Lone Creek

61

I walked into Sarah Lynn's office at twenty minutes to four, carrying a dozen long-stemmed roses wrapped in green paper, along with an envelope containing the rest of the cash I still owed her. The place was quite a contrast to Gary Varna's spartan digs-a corner room with big windows that let in a flood of light, walls of a delicate eggshell white that accentuated it, and a thick ecru carpet. The paintings and furnishings were very tasteful and very expensive.

She was sitting at her desk, wearing a deep blue dress that lit up her mane of tawny hair. She glanced at me, then turned right back to her computer screen, her fingers barely pausing at the keyboard.

"OK," I said. "I just want to leave these, tell you I'm sorry, and I want to take you to dinner if you'll ever talk to me again."

She kept typing for a few more seconds, but then sighed and held out her hand to take the flowers.

"They're beautiful, Huey," she said, and raised them to her face and inhaled. "So what is this? Payoff? Buyout? Drag bet?"

"I don't know what. But none of those."

Her voice turned angry, and her eyes, hurt. "Where've you been? Why didn't you call me, dammit?" My raw sense of unworthiness dug at me like a hair shirt around my heart.

"Things went from bad to worse," I said.

Her eyes turned concerned. That was even harder to take.

"Are you still in trouble?" she said.

"A better class of trouble. I'm straightened out with Gary, at least for now."

Sarah Lynn inhaled the flowers' scent again, watching me over their blossoms like a geisha with a fan.

"I'd love to have dinner with you," she said. "But I'm not going to be your fallback squeeze."

"That's not what I'm trying to do, Slo. It's-" I groped for words.

Then, abruptly, I was slammed by the exhaustion that had been hovering over me. I started to sag, and I had to physically brace myself back up. I felt like I could have collapsed into a puddle on the floor.

"It's not like that," I finished lamely. "I'm wiped out. I've got to go. I'll call you. I will."

"You better," she said, but she smiled. She lowered the flowers, inviting a quick kiss. I gave it to her, torn between shame and happiness. Then I stumbled out.

Helena's little rush hour was gathering steam, and I forced myself to concentrate on the traffic. But as it thinned, my feelings began to surface as fatigue-dulled thoughts, centering on whether Sarah Lynn and I might have another chance.

She was everything that Laurie wasn't. I still loved her in some way-not with the consuming passion of our youth, but with a deep, comfortable affection-and I was sure she felt the same. I wouldn't be much of a catch for her, but I was warm and breathing, and I wouldn't beat her up or steal her money and head to the casinos. She could probably even dress me up and take me out once in a while. From my side, I'd never come close to another woman who was simply so good, or to the satisfying life she had to offer. We had our differences, but they were far from insurmountable. And that young man who'd walked away from her was long gone.

Yet just in these past few days, something fundamental had changed for me and my life. I couldn't get hold of it, but I was already pretty sure that no amount of effort or good sense was going to turn me back toward being the kind of man that she needed and deserved.

When I got home, I fired up the woodstove and dug my last can of corned beef hash out of the cupboard. While it fried, I drank a beer and a couple of splashes of Old Taylor bourbon. I sat on the steps to eat, and drank another couple of shots as the day faded toward dusk.

Then, at last, I slept a real sleep.