Dorothy Garlock (23 page)

Some of the crisp chill of the departed storm lingered in the evening air, but Cole could already feel the humidity rising.
Too soon, the heat would descend upon the town, smothering it as if it were a wool blanket. But for now, the coolness remained;
he would have to enjoy the brief change in temperature for however long it lasted.

The dark of night was a welcome respite. Cole had needed to get outside for a breath of fresh air and to cool his head. Life
in the Ambrose home had once again proven difficult; in the days since he and his father had spoken at the Hellers’ barn-raising,
Robert had once again grown moody. Inside the well-manicured house, silence reigned in every corner; the sound of a clock’s
striking of the hour was more than enough to startle. Sophie had already made plans with her family, so he’d had no choice
but to head out on his own.

Even with his bad leg, Cole liked to walk. Long ago, he’d decided that he wouldn’t just lie around and feel sorry for himself,
wallowing in self-pity and content to look out the window at the world going by without him. At Jason’s side, he’d tried to
join in games, run down to the creek, or tramp off to the movies. He’d wanted nothing more than to just be a kid. Still, the
going had been hard and failure had come nearly as often as success.

And he was sure there were more of both to come.

Walking down Main Street, Cole paused in front of the tavern. The few cars that were parked along the street glistened with
raindrops that shone in the light that spilled out of the tavern’s windows. The sound of drunken voices wafted out of the
cracked door. He found that he couldn’t help but think of Ellis Watts; it had only been a couple of weeks since he’d confronted
the man inside that very building, but the stink of whiskey on Ellis’s breath seemed as real as if the no-good bastard were
standing right before him. With the man’s predilection for trouble and drink, he imagined that Ellis was more than likely
inside.

A beat-up car drove past the tavern and honked; Cole figured that it must’ve been a greeting for someone already inside. One
drunk hailing another! Before he could chuckle, the faint sound of footsteps rose from behind him, but when he turned, the
sidewalk was empty. Shaking his head and silently chastising himself for being so jumpy, he continued on.

At his father’s hardware store, he turned off Main Street and headed for the northern edge of town. All around him, houses
lay shrouded in the gloomy aftermath of the rainstorm and the darkness of the late hour. A slight breeze rustled the tall
elms and oaks, occasionally sending sheets of rainwater cascading down to the earth. Cole raised his arms to protect himself
but was drenched just the same. Another rumble of distant thunder rolled across the sky.

Soon, Cole’s strides brought him to Victory High School. Two stories tall and constructed of a deep red brick that shone nearly
black in the rain, the school was one of the most cared-for buildings in town. The grass was immaculately kept, trimmed flush
along the walk that led to the double front doors. Deep hedgerows ran beneath the lower-floor windows. The clasp on the rope
of the flagpole clanged against the metal post in the light breeze, naked of its usual charge, the red, white, and blue of
the American flag. Cole wasn’t certain that the school had been his intended final destination, but it didn’t surprise him
that it was where his walk ended.

After the death of his mother, the school had been the place where Cole felt the most at home. The click-clacking of chalk
against the slate board, the scrape of pencil against paper, and the musty odor of books had all been welcome to his life.
The wonders of this building had changed him; the solace he had found in mathematics was the engine that had given him the
strength to leave Victory behind.

Cole headed to the second window on the left of the front doors and pressed his face against the rain-streaked glass, peering
inside. Soon, the murky gloom of the classroom gave way to the familiar sights he had expected to find; four rows of students’
desks sat facing the teacher’s at the front of the room, a dusty photograph of Sir Isaac Newton hanging next to the chalkboard,
and piles of textbooks waiting to be taken up by the incoming students.

This had been the room in which Clarence Collins had first instructed him in the wonders of math, where he had become enthralled
by the order of numbers in his otherwise unordered world. How many other students had sat in these desks, just as he had?
Now this room was to be his. In a few short weeks, he would take his place behind that very desk and begin to instruct the
children of Victory. Maybe he would be fortunate enough to find a student as passionate about the subject as he had been.

Thinking of the future sent shivers racing up Cole’s arms. Before he had met Sophie Heller, he had always imagined his would
be a solitary life, that he would be content to submerge himself in his work and to become the best teacher that he could
be. Now, things had undeniably changed. When he thought of what lay before him, only one word could describe how he felt…

Hope.

The possibility of sharing his life with a wonderful woman had become real. From the first moment that he had met Sophie,
he had felt at ease, unashamed of his deformed leg, even when that very leg had initially proven unsettling to her. Seeing
her smile, hearing her laugh, and sharing her company had become every bit as necessary to his life as food and water. He
couldn’t predict where their relationship was headed, but he hoped that it would lead to a courtship, marriage, and then to
a family. That he could someday be teaching his own children in that classroom was almost more than he could dream.

Cole was ready to begin the long trek home when he again heard the sounds of footsteps somewhere behind him. Spinning on his
heel, he turned as swiftly as he could to again find no one, but this time he was unwilling to attribute the noise to his
imagination.

He was being followed!

From the moment he’d confronted Ellis Watts in the tavern, Cole had been waiting for this encounter. Men such as Ellis wouldn’t
take a threat lying down, certainly not from a crippled teacher, but would instead act to quiet any and all who challenged
them. Who knew how long they had been watching him… waiting… If it was a fight they wanted, then, for Sophie’s sake as well
as his own, it was a fight they would get.

With his fists tightly balled, Cole strode back along the front of the school, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

“You might as well show yourself,” he called angrily. “I heard you.”

Stepping across the walk that led to the front doors of the school, Cole could feel the anger rising in his chest. Ellis and
his two companions had attempted to force Sophie and her family into doing what they wanted, to threaten them into leaving
Victory, but he would have none of their games. They would find that he wasn’t so easily scared.

Cole stood completely still and waited, peering into the shadows for any signs of movement, but he couldn’t see anything in
the inky darkness. The whispering sound of rustling leaves was the only noise he heard. Still, he was certain that he wasn’t
alone.

“Don’t be a coward,” Cole mocked. “I’m only one man.”

As if his words were the match used to light a stick of dynamite, a shadowy form burst from between the hedgerows to his left
and slammed into him. He tried to defend himself, but his attacker had been so silent, so capable of keeping his location
a secret, that he immediately found himself a step behind. A hard fist crashed into his jaw with the strength of a hammer,
abruptly snapping his head to the side and clouding his thoughts.

“You son of a bitch!” a man’s voice hissed.

The first blow had been enough to stagger Cole, his bad leg searching for the ground as urgently as a blind man’s cane. Raising
his hands up to his swimming head, he attempted to fend off the punches that rained down on him. He managed to block a few,
but more found their mark than missed; one to his chest, another to his ear, and then another back on his jaw, so painful
that he saw stars.

At first, Cole had worried that he would have to hold off several attackers. Now he knew that he faced only one man, although
that lone aggressor fought with the intensity of a wild animal. Strangely, he was convinced that it was not Ellis Watts who
assaulted him; this was different, personal, an emotional battering that showed no signs of letting up. Each punch felt harder
than the last.

“Fall, damn you!”

With all of the strength that he could muster, Cole tried his best to fight back against his unknown assailant. Blindly, he
threw punches, but even those that managed to land did so ineffectually; it was as if he were striking the trunk of a tree
for all the good it did him. His attacker seemed possessed, refusing to slow. Still, he would not allow himself to quit.

Finally, a widely arcing punch struck his belly and drove the air from his lungs in a whoosh. His already wobbly knees gave
out and Cole fell hard onto his back in the wet grass, gasping. Reflexively, his hand went to his lip and came back stained
with crimson blood, the bitter taste filling his mouth. His sight swam between darkness and a murky light. As much as it pained
him to admit it, he had been beaten.

He lay woozily on the soppy ground, his head spinning painfully as he tried in vain to find his bearings. Disappointment arced
through him, not at his having been physically bested, but because he felt as if he had let Sophie down; how could he expect
to protect her when it seemed that he was incapable of taking care of himself?

Powerful hands grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled his upper body from the ground. Peering through eyes that were
little more than slits, he searched the growing darkness for a clear look at the man before him, but there was only the hazy
light that had settled upon the edges of his vision; it was as if he had been enveloped by a heavy fog.

“Now you listen and you listen good, you goddamn cripple!” the man snarled, the heat of his words washing over Cole’s face.
“Stay the hell away from Sophie Heller!”

Shock and surprise raced wildly across Cole’s battered face at his attacker’s words. He had believed that interfering with
Sophie’s confrontation with Ellis Watts and his two companions at the diner was undoubtedly why he had been followed and beaten,
but now that belief wavered. The stranger’s tone was threatening yet different, strange, almost protective…

“You… bastard…” Cole spat, his jaw already aching.

“You’d better watch your tongue if you don’t want it cut out,” the man kept on. “You aren’t going to talk to her again, do
you hear me? You’re not good enough for her and you never will be!”

“Go… to hell…” Cole struggled to say.

The last word had barely escaped Cole’s lips when another thudding fist hit his jaw and drove him back down to the ground
with a thud. Darkness swelled at the corners of his eyes, threatening to overturn him and pull him under, but he fought against
the insistent tide and somehow managed to stay conscious.

“Do you think me a fool?” the man asked through clenched teeth.

“Only… only if you think… that I’ll stay away… from Sophie,” Cole managed to say through a mouth full of blood. “You’ll… have
to do much… much more than… this.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Though he was having a hard time struggling through the blinding pain of his beating, Cole still hoped to learn the identity
of his attacker. He was certain that it was not Ellis Watts; not only did he not recognize the man’s voice, but he felt certain
that Ellis would have been even more violent, more willing to inflict injury. He was also fairly sure that it was not the
man who had grabbed Sophie by the wrist; though that man was undeniably dangerous, Cole had looked into his eyes and discovered
that there wasn’t a shred of decency to be found, which he couldn’t reconcile with the man’s words. That left only one other
person.

Was this the third man in the diner booth?

Without any warning or the fanfare of thunder or lightning, the summer rain once again began to fall, a steady drizzle that
stung Cole’s tender face, pounding him as relentlessly as the stranger had. He wanted to raise a hand, to shade his eyes from
the wet downfall, but he found that he didn’t have the strength.

“Just look at you,” the man said scornfully, his words full of disdain. “What could you possibly have to offer a woman like
Sophie? You can barely walk, let alone fight! I won’t sit by and let her ruin her life by getting mixed up with the likes
of you!”

Cole suddenly understood that his attacker was indeed the third man from the diner. His words were not those of a man intent
on warning someone away from his devious plans but of a rival for a woman’s affections. They were selfish, petty words tinged
with jealousy.

Though he was soaked all the way to the bone by the rain, his wet shirt coldly plastered to his chest, Cole’s blood began
to heat up. Angry at both his perceived weakness as well as the ridiculous demands the man was placing upon him, he struggled
to rise from the ground, his entire body shaking from the effort.

“You’ll… not have her…” he yelled.

Cole had scarcely moved before he saw the man step toward him through the steady rain. Raising a booted foot, he drove the
heel down into Cole’s temple, the crack of the blow louder than the thunder that arrived from the distant horizon.

This time, Cole knew that no amount of struggling would keep him from slipping beneath the darkness that surrounded him. But
just before he could be claimed, just before he finally fell into unconsciousness, the sound of the man’s voice reached him.

“If I see you with her again, I’ll kill you.”

Graham Grier hurried away from the school with his shoulders hunched against the sudden squall. The patter of the raindrops
mixed with the whispered rustling of leaves pushed by the rising wind, yet his footfalls still sounded loud in his ears. The
knuckles of his right hand throbbed numb and angry, and he shook them to try to regain feeling. As he moved, his eyes never
stopped scanning the street, fearful that someone might see him.