The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(92)

“It’ll ruin me.”

“How? I don’t understand.”

“This is not what I want to be.”

“A lesbian?”

Temple flinched.

Lucy threw up her hands. “Jeez, Temple, welcome to the twenty-first century. People fall in love.”

“Easy for you to say. You fell in love with a man.”

For a moment Lucy actually thought she was talking about Panda, but then she realized Temple must mean Ted. “We don’t always choose whom we fall in love with. Lots of women are lesbians.”

Her lip curled, even as her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I’m not lots of women. I’m Temple Renshaw.”

“And that puts you a cut above ordinary humans?”

“I don’t settle for second best. It’s not how I’m made.”

“Do you really think Max is second best?”

“Max is wonderful,” she said fiercely. “The best person I’ve ever known.”

“Then what?”

Temple remained stubbornly silent, but Lucy wouldn’t let her get away with that. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I don’t have to. Political correctness doesn’t change the reality. Homosexuality is a defect. A flaw.”

“Got it. You’re too perfect to be gay.”

“I’m not talking to you about this any longer.”

Lucy was filled with pity. The standards Temple had set for herself were impossible for anyone to meet. No wonder she was miserable.

Tires crunched in the gravel. Temple closed her eyes and leaned back against the curtain. Lucy looked out the window. “Congratulations. The best person you’ve ever known just drove away.”



PANDA WAS SAWING AT A dead tree and spoiling for a fight when Lucy came out to talk to him. “I suppose you think I should have told you about Max, too?” he said.

“Yes, but I also understand client confidentiality. I know—”

A loud crash came from the house. He threw down the saw and raced inside. Lucy ran after him. As she reached the front hallway, she heard thuds coming from overhead, then something slamming against the floor. She followed him up the steps.

Temple stood in the middle of the gym, eyes wild, hair undone, the destruction of her prison-kingdom all around her. An overturned weight bench, scattered floor-mats, a hole in the wall. Temple snatched up a ten-pound weight and was about to hurl it through the window when Panda grabbed her.

It was a battle of the gods. Hercules versus Xena Warrior Princess. But as strong as she was, he was far stronger, and it didn’t take long for him to pinion her against his chest.

All the fight went out of her. When he finally released her, she collapsed at his feet. He shot Lucy a silent appeal for help, and she did the only thing she could think of.

Her bread was hidden in the den where Panda could get to it. She’d baked it just that afternoon at the cottage. She carried it to the kitchen where she unwrapped it, cut off the chewy heel, and drizzled it with honey from the jar she’d hidden in the cupboard.

Temple was slumped against the wall, her head resting against the arms she’d folded over her bent knees. Lucy knelt next to her and offered it. “Eat this.”

Temple’s teary red eyes reflected only betrayal. “Why are you sabotaging me?” she said hoarsely.

“This isn’t sabotage.” Lucy struggled to find the words. “It’s—it’s life.”

Temple ate it. Not gulping it down but savoring each small bite. While Panda leaned against the doorjamb and watched, Lucy sat cross-legged at Temple’s side and tried to think what to say. In the end, she said nothing.

“That was good,” Temple said in a small voice. “Can I have another?”

Lucy thought for a moment. “No, but I’m making dinner tonight.”

Temple’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I can’t do this any longer.”

“I know.”

Temple buried her face in her hands. “It’s all going to come crashing down. Everything I’ve worked for.”

“Not unless you want it to,” Lucy said. “You’ve fixed your body. All you need to do now is fix your head.” She rose and faced Panda. “I’ll be back in an hour. Unlock the pantry.”





Chapter Twenty




THE HOUSE WAS QUIET WHEN Lucy returned from town. She unpacked the groceries and a small charcoal grill from Panda’s trunk. While the coals heated, she tossed a worn cloth over the picnic table, set it with a hodgepodge of dishes, and shucked four ears of corn.

When she was back in the kitchen, she poured herself a generous glass of wine and unwrapped some freshly caught, but mercifully cleaned and de-headed, trout she’d bought at the marina. She stuffed the trout with spinach leaves, some wild chives she’d found growing in the back, and a few lemon slices. After brushing the fish lightly with olive oil, she set the pieces on a platter waiting for the grill. She wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing, but she did know Temple couldn’t keep on like this any longer—obsessed, tormented, and destined to regain all the weight she’d lost as soon as she left this Fat Island she’d created.

Panda appeared while she was making a quick salad, this one supplemented with pine nuts, slivers of ripe pear, and a creamy crumble of forbidden feta. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” he asked.