Chapter 7 - Lowyn

My God. I cannot believe this is even happening. I mean, Collin showing up at my motel while I'm on a trip? That's… that's the daydream. That's how you picture a reunion in your mind.

It wasn't a lie when I told Collin that I haven't been sitting around pining for him. I am nothing if not a multitasker. I pined for him while I was busy doing other things. And no, I don't go in his room and sigh over his things. Not often, anyway. On the every-once-in-a-while occasion though… yeah. I have.

And now we're sitting a picturesque little restaurant that's all decorated like a vintage cabin. And when the waitress took our order, he looked at me with one squinty eye, like he was making a determination, and then ordered me the spaghetti and meatballs. With wine. Red. And how does he even know I like red? We didn't drink when we were kids. We didn't even want to. That's not what our lives were about. We were Disciple kids.

Not that we don't have an errant teenager every now and then. Amon Parrish, exhibit A. Rosie Harlow, exhibit B. But, for the most part, Disciple kids did Disciple things. We ran the Revival nine months out of the year. Of course, it was most busy in the summer and we only did once-a-month revivals from September through Christmas Eve.

The Revival was our life.

The McBrides were in charge of souvenirs. My daddy died when Bryn and I were small. He was not from Disciple, he was from ‘over the hills'—that's where all strangers come from as far as we're concerned. Before my daddy's death, the McBrides were in charge of tent construction and maintenance. After, of course, we weren't able to do that anymore, so we got the souvenir booth and the Harlow family—Rosie had four brothers and a daddy—took over the tent stuff.

Most of the things for our little tent my mama bought, of course. Custom-made crap with the logo on it. But each family was expected to contribute a certain amount of high-dollar handmade items for the booth. Some people made quilts. Some people made soap. My sister and I made folk art. Little collages of images we'd cut out of magazines and stick on flower pots and such. It was a lot of découpage, and it was nothing fancy, really. But we had a good eye for things and people liked our stuff.

Still do. We still make it. I collect all kinds of vintage magazines in McBooms and the ones that really aren't worth much Bryn and I use for our crafts.

Now that Amon and Collin are back, I wonder if they will have to take part again?

"My Lord, Lowyn. The look on your face right now, is that bliss?"

I take a sip of my wine so I can chuckle into my glass. "You wanna know what I was picturing in my head?"

"I'm positively dying here."

"You, in the Revival tent, standing up at the lectern, preachin'." Which is a little bit of a lie. I didn't get that far in the daydream, but it was coming.

He guffaws. People turn and look at us from a nearby table. "That's not gonna happen."

"But you're gonna do something though, right?"

"No. That's the whole reason we bought outside city limits. Well, not that the city limits had any compounds for sale. But no. We're not gonna play a part in the Revival."

"You're in the triangle."

"Trust me. It's not gonna happen."

"But you talked to Jim Bob, though, right? Told him that? Because if not, they're gonna expect you to contribute."

I wait for an explosion. His vehement denial that he will not participate. But he sits back in his chair across the table from me and smiles. "What do you do to contribute?"

"Same thing."

"Your little crafty projects?"

"Yep. They're a bit more complicated these days, but I am nearly thirty now, so that's to be expected."

He presses his elbows onto the table, clasps his hands together, and leans forward. "Lowyn, can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"Where is your husband?"

I am just about to take another sip of wine, but thankfully it hasn't hit my lips yet or I might've spit it out. "What?"

"You must be hiding him somewhere. It's the only logical conclusion. Else, what the hell is wrong with the men out here? Why are you still single?"

I take a deep breath and smile. "Well, I have had my share of men. And I do have that once-a-year one-night stand in Bishop on Mama's birthday."

"Ohhhh." He laughs again and it's a hearty one. All deep and rumbly like thunder. "Is that what that was?"

"Yeah. One night a year I get to be a trollop."

"Ya know, we didn't?—"

"I know. I woke up with my boots on, Collin Creed. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement."

For the third time, I delight him. He leans back in his chair, making it creak. "I would like to go on record?—"

"You do that."

"—and I would like to say that the men of the Revival have officially missed their chance."

"Is that right."

He nods. Slowly. Eyes stuck on mine. "That is a fact."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"No ex-wife anywhere?" I ask. He chuckles and looks away. "Holy shit, Collin Creed, you were married."

He lets out a breath between his teeth. "Almost. Like…" He holds his thumb and forefinger together with the teensiest bit of space between them. "This close."

"What happened? Runaway bride?"

"Nah. Nothing so dramatic. Well, that's not true, I guess. When you call off a wedding, it's always dramatic."

He and I lock eyes as I slowly nod my head. "Yep."

"So. I guess I got cold feet." He's still looking at me when he says this. Then he turns his head. "That's not true, either." He looks back at me. "You might be the only person I've ever admitted this to, but I just didn't love her. Not enough to marry her. Ya know, maybe I'm old-fashioned about this shit, or, I dunno, maybe I've been to one too many Revivals. But I don't wanna get divorced, ya know? I want it to be the way it was meant to be. Forever. And I knew that she and I were never gonna make it to forever."

"Well, you must've felt somethin' for her. Or why were you engaged?"

Collin just shrugs. "Well… I thought we were friends." His eyes narrow a little. "And I thought friends would be enough. And maybe it would've been. But then I realized she and I weren't friends. She was, pardon my language, a fuck buddy." He shrugs again. "I dunno, Lowyn. I just made a mistake. I think that's all there is to it. I thought I wanted something, but it turned out I didn't."

"Was she crushed?"

"Maybe? A little? And that's part of the problem too. She married one of my friends about three years later."

"Ouch."

"Whatever. Good for them. I sent them a subscription to the Beer of the Month Club so every thirty days or so they could toast their future, or, alternatively, wallow in their mistakes."

I smile. Then giggle. Then take a sip of wine.

"You do look good, Lowyn. I know I told you that the other night, but I'm not sure you remember the other night."

"I saw some video. Taylor Hill sent it to Bryn."

"Busybodies."

"Shit, Collin. You know how this place is." I make a yapping bird-beak with my fingers. "Gossip, gossip, gossip. I mean, the way you left… and the rumors that came after… I think people are surprised that you came home. And maybe you don't believe it, but I think they are relieved too."

"Why the hell would they be relieved?"

"Well, no town likes to lose people. Not towns like ours. There's no rule that everyone has to stay, of course. There's not even an expectation, really. Look at Clover and her family. But you were different. You know that, right?"

He lets out a breath and looks over my shoulder, eyes watching things distant to me. When his attention shifts back, he's gone very serious. "I…" And that's all he can get out.

I put up a hand after a few awkward seconds. "I was there, Collin. I know."

"But… what do you know, Lowyn?"

"That you were scared. That all three of us were scared. And then, when he—when that guy—when he surrendered and let Olive go, you were pissed. And you took that shot because that's what happens to assholes who come into your house and fuck with your people."

He blinks. Purses his lips a little. "I would like to deny that. I would like to say my finger slipped. But you're right. And you have no idea"—he pauses to look deep into my eyes—"no idea at all, how much that night changed me."

I'm shaking my head. "It didn't change you, Collin. It just… revealed you."

He guffaws and leans back in his chair. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"Neither. Both. It doesn't matter. You wanna hear my confession now?"

He nods without saying anything.

"I'm single because you ruined me that night." He looks shocked. But I put up a hand. "You see…" I have to pause here to think about how to say this. How to explain it. "You didn't even hesitate, Collin. If you had seen it from my perspective—you didn't waste a single second. You got the rifle, told me to stay put, went into the hallway, and two seconds later, it was handled. Two seconds. That's how long I was afraid. Two. Seconds. That man, he had a gun on him. If you had hesitated things could've turned out very different. You could've been the dead one. Olive could've been the dead one. I could've been the dead one. Everyone knew that, Collin. And if you think the sheriff didn't know that maybe you acted too quickly, too efficiently, well, he did. He asked me. He came over every couple of months, even after you left, to ask me questions."

"Why? Was he gunnin' for me?"

"No. He wasn't. I think maybe he thought I was traumatized. And he was trying to make me understand that when a stranger comes into your home and tries to kidnap your baby sister, this is what one does. Because any man who would even think about doing that, well, he just isn't a good man."

Collin allows himself a grin. It's small, but it's there. "I thought you were telling me the story of how I ruined you."

"I am. You ruined me because every guy I dated after you I would ask myself—how quickly would this one act? How long would I be afraid if some bad man forced his way into my life again? And the answer was never two seconds, Collin. So the answer was always too long."

We stare at each other for a good long moment. He picks up his glass and I, in return, pick up mine. "I've missed you."

I huff a little. "That's not a toast."

"To being back."

"Welcome home."

We eat a nice dinner. The restaurant's low lighting makes it intimate. And it's not loud and obnoxious, but quiet and… calm, I guess. We talk about other things after that. The night of the shooting was something we needed to discuss so we could clear the air. And now that it's over, it feels… easier. Like no time has passed. Like we're still in high school. Still dating. Still planning a life together.

I know what Collin was talking about when he said that woman he was gonna marry wasn't even his friend. That's how I've felt about the men I've been with. The fact is, I didn't just size up all my dates and boyfriends against Collin's action-readiness. I sized them up against him for everything.

And I was so used to doing it, Collin wasn't even part of the equation anymore. It's not like I went on that date six months back and said to myself, So how does this one measure up in the looks department? How good is his aim? Does he even own a gun? Is he the right height? Does he have ambition? Can he catch a football?

It wasn't like that. I just had this internal checklist. Like I already knew what I wanted. Like I was looking for a blouse on the rack and I already had a vision of it in my mind so I could just skip past all the things that weren't that.

Skip past all the men who weren't Collin Creed.

Collin and I walk outside the restaurant. It's a really nice evening. Still warm, like maybe summer's right around the corner. We head down a little path that leads to the parking lot. It's all very picturesque. It's dark, but there are fairy lights everywhere. Add in the sound of rushing water from the river and the little cabins tucked into the trees on either side of the path, and it's actually pretty romantic.

There's a little dock on the edge of the river. Decorated with more fairy lights. And no one's on it, so Collin takes my hand and leads me over there.

While we're walking, I'm freakin' out a little bit. What is this? A date? I mean, like a real date? Is he going to kiss me? Why is my heart beating so fast? I think my palms are sweating.

We stop at the edge of the railing and he lets go of my hand, then leans his elbows on the railing. I push up against it. Being shorter than him, this evens us out. He looks over at me with those teal and brown swirly eyes of his—now dotted with fairy-light reflections—and smiles. "How disappointed?"

"What?"

"When you woke up and realized you still had your boots on."

My laugh is immediate. "I didn't know it was you when I woke up. I just opened my eyes and saw that fuckin' Jim Morrison poster. It confused me for a moment, then I remembered what day it was. And my head was spinning, so I knew I got kinda drunk?—"

"Lowyn." He turns his body so he's facing me. Straightens up so I have to tip my chin up to keep eye contact.

"What?"

"How. Disappointed?"

I let out a breath. "That I missed an opportunity with you? Or that I just missed an opportunity?"

"Ya know, the correct answer here is very." I giggle. "‘I was very disappointed, Collin.' That's the right answer. And then I say, ‘Well, perhaps there is a way I can ease your disappointment, Lowyn McBride? Perhaps there is a way I can redress this issue.'"

"Are you coming on to me?"

"Yes."

"Are you gonna invite me to stay the night?"

He lets out a breath now too. "No. But I want to. It's just…"

His pause is too long. "It's just what?"

Collin Creed's eyes are so pretty, I could stare at them for years. They search me now. Like I'm hiding some secret and he desperately needs it. "I was a dick, ya know?"

I smile. Can't help it. "It was a pretty dick move."

"And even though I may have premeditated this night—the cabin, the dinner, hell, the fuckin' fairy lights—they had pictures of all this on the website…"

I giggle. God, I've missed him.

"I don't think I've earned a second chance yet."

He hasn't. I love him. Will always love him. But I haven't been a teenager for a very long time. And even though he and I reconnected on the one night a year when I allow myself to be irresponsible, it's only ever been one night a year and I'm not about to change that now.

"Wow. What is going through your mind right now?"

I shrug. "Just… I agree."

"That I'm a dick?"

"No. Well, yeah. A little. But mostly I agree that you really haven't earned it yet, Collin. This is all very nice—the river, and the dinner, and the cabins, and the lights—and I would love nothing more than to give us another chance. But I'm not gonna jump into anything just for a night under the sheets."

"That's not all it would be, ya know."

"Maybe. I mean, I do know that. We're more than that, even now. After all these years, we're more than that. But I've got a life, Collin. A damn good one. And here's an addendum to my answer earlier about why I don't have a husband. I don't want one." I shrug one shoulder. "It's really as simple as that. I don't want one. Because I don't need a man to protect me now. I'm all grown up and I can do it myself."

He presses his lips together, nodding. "Would you like to go bowling with me?"

"What?" And then I'm laughing again.

"You know how I feel about bowling."

"Bowling shirts, you mean?"

"See how well you know me, Lowyn McBride?" He pauses to grin here. And damn, it is a charming one. "We got in just in time to join the summer bowling league. So our regular nights are gonna be Tuesdays."

"Are you asking me to join your team? Or do you just wanna use me for practice?"

"Join, for sure."

"Hmm. Well, I go out of town a lot on Tuesdays so I would not be able to commit to that."

"Our regular nights are gonna be… Mondays."

"Mondays? Sometimes I'm packing my bags on Monday nights."

"For Tuesday's trips?"

"You're catching on."

"Our regular nights are gonna be Fridays."

I laugh. God, this man. "I might be able to swing Fridays."

"Then it's a standing date, I guess. I should warn you that there is quite a battle going on in the background about our shirts and the name of our team. I think you should join in on these conversations."

"Do you?"

"Mmm-hmm. I do. What time do you get home on Thursday?"

"Usually late."

"Well, then I will drop by your store on Friday morning so I can prep you for the discussion that will be coming."

"So you can tell me how to vote?"

Now he makes a face at me. "You're joking about this stuff though, right? I'm not gonna use you, Lowyn. And I'm not gonna tell you what to do, either. But I would like to comment on something here. Something I remember about you. You did want to get married. We had plans. I've been gone?—"

"You weren't just gone, Collin. You walked away."

"Right. I did. I've been gone, and I can see how your explanation makes sense. The part about taking care of yourself and measuring other men up to that one night. But I didn't ruin you, Lowyn. I mean, look at you. You're better than ever. You've got your own business and this interesting life. And if we keep going, then this is a complete fresh start."

I look away and sigh a little. I don't want to have this discussion with him. There's so much more to the twelve years since we last spoke. It's a long time. He's changed, and I've changed, and yeah, I could fall into a pattern with him very easily.

It would feel so good.

It would feel so familiar.

But would it be the right thing to do?

I'm not sure yet.

I look up at him. "I think I should turn in now."

He nods, then waves his hand to the path that will take us back to the parking lot.

We walk side by side, but he doesn't take my hand this time. I hate that I had to knock him down a peg, but I'm not the woman he met the other night.

I'm the woman he met the other morning.

When we get back my hotel there's a moment of awkwardness as his Jeep idles in front of my room door. I decide to just end it bluntly without a promise of anything else. "Thank you. It was a nice dinner, Collin. And thank you for driving all this way just to see me."

His smile is still there, but it's sadder than it was. "It was my pleasure. Now, about that dognapping job…"

"Oh, right. I should tell Sassy that you will consider it?"

He nods. "I will not be able to commit until I get details, but it doesn't sound too complicated. And Amon will be enthusiastic about this prospect, so I really will just hand it over to him."

"This is the second time you've said that. What's the deal with Amon and dogs?"

Collin smiles for real now. "I'll show you when you come over to pick my junk. We can have our little bowling meeting."

"OK." There is a moment here when I waver in my determination to stop this before it starts. But it's the only way this can end, so I rip the Band-Aid off, flick him a little wave, get out of the Jeep, and go inside.