Love Starts with Elle(23)
“That boy broke it off with Elle tonight.”
“Her fiancé?” He couldn’t think of any other boy who might break things off.
“Got a cola or something cold in the house? I’m a bit parched. Yeah, her fiancé called of the wedding. Just mailed off three hundred invitations too.”
“Man . . . rough.” Heath pushed out of his seat. “Got a few sodas inside.”
“As long as it fizzes, it’s good with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Heath liked this man. Reminded him of his granddaddy. Simple, straightforward, told it like it was, no messing around. He pulled two cans from the fridge. One Sprite, one root beer. “Here you go, sir. Sprite or root beer.”
“Most of my friends call me Truman.” He took the Sprite and popped it open, motioning through the screen. “I saw the baby buggy outside on my way in. You got a girl?”
“Yes, Tracey-Love. Same age as your granddaughter, Rio.”
“Tracey-Love?” Truman chuckled. “Now how’d you muster that name? Wife swindle you into it?”
Heath grinned with a swig of his root beer. “No, it happened by accident.”
“Most of the unusual ones do.”
“Her mom wanted to name her Tracey with Love as her middle name, after her great-grandma. Once we agreed, somehow we started calling her Tracey-Love and in the hoopla of her birth, Tracey-hyphen-Love was written on her birth certificate. We liked it and kept it.”
Truman nodded, seemingly satisfied. “You raising her alone?”
“Apparently.”
“Not your choice?”
“No, and no again.”
“I raised five girls. Not alone, of course. Their mama did most of the work. I just handed over my paycheck and hoped to get a turn with the remote.”
Heath whistled. “Five? And I was worried about raising one.”
“Girls come with all sorts of accessories. Fits of Emotion, Bathroom Clutter, Boy-Called-Me Voice, Boy-Dumped-Me Wail, I’m-On-A-Diet Grump, I’m-Going-Shopping Scream, Sleepy Christmas Morning Stare . . .”
“I’m a dead man.”
“Finest thing I ever produced was those girls. Wouldn’t trade them for five sons, and I mean it. Had a good buddy with three boys. One caught the curtains on fire when he was twelve and should’ve had sense to know better. The older boy wrecked the family car in one of those illegal street-racing deals and spent a year in juvenile detention. And if that weren’t bad enough, the youngest got two girls pregnant at the same time. Two. Neither one would speak to him, and my friend has two grandbabies he’s never held.”
Heath shook his head. “You make me feel lucky.”
“You are. Even when you don’t fee like it. But listen”—Truman tapped his chest—“you call me any time. I’ll see you through.”
Heath smiled, moved by the surety of the man’s pledge. “I suppose you have some daughter worries tonight, though.”
“Elle . . .” Truman tipped up his can. “She’ll land on her feet after being mad, crying it out, fuming for a few days. She gave up a lot for that boy.”
“How’d you hear about this if Elle is AWOL?”
“He called me. Go figure that, but I got to respect him for it.
Figured he’d asked permission to marry her, he’d best do the manly thing and tell me he’d called it off. He felt like his new job took too much of his time and affection. Didn’t figure it fair to Elle.”
“He sent her a box of stuff today,” Heath said. “She didn’t look happy.”
“I reckon not.”
Heath tried to imagine what was going on in the man’s life to give up a woman like the one he’d observed the past few days, church or no church. He’d witnessed the mistress of ministry destroy a man once so he made sure he kept his gaze steady on the only One who died for him.
However, when God required such a big sacrifice—Ava, his heart, his love—Heath struggled with God’s perfect will.
“You like the cottage?” Truman asked, motioning to the pale-yellow board sides. “Elle bought it for like fifty cents on the dollar. We helped her fix it up.”
“Yeah, I do—”
Truman’s phone went off. He retrieved it from his shorts pocket. “Yep?” He finished his drink, hmming a lot. After a minute, he snapped the phone shut and clipped it to his holster. “She’s at the house, weak and broken, but she’ll live. Lady, my wife, actually said Elle seemed quite peaceful, considering. Full of questions, as you can imagine, asking why and how, though none of us know the answer.”
“Certainly.” Heath wondered how this man felt so free to share his family’s intimate details with . . . well, a stranger.
Truman handed Heath his empty can. “Better go see what I can do. Thanks for the drink. See you in the funny pages.”
Heath grinned. His granddad used to say that to him and his brother Mark, adding nicknames like “squirt” or “sport.” “See you in the funny pages, squirt.”
“See you in the funny pages,Truman.”
Heath watched until the headlights disappeared into the darkness, wondering if he’d prefer to be in Elle’s shoes rather than his own.