Hometown Sweetheart

“Then we won’t.”

Shanna sipped her iced tea and stared out into the woods. “It’s so peaceful out here.”

“Yeah.” Or at least it had been until this week.

“Don’t you get lonely, though?”

“No.”

She sat her cup down. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I’m just being me.”

“Like I said, you’re not making this easy.”

“What do you expect from me?” he said, looking up and into her eyes.

She didn’t back down, even if she did appear hurt. “I heard you telling Rick about how I almost set the woods on fire. If I didn’t have complete confidence in my ability to win people over, I’d certainly have a complex regarding you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just an ornery old bootmaker.”

“You’re not that old, but you are ornery.”

He actually chuckled at that, only because he and Rick had just discussed that very thing.

“Wow, he laughs.”

Simon’s smile stilled on his face. “And she smiles. You’re pretty when you smile.”

She lowered her head then slanted her eyes up at him. “And you don’t look half bad when you laugh.”

“I’m not used to people being around.”

“I know. Your mom told me you didn’t even want Rick to buy the other cabin because you didn’t want tourists hanging out back here.”

“True. I do have to work for a living.”

“But has anyone really ever bothered you?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Me?” She shook her head. “I’ve tried to avoid you. And I’ve cautioned the kids to do the same. Even though they’re fascinated with what you do. Especially little Katie. She thinks you’re some sort of Paul Bunyan, a giant of a man.”

“Are they that curious about me?” He reckoned he could give the little varmints a tour, just to shut them up. Or say “Boo” to them so they’d leave him alone.

“Yeah. You’re like the troll under the bridge to them, part fascinating and part frightening.”

“I’m a troll?”

“I said you’re like a troll. But you don’t look like one, no.”

“I do like to hide and jump out at pretty women.”

She laughed at that. “Your brother didn’t tell me you actually have a sense of humor.”

He savored another bite of spaghetti, the rich sauce tasting spicy and sweet as it went down. “And what did my brother tell you?”

She turned serious then. “That you were hurting and you needed time to heal.”

Simon dropped his plastic fork, the rich food suddenly stuck in his throat. “You’re kind of blunt, aren’t you?”

“I believe in the truth. So let’s get things out in the open. I had a bad childhood, so I know all about neglect and dysfunction. Some of these children have been through much worse, however. You lost your wife to a horrible disease. You have every reason to be angry at the world. I lost both my parents when I was a child. My father left when I was a baby, so I don’t know where he is now. My mother remarried, but…it wasn’t a good marriage.” She stopped, her vivid eyes going dark. “She died when I was thirteen and…my stepfather died in a wreck shortly after her death. I’ve seen the worst that grief and pain can bring, so I try to reach out and embrace the world. And I believe in hope. So I hope one day you’ll find a way to be happy again.”

Neglect. Dysfunction? How could someone so vibrant and bubbly even speak in such terms? “I’m sorry about your childhood,” he said, feeling like a jerk. “What happened?”

“Nothing I’m ready to talk about,” she said, all the joy erased from her eyes. “Nothing you’d want to hear.”

Ready to get back to his solitude so he could remove his foot from his mouth, Simon got up. “Thanks for dinner. I’ve got to go.”

She stomped after him. “I was trying to be honest. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I told you I wouldn’t talk about it and I did. I shouldn’t have forced you to talk, since I sure don’t like to talk about my past.”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry.”

Simon whirled toward her as a golden dusk settled around them and the sound of the kids laughing and talking to Rick and Cari echoed up the hill. He caught a whiff of wisteria, the scent reminding him of other spring nights near the river. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry that I’m bitter and ornery and nasty to little kids. But I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of this, do you understand?”

“I think I do,” she said, backing away. “But that’s a shame. No one should have to suffer grief all alone, Simon.”

“It’s the only way I know how,” he retorted, his blood boiling with a shimmering rage and a heavy regret.

“Maybe you need to look for a new way, a better way, so you can go on living. That’s what I had to do.”

“And maybe you should stick to counseling your kids, not a man who only asks for some peace and solitude.”

He stared at her long and hard, then turned and walked away. He didn’t want to look for a new way. He only wanted to remember what he’d had and lost.

And that was something no one could ever change.

Shanna walked back down to the river, her mind still on Simon. Why had she said those things to him? Why had she gone after him? She didn’t even know the man.

But she knew what it felt like to be alone and hurting. She’d held that same anger at a young age, much like some of these kids were doing. She’d cried herself to sleep at night when her fighting, volatile parents had screamed their rage at each other. Because of their neglect and their obsession with destroying each other, she’d learned the hard way that people didn’t have to die to cause grief in your life.

Lord, how can I help these children, or this man?