boy as a child. Why, when Wes was a little boy, he would streak naked through my backyard and scare the living daylights out of poor Miss Millie.”
“How is your cat doing by the way? Still living off the souls it likes to collect at night?”
“Miss Millie passed away a long time ago.” Lois dabbed her eyes. “But I’ve got Checkers now. You must come over and see him.”
Wes leaned forward, draping his arms over the cart, and flashed a smile. “You just want me to streak naked through your backyard again, don’t you, Mrs. Jacobs?”
“See? Bad, just like I said.” Lois tittered, again. “Wes, let me tell you about Ginny—”
“That’s not necessary,” Ginny said.
“—she’s good and courageous and sweet and heroic. We love her, and the town only wants the best for her. And we don’t want to see her get hurt again.” Lois sniffed.
Every muscle in Ginny tightened. “Mrs. Jacobs, don’t—”
“Ginny is a hero, Wes.” Lois paused dramatically.
Wes leaned in closer.
Ginny opened her mouth, her sound of protest muffled by Lois’s next words.
“Ginny was an English teacher at Cape Hope High. She stopped a student who’d brought a gun into the high school.” Lois’s eyes misted. “Ginny took a bullet and almost died to save another student.”
“It was nothing,” she said quietly.
Wes straightened, his eyes roving over her. She could see the questions going off in his mind. Where was the scar? Who had shot her? What exactly had happened? If he was sticking around, he’d find all of that out in no time. But not from her. His mouth flattened into a thin line.
“That sounds like something to me.”
Already, he looked at her differently. Now, he was going to treat her like everyone else in Cape Hope. As the hero. As the woman who took a bullet to save a student.
Except for Kyle.
She hadn’t saved him. He’d taken his own life right before her eyes. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve any accolades. She was a big fraud. And she wanted it to be forgotten and return to her life of obscurity before all of this happened.
“She’s our hometown hero,” Lois repeated. “And—”
Lois abruptly stopped as another middle-aged woman who was tall and reedy-thin with black chin-length hair pushed a cart past their aisle. A teenaged boy who bore a striking resemblance to her, trailed behind.
“That’s Marie DePaul,” Lois said, even though Wes hadn’t asked. “Her oldest son shot Ginny before taking his own life.”
Ginny had pleaded and pleaded with Kyle to not do it—that there was still hope; that he could get help and that she was sorry she hadn’t known that he’d been bullied so badly, that bringing a gun into school had seemed like his only option. There had been so much blood. It’d splattered her and had been coming out of her, and her hands had been covered in it. All she had been able to smell was death and more death, and that survival shouldn’t come at so high of a price.
And Marie DePaul might as well have been a blank slate. It looked like she was operating in the world with the barest of functions, and she didn’t stop. The younger son, Bobby, sneered at her. The whole DePaul family hated her and blamed her for Kyle’s suicide—for not seeing that he’d been bullied. For not stopping it, and for not saving their son. Since the shooting, the DePauls had lost their standing in the community.
Lois continued in a lower voice. “David and Marie’s marriage ended. David was the police chief but was forced to resign. There are a few people who blame Ginny for all of it.”
“How so?” Wes’ voice was sharp.
“You know how people can be,” Lois said. “Enough about that. It’s too beautiful out for such a depressing topic. I’m sure you both want to talk about better things and make plans for your date this weekend. I’ll see you there.”
With that, Lois wielded her cart past them and turned the corner, disappearing from view.
“I’ve got to
“How is your cat doing by the way? Still living off the souls it likes to collect at night?”
“Miss Millie passed away a long time ago.” Lois dabbed her eyes. “But I’ve got Checkers now. You must come over and see him.”
Wes leaned forward, draping his arms over the cart, and flashed a smile. “You just want me to streak naked through your backyard again, don’t you, Mrs. Jacobs?”
“See? Bad, just like I said.” Lois tittered, again. “Wes, let me tell you about Ginny—”
“That’s not necessary,” Ginny said.
“—she’s good and courageous and sweet and heroic. We love her, and the town only wants the best for her. And we don’t want to see her get hurt again.” Lois sniffed.
Every muscle in Ginny tightened. “Mrs. Jacobs, don’t—”
“Ginny is a hero, Wes.” Lois paused dramatically.
Wes leaned in closer.
Ginny opened her mouth, her sound of protest muffled by Lois’s next words.
“Ginny was an English teacher at Cape Hope High. She stopped a student who’d brought a gun into the high school.” Lois’s eyes misted. “Ginny took a bullet and almost died to save another student.”
“It was nothing,” she said quietly.
Wes straightened, his eyes roving over her. She could see the questions going off in his mind. Where was the scar? Who had shot her? What exactly had happened? If he was sticking around, he’d find all of that out in no time. But not from her. His mouth flattened into a thin line.
“That sounds like something to me.”
Already, he looked at her differently. Now, he was going to treat her like everyone else in Cape Hope. As the hero. As the woman who took a bullet to save a student.
Except for Kyle.
She hadn’t saved him. He’d taken his own life right before her eyes. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve any accolades. She was a big fraud. And she wanted it to be forgotten and return to her life of obscurity before all of this happened.
“She’s our hometown hero,” Lois repeated. “And—”
Lois abruptly stopped as another middle-aged woman who was tall and reedy-thin with black chin-length hair pushed a cart past their aisle. A teenaged boy who bore a striking resemblance to her, trailed behind.
“That’s Marie DePaul,” Lois said, even though Wes hadn’t asked. “Her oldest son shot Ginny before taking his own life.”
Ginny had pleaded and pleaded with Kyle to not do it—that there was still hope; that he could get help and that she was sorry she hadn’t known that he’d been bullied so badly, that bringing a gun into school had seemed like his only option. There had been so much blood. It’d splattered her and had been coming out of her, and her hands had been covered in it. All she had been able to smell was death and more death, and that survival shouldn’t come at so high of a price.
And Marie DePaul might as well have been a blank slate. It looked like she was operating in the world with the barest of functions, and she didn’t stop. The younger son, Bobby, sneered at her. The whole DePaul family hated her and blamed her for Kyle’s suicide—for not seeing that he’d been bullied. For not stopping it, and for not saving their son. Since the shooting, the DePauls had lost their standing in the community.
Lois continued in a lower voice. “David and Marie’s marriage ended. David was the police chief but was forced to resign. There are a few people who blame Ginny for all of it.”
“How so?” Wes’ voice was sharp.
“You know how people can be,” Lois said. “Enough about that. It’s too beautiful out for such a depressing topic. I’m sure you both want to talk about better things and make plans for your date this weekend. I’ll see you there.”
With that, Lois wielded her cart past them and turned the corner, disappearing from view.
“I’ve got to
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