The Meridians(59)

Lynette grinned at the look of consternation that came over Scott's face. For some reason, when he was embarrassed he looked particularly attractive, and she noted that the scars on his face were becoming less and less noticeable to her. What she did notice were his eyes, which were so expressive. Sometimes angry, sometimes patient, but always kind, they were the eyes of a person she knew she could talk to.

They were the eyes of a person she could love.

She stepped back from that precipice almost immediately, telling herself to hold on, to put on the breaks, to reign in the horses. She had only met the man once or twice, and now....

"You were right, cowboy," said the paramedic, finishing looking at Scott's ear. "The ear isn't too bad, though you should probably have a plastic surgeon look at it just to make sure you avoid any scars."

Scott grimaced good-naturedly, the expression puckering the scars that crisscrossed his face like a white mask. "Do I look like I have a problem with scars?"

The paramedic grinned back, and Lynette noticed how well the two were getting along. Did Scott get along with everyone? she wondered. Or was there something in particular about people like Gil and the paramedic that Scott could connect with? For some reason she suspected that it was the latter, if for no other reason than the fact that she imagined that someone who had lost his entire family - not just a part of one, as she had - might have problems forming connections.

As soon as the paramedic moved away, she asked Scott about it. "You have a thing for paramedics?" she asked.

"No, why?" asked Scott.

"You just seemed to get along with him, like you knew him or something."

"No," he answered. "Didn't know him, but -"

"Yes?"

He hesitated, as though about to confide something to her. "I understand guys like him."

Lynette intentionally played dumb, knowing intuitively that to do so would elicit more information than simply accepting the answer Scott had just given her. "You understand him? He was speaking English, right? What was there to understand."

"No, just guys like him. Paramedics, and...."

Scott didn't finish the sentence; looked as though he suddenly couldn't finish it. Then Lynette realized: Gil was a deputy sheriff in the Ada County Sheriff's Department. And the paramedic....

"Which were you?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" said Scott.

"Were you a cop, or a firefighter, or what?"

"I thought it was your son who saw the future, not you who could read the past," said Scott with a grin.

Lynette didn't grin back, sensing her question was being avoided. She crossed her arms in front of her and said, "Which?"

Scott looked rueful for a moment, then answered, "Cop."

"Where? Boise? Did you work with Gil?"

"No. Los Angeles."

"You didn't tell me you lived in Los Angeles, too," she said, surprised.

"You didn't ask."

"Scott," she said, and swatted his arm in mock anger. "That's the kind of thing that friends tell each other."

"Ow, lady, don't hit, I've been wounded, see?" He pointed to his ear as though it was worthy of a purple heart or the Congressional Medal of Honor. Then he grew serious. "So we're friends, then?"

The question was delivered with such utter sincerity, with such a sense of import, that it stopped Lynette cold. After all, she barely knew this man. Sure, he had been helpful to her when she moved in, but being helpful was different than being a friend. But he was kind, and she could sense a deep and abiding goodness in him.

And Kevin had hugged him. That alone answered the question.

"Yes," she said. "We're definitely friends."

"Then," said Scott, "I think you should tell me the whole story."

"What whole story?" Lynette asked.

Scott sighed. "I wasn't the greatest cop in the entire world," he said. "But I was good enough to tell when someone wasn't telling me everything important. And you, missy, have been holding some things back since the first moment I met you."

Lynette opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Could she tell Scott about the gray man? Would he believe her? After all, it wasn't even certain that he believed her about Kevin and the fact that he had saved Ruth and her baby, though Lynette knew without a doubt that that was the case; could feel it in her bones as certainly as she could feel that Kevin was her son and that she loved him with all her heart.

Maybe not all of it. Maybe there's room for one more.

Stop it, Lynette.

To Scott, she finally answered simply, "You're right, I haven't told you everything."

"So?" Now it was his turn to cross his arms. "You gonna spill or what?"

She looked around. Though they were no longer the center of attention, there were still far too many people around for her to feel comfortable simply expelling the story of her life - at least, the story as far as it mattered - to a new friend.

"Not here," she said.

"Where then? When?"

She looked around again. A police cruiser had just pulled into the parking lot and was pulling to a stop next to the smoking remains of the truck and the Volvo. She pointed at it. "You tell me."