Page 15 of Crumbling Truth
Apparently, my former teacher knew better than to continue pressing. She just patted Esther’s shoulder and sent me a commiserating kind of look. Without another word, I followed Esther out of the gym after giving Mrs. Meyers a brief wave.
Silence had never been my thing.
“Is it always like that?” I asked, frowning at Esther’s strained expression.
“Like what?” she shot back, voice tight. “Like everyone in town thinks they’re my personal dating cheerleader?”
“Yeah, that.”
To my surprise, she huffed a laugh. “Are you always this direct?”
“Yes,” I said simply, shrugging. “Look, there are things I don’t particularly want to talk about, so I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite to not respect that you probably feel the same about certain topics. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I just…Christ. There are some aspects of Spruce Hill I managed to forget, and I guess the ‘nose in everyone’s business’ thing was one of them.”
She sighed, dropping her head against the seatback, then rolled it so she was looking at me. “I wouldn’t think that’s something you could forget.”
“You’re right.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Maybe I just forgot what it was like to see it in action from the outside. It’s one thing to know people are probably whispering about you—hell, I’m sure there’s been plenty of that going on since I showed back up—but watching it is brutal.”
“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t heard any whispers about you.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Then again, I don’t talk to many people unless it’s work-related.”
“Rumors are one thing. Well-meaning neighbors acting like it’s their job to guide you, that’s what gets me. It’s none of their business if you don’t want to date.”
“Why do you think I’m such a hermit?” she joked weakly.
For a moment, I had to wrestle down the urge to reach over and touch her cheek. Everything about her screamed of exhaustion, and not the physical kind. Whatever the reality of Esther’s marriage had been, whatever the truth about Steve’sdeath, the realization that more than a few residents of Spruce Hill felt responsible for shoving Esther back out into the world before she was ready just gutted me.
“I’m sorry, Esther. That sucks.”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “It’s certainly not your fault.”
“No, but I feel responsible somehow. I should have told her to back the hell off.”
At that, she simply laughed, seafoam eyes alight. It was one of those sudden bursts of pure joy that hit me like a fist to the gut and warmed something deep in my chest. I wanted to see it more often, to make her howl with laughter, to watch her glow with it.
“Will you have dinner with me again?” I asked softly, hoping she wouldn’t shoot me down in the way I probably deserved. It was beyond low to take advantage of her in a moment like this.
And yet…she didn’t shoot me down at all. I bit back a victorious grin when she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, but you’re cooking. Real food, not some frozen casserole your mother left for you. I’ll provide supervision and allergy assistance only.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am at your service.”
As she shifted the truck into gear, I let the grin spread across my face until my cheeks hurt with it.
Maybe I’d have the chance to soak up more of her laughter, after all.
Chapter Six
Esther
IwasannoyedTheooverheardthat little exchange with Mrs. Meyers, but I hadn’t anticipated his apparent guilt over not defending me, nor had I prepared myself enough to politely decline a dinner invitation. Most people reacted to pity with more pity, or else with explanations and excuses for any unintended rudeness they witnessed. Theo responded with self-deprecation and humor.
It was a certain brand of kindness, I knew, but the man never quite did what I expected him to do.
Stranger yet was the realization that most people in this town knew all about his past, too. Maybe leaving town had served to actually quell the rumors—Sofia said he didn’t date, but how would anyone else in Spruce Hill know that?
Not for the first time, I wondered at his mother’s comments in the days leading up to her departure. Even after nearly four years of living in the guest house, I could count on one hand the number of times Anita had madeanyreference to my social life.She seemed to understand in a way no one else did that my soul still bore invisible scars needing time—and solitude—to heal.
Then, out of nowhere, she started dropping casual mentions of her handsome firstborn son’s imminent return to Spruce Hill. These little hints started off subtle, but somewhere along the way, they became a bit too flattering to be simply informative. There wasn’t a coy bone in Anita’s body, something we had in common, which meant her efforts to extoll Theo’s virtues were glaringly blatant.
When I pulled into the driveway and shifted into park, I felt Theo’s amused gaze on the side of my face. I rolled my eyes and asked, “What are you staring at?”
