“I keep busy,” she said.
“Mom tells me you graduated first in your class at Georgetown.”
Six years ago…She gave him an indifferent smile. He sounded impressed. But what she achieved never satisfied her for long. “Amazing what you can do when you apply yourself, huh?”
“How’d you get into a school like that?”
She’d left town two days after graduating from Stillwater High, worked as a waitress at a greasy spoon in Jackson in order to scrape by, and spent every available minute—for two years—studying for the entrance exams. When she wound up with an almost perfect score, no one seemed to care too much about her high school GPA. She managed to get into the University of Iowa, and after that she’d been accepted at Georgetown.
But she didn’t see any point in discussing the details with Clay. She didn’t look back on her college days, when she’d slept only three or four hours a night, with any pride or nostalgia. While everyone else juggled school and a normal social life, she’d kept to herself and tolerated nothing less than academic excellence.
She’d been trying to make up for the past, trying to prove that she was more than everyone thought. But after graduating from law school and working as an assistant district attorney for the past five years, she’d finally realized that running away wasn’t the solution. She still couldn’t move on with her personal life.
“I got lucky,” she said simply.
He glanced at the house. “Wanna come in?”
Hearing the hope in those words, she studied the deep porch where they used to sit on the steps and listen to their mother read scripture. The reverend had demanded they study the Bible for an hour each day. But it hadn’t been a bad experience. Holding a glass of lemonade, Grace would feel the oppressive heat of a summer’s day cool slightly as evening approached. She’d hear the lilt of her mother’s voice as the boards beneath the old rocking chair creaked and the lightning bugs danced near the porch light. She’d always enjoyed it—until the reverend came home.
“No, I—I’d better be going.” She started edging away. Seeing Clay, knowing he was still on guard, was enough. She couldn’t face any more memories tonight.
“How long will you be in town?”
She paused when he spoke. “I don’t know.”
He scowled, and she thought he looked rather harsh for such a handsome man. Evidently, carrying the family’s dark secret was taking its toll on him, too. “What brings you back after all this time?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes in challenge. “Sometimes I feel like doing the right thing and telling everyone what happened here.”
“How do you know it’s the right thing?” he asked softly.
“Because I’ve spent the past five years championing the truth and making people take responsibility for their actions.”
“Are you sure you always get the right guy, Grace? And that he gets the appropriate punishment?”
“We have to trust the system, Clay. Without it, our whole society falls apart.”
“Who deserves to pay for what happened here?”
The man who was buried in the ground. But Clay already knew that, so she didn’t respond.
“Why haven’t you come forward before?” he asked.
“For the same reason you’re still guarding this place with that gun,” she admitted.
He studied her for several seconds. “Sounds like you have a tough decision to make.”
“I guess I do.”
No response.
“Aren’t you going to try and talk me out of it?” she asked with a bitter laugh.
“Sorry,” he said. “You have to make your own choice.”
She hated his answer and nearly told him so. She wanted a fight, something tangible to rail against, someone to blame. Leave it to Clay to sidestep her so easily. But he changed the subject before she could say anything.
“Did you quit your job?” he asked.
“No, I’m on vacation.” She hadn’t missed a single day of work in five years. The state owed her two months, and she’d taken a leave of absence beyond that.
“You picked an interesting place to spend your vacation.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“I have good reason.”
She’d expected him to resent her for leaving, like their mother did, but she sensed that he was glad she’d escaped. He wanted her to stay away, to go and live her life and forget about him, Stillwater, everything.
His generosity made her feel even worse—for wanting the same thing. “You could leave if you really wanted to,” she pointed out, although she knew that in his mind it wasn’t really true.
His mouth was a straight, resolute slash in his face. “I’ve made my decision.”
“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch,” she said. “You’ll probably live your whole life out here.”
“Where’re you staying?” he asked instead of responding.
“I rented Evonne’s place.”
“Then you already know about her.”
Grace steeled herself against the ache in her chest. “Molly called me when she died.”
“Molly was here for the funeral.”
“Molly comes here for a lot of things,” she said, bristling even though there was no censure in his voice. She wanted to act the way Molly did, to come and go as she pleased, to behave as if she was just like anyone else. But she couldn’t cope with all the contradictions. “Anyway, I was right in the middle of a very important trial.” Which was true, but Grace hadn’t made the slightest attempt to get away. Three months ago, she’d been too entrenched in the belief that she’d never come back. For anything. Except maybe her own mother’s funeral—and even that was questionable.
“I know Evonne meant a great deal to you,” he said. “She was a good woman.”
A childless widow with sable-colored skin and eyes that saw the best in almost everyone, Evonne Walker had been sixty-five when Grace left Stillwater. Regardless of the weather, she used to sit beneath the awning in her front yard on Main Street at the corner of Apple Blossom, selling handmade soaps and lotions and, depending on the season, produce from her garden, eggs from her chickens, bottled pickles, peaches and tomatoes, sweet potato pies and brownies.
Evonne had been an oddity in Stillwater for three reasons. There’d never been any love lost between her and the reverend, she’d always minded her own business, and she’d been kind to Grace.