Guests are coming over in a few hours, and the house isn't ready, but this chapter was just screaming to be completed and posted. :)
She had told Walt she'd meet him at the high school in forty-five minutes.
Forty-five minutes hadn't been enough time to completely calm her raw skin. It hadn't helped that she'd sat in her truck in her driveway for a full ten minutes re-living that kiss over and over instead of immediately heading in to her house to treat the irritated areas that had come into contact with his stubble. Standing in front of her mirror with only minutes to go before she had to leave to get to the school by the agreed-upon time, she'd decided the progress she'd made would have to do.
Forty-five minutes hadn't been enough time to wrap her mind around what had happened back at Walt's office. He had seemed focused on the case all morning, and at times even a little aloof, so the kiss had caught her by surprise, and it had taken her a moment to respond in kind. But it wasn't the kiss itself she was trying to work through. It was his reaction afterward. He hadn't apologized, or seemed full of regret or been burdened by guilt. Not only had he kissed her, he'd done it at work. And when they'd been interrupted by Ferg's knock on the door, he hadn't withdrawn into himself.
Forty-five minutes hadn't seemed like enough time to attempt to soothe her tender skin AND mull over what had happened AND show up at the school, but here she was, sitting in her truck in the school's parking lot, three minutes early. She had backed up into the spot next to Walt's Bronco. The engine was off, but she hadn't made a move to exit the vehicle. She stared at the front entrance, slightly reluctant to go in.
Forty-five minutes was enough time for the reality of what he'd done to sink in for Walt.
Forty-five minutes was enough time for him to start back-peddling. To start retreating. To once again put up his wall.
Forty-five minutes was enough time to crush her hopes regarding that kiss possibly being the 'next move' she'd been waiting for him to make.
So she was sitting in the driver's seat, hesitant to learn the truth. If she didn't go into that school and face him, her hopes could stay intact, at least for a little longer. If she didn't leave her truck, she didn't have to see regret in his eyes, or experience his renewed weariness, or feel like she was once again being kept at arm's length.
But despite her anxiety that Walt might now regret his actions, she had to admit that a little excitement was there as well. A hope that maybe they'd turned the corner, and that he was finally willing to start moving forward. After all, he'd been the one to initiate the kiss.
Vic picked up her phone from where she had laid it on the middle console, and again looked at the time. Despite the current state of things, she knew she had to go in. They were here because of the case. In fifteen minutes school would let out, and if she didn't join Walt in the office soon, he'd be left to talk to Andy on his own.
As her stomach clenched in a mix of apprehension and exhilaration, she wrapped her fingers around the handle, opened the door and began making her way across the parking lot.
She had been in the school one time before, a little over a year ago. She had stopped by the school when the person she had talked to from the front office had refused to give her information over the phone. She had known she probably could have avoided the in-person visit if she'd had Walt give the school a call, but she decided to head over to Durant High so they could start putting a face to the name. Once onsite, everyone had been extremely welcoming and helpful, and her future phone requests were responded to graciously and promptly.
When she stepped inside the school this afternoon, she realized that during that previous visit, it hadn't really occurred to her that this was the very school that Walt had gone to. He had walked these halls, and stood outside these lockers, and sat in these classrooms. The thought of him here, as a teenager, made her smile.
As she turned the corner, she slowed her pace. The wall of the front office was all windows, and she hoped to get a view of Walt before he saw her. She wanted to see if she could gauge his reaction by catching a look at him while he was still unaware of her presence. She didn't see him at first, her eyes scanning the room as she looked through the glass. But when the student at the counter turned and headed for the door, she saw Walt sitting on the bench against the far wall, hat in hand.
Vic stopped, and took him in for a moment.
When she'd first moved to Durant and started at the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department, both Sean and her mother had asked her what the sheriff was like. She had given them vague descriptions. Just enough to satisfy their curiosity. She'd described him as tall, and a man of few words, and extremely competent, and old-school in his ways. She had definitely not painted the full picture.
She didn't tell them that his eyes were that kind of blue that darkened and lightened given his mood, and when focused on hers, could completely pull her in. She didn't tell them that she learned to read his tells, and where everyone saw the unflappable lawman, she could see his surprise, and his pain, and his concern, and his frustration and his moments of joy. She didn't tell them about his sense of humor. Or his unwillingness to burden anyone with his problems. Or his often unshakeable stubbornness. Or his thirst for fairness and justice that drove him to find the truth and right the wrongs, even if it led to personal sacrifices and obsessive tendencies. She didn't tell them that when he opened up to her, telling her things she suspected he had shared with few others, she felt connected to him in a way she hadn't felt with anyone else.
As she watched him through the window of the front office, her attraction to him, and her awe of him, and her frustration with him all swelled within her. He was fidgeting, his right hand lifting to smooth down his hair, and his left leg bouncing slightly. A yearbook rested on the bench beside him. Lost in his thoughts, he seemed oblivious to what was actually going on around him. She watched as he raised his eyes to the clock on the wall and then dropped his gaze. Again her stomach clenched in anticipation. Pulling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath, Vic proceeded to the entrance.
The moment she appeared in the doorway, Walt stood, his eyes locking on hers as his hands fell to his side.
"Deputy Moretti. It's good to see you again."
Vic reluctantly pulled her gaze from his and looked over at Nancy, the front office clerk. She was greeted by a smile.
"Hi Nancy."
Nancy nodded at one of the closed doors. "As I told Sheriff Longmire, Vice Principal Whitcomb is talking to someone in his office right now, but will be out shortly. He is aware that the two of you would be stopping by."
"Ok. Thanks."
The phone on the office clerk's desk rang. "Excuse me a moment. I need to answer this." As Nancy picked up the handset, Vic looked over at Walt.
She took a couple steps toward him. "You been here long?"
Walt stared back at her for a moment. "Just a few minutes."
He bent down to pick up the yearbook and then took a couple steps back, as if to give her space on the bench, but neither sat down.
Vic looked out the window into the hallway. "When was the last time you were here?"
"At the school, or in this office?"
She turned back to look at him. "Either."
"Henry and I came to a football game a couple of weeks ago."
She arched an eyebrow. "Do you go to a lot of home games?"
"At least one or two each season."
"I...I didn't realize you attended Durant games. Well, obviously you said that you'd seen Tuck play during his high school days, but I thought that was because you were friends with his family. And clearly you're an alumnus, and it would make sense to watch your team continue to play. And with Sheriff being an elected position, attending school football games would help you keep ties to the community..." Inside she cringed. Why was she rambling?
He blinked. "Yes." And then the sides of his mouth turned upwards. "Plus I just like watching a good game."
Her head bowed slightly. "Right. Of course."
"You ever been to a game?"
She looked up. "Oh. Uh...no."
"Well, we should remedy that. You've been missing out."
She felt the knot in her stomach start to loosen slightly, and she tried to keep her smile in check. "Yes, we should."
She saw Walt stand up straighter and look past her shoulder, and she turned to see a student leaving the vice principal's office. A moment later, the man himself appeared in the doorway.
He stepped forward, extending his hand. "Walt. Good to see you."
"Charlie." Walt shifted the yearbook to the hand holding his hat, and reached out. He then looked over at Vic. "This is Deputy Moretti."
"Deputy. Charlie Whitcomb." Again Charlie extended his hand.
She responded with a firm grip of her own. "You can call me Vic."
"You didn't grow up here in Durant, did you? I don't recognize you as one of our former students."
"No. Philadelphia."
He looked over at Walt. "Have you given Vic a tour of your old stomping ground?" Charlie looked back at Vic. "I was a young teacher here when Walt graced these halls as a student."
With a sideways glance at Walt, she grinned. "I've been hearing about Walt's high school escapades recently. Of course, not from him. As you probably know, he's not one to re-live his glory days, or brag about...anything. I wouldn't have known he even played football in high school or college if someone else hadn't told me."
"That's sounds like Walt. Ever humble."
Vic's smile grew as she noted Walt's slight embarrassment with the current conversation.
"You'll have to catch me up on more stories about Walt, but we've actually come to talk to one of your students, and with class about to get out for the day—"
"Oh, yes. Of course. Please step inside my office."
Vic and Walt followed him in, and stood near the desk as he closed the door behind them.
"Which student are you here to talk to?"
Walt gripped the brim of his hat. "Andy Bowman. He's a senior."
Charlie stood silent for a moment. "Can I ask why you need to talk to Andy?"
Walt shifted his stance. "I'm afraid we can't go into any details with you. We just have some clarifying questions we need to ask him."
"So he's not in any trouble?"
"Again, I can't say any more than that."
Charlie looked between them. "I'll bring Andy back here, and the two of you can talk to him in the privacy of my office. It will make less of a scene that way."
Walt glanced over at Vic before turning back to Charlie. "That works. Thanks."
Charlie looked up at the clock near the door. "The bell will ring in a few minutes. I'll start heading over to his classroom."
Vic stared at the door, which Charlie left open when he exited, and listened to the end-of-day activity coming from the office just outside. She saw Walt place the yearbook and his hat down on the desk, and lean against it. She leaned back as well, copying his stance, both hands gripping the edge.
Vic knew that with the door open, Walt wasn't going to bring up what had happened between them earlier. She didn't even know if he would have brought it up had the door been closed.
With her eyes still on the doorway, she swallowed. "Did Ferg say anything about me leaving early?"
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Walt blink. A few more moments passed and then Walt's eyes dropped to his boots. "He asked where you were when he didn't see you re-appear from my office."
Her grip on the desk tightened. "What did you tell him?"
Another pause. "I told him you were over at Ace Hardware, running the aisles, trying to time how long it would take to steal duct tape and leave an apology post-it note." He glanced over at her. "And that you were the one to do it because you were the best man for the job."
Vic stared at him, and then her stomach muscles relaxed and she burst out in laughter as she remembered their conversation just before their kiss. She had not been expecting anything even remotely humorous to come from him in that moment, and was pleased to see a matching smile erupt on his face.
"Ferg didn't even notice I was gone, did he?"
"Nope."
"Too busy being a good deputy and staying focused on the tasks at hand?"
"Yep."
His gaze dropped to her chin, and he briefly scanned her face, before raising his eyes back to hers. "You look—"
They heard someone clear his throat, and Vic watched Walt push himself off the desk before she turned to see Vice Principal Whitcomb in the doorway with Andy at his side.
Charlie took a couple steps into the room and then turned toward Andy. "Andy, since you're eighteen, it's up to you whether you'd like me to stay. Are you ok talking to Sheriff Longmire and Deputy Moretti on your own?"
Andy looked between Walt and Vic. "I'm ok."
Charlie turned back to Walt and Vic. "If you need me, just step out and talk to Nancy and she'll get ahold of me."
Walt nodded.
Charlie exited, closing the door behind him. Vic turned toward Andy as Walt walked to the other side of the desk and brought the chair around to join the other two chairs on the side they were on.
Vic watched Andy closely as his eyes followed Walt's movements. Adjusting the grip on the strap of his backpack, he silently shifted his gaze to her. She gestured toward one of the chairs. "Take a seat Andy."
Andy hesitated, and then sank into the chair and placed his bag on the floor, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Andy, I'm not sure if you've met Sheriff Longmire before."
His eyes traveled to Walt, and then he shook his head. "No."
"Sheriff Longmire is a former Durant High student. Even played a little football while he went here."
"I've seen his picture in the display case out in the hallway."
Vic looked over at Walt who avoided eye contact. "Really?" She made a mental note to get a look at that picture.
"Yeah. His team won the championship."
Walt ignored her raised eyebrows as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. "Do you like football, Andy?"
Andy shrugged. "It's ok."
"Ever play?"
"No."
"I was at the game two weeks back when we played Lander Valley. Were you at the game?"
Andy shook his head.
"Did you ever go to games when Tuck Jensen played here a few years back? He was a good player."
Andy shrugged. "I'm not much of a fan."
"The whole school gets into football. Isn't it kind of unavoidable?"
"The school makes too big a deal about it. They're not even that good."
Walt's left eyebrow rose. "But you used to be a fan of the team."
A look of confusion filled Andy's eyes.
Walt reached over and picked up the yearbook from the desk. Flipping to the picture of the football team, he handed the book to Andy.
"You were a team manager your freshman year."
Andy looked down at the page in front of him, but said nothing.
"Why weren't you in the team photo that day?"
Andy continued to stare at the picture without looking up. "I was home...sick."
"Why were you a manager for the team if football isn't your thing?"
He looked up, handing the book back to Walt. "Like you said, football is a big deal around here. It seemed like the thing to do at the time."
"But you weren't a team manager your sophomore year, or any other year. Why is that?"
"I wasn't interested in it anymore."
"Your friends didn't try to convince you to stay involved?"
"My friends?"
"The rest of the team."
"We weren't really friends."
Vic shifted in her seat. "Were they assholes? I've known a few asshole football players in my day."
Andy's eyes flicked over to hers. "Some of them."
She caught Walt's eye and then leaned in. "Was Tuck Jensen one of the assholes? He seems like the kind of kid where everything comes too easy to him and takes for granted what he has."
"He wasn't the worst."
"Oh yeah? Who were some of the biggest assholes?"
Andy leaned back in his chair. "It doesn't matter. They don't go here anymore."
Walt placed the yearbook back on the desk. "Did you get involved with any other school activities?"
"No."
"Had enough with school spirit?"
He shrugged again.
"How did you keep busy outside of classes and homework?"
Andy blinked. "I got a job."
"Where?"
"Cressida Garden Center."
"On Main Street?"
Andy nodded.
"What kind of work did you do for them?"
"I mainly mowed lawns. Sometimes I did inventory in the store."
"So why'd you start working at Exxon?"
"Cressida's mostly a summer job. I wanted something year-round."
"How do you like working at the gas station?"
"It's ok."
"I bet you didn't expect to be in the midst of a robbery two weeks in."
Andy's eyes drifted to his hands in his lap. "No."
"Have you been back to work yet?"
He shook his head.
"When's your next shift?"
"Tonight."
"You going to be ok going back?"
Andy scratched the side of his head. "I guess."
"You're pretty lucky, Andy. The other robbery victims weren't so lucky. A few suffered some significant injuries."
His eyes still downcast, Andy's shoulders slumped. "I heard."
"Why do you think that is?"
Andy looked up.
"Why do you think you walked away injury-free?"
"I...I don't know."
"Do you think the guy recognized you?"
Glancing at the window, Andy gave a non-committal shrug.
"Did you recognize him?"
His eyes darted back to Walt. "No...I...I didn't really see him."
Walt rubbed the side of his jaw with the back of his hand. "We think you did. See him."
Andy didn't respond, but kept his eyes trained on Walt.
"You told Deputy Moretti that the guy approached you from behind. You said that he had a mask, but that you saw little else."
Silence.
"But I've been to the store, Andy. I saw how the register is positioned, and how the chime signals when someone enters."
Andy's chin dropped toward his chest.
"You're brand new to the job, and I think you would pay attention to every single patron who entered the store. So I think you saw the guy enter."
Walt let his words linger in the air. After several moments had passed, Andy brought his hand up to cup the back of his neck.
"He said my name."
Vic arched an eyebrow as she looked over at Walt, but Walt waited for him to continue.
Andy finally looked up. "He entered the store with a mask on, and a gun pointed at my face, and yelled 'Open the register and then get down on the fu..." His eyes flicked over to Vic. "Get down on the f-ing ground, Andy.'"
Andy's eyes again dropped to his hands. "And so I did exactly what he said."
Vic's brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell me that?"
He raised his chin to look at her. "Because...because he also said he knew where I live. I...I didn't know if telling you...I didn't want him to come find me if I said too much. It's...it's why I didn't call it in right away."
"Did you recognize his voice?"
Andy shook his head.
"Did you recognize anything about him?"
Again a head shake.
Crossing her arms, she looked at him intently. "You're not holding something back, are you Andy?"
Another shake of the head.
Vic stood, resting her hands at her hips. "We've had a lot of people lying to us this week. Holding back the truth, and making our work a hell of a lot more difficult. Are you doing that Andy?"
Andy looked up at her. "No."
"You were a manager when two of the other victims, Kyle Walton and Tuck Jensen, were both on the football team. Was the third victim, Dylan Matthews, involved with the team?"
Andy shook his head. "No. Or at least not when I was."
"Can you think of a way the four of you are connected?"
Andy looked between her and Walt. "No."
"Did you mow the lawns of Kyle, Dylan, or Tuck's families when you worked at Cressida?"
"I don't think so."
"Was there anyone you worked with who may have mowed their lawns?"
"You...you'll have to check with someone at the store to see if those families are even customers."
Walt stood, picked up his hat and leaned against the corner of the desk. "Anything else you can think of, Andy? Anything that might help us track this guy down, or figure out why he did what he did?"
"Uh...not that I can think of."
Walt nodded. "Ok."
Andy looked between them, trying to gauge if the conversation was done.
Walt stood and held out his hand. "Thanks for answering our questions."
Standing, Andy took Walt's hand. "Sure." He bent down and lifted his backpack from the floor.
Walt rotated his hat in his hands. "Where are you going to college next year, Andy?"
Andy placed the backpack on his right shoulder. "I don't know yet. I'm still deciding where to apply."
"You a good student?"
"Yeah."
"Looking at four-year colleges?"
"Yeah."
"In Wyoming, or out of state?"
"Both. Probably out of state."
"I went out of state."
"I know. USC. The school's rather proud they sent one of their own to play for the Trojans."
Walt arched an eyebrow in his direction. "I thought you didn't really follow football."
He gave a shrug. "Like you said, whether you like it or not, football is a big deal around here."
XX
Vic took a step back as two female students ran past, all giggles and streaming hair. She wondered if she'd ever appeared that care-free at their age.
Walt was still in the office talking to Charlie, but she had stepped into the hallway to make a call.
With her phone at her ear, she read the poster taped to the wall in front of her, which was advertising the home football game next Friday against Douglas High School.
"Hey, Vic."
"Hey, Branch. Where are you right now?"
"On my way back to the station."
"Could you stop by Cressida Garden Center on Main Street and find out if any of our robbery victims' families had or have their lawns mowed by them? And can you get a list of all their current or previous employees?"
"Who or what am I looking for?"
"Not sure if Cressida is even relevant to the case, but Andy Bowman worked there for a few summers. We just finished talking to Andy and he admitted that the guy who robbed the Exxon gas station called him by name and said that he knew where he lived. We're trying to figure out who might be connected to Andy, so Cressida is one of the places we want to look into."
"Sure. I'll let you know what I learn."
"Thanks."
She hung up, her focus returning to the poster.
"Who were you talking to?"
She jumped slightly, not having noticed Walt approach her side.
"Branch. He's heading over to Cressida Garden Center to get a list of their lawn care customers, and their employees."
She looked up to see Walt looking at the poster. She ran her hand along her ponytail. "Do you...do you maybe want—"
"Walt."
They both turned to see the vice principal standing in the doorway to the front office.
"Here's the list of individuals who have access to our system."
Walt walked across the hallway and took the paper from him. "Are any of them students?"
"No. Only administrative staff and teachers have access."
Walt glanced down at the list and then looked back up. "Thanks."
"Sorry I couldn't be of more help."
"You've been very helpful today, Charlie. Thank you."
Charlie looked over at Vic. "It was nice meeting you, Vic."
"You too Charlie."
"Stop by anytime if you want to hear any stories about your boss."
Vic grinned. "I will definitely take you up on that offer."
Ignoring the two of them, Walt started walking down the wall. "Bye, Charlie."
"Bye." Vic gave a quick wave and then took off after him.
When they reached the front door to the school, she came to a halt, grabbing his sleeve. "Oh wait."
Without releasing his arm, she tugged on his shirt to encourage him to follow her. "I forgot something.
Walt followed her back down the hallway where she stopped in front of the display case. Walt groaned when he realized what she had come back to do.
"I couldn't leave without getting a look at the picture Andy mentioned."
She looked through the various photographs and awards on display until she found what she was in search of. It turned out to be pictures. Plural. A team photo, from their 1980 championship game, was on the left. To the right were two pictures of Walt and two of Henry, and captions mentioning where the co-captains had each gone on to play in college. The second picture of Walt was of him in his USC uniform.
She looked up at Walt, who was looking down the hall.
She took out her phone and opened the camera app. At the sound of the picture taking Walt turned toward here.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
Walt paused. "If I see that picture hanging from any bulletin board or as anyone's screensaver..."
She smiled up at him innocently. "No clue what you're talking about."
XX
"Why did Charlie give you a list of the individuals with access to the school's computer system?"
Walt looked over at Vic as the two made their way across the school parking lot.
"I was discussing with him who might have access to Andy's home address. The problem is, this town is small enough that many people likely know where Andy lives, even if they don't have access to his student information."
Vic nodded as they walked single-file between two cars. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "I've been thinking about whether the guy who robbed the Exxon actually knows Andy."
Walt halted, mid-stride. "He did call Andy by name and tell him he knows where he lives."
Vic turned around to face him, walking backwards. "He said he knows where he lives, but didn't state where he lives. And Andy's uniform shirt has his name on it. The guy could have just read it before calling him by name."
Walt continued walking. "Doesn't this go against our theory that the guy who robbed the stores hit each store because of the specific person at the register?"
"I'm just trying to find a reason for Andy not being injured like the rest. If the robberies were all attacks...revenge attacks, it doesn't make sense why the guy didn't harm Andy. Maybe he expected someone else to be behind the counter at Exxon that morning. Andy was relatively new to working there and maybe didn't have an established schedule yet like the other victims."
Vic flipped around just before arriving at their two trucks.
Walt joined her in the space between the two vehicles, digging into his pocket for his keys. He scratched the back of his neck. "What if Andy was the intended target, and the guy chose that date because Andy finally had a job at a place where he worked the register? He was working at Cressida Garden Center all summer long. It would have been hard to hold him up, under the guise of robbing a store, while he was mowing somebody's lawn."
"Why wait for Andy to get a job as a cashier, but then leave him uninjured if the purpose was revenge?"
"We're assuming the purpose of the assaults is revenge. It may not be the case. Or not the case in all the robberies, at least."
Vic turned her key in the lock of her driver-side door. "If this guy is assaulting these cashiers as an elaborate game...that's messed up shit."
Walt bowed his head. "Yep."
She turned and stared at the brim of his hat. "Hey Walt. The thing I said earlier about Tuck. About him being an asshole. I didn't mean it. I was just trying to get Andy to open up."
He looked up. "I know."
He held her gaze for a moment and then turned toward the Bronco.
Watching him unlock the door to his truck, she thought back to that home game poster up on the wall outside the front office, and the possibility of attending a game with him. She thought about asking Walt to go for a burger at the Pony that evening. She thought about that kiss. She couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. "You done for the day, or are you heading back to the office?"
"I'll radio Ruby to check in, but will likely head home." He looked over at her as he opened his door. "You should head home too. We'll be putting in hours tomorrow, on our day off, so you should call it a day and rest up." He lowered himself into the driver's seat.
Vic knew she was tired, but she felt restless. She wondered what he'd be doing that night. She wondered if he was wondering the same about her.
She took a step toward him. "Walt?"
He leaned out his open door, his gaze expectant. God, she wanted him to make the next move.
"Uh...what time are we heading up to Sheridan?"
He held her gaze. "Eleven? I can pick you up."
She turned toward her truck and exhaled. "Ok."
XX
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Leaping from her truck, she ran for the entrance.
Shit.
She arrived at the door just as the 'Closed' sign was being flipped. Irv looked at her from the other side of the glass.
Gripping the handle, she tested whether the door had already been locked. It didn't budge. "What the hell, Irv! There's two minutes left before your official close time."
Irv looked at her. "I'm closing. It's been dead the last thirty minutes, and I have somewhere to be."
"Come on. Please. It's urgent."
"Is this an official Sheriff's department matter?"
"Uh..." She could easily lie right now. "No. But it's important."
Irv raised an eyebrow.
"Plus I know exactly what I want and where it is. I'll be in and out. I swear." Her eyebrows both slanted to further plead her case. "Please."
Running his hand along his beard, he looked back at Vic.
"Alright. You have five minutes." He unlocked the door and stepped back to allow her to enter.
Relief flooded through her. "Thanks Irv. I really appreciate it."
"Five minutes." Despite the harshness of his statement, he smiled. She grinned in return, and then turned on her heels and headed for the first aisle.
XX
She sat in her truck, the engine cut, and her thudding heartbeat the only sound filling her ears. Both hands gripped the steering wheel.
What was she doing parked outside his cabin? Walt hadn't invited her over. She had stood near him in the space between their two vehicles in the parking lot of the school, just hours ago, and he hadn't asked her about her evening plans, no matter how much she'd wished he would. He hadn't tried to make plans with her, for tonight, or any future date.
Doubt began to creep in. What if they weren't on the same page? What if that kiss hadn't been his next move? What if he was not waiting for her to initiate next, but instead didn't want to pursue anything, or at least wasn't ready to? They hadn't talked about that kiss. What if it hadn't actually meant anything to him other than just being a momentary slip? What if he was attracted to her, but didn't want anything more? What if he hadn't changed his mind about the possibility of their being together?
The courage she'd felt back at her house as she resolutely grabbed her keys and charged toward her truck drained from her body. What was she doing?
She should turn around. Back her truck up and head home. He wouldn't even know she'd been here, and she could save face. She'd see him tomorrow, when they headed up to Sheridan to talk to Tyler's mother. She could regroup, and take some time to better read the situation before making the next move. Or maybe she needed to wait for him to make the next move.
She thought about the car keys she'd just stuffed in her coat pocket. She could leave. She should leave. Now. But somewhere inside was the hope that there was something there, between them. Something that just needed to be helped along. She was here because she had come to the conclusion that maybe he didn't know how to make the next move. Lizzie aside, Walt hadn't done any dating for decades, and she'd decided he might just need a nudge in the right direction. She'd driven over to give him that nudge.
She took a deep breath, and then opened her driver-side door. She could do this. It was just a nudge, right?
She stepped out and then turned to reach into the vehicle, pulling out the two bags. Her stomach in knots, she started the short walk toward his porch. When she reached the front door she took another deep breath. She could hear faint music coming from inside, but with the blinds closed she couldn't see in.
She moved the smaller bag to her other arm, knocked and then took a step back.
She waited, her stomach muscles tensing. Had he heard her knock with the music playing? Should she knock again?
Just then the front door swung open, and she found herself looking through the screen door at him. She noticed the flicker of surprise that crossed his eyes.
"Vic."
"I..." All preparation she'd done in regards to her opening words flew from her thoughts. She shifted her stance, the weight of the bags in her arms reminding her why she was here.
"We didn't really get a chance to talk earlier...about...what happened back at the office. So I...I thought maybe I'd stop by."
He stared silently back at her. She heard the soft sounds of a female singer she didn't recognize in the background.
"I don't know...I thought...I thought that kiss was your next move, and that maybe you were waiting for my response. And I didn't say or do...anything...back at the school, so I thought..." She trailed off. His expression was unreadable and a slight panic flared within her. Maybe she'd read the situation incorrectly, and she almost turned on her heels and fled, but then she took a closer look at his face. He was clean-shaven, and it looked like he'd had his hair cut as well. That flicker of hope swelled in her chest.
"I...um...I wanted to come over and—"
And then she heard it. The clatter of dishes from behind him. The unmistakable sound of someone else in the house. Her eyes flew past his shoulder, to the entrance to the kitchen. Walt turned slightly toward the sound, confirming he'd heard it as well.
Did he have plans with his daughter that evening? "I didn't know..."
Her sentence trailed off as her eyes moved to the couch, and landed on the open wine bottle on the coffee table, and the two partially filled glasses next to it.
She thought Cady was a beer drinker like her dad, but of course, she didn't know Cady that well to know all her drink preferences. But she did know Walt's.
She took a step backwards, and then slowly looked over her right shoulder. In the dark, and with her focus on the cabin, she hadn't looked too closely at Walt's truck when she'd arrived. Now, from her position on the porch, and with the light coming from the cabin, she could just make out a small vehicle parked on the other side of the Bronco. The vehicle was not Cady's jeep.
"Fuck."
She thought she'd only whispered the expletive, but turned at the sound of the screen door opening and Walt stepping into the doorway, a look of concern in his eyes.
"Vic..."
She looked up at him and then took another step back.
"Walt?" A woman's voice called out, cutting through the music. And then the woman appeared behind him. "I remembered where everything went in your cabinets from last time I was here, but couldn't figure out where this—" She stopped, her eyes landing on Vic. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize someone was here."
That made two of them.
The woman stared at her for a moment and then stepped forward. "You must be Vic!" How did this woman know her name? The woman smiled. "Your ears must be burning. We were just talking about you."
How did this stranger know who she was? This stranger with the gorgeous, thick brown hair, and kind eyes, and welcoming smile. This stranger who wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and who liked wine, and who had been at the cabin more than once and who was one of the select few who had seen the inside of Walt's kitchen cabinets. This stranger who Walt had shaved and gotten a haircut for. This stranger who had that kind of natural beauty that didn't require makeup, and who stood, looking comfortable in Walt's cabin in her bare feet, and who was closer in age to him than she would ever be.
Vic finally found her voice as she took another step backwards. "I didn't realize you had company. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll...I'll go."
She turned and started walking toward the steps when she heard Walt call out.
"Wait. Vic."
But she didn't want to wait. That was a lie. She wanted to turn around and have him clear things up for her, but something kept her feet moving in the other direction.
"Vic." This time it was the woman who called out. "Please stay. I was just about to leave."
Vic paused at the top of the stairs but didn't turn. A moment later the woman appeared beside her, shoes on, and a coat and purse in her hands.
"I have early morning plans, so I need to get home and was about to leave, so you're not interrupting anything. It was nice meeting you." The woman looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for dinner, Walt."
She turned back to Vic. "Please don't leave on my account."
And with that, Vic watched the woman head down the stairs and toward her car.
She stood with her back to Walt, watching the red tail lights of the vehicle getting smaller and then disappearing from sight.
"Vic."
Just forty-five minutes ago, she had been sitting on her couch, formulating her plan to come over here. She had thought that he might be similarly sitting on his couch, contemplating what to do, and her arrival would be all that was needed to nudge them forward.
Forty-five minutes ago she'd been re-visiting all the things that had occurred between them that week, and had been optimistic regarding their recent progress.
Forty-five minutes...
"Vic."
His voice was close. He must have stepped behind her without her realizing.
"You were right. That was me finally making the next move."
As I was finishing up this chapter, I realized I hadn't written a scene on Walt's porch since my final chapter of my story On Your Porch. It was nice to come back! And if Walt can keep Vic from leaving, there just might be another scene on the porch when the next chapter picks up.
Thanks for reading.