Page 105 of Corkscrew You
But it’s Shelby to whom he offers an outstretched hand.
“Goodbye, Miss Armstrong,” says Dad. “I appreciated your candour.”
A “WTF?” vibe zings around the bystanders. We are, to a Durant, astonished.
“Oh…!”
So is Shelby, by the sound of it. But she rallies and returns his handshake. I see my Dad’s eyes widen briefly in surprise. If he and I were on speaking terms, I’d have warned him about the strength of her grip.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she says. “You take care, now.”
I think Ava’s about to have anactualcoronary.
Now Dad does approach me, and, holy fuck, gives me ahug. It’s robot-stiff, but it’s a bonafide, genuine hug.
“You’re in good hands with Ray,” he says.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“OK, Nate, we’d better go.”
Shelby’s taking charge. The rest of us have had our faculties impaired by shock.
At the vehicles, she veers toward the Dodge, but I waylay her.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
She hesitates, glances down at her boots. Then she takes a deep breath in and looks me in the eye.
“I talked to your dad last night.”
“So I gather.”
“And it brought back how terrible it was to losemydad. How it’s still terrible. And…”
Her head dips again. I place my hand gently under her chin and coax it up. Her big blue-green eyes are brimming with tears.
“I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you,” she says in a rush. “Icouldn’t.”
I pull her into my arms, kiss her hair. “It won’t. I’m fine.”
“But he wants to run an ECG,” she almost wails.
“Because he’s a good doctor,” I reassure her. “If he hadanyreal concern about my heart last night, he’d have had me in Martinburg hospital before you could say ‘dang’.”
Shelby has the trace of a smile. “Doc Wilson says ‘dang’?”
“Has been known to employ the word ‘varmint’ too, on occasion.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me.
“Thanks for humouring me,” she says, when we’re done.
“Anytime,” I reply. “And now we need to skedaddle. Doc doesn’t take kindly to folks being tardy.”
She smiles. “You do that well.”
I smile back. “Years of practice.”
