In Wilde Country Page B

the market.”
    John stared at her.
    “She’s…she’s dead?”
    “You didn’t know? I’m so sorry… Are you all right? Do you want a glass of water?”
    He felt numb. Numb, and shaken.
    “No. No, thank you. I’m just…I’m just surprised. I never thought—“
    “Neither did I. She always seemed indestructible.”
    Jesus. Things were spinning. Agnes Cleary, dead? He remembered all the times he’d
     thought of her, the times he’d meant to phone her…
    “Are you sure you don’t want to come in and sit down for a minute?”
    John blinked.
    “I’m fine.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yes. Positive.” He stood straight, dredged up a smile. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Good day, ma’am. Sorry to have bothered you.”
    * * * *
    Half an hour later, he found himself at the lake.
    He hadn’t planned on it, but it was the right place to be. It was quiet and peaceful;
     damn near the entre town was at his old man’s barbecue.
    There was only one car in the lot, a black VW Beetle. He parked near it, got out of
     his car, tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and took a narrow footpath
     through the magnolias to the shore of the lake.
    He walked slowly, thinking back to how good the old woman had been to him. She’d damn
     near saved his life and how had he thanked her? By ignoring her. Forgetting her.
    Dampness blurred his vision. Sweat. It had to be sweat…
    “John?”
    Startled, he looked up. There was a bench a few feet ahead, and Connie was seated
     on it.
    He stared at her.
    Nothing about her had changed. Her hair was still frizzy, still that same dull color
     midway between blond and brown. She wore no makeup; her cotton shorts and blouse were
     dowdy. She was the same mouse she had always been, but his heart swelled at the sight
     of her.
    “Connie. How are you?”
    “I’m fine. How about you?”
    “Good,” he said. “I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
    “Oh, I come here sometimes. It’s a pretty spot and—and…”
    Color rose in her cheeks. He knew what she was thinking.
    “It was a long time ago.”
    “I, ah, I know. But I—I owe you an apology.”
    “You don’t.”
    “I do. I mean—”
    “I wanted what—what we did.” Her color deepened; her voice fell to a whisper. “I’d
     thought about it, you know?”
    “About you and Alden. Sure. But—”
    “Not Alden!” Her face flamed. “About you. You and me. I mean, I knew you’d never look
     at me that way. You could have any girl you wanted, but—” Embarrassed, she turned
     her head away and fell silent.
    “Jesus,” he whispered. “Connie. I don’t know what to say.”
    “You don’t have to say anything.” She stood up. “It’s been nice seeing you. Just forget
     about…about what I said, OK?”
    “Connie! Wait. Don’t go. Walk with me, will you?”
    She hesitated. “John. You don’t have to be nice to me.”
    “I’m not being nice to you. I just…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I had some
     bad news a little while ago. I came here to get away from it and it would be good
     to have company.”
    He watched the display of emotions dance across her face. Then she nodded.
    “If that’s what you want.”
    “It’s definitely what I want.”
    He walked toward her; she fell into step beside him.
    They walked for a long time.
    He told her about the Point; she told him about the University of Texas at Arlington,
     where she was studying to be a nurse.
    After a while, she asked if everything was all right.
    “You looked so sad before.”
    He was tempted to brush the question aside. Instead, he told her about Miss Cleary.
     How good she’d been to him. How shabbily he’d treated her.
    How he’d just discovered that she was gone.
    “Oh, John!” She slipped her hand into his. “She knew you loved her. I’m sure she did.”
    “Yeah. I hope so.”
    Impulsively, she turned to him, rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.
    “You’re a good