’d indulged in the fantasy that we could be more. And that’s all it’d ever been, a fantasy.

I need to stay focused on the positive. I’d begun to build a nice life here, and that was a first. If it meant I would be alone, at least I’d be in a community where I felt wanted.