Something About Sophie by Mary Kay McComas Page A

control himself any longer, he reached out and clamped her cheeks between his hands to shut her up.
    Thank you, God! A short prayer of gratitude for saving her from herself.
    â€œHow about dinner instead?”
    People were always talking about how green Ireland was . . . and while she looked into Drew McCarren’s gaze, she got lost in a comparison she couldn’t, in fact, make because she’d never been there. But she would—go—if only to have something to weigh against the color of his eyes.
    â€œSophie?” She blinked. “Dinner?” She nodded. “Seven?” This time she smiled and nodded. He did the same and released her. “Good. I’ll see you later.”
    â€œOkay.” She thought about telling him how much she was looking forward to it, thanking him for the invitation—noting his kindness to a stranger in his town, and God only knew what else—but she worried that more than two blathers a day would scare the doctor away. And she didn’t want to do that, at least not for the next three days.
    S he’d taken her car to the hospital, but the facility was only two blocks off the main drag so she decided to leave her car and walk. She was missing her morning runs.
    She wanted to buy more toothpaste—if she had to stick around a few days more, her little travel tube wasn’t going to make it. Plus, if there was some sort of clothing store she could look for something cheap to run in . . . and maybe a new dress for her date. Maybe.
    It might have been the early summer sweetness in the air, the birds singing and the bees buzzing, but Clearfield stirred a light, peaceful sensation deep in her spirit. Like watching a magnificent sunrise—except there was nothing magnificent about the town. Quaint and charming describe it better. Quaint, charming and . . . serene.
    There appeared to be only two stoplights, barely visible, one on each end of the long Main Street—which was tree lined with bumper-to-bumper parking along the sidewalk. At its heart, it featured a round town square with a lovely, pristine gazebo set on a small knoll. Most of the people had a friendly smile or an easy nod to make her feel welcome. Like Marion, it gave every indication of being small-town America at its finest.
    And, like Marion, she knew the more domestically commercial and official town buildings would be grouped tightly midtown, while fast-food, automotive, and industrial interests would sprawl out at each end of the road.
    And so she turned left, heading for the businesses across the street from the gazebo, and sure enough . . . Eddy’s Eatery (open 7 A.M . to 9 P.M . for breakfast, lunch, and dinner), Granny’s Attic (antiques), Clearfield Credit Union and Arts Council (interesting combination), Lemming’s Plumbing and Hardware (pipes and stuff), Pullman’s Stationery (stationery) and the Kreski’s drugstore—toothpaste.
    And because she had nine hours to kill before her date, she took her time meandering through cosmetics and cards, taking up a People magazine and picking through paperbacks for a novel to read. She studied the boxes of candy bars while she waited for the customer in front of her to finish at the register. When her turn came, she set her harvest on the counter, then snatched up a Hershey with Almonds and set it on top—for the walk back.
    She was smiling when she looked up at the clerk—he was frowning at her. With hair like straw in color and texture, the middle-aged man in khaki pants and a blue plaid cotton shirt sent a sharp, alarming chill down her spine. She got the queer impression that he recognized her in spite of the fact that she was positive she’d never seen him before.
    The first conclusion she jumped to was her hair.
    People were always commenting on or making weird assumptions about it or her because it was red . . . and curly. More a deep burnt-orange color—the kind