The Lucky One(93)

“So Thibault admitted he had the picture? And—in your words—babbled about it being a lucky charm and claimed that he came here because he felt that he owed you something?”

Beth nodded. “Pretty much.”

“What did he mean by it being a lucky charm?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I didn’t care, Nana. The whole thing is . . . creepy and weird. Who would do something like that?”

Nana’s eyebrows knit together. “I’ll admit it sounds strange, but I think I would have wanted to know why he believed it was a lucky charm.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because you weren’t there,” she emphasized. “You didn’t go through the things he did. Maybe he was telling the truth.”

Beth winced. “The picture isn’t a lucky charm. That’s crazy.”

“Maybe,” Nana responded, “but I’ve been around long enough to know that strange things happen in war. Soldiers come to believe all sorts of things, and if they think something keeps them safe, what’s the harm?”

Beth exhaled. “It’s one thing to believe it. It’s entirely different to become obsessed with a photograph and stalk the subject.”

Nana put a hand on Beth’s knee. “Everyone acts crazy at times.”

“Not like this,” Beth insisted. “There’s something scary about this.”

Nana was quiet before letting out a sigh. “You might be right.” She shrugged.

Beth studied Nana’s face, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “Will you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Will you call the principal and ask him to bring Ben home after school? I don’t want you driving in this weather, but I’m not really up to doing it myself.”





31

Clayton

Clayton tried and failed to negotiate the lake that had formed in front of Beth’s house, his boots disappearing into the mud. He stifled the urge to issue a string of profanities. He could see the windows open near the front door, and he knew that Nana would hear him. Despite her age, the woman had the hearing of an owl, and the last thing he wanted to do was make a poor impression. The woman already disliked him enough.

He climbed the steps and knocked on the door. He thought he heard someone moving inside, saw Beth’s face in the window, and finally watched as the door swung open.

“Keith? What are you doing here?”

“I was worried,” he said. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“Is he still here? Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. He’s gone. I don’t know where he is.”

Clayton shuffled his feet, trying to look contrite. “I’m sorry about this, and I hate that I had to be the one to tell you. I know you really liked him.”

Beth nodded, her lips pursed.

“I also wanted to tell you not to be so hard on yourself. Like I mentioned earlier, people like that . . . they’ve learned to hide it. They’re sociopaths, and there’s no way you could have known.”

Beth crossed her arms. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Clayton held up his hands, knowing he’d pushed too hard, knowing he had to backtrack. “I figured. And you’re right. It’s not my place, especially given the crappy way I’ve treated you in the past.” He tucked his thumb into his belt and forced a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“I’m fine. And thanks.”

Clayton turned to leave, then stopped. “I want you to know that from what Ben said, Thibault seemed like a nice guy.”

She looked up in surprise.

“I just wanted to tell you that, because had it been different—had anything happened to Ben—Thibault would have regretted the day he was born. I would die before I let anything happen to our son. And I know you feel the same way. That’s why you’re such a great mom. In a life where I’ve made a ton of mistakes, one of the best things I’ve done is to let you raise him.”

She nodded, trying to stop the tears, and turned away. When she swiped at her eyes, Clayton took a step toward her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “I know you don’t want to hear this now, but trust me, you did the right thing. And in time, you’re going to find someone, and I’m sure he’s going to be the best guy ever. You deserve that.”

Her breath hiccuped, and Clayton reached out for her. Instinctively, she leaned into him. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and for a long moment, they stood on the porch, their bodies close together as he held her.

Clayton didn’t stay long. There was no need, he thought: He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Beth now saw him as the kind, caring, and compassionate friend, someone who’d atoned for his sins. The hug was just the icing on the cake—nothing he’d planned, but a nice conclusion to their encounter.

He wouldn’t press her. That would be a mistake. She needed some time to get over Thigh-bolt. Even if he was a sociopath, even if the guy left town, feelings aren’t turned on and off like a switch. But they would pass as surely as the rain would continue to fall. Next step: to make sure that Thigh-bolt was on his way back to Colorado.