Gladys’s expression went from aloof to serious in the blink of an eye. “If somebody threatened your mother…”
Would I want her to tell everybody? I’d want the people of Firefly to run them out of town with pitchforks and torches. I hated to admit it, but Gladys turned me into a hypocrite with a single statement. Like a petulant child, I wanted to whine that it was different. I held my tongue, realizing that if the tables had been turned, I’d have wanted to know. Did that change things? Or did it highlight that I was never one of the town’s inner circle?
“Sure, I might overshare,” she admitted.
“Might?”
“Fine.” She fidgeted with an oversized gold ring on her middle finger. Like everything else in the store, it must havebeen twice my age. “Fine, I talk too much. But if we didn’t, this town would go quiet as a morgue.”
“Gladys, it’s not the gossip, it’s the speculation. It’s suffocating.” I guess we were going to lay all our cards on the table. I had come in for an address, and it turned into a heart-to-heart. While I might be talking to a single woman, it felt as if my words were meant for all of Firefly.
“We speculate because we’re curious.” Her face scrunched up, making the many lines on her face darker. “You make it sound malicious.”
I wanted to argue, but I felt I’d be wasting my breath.
“Charlie.” She gestured at me. “Maybe you’d feel differently if you—” The fire in my stomach ignited as I prepared a scathing retort. “—weren’t so guarded.”
“I wouldn’t be so guarded if people stayed out of my business.”
“You act like we’re nosy. Maybe we are. But if you’d let us in, half this town would bend over backward for you.”
I wanted to growl, but not at Gladys herself. We stood on opposite sides of the same coin. We could go back and forth, but at best, we’d reach a truce. There was no way I’d change the very nature of Firefly. Though hearing her explanation softened the jaded view I’ve had since I arrived. I suppose Seamus had learned how to be part of the town but not its focus.
“Can I have his address?” I’d revisit this conversation. Every second I stood here debating with Gladys gave me the opportunity to chicken out. “Please.”
The suspicion in her eyes vanished. “17 Front Street. Margaret’s old house. The one with the roses from—” She froze. Reaching to her lips, she turned an imaginary key, tossing it over her shoulder. If I had been looking for a sign, Gladys not spilling every secret hadn’t been on the list. I’d consider it an act of God.
“Thank you.”
I reached the door before she spoke. “Charlie, you’re always welcome here.”
I gave her a slight nod before exiting and climbing into Pops’s truck. It wasn’t her invitation to Firefly that worried me. It’s that if what she said were true, if I had always been welcome here, then perhaps I had left before I was mature enough to see that. Or that now, I let a memory of the town prevent me from taking that leap. I’d dwell on it later, after I did the unthinkable.
My phone dinged.
Nick: I’m here if you need me.
I read the message again. It was one of those courteous things people said when they didn’t know how to help. At the same time, it made this easier. I could hardly believe I had walked into Twice-Told Tales and asked Gladys for Johnny’s address. But it wasn’t demanding information that had left me shaken.
Firefly would never be entirely free of guilt. Standing on the outside, I saw it differently from the people who grew up and never left. She forced me to question my feelings. Was I partially to blame? Had I isolated myself and expected people to come check on me?
These weren’t the emotions I anticipated tackling today.
Charlie: Thanks.
Charlie: I needed that.
I slid the key into the ignition and turned it until the truck roared to life. After today, I might need somebody to bring me a pie while I sip on hot cocoa. One more stop, and then I couldgo home and start coming up with answers. Yes, even the ones I didn’t like.
I had gone on autopilot as I drove through town. With the window down, the warm breeze would have made it a pleasant drive. Unfortunately, my brain ran through dozens of scenarios where this ended poorly. With every turn, I considered going the other way and avoiding theresponsiblething. Somehow, I reached Johnny’s driveway.
17 Front St.
The gravel crunched under my boots as I got out of the truck. I didn’t slow. If I stopped and thought about it, I might convince myself this was a bad idea. With every step, I fought off the image of Johnny’s younger self. There was still time; I could get in the truck, and nobody would ever be the wiser. No, I’m sure the neighbors had already seen me. It’d be the topic on everybody’s mind at the next spaghetti dinner.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My hands remained fists. I slid them behind me, trying not to look threatening. When that didn’t work, I shoved them in my pockets. I expected the same fast reaction I had given him. Would he come at me with a right or left hook? Right. It had always been the right before. I might have worked up the balls to come here, but I wouldn’t give him the chance.
