“She’ll be thrilled, once she gets to know you.” Everett comes to stand beside her at the window. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I apologize for what I said about the abortion. It was inappropriate.”
She smiles over at him. “No worries. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to keep this between us. It’s not a secret, exactly, but it’s personal.”
“You have my word. I won’t tell a soul.” He kisses her cheek. “Sleep tight in your new apartment.”
Presley remains at the window for a long time after he lets himself out. She doesn’t know what prompted her to confide in him. She’s not a very open person. Even when she had a whole sorority of girlfriends at Bama, she kept things to herself. But Everett is different. Although she doesn’t know him well, she feels like she can trust him. With so many changes taking place in her life, she’s glad to have a friend.
11
Everett
Everett sleeps fitfully, dreaming of fatherless babies crying for attention. When he wakes with a start at daybreak, he sits bolt upright, bathed in a cold sweat and unable to breathe. Rolling off the mattress to his feet, he takes big gulps of air as he moves about the room. Once his breathing steadies and his heart rate slows, he throws on workout clothes and hits the pavement. By doubling the distance he normally runs, he succeeds in chasing away the demons plaguing his conscience.
After showering and dressing and eating a bowl of Cheerios, he walks over to the library and waits for it to open at ten. Today, instead of deleting emails from Carla and Louie, he reads the most recent from both. Nothing in their messages surprise him. More pleas for Everett to get in touch as soon as possible. His mom, on the other hand, delivers disturbing news in her weekly communication. His father suffered a minor stroke over the weekend. He’s out of the hospital now, and while there’s no major damage, the doctors warn that another, more severe stroke, is possible. His diabetes complicates his condition, putting him at an even higher risk. While his mom assures him that everything is fine, Everett reads the worry between the lines. On her limited income, money is tight enough without having to worry about hospital bills.
With a heavy heart, Everett leaves the library and heads in to work. When he enters the building, his mind elsewhere, he forgets to check for Naomi at the front desk. Spotting him, she chases him down as he hurries through the lounge.
“Everett, I need a word with you.” He slows his pace, and she catches up with him. “In private.”
He glances around the empty lounge. “But there’s no one here.” She glares at him, and he adds, “Whatever.”
They walk together to Billy’s Bar. Everett goes behind the bar, dumps his backpack on the counter, and flicks a series of switches that bathes the room in light. “Okay, Naomi. What’s this about?” he asks with an exasperated sigh.
“I received a disturbing phone call this morning from one of last week’s guests.” Standing near the end of the bar, Naomi consults the notecard in her hand. “A Mr. Mack Lambert. He was part of the group of fly fishermen here last week.”
Turkey Neck, he thinks. “And what did Mr. Mack Lambert have to say, Naomi?”
“He was asking a lot of questions about you, Everett. Do you remember him?”
Everett examines his fingernails, pretending to be bored despite his heart hammering against his rib cage. “I remember the group, not the man specifically. What kind of questions was he asking?”
“He claims he knows you from somewhere, but he can’t place you, and it’s driving him crazy. You know how that is.”
Everett knows exactly how that is. He’s still trying to figure out how he knows the ruddy-faced fisherman as well.
He feels Naomi’s eyes on him, watching closely for his response. “When I can’t remember someone, it bugs me for a few minutes, an hour max. But those men checked out nearly a week ago. If this Mack person is still trying to place me, he seriously needs to get a life.”
Naomi waves the notecard at him. “That’s the thing, though. He’s certain he knows you from Atlanta, yet you told him you’re from North Dakota. Mack wants to know why you lied. He thinks maybe you’re wanted by the police.” She sets her intense gaze on Everett. “Are you, Everett? Wanted by the police?”
Fear creeps down Everett’s spine. “That’s ridiculous. Mack is mistaken. You know the old saying that everyone has a twin.”
Naomi holds out her hand. “Let me see your driver’s license.”
Everett digs through his wallet and hands her the fake license. If she investigates him, she won’t have to dig hard to find out he’s originally from Georgia.
Naomi studies the license and returns it to him. “I’ve got my eye on you, Everett. You’re hiding something, and I aim to find out what it is.”
“You’re wasting your time, Naomi. From what I hear, that’s what you do best.”
Naomi opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again. Spinning on her heels, she flees the bar.
Everett pours a shot of Patron. With a shaking hand, he lifts it to his lips. His mom’s voice echoes in his head. Don’t do it, Rhett. You’re better than this.
Am I, Mom? I’m not so sure. He pours the tequila down the drain and slumps against the bar. Will the end ever justify the means? Why not go home to Atlanta and face the firing squad? In the grand scheme of things, his crimes aren’t serious. He’s done nothing illegal. He’s not wanted for murder. He’s not even wanted by the police. Sure, what he did was morally wrong, and his conscience is eating away at him. But throwing in the towel would mean giving up on his dreams. And he’s not ready to do that just yet.
And what about Presley? Whatever is going
