Sweet Contradiction Part 1

Sweet Contradiction.

Peggy Martinez.

a Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.

hurried down the dirt road, barely aware of the large school bus pulling away behind me. I grasped my books to my chest and skipped along the road, kicking up dust and whistling the little tune my best friend, Jen, had taught me on the playground. It wasn't usual for me to be so happy going home. I really preferred being at school. At school no one told you that Satan lurked around every corner, ready to s.n.a.t.c.h you into the pits of h.e.l.l, if you made a bad choice, if you weren't on your guard. I didn't want to go to h.e.l.l, but I did wish my momma would tell me stories that didn't terrify me every once in a while. Today was different, though. Today was my ninth birthday and my best friend had given me the prettiest gift in the whole world, and I couldn't wait to show it to my momma.

I made it the half mile down the dirt road to my house in no time at all and was pushing through the old screen door that hung precariously on my front porch, not paying any mind to the rusty screech of the hinge that would normally set my heart racing and cause my palms to sweat. The sound always reminded me that I was home, and I never really wanted to be home.

"Momma?" I sat my books on the small table near the front door and kept moving through the house. I knew my momma was probably doing dishes or was in the middle of her mid-day prayers. I walked past our small dining table and heard the slosh of sink water coming from the kitchen. Thank goodness she wasn't in prayer. I was just about burstin' with the need to show someone what I got for my birthday. "Momma, wait *til you see what Jen got me for my birthday." I had my hand halfway out of my pocket and a huge grin on my face before I realized my dad was sitting at the small kitchen table pluckin' the last few feathers from a freshly butchered chicken. I quickly shoved my hand back in my pocket.

"Elizabeth, it isn't proper for you to be tearin' through the house like a wild child. Where are your manners?" My mom wiped her hands off on the hem of her ap.r.o.n and placed her hands on her hips. She wore a simple white blouse-spotless of course. Her long, plain khaki skirt hit her ankles and made her look even shorter than she was. Her eyes were a deep blue, just like mine. But where mine always sparkled with mischief and a wonder for the world around me, needing to experience everything with an open heart, hers seemed shuttered and wary of everyone and everything. I glanced down at my own ankle length skirt and swallowed.

"Sorry momma. It won't happen again," I said softly. She sighed and turned back to the sink.

"See that it doesn't," she said over her shoulder.

"Yes ma'am," I answered quickly. I sucked in a breath and turned to flee the kitchen to the sanctuary of my room when my dad's voice stopped me short.

"Were you going to show your ma what you got for your birthday?" His voice was quiet and rough, but it still caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. When I turned around his eyes were still trained on his task and I fidgeted, unable to come up with an excuse to not to show my one and only birthday gift to my mom.

"It's not that big of a deal." I shrugged and glanced over at the back of my mom's head and willed her to turn around and for once seem interested in me as a person, to just act like she was interested in the things that made me happy. But, as usual, she just kept her mouth shut and acted like she wasn't even the room.

"If it's not that big of a deal, then show us what you got." My dad said tightly. He had finished pluckin' and his hazel eyes were locked on my face. I relaxed my fist and tried to smooth my face out and unclench my jaw. I knew from experience that if my dad thought I was guilty of the sin of evil thoughts, or disrespecting my parents, or even doubt ... well, it wouldn't be good. My finger caressed my precious gift in my pocket and I felt tears p.r.i.c.kle at the corners of my eyes. I took a deep breath, willing away my tears, and held my hand out for my dad to see.

My dad stood up and came over to stand in front of me. He reached his hand out. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to s.n.a.t.c.h my hand back and run for my room, but instead I stood there as my dad lifted my precious gift out of my hand with his dirty fingers. The jingle of about a dozen small charms echoed in the room. The bracelet was beautiful. It had been strung on a pretty blue silk cord and had iridescent crystal beads and tiny little silver stars dangling from it. There was also a small cross, a little guitar, a music note, and a shooting star among the charms. Jen had said both of our bracelets should have the shooting stars so we would always remember that all our wishes would come true someday.

After a few moments, my dad finally spoke. "Who gave this to you?"

"Jen," I said softly, "my friend from school."

"Of course you didn't plan on keeping such a thing, right?" His voice was very low and he dangled the bracelet in front of my face. My heart was beating so fast I could hear its pounding in my ears, even feel its pulsing rhythm at my temple.

"No Sir," I answered, just like I knew I had to.

"Why mustn't you keep this gift, Elizabeth?" he asked, expectantly. My heart thudded once so hard in my chest, I thought my dad must have heard it from where he stood.

"Because the outward adorning of a woman's body is sinful. Because the obtaining earthly possessions is unG.o.dly. And sinfulness and unG.o.dliness are what the devil uses to pave the road to h.e.l.l," I recited. My dad's mouth turned up in a smile and he tightened his fist around my present.

"That's right. I want you to put this into a box and write a letter to your friend tonight telling her exactly why you cannot accept this gift. Tell her exactly what you told me. I'll read the letter in the morning before you leave for school." I nodded and reached out my hand. My dad shook his head, his eyes glinting dangerously. My hand fell to my side and I bowed my head in the submission my father was so fond of. "This will teach you an important lesson, and maybe your friend will learn a much needed lesson as well. When you are done with your homework, I expect an hour of Bible reading and I will have a verse for you about vanity to copy a hundred times after that." My shoulders slumped and I felt a moment of defeat.

"Now kneel, Beth, so you can receive your punishment for your unG.o.dly desire to obtain earthly possessions." My knees. .h.i.t the floor without hesitation and I held out both of my arms with the palms up. I'd learned long ago that to fight or to hesitate in kneeling under my dad's orders would result not only in sore palms, but also in in sore thighs. I was smart enough to take the lesser of the two punishments. The crack of the yardstick striking my palms drowned out everything around me and banished all my thoughts ... all my thoughts but one. My father wanted me to learn a lesson.

I did learn a lesson that day ... just not the one my dad had intended. Something happened. Something I wasn't expecting happened, something shifted and changed deep within me as I stood there with what I wanted most in the world just outside of my grasp. I realized I wouldn't always be a child, I wouldn't always be told what to think, and what to believe. I knelt there watching the light in the kitchen glint off of the shooting star hanging from the gift that Jen had given me and instead of making a wish, I made a promise. I promised myself that exactly nine years from that day I would walk out of that house and never come back.

And that's exactly what I did.

whipped my beat up *56 Ford pickup into a parking spot in front the first convenience store I'd seen in over fifty miles. I knew I was somewhere in south New Mexico, but I couldn't have told you the name of the town, they were all starting to run together after over eighteen hours on the road. The Dixie Chicks were blaring "Wide Open s.p.a.ces" from my radio just before I cut the engine and secured my windblown hair up into a knot on my head with a ponytail holder. I was glad to get out and stretch my legs. I sure could use a hot shower and some shut-eye, I thought, wistfully. I was already heading towards the front door of the little store, when I decided at the last second to grab my cell phone out of my glove box. I wasn't even sure when I'd last turned it on. I'd gotten into the habit of only turning it on once a week to check messages. I didn't usually get many calls, and that's exactly how I preferred it.

I flipped open my cell and powered it on as I stepped into a wave of amazingly, ice cold AC. For a second I closed my eyes and relished the cool air ... my pick up was my baby, but it didn't have a working AC, something I only missed in the dead of summer. A dark-skinned, older woman behind the counter smiled warmly at me as I started up the junk food isle. I nodded at her as I begun hunting for some goodies. I grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum, a box of nutter b.u.t.ters, a few moon pies, and a gla.s.s bottle of cold soda pop before making my way back to the front of the store. The first message on my voice mail began playing.

"Elizabeth, I don't know why you have a cell phone if you only turn it on once a week, and not even on the Lord's Day. You are living like a heathen and your father and I raised you better than ...." I deleted the message with a roll of my eyes. No matter how old I was and how many times we'd had this conversation, my mother would never get it. Never.

I cradled my cell phone between my shoulder and my ear as I placed all my goodies on the counter for the older lady working the cash register with a name tag that read "Bea" to ring up for me. I listened to a few different calls from people I'd met here and there over the last few months of traveling. I smiled, hearing a particularly good looking guy I met in Austin beg to come back and make an honest man out of him. I knew he was full of it, but I was glad people missed me when I left and would remember me fondly. The next call knocked the grin right off of my face.

"Beth? Please call me. I need you right now." A lump formed in my throat. My best friend, Jen's, voice was quiet, but I could hear the unmistakable sound of tears and anguish in her words. Something was wrong. A knot twisted in my stomach at the thought.

"That will be $6.45."

I reached into my pocket with a shaking hand and pulled out a ten dollar bill as the next message began playing. I scooped up my things, without waiting for any change, and made a beeline for my truck.

With my goodies forgotten on the seat beside me, I listened to several more messages from my childhood best friend in growing horror. Her mom had died in her sleep after a long battle with cancer that she'd been fighting since we were teens. I swallowed back the tears forming in my throat and took a deep breath. Her mom had died and here I was on another joy ride, headed to California. Even worse-the messages were a few days old. I put my truck into reverse and took off back in the direction I'd come from as I punched Jen's number into my phone. California could wait. I was headed to my hole-in-the-road hometown that I had hoped to never see again ... Salem, Missouri.

hen I pulled into the Piggly Wiggly right outside of town, a moment of pure, gut-wrenching panic seized me, and I wished with all my might I could high-tail it right back in the direction I'd just blown in from. The only thing that kept me from doing exactly that was knowing my best friend was only a few minutes up the road and probably just come from her momma's grave side. As soon as I'd heard Jen's messages, I'd driven over thirteen straight hours to try and make it in time for the funeral. Unfortunately, between traffic jams and a flat tire, I was just pulling into town three hours too late. Just in time to hopefully miss the post-funeral visitation at her house. I didn't even have time to get ready. So, here I was stopping at a local store to grab some flowers and change in the bathroom before heading back to the home I had wished had been my own since I was a little girl.

I took a deep breath and grabbed my huge, ugly, army green backpack and headed into the Piggly Wiggly. Inside the bathroom I slipped out of my blue jeans and white tee shirt and pulled on a capped sleeved black lace dress that came to my knees, pulled on a white cardigan, slapped on some lip gloss and light perfume, and pulled my messy hair up into a bun on the back of my head. I glanced down at my black cowboy boots and shrugged, it was the best I could do under the circ.u.mstances. The only other shoes I had with me were a beat up pair of brown leather cowboy boots.

I shoved all my c.r.a.p into my backpack and went in search of some flowers. I was sorely disappointed in the Piggly Wiggly floral department. I snorted. Department was a little generous to describe anything in the Piggly Wiggly. The store had literally a little of anything you could think of, but not too much of any one thing in particular. I wasn't sure how it was still open after all these years. I glanced back down at the "floral department" with its one black bucket filled with water and exactly three bouquets of flowers and sighed. I guess the generic mixed bouquet for five bucks would have to do.

I was juggling the flowers with my keys dangling from my mouth and digging through my ma.s.sive backpack to find my wallet when I heard a whistle come from behind me. Startled, I spun around, dropping my keys and backpack in the process.

"Beth Michaels? Is that you?" I cringed at the sound of my name on the lips of the very last guy I wanted to run into in the entire world. I plastered a smile on my face and met the gaze of one of the s.e.xiest farm boys I'd ever met. He was also one of the most egotistical jacka.s.ses I had ever met as well. His eyes traveled up and down my body, lingering on all of my a.s.sets. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'd recognize those legs just about anywhere. Where you been all these years, sweet heart?" He grinned a lopsided grin that had worked on many unsuspecting young virgins throughout high school. Probably still did. He'd tried to use his sweet southern tw.a.n.g on me back when I was only sixteen. Luckily, I was smart enough, even back then, not to let him get what he was after. And then, when I'd denied him he'd made my life a living h.e.l.l, telling everyone in school I was a wh.o.r.e who'd begged him to "take me" in the boys' locker room.

"I doubt it's any of your d.a.m.n business where I've been Beau Montgomery." I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my chin "Looks like your muscles have gotten even bigger, but I wonder if that has played a direct role in your rapidly diminishing brain cells." I tsked. Beau charged in my direction, his eyes glinting with more rage than I remembered. I backed up quickly until my back hit a grocery shelf behind me, scattering packs of crackers to the floor. I gulped and cursed my smart-aleck mouth. Clearly, I hadn't learned anything in the four years I'd been gone after high school. Beau wasn't even a foot away from me when a smooth, masculine, voice nearby cut off whatever Beau had been about to say or do.

"Well, h.e.l.lo, Beau. I didn't realize you were here with your pa." My eyes slipped away from Beau's blood-shot, angry gaze and landed on a man I'd never seen before. A pair of beautiful honey colored eyes were riveted on the scene before him, his body poised slightly as if he meant to jump in and physically remove Beau if he had to. I flicked my eyes over his nice slacks and dress shirt and tie and wondered idly who he was. He noticed my gaze and nodded slightly in my direction, without taking his eyes off of Beau. "Ma'am" His southern accent was a surprise considering how he was dressed. "I think your Pa was looking for ya, Beau. You probably shouldn't keep him waiting," he said quietly with a hint of steel threaded in his words. He sounded like someone who commanded respect, and surprise, surprise, Beau backed away a few feet before acknowledging the stranger.

"You might not want to stand too close to her, Rev. I'm pretty sure the sins of a wh.o.r.e would even make someone like you run for the hills." His words landed like a physical blow and I felt the blood drain from my face. His nasty laugh as he turned on his heel and left told me he also knew exactly how his words affected me.

"You okay, ma'am?" A soft voice filled with concern broke through my moment of self-pity and I slowly opened my eyes, unaware that I had even shut them. When I looked up, I found myself blown away by the kindness in the man's gaze. I nodded my head and bent down to pick up the things I'd dropped. I hoped the guy didn't notice the fine tremor that shook my hands. I was on the verge of tears when he bent down to help me pick up my things along with the cracker packs that were scattered everywhere. Here I was back in town for less than twenty minutes and I'd already let the local, small-town, bully make me feel like a piece of dirt all over again. I pushed back the tears that threatened and swallowed the curses that tingled my lips.

As I took my keys from the mystery man's hand and met his gaze only inches away from mine, I felt a shiver race down my spine. Wow. Up close the guy was devastatingly handsome. His brown eyes, framed in thick lashes, were open and honest and his hair was just the right length and thickness. Images of running my hands through his sun-streaked locks bounced around my addled brain. As he stood, he grasped my arm gently, causing goose b.u.mps to break out where his hand touched me. "Let me help you up." He pulled me up with him and held out my slightly crushed flowers with a small, crooked smile. A s.e.xy dimple appeared at the corner of his cheek and I found myself smiling in return.

"Thank you," I said lamely.

"No problem. Are you new in town?" he asked as we made our way toward the cash register.

"More like back in town after being gone for a couple years. My best friend's mom died and I came back to see her," I answered.

"Ah, that would be Jennifer Collins. I'm sorry about her momma. She was a fine lady," he said thoughtfully. I swallowed the tears that once again loomed.

"Yes she was," I replied softly. The cashier began ringing up my flowers in between not-so-subtle glances at the guy standing close by.

"What about you?" I asked. "I know just about every single person in this town, and you are definitely not a local." I paid the cashier and began walking toward the front doors. He held open a door for me and I caught a whiff of his cologne. Very manly but also very expensive smelling. Delicious could also be used to describe the scent, but I discarded that thought immediately ... guys who lived in Salem were not my type. No matter how s.e.xy and kind. And guys who wore suits had another strike against them.

"I moved back here about two years ago, but my family has been in the area for years. A town over anyway," he said as we walked over to my truck. He raised a brow and patted the hood of my truck. "Somehow I get the impression this old truck suits you," he said, his voice dipping a timber, raising goose b.u.mps on my arms. Dear lord-a-mercy, I had to get outta there.

"Well, thank you ... Rev? Is that short for Trevor or something?" I asked as I climbed in the cab of my truck. A low laugh came from "Rev" as he shut the door to my truck for me.

"Something like that," he answered cryptically, a huge grin splitting his face. I shrugged and started my truck up.

"Okay, well, I'm off now. Hope you don't have any more damsels in distress to save today." I put the truck in reverse and he backed up a step.

"I don't mind so much, especially if they all were guaranteed to look as pretty as you," he said with a wink. My mouth popped open in surprise. Rev turned on his heel with a laugh and walked away. I shook my head, but I couldn't stop from grinning like a fool at his cheesy line. Looks like some things had changed since I'd been gone.

My good mood instantly evaporated once I turned down an old dirt road and parked in front of a familiar, country blue farm house twenty minute later. I'd spent every moment of my childhood I possibly could in that house. A sharp pain shot through my chest as I sat there peering at the two story home through my windshield. Reluctantly, I pried my clammy hands from the steering wheel and walked up the pathway. A few people were leaving Jen's house, still wearing their funeral garb. A couple of them began whispering as soon as I pa.s.sed by, but I didn't pay them any mind. My eyes were riveted on the door that still had a sign hanging on it that read; "Peace to all who enter, Welcome from our heart, Enjoy yourself within, G.o.d bless as you depart." Tears filled my eyes as I lifted my hand to knock on the door. The door swung open just as my knuckles grazed the door and I found myself standing face to face with the one and only person in the whole d.a.m.n town that I'd truly missed every single day of the past four years.

en stood in the doorway, her light brown hair done in a perfect French braid and wearing a black, knee-length, pencil skirt and a black, silk blouse. She stood stock-still, staring at me with red-rimmed eyes and a hand over her mouth. When she didn't say anything, I began to wonder if I'd hurt her by being so late, for not being there for her when she needed me the most. I searched her face quickly, looking for any sign that she didn't want me there, that she wanted me to leave.

"I'm so sorry, Jen. I feel like an a-well, like a real donkey's behind." Tears began to pool in my eyes and I glanced down at my boots. They weren't good enough. I should have stopped and bought new shoes. "I wish I had been here," I whispered. "Maybe I should just go ...." I heard a strangled sound just before Jen launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. I hugged her to me, letting her sobs drown out the flood of my own tears.

"I'm so glad you're here, Beth," she choked out. I closed my eyes and clung to the one and only friend I'd ever had growing up. She had been there for me through thick and thin and I was going to be there for her when she needed me most. When we were both able to pull ourselves apart, I followed Jen into her house, which was finally empty of people bringing food over after the funeral.

The house was almost exactly the same as I remembered it. The floors were original hardwood, there was a crocheted afghan thrown over the back of the country blue sofa, hand knit doilies rested on arms of the sofa and recliner, and an old fashioned piano sat in the far corner of the room. The house still smelled of my best childhood memories; fresh cut wildflowers and homemade banana bread. I could almost hear the sound of Mrs. Collins humming "How Great Thou Art" coming from the kitchen.

I swallowed and followed Jen into the kitchen where she sat down heavily at the table. Everything about this room reminded me of Jen's mom. The kitchen was light and airy with its white cabinets, huge window over the sink, and little daisy printed curtains with tie backs. I used to love sitting at the little white table, with its yellow gingham seat cushions and watch as Mrs. Collins would knead a ball of dough out on a floured counter for fresh bread or cinnamon buns, humming hymns, and making sure we were doing our homework.

Jen's table was laden down with every southern ca.s.serole dish imaginable, topped off with a few pies and some homemade peach cobbler. I wondered what people were thinking when they brought by so much food for one person. But one thing I knew to be true was that every southern born lady believed that some good, down-home cookin' could cure just about any ailment or heartbreak. I started clearing off the table, unable to just sit and feel so utterly useless. Once everything was put away nice and tidy, I poured two tall gla.s.ses of sweet iced tea and served up two helpings of peach cobbler. I sat a gla.s.s and plate in front of Jen, who still hadn't said a thing since we'd been in the kitchen. I took mine to the opposite end of the table.

"You should eat, Jen," I said softly. Jen's gaze met mine and then she glanced down at the cobbler and tea in front of her in confusion, as if she were wondering how they had gotten there.

"I probably should," she murmured. Her motions seemed mechanical as she grasped the fork in her fingers and cut into her cobbler. When she had taken a few bites, she sat her fork down and jumped up from her chair so abruptly that I jumped out of my own in concern. She had a panicked look on her face and wisps of her hair that had come free of her French braid floated around her head as she glanced around wildly, looking for something. "I need to find some boxes." I looked up into her face, not understanding what she was saying-boxes?

"What do you need boxes for?" I asked her as I came around the table. She didn't seem to hear me as she turned and strode through the kitchen door. I followed close behind her as she made her way into the hallway and jerked open a closet door. "Jen, what do you need boxes for right now?"

"I need to go through my momma's stuff. She'd want some of it donated to a woman's shelter or something. She would have wanted it that way," she said frantically as she started throwing hangers, pillows, and miscellaneous items out of the closet. I tried to wrap my brain around what she was saying. She was wanting to go through her momma's things on the day of her funeral? I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to do this right now? It can wait a few days at least." She threw my hand off of her shoulder and began stomping through the house toward the back guest bedroom.

"I need to do this now, Beth. If you ever loved me you'll help me find some boxes," she hollered over her shoulder. I ran down the hall to catch up with her. She was on her hands and knees, looking through the guest bedroom closet. "No boxes. Why don't we have any boxes? We have everything else in this house, but no boxes."

"Jen-you know I love you, but I don't think it's a good idea ..." She was already out the door and moving onto another room before I could finish. I had never seen her like that before, she was always so calm, always so orderly. I'd never seen her so worked up over anything. She was entering her mom's bedroom when I caught up with her. "Surely this can wait until later, Jen. You need some time...."

"I don't have time, Beth!" she screamed the words and I flinched. Jen never screamed. "Don't you understand? Time is always running out, we think we have time, we think we have one more day, but tomorrow never comes for some of us." Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide.

And just like that, the dam finally gave way, as if she had finally given herself permission to break down and really mourn her mother. As she let the cloak of strength she'd been carrying around for several days slip away from her shoulders, she crumbled to the floor. I caught her in my arms at the foot of her mother's bed and rocked her back and forth as she cried her heart out. I smoothed back her hair, murmured how sorry I was, and sang softly to her as the afternoon wore into the evening hours. I cried along with her, my heart breaking for her and with her, and when we couldn't cry any longer, we climbed into her momma's bed and wrapped a hand st.i.tched quilt around us and fell asleep wishing we'd had more time with one of the best women ever to grace this dusty old planet.

had my ear buds in my ears and was bouncing around the kitchen, preparing breakfast when Jen finally came down. Well, preparing was a bit of a stretch-I was warming up a breakfast ca.s.serole and apple pie and had some coffee brewing.

"Hey," I said softly. "How are you?" She looked better than I did. When I woke up at 10 o'clock am, I had eyes so puffy I was surprised I was able to open them and let's not even mention the circles under them or the rats nest of hair on top of my head. Jen looked picture perfect. She always seemed to be able to pull that off effortlessly. She smiled at me and to anyone else it would have looked genuine, but I could tell the difference when the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm good," she answered easily.

"I made breakfast." I waved around a plate full of ca.s.serole and apple pie and then placed it before her with a flourish." She raised her eyebrow.

"Made?" she asked a little too politely. I snorted.

"Well, I warmed it up, anyway." I waved off her little smirk.

"So, how does Salem look to you after four years?" she asked around a mouthful of food. I washed down a bite of apple pie with some ice cold milk.

"Same as always. I ran into Beau Montgomery at the Piggly Wiggly not fifteen minutes after I rolled into town." Jen's eyes rounded and she sat down her coffee cup.

"You. Did. Not. Holy cow. What happened?"

"Why would you think anything happened? Maybe I just said h.e.l.lo and went on my way," I said sweetly. Jen stared at me and then rolled her eyes.

"Elizabeth Michaels, I've known you since we were in second grade and there's no way you were able to just say h.e.l.lo to Beau Montgomery," she said with her fork pointed in my direction. I sighed. She was right-subtle was not my middle name and I was never one to back down from a fight.

"I told him his muscles were bigger ... and his brain cells were still diminishing." I shook my head, still wondering what I'd been thinking when I heard a snort coming from the other end of the table. I glanced up and found Jen's face red and a smile splitting her face.

"I'd loved to have seen that," she said with a laugh. I smiled and shrugged.

"I just snapped. Unfortunately, Beau wasn't none too pleased and he was spittin' fire angry. He actually acted like he would've hit me," I said, remembering the dangerous glint in his eye and the bulging red vein on his neck. If it hadn't been for Mr. s.e.xy Eyes....

"Beau isn't the same guy we knew in high school. You'd do best to steer clear of him," Jen said as she forked a mouthful of pie into her mouth. I nodded. She was right, he wasn't the same. He was a whole lot more dangerous.

"I did meet someone I'd never seen in Salem before," I said. Jen stood and took her plate over to the sink.

"Oh yeah, and who's that?" she asked as she washed her dishes.

"I don't know, but Beau called him Rev. I a.s.sume that's short for Trevor or something," I said thoughtfully. Jen made a choked sound and turned around to look at me.

"Rev?" she asked. I shrugged. "Describe him," she said quickly as she began drying her hands. Okaaaay.

"Well, he was taller than me by about four or five inches, had nice, wavy, sun-streaked brown hair, and the most amazing pair of eyes-the color of warmed honey," I answered, picturing the guy standing right in front of me. Too bad he wasn't my type, I thought with a regretful sigh. When I looked up, Jen was staring at me with her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"What?" I asked in confusion. "Do you know him? He said he knew your momma," I said softly. Jen looked at me a moment longer, her gaze growing thoughtful before she turned around to put away the dishes she had just washed.

"Yeah, I know him," she answered. When she didn't go on, I found myself impatient, wondering, despite knowing that he wasn't my type, who exactly the guy was.

"Well?" I asked with a tap of my foot.

"Well, what?" she asked, grinning impishly.

"Well, what do you know about him?" Geez, make a girl sound desperate for some info on a guy, why dontcha?

"Oh," she turned and shrugged her shoulders as she sat back in her seat. "Not much to tell, really. His name is Matthew Wright. He's a few years older than us and his family is mostly from Rolla. His mom and dad bought a small farm here in Salem a few years back. He has two brothers-one older and one younger, but I haven't met either one of them yet." Wow. She knew a lot about him. I wondered what she thought about him. He was exactly her type. Smart, small town guy, even the way he dressed. They would make a beautiful couple. "He's not your type though," she stated matter-of-factly. I bristled at that.

"What makes you think he isn't my type?" I asked, offended for no apparent reason. She just smiled and raised a brow. I groaned. I forgot how it was to be around someone who knew you better than you know yourself.

"Well, just so you know ... I'm not interested anyway," I said as I crossed my arms over my chest. "He's a small town kinda guy and I don't plan on being here long enough to check out the local stock." I was joking, but I realized my error almost immediately when I saw the look on Jen's face. Her face flushed and she cleared her throat.

"How long do you plan on staying, anyway?" she asked, not meeting my eye. c.r.a.p.